#so that’s why she’s in the middle of those two

[nothanksofficer]

1.0 we are all sinners (the one shot ver)

starring: you, remmick, and bo pairing: bo chow/reader. maybe remmick/reader/bo? mostly bo chow/reader for now

warnings: slight but a bit more nsfw, very very slight smut, open-at-your-own-risk, dark romance, vampirism, corruption, moral and literal seduction, temptation, sharing is caring(?), reverse harem(ish), hive-mind, manipulation

summary: in this world, there is no grace chow. only y/n chow. and boy, does that have consequences.

word count: 2k+

list: 0.1 1.0

"Because I know everything he knows now. Even how you like to be licked."

"And I can promise I won't bite too hard."

a/n: so it became a bit bigger than i intended, but honestly i wouldn't be able to sleep tonight if i didnt get this idea out of my head. let me know what y'all think! if this gets enough traction, ill think of making a series

Ever since you first came to town, everyone knew that Bo was more than smitten with you. You, the girl with paint-stained fingers, and a smile that was all rainbows and teeth. He was always the first to seek you out. Always the first to ask for your services. Whether it was for a sign, a label, or even just some basic repainting, he always went to you, and never anyone else. 

It wasn’t until he finally proposed to you, on one knee and all, that he revealed the real reason he had kept calling you back to his store.

“I liked the art, of course,” he said with a charming grin. “It just so happened I liked the pretty girl behind it even more.”

That’s how Y/N Chow came to be. For two years now, you’ve been at Bo’s side, working at the shop, and occasionally painting some signs (for a fee). It was a running joke in town, that even your husband was no exception, meaning even he couldn’t get it for free. 

But whereas the other locals had to pay in cash, Bo paid it forward to you a bit…differently.

“One more time, baby. I still owe you for that shiny new menu, don’t I?” Bo teased. He had his hands between your legs, still slick from your last round. If people knew that the weekly (and in some cases, even daily) signs were just an excuse for your insatiable husband to get his hands on you, you doubted you’d get as many compliments as you did whenever a new one was put up. 

Your life had been peaceful, perfect even, for those first two years. So perfect, in fact, that you and Bo were on the brink of taking the next big step together. The two of you had saved up more than enough for it. And even you had to admit you were just as eager to finally have a little one of your own. One who would be a perfect combination of you both. 

“I wouldn’t mind a girl. Especially if she’s as pretty as her mama,” Bo whispered as he curled up behind you. It was the middle of the night, and even though he had damn near put you to sleep with that crazy stamina of his, you couldn’t seem to close your eyes just yet. Not with him still pressing soft kisses to the back of your neck. 

“Or a boy as charming as his daddy,” you sighed back drowsily. 

Your husband, ever the sweet-talker, didn’t even hesitate. “Why don’t we try for both?” 

So when one of the SmokeStack twins came barging into the store–one you later remembered as Smoke–you weren’t entirely opposed to the new commission for their new venture. The extra money never hurt anyone. And you would be hard-pressed to say no to Bo’s old-time friends. 

Club Juke, they called it. And while you thought the old sawmill to be a strange location for a new club, you didn’t question it…even though you probably should have. The red sign, despite being your own creation, was ominous enough on its own. And yet, you still let Bo lead you inside without even waiting for the paint to dry. The unmatched supply of alcohol should have rang as suspicious. You doubted even the grocer stocks had as much beer and wine as the twins did, and yet, that didn’t stop you from taking the occasional sinful sip. 

The real kicker, however, was the music. Sammie, who even you distinctly remember as the preacher’s little boy, was clearly unmatched at the guitar. And his voice, a hypnotic drawl, that could tempt the most pious to the dancefloor. Not even you and Bo could escape his song. And even though it was only your husband at your side, you could have sworn you heard the symphony of the ancestors joining you both. 

“You’re glowing, baby.” 

“Am I?” You hummed, still lost in the mesmerizing feeling of being part of something greater. Of finally belonging, despite never having really been lost in the first place. 

Bo didn’t say anything more, too entranced as you began spinning around him once more, silk skirt flapping behind you. There was a heady feeling that seemed almost electric. And the more you danced, teasing him with passing touches and glances, the more you could tell it was starting to affect him, too.

That all came to a pause, however, when they arrived.

Three voices in harmony, in what you supposed was a catchy, albeit simple tune. Nothing as intoxicating as the heavy blues of Sammie, but still melodic enough for you to recognize the talent behind it. As you took a peek over your Smoke’s shoulder, curious to see who exactly was singing, you were met with shadowed brown eyes staring unblinkingly into yours. 

“Picked poor robin clean…I picked his hair, I picked his teeth…” 

You tilted your head curiously, more than surprised as the banjo player proceeded to wink at you mid-song. Still, you didn’t think much of it as anything beyond performer’s charisma. And that was almost wiped from your mind entirely when you felt Bo’s hands begin to pull you away from the door. 

You didn’t turn back once, not with your husband now by your side. If you did, you would’ve noticed said banjo player still staring after you both. (But you didn’t.)

You weren’t sure what happened in between that moment and now. Only that something wretched was overtaking the place. One that was marked by Stack’s death at Mary’s hands. No one saw that coming. Much less your husband, who once regaled you with their tragic love story a few years ago. 

You wanted to feel bad for Smoke, you truly did. But your gut feeling told you that you couldn’t afford to. Not when something haunted and evil was beginning to envelope Club Juke like an oncoming storm. 

“We need to leave, Bo.” 

“Baby, he just lost his brother. We can’t just leave him now.”

“I know he’s your friend, but we came to help the club. We didn’t sign up for whatever…this is,” you pleaded. “Please, Bo. This is scaring me. Just take me home first, at least.” 

“Alright. I’ll go get the car for us. You sure you can pack everything by yourself?” At your shaky nod, Bo pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. “You wait right here, baby. I’ll be right back.”

If you had known that would be the last time you would see your husband, you wouldn’t have begged as hard as you did. But none of you knew what you were dealing with. Not until Cornbread returned acting all strange. Or when Smoke shot him in the head, to no effect. It only really really hit you when Stack somehow came back….wrong. 

Vampires were supposed to be myths. And yet, this…this was terrifyingly real. 

"Let me go! I need to go after Bo!" 

"Careful now. You walk out there, Y/N, you might not walk back in." 

"I can't just sit here and do nothing! My husband is outside with those—those things!" 

But Smoke put his foot down, stopping your argument in its tracks. "Bo can handle himself, Y/N. Besides, you know he wouldn't want to put you at risk either. Bo'd want you here. Inside. Where it's safe."  

It was only thanks to Annie that you and the other survivors had an inkling of what to do. Dead bodies, like the one you found behind the bar, didn’t stay dead for long. Bullets to the head would slow them at best. The only ways to stop them, or at least really hurt them, was with garlic or a stake to the heart. And even then, that was just the tip of the iceberg. 

The one resounding agreement, however, was that under no circumstance could any of you afford to get bitten. Not unless you wanted your soul trapped, becoming one of them.

When you bit into the garlic alongside the others, it tasted like guilt and regret. It only got worse when you were tasked with first watch at the door. Everyone else was at the back, creating more stakes, preparing more garlic, and modifying whatever they could into a weapon.

That’s why, when you first heard the sound of pained gurgles and squelching, you were the only one peeping behind that slightly ajar door. Which you almost regretted instantly, upon seeing the poor ‘dead’ body being consumed by Cornbread.

You nearly screamed for the others, realizing the gravity of your joint mistake and what it cost the innocent man now bleeding to death outside. But before you could, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. One you’d recognize anywhere. 

It was Bo’s.

"Hey, baby," he grinned, and for a moment, you could almost believe it actually was your husband. Keyword being, almost. "Come on outside. I got the car started for you. Let's go!" 

Your first instinct was to pull him inside into safety and make sure he really was okay. He looked exactly as he did when he first went to get the car. But...the way he swaggered past Cornbread, smiling at you like nothing was wrong, made your heart drop. 

“Bo…?”

The sound and smell of fresh blood and flesh tearing made you nauseous, almost unbelievably so, to the point it made you take a nervous step back. A frown briefly formed on Bo’s face, only to be replaced by a charming smile again. (The same one you once fell in love with, you thought to yourself painfully.)

“What is it, Y/N?” 

Your eyes left Bo’s to stare at the chaos happening right beside him. And yet, your husband didn’t even do more than glance at Cornbread. "Oh, don't worry about him, baby. He's just a little hungry, is all," he said offhandedly. "Now, let’s go.”

Bo winked at you, causing you to flinch. Your husband never was the type to do something like that before. Even before he’d married you, he’d always go for words first, then actions second. The only one who ever winked at you like that was–

“Come on. I got the car all warmed up, just the way you like,” he cajoled, turning back slightly as if to show you exactly that. But when you didn’t move to follow him, he sauntered back up to the door with a knowing look on his face. “Or...you let me back in there, and we can grab our things and head home?" Bo's eyes flashed an inhuman silver, akin to the way Stack’s did when he came back undead. You found yourself paralyzed by them, even as he loomed over you from the doorframe. "We can make a pit stop, if you like. Maybe even have some fun on the way back." 

“What happened to you, Bo?” You whispered to yourself, desperately searching his face for the man you once married, only to find something else entirely.

Bo’s smile didn’t falter. Instead it grew, as a different voice decided to answer for him. “I did. And ain’t he so much better now, darling?”

“Remmick,” you recognized. The banjo player from before. The one that Smoke had turned away, along with the rest of his group. “What did you do to my Bo?” 

“I think you already know the answer to that, darling,” Remmick replied. And yet, despite the smooth charismatic tone of his, you flinched away from the door, like a mouse that had just gotten spooked.

“It’s better this way, baby.” Bo tried to convince you, unbothered by the new addition at his side. “So why don’t you be a good girl now and invite us all in?”

"You should listen to him, Y/N. Or listen to me. Because I know everything he knows now. And trust me, darling, he really wants you to let us in there," Remmick restated, his words a near parrot of Bo’s. Or was it Bo’s that were a near parrot of Remmick’s? 

“That’s not true. Bo wouldn’t…” 

“I wouldn’t do what, baby? Do whatever it took to be with my wife again?” Bo quipped back. It was so like him, yet at the same time, entirely not. Because deep down, you knew your husband would never ask you something like that. Not if it would put you in danger. 

And yet, this Bo smiled at you lovingly, almost reverently. As if the prospect of becoming one of them was a blessing, rather than a curse. 

"Listen to your husband now, darling. Can't you see that he—that we—just want what's best for you?”

Despite Remmick's words, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Bo. "You're not...you're not my husband."

Your words caused the smile on Bo’s face to falter. But Remmick’s sharpened, eyes lighting up, as if your words were nothing more than a challenge.

"Well, that's not very nice of you to say," he tsked.

But you didn’t care. Perhaps if you did, you would have realized that your fire only drew in Remmick even more. "You did this to him. You...you monster.”

"Me? A monster? I just gave him what he wanted, darling. Freedom. A family. In fact, this was his idea, you know. He wanted to change you first," Remmick revealed with a hungry grin. "And who am I to deny him?"

"You're lying."

"Am I? I know everything he knows now. Every little thought. Every single memory,” he gloated. “I even know how you like to be licked." 

Remmick's words shook you to the bone. But nothing made you choke like the insinuation in Bo's follow-up. "We promise we won't bite, baby. Not unless you want us to."

That was the last thing you heard before someone else shut the door, separating you from the captivating duo once more. 

[requiemdesreves]

Do you need me to, love?

Part 1 word count: 1.5k a/n: tbh this is just me being horny, not really about the plot 😞 I’m a woman with needs ok?? I swear I’ll be normal again once I stop ovulating

“Turn them over,” Caitlyn says in a pleading tone that makes you laugh. “It’s not funny, my love, I’m serious.”

My love. You don’t remember when she started calling you that, but it melts you every time she does. Those two words are all Caitlyn needs to break you down because they’re real. You are her love, the owner of her kisses and caresses, the one she looks for when she feels like she can’t go on.

“Caitlyn Kiramman, I’m not going to turn over every single one of my stuffed animals so they don’t catch us kissing,” you reply with a laugh, not seeing the point in her request.

You’re both in your room; Caitlyn came to visit you secretly-or not so secretly. A few days earlier, she had written to your parents, formally inviting them to tea with her family, using the excuse that both families should join forces in these uncertain times for the city’s progress, making it clear she’d be spending time with you while they were away. That’s one of the things you love most about her: even though your love is a secret, she never fails to do things the right way, insisting you deserve to be courted, even if no one else sees it that way.

“Well, then I won’t kiss you,” she says, crossing her arms, her stubborn streak showing.

“Then don’t kiss me,” you mimic her, crossing your arms and turning your back to her. Caitlyn can be stubborn, but you’re a brat, and you’re not going to let her win.

You hold your head high and, for a moment, you hesitate. You wonder if she’ll play along, if she’ll get tired and leave you alone, but before you give up and turn around to look at her, you feel her hands on your waist, her chest pressed against your back, and her lips on your shoulders.

“Are we really going to argue over this, my love?” she whispers as she kisses you, one hand sliding up your top, kneading and squeezing one of your tits over your bra. You didn’t know she was coming to see you-not until just minutes before your parents left. She didn’t give you time to get ready, knocking on your door right after seeing your mom and dad leave. So you’re wearing a comfortable pajama set: a thin-strapped tank top with a heart print and matching shorts. Caitlyn bites you gently, then soothes the spot with her tongue. You can feel her smile on your skin, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine.

“You’re asking me for something that makes no sense,” you try to keep up the fight, but the way her fingers slip under your bra and tease your nipple won’t let you. You feel yourself swell immediately and sigh. “They’re stuffed animals, they can’t see us.”

“Of course they can,” she insists, now kissing your neck. Her lips stop at your ear, and she whispers in a way that makes your panties damp. “But let’s drop that, okay? I haven’t seen you in weeks, and I don’t want to spend the few hours we have left arguing with you.”

You don’t respond, letting her touch you, kiss you, do whatever she wants with you. Without breaking contact, she leads you to your vanity. Her reflection appears in the mirror, a large one, decorated with golden edges and a small lipstick stain you left while putting on makeup a few days ago.

“Look at you. You’re so beautiful.” Her words weaken you, but what really does it is when she slips her hands under your shorts and straight into your underwear. She’s not joking, not teasing. Not today. Her middle finger slowly strokes your clit, and you roll your eyes, grabbing her arm and digging your nails in hard. You catch a glimpse of a small wince in her reflection, but she doesn’t complain.

“Caitlyn,” you whisper, trying to find the strength to speak as you feel her finger moving faster. “We’re literally two steps from the bed, why here?”

Caitlyn laughs softly, looking at you, not through the mirror, but at you. At the sweat starting to form on your forehead, at the way your face tightens as you try not to make too much noise. “I want you to see yourself, princess. You look so good like this, it’d be a shame not to share the view. Even if it’s just with you.” As she speaks, she pushes two fingers deep inside you.

Saying you moan is an understatement. You tremble, writhe, and become nothing under her touch. You can’t help but grind against her fingers, craving more of that pleasure only she can give.

“Baby… please,” you beg without even knowing why. You don’t know what you want, but you don’t want her to stop.

She soothes you mockingly, the hand that was on your breasts now moving to your back, gently pushing you until the upper part of your body rests on the vanity. You’re face down, ass up. Just the way she likes it. Her fingers pause, pulling away from you to clean them with her mouth without breaking eye contact. The heat in your abdomen intensifies. You need her in a raw, carnal way. You try to say something, move, or complain, but she won’t let you, speaking before you can:

“You don’t know how hard it is to be away from you, my princess.” Her voice is hoarse, needy. You can see she’s trying to keep it together, but it’s tough. “It hurts how much I need you. Do you need me too, love?”

You nod, unable to form coherent words, much less a sentence. Humiliating. Truly humiliating. From the position she’s got you in, to the effect it has on your mind, on your whole being.

“How about we go to the bed where we’re both comfortable?” Her hands caress your ass gently, speaking to you and looking at you as if you were the most fragile, delicate thing in the world. “I know you’ll turn the stuffed animals around like I asked.”

You laugh at her words, really laugh, in a teasing way that annoys her. You might be a horny little thing who wets her panties at the slightest touch, who squeezes her thighs just from the scent of her perfume, but you never lose your arguments. Never.

“I already told you I’m not going to do it.”

And you didn’t.

Caitlyn scolds you for it while her lips wrap around your clit, sucking in a way that makes your eyes roll back. You don’t know if it’s because she’s irritated or because she hasn’t seen you in a while, but the way she eats you out makes you feel so good. She licks your pussy with such passion that you wonder if she’s doing it for you or for herself. Her words get lost in your folds. A perfect mix of praise and reproach. And her fingers, oh her fingers. They pump in and out of you, making you lift your hips, craving more.

Your hands grip her hair, pushing it away from her face and guiding her where you need her. You pull her away when you feel your orgasm coming, not wanting to come on her face, but she growls and dives back between your legs, licking you like she’s starving, desperate.

“Don’t hold back, love, come for me. Don’t worry about me.” Caitlyn coos you, her free hand intertwined with yours. You squeeze it tight as the orgasm washes over your body, your thighs clamping down on her, but Caitlyn doesn’t mind and keeps licking. You hear her moan between your legs and notice how she grinds against the mattress, trying to calm her own arousal.

“Come here,” you call softly, barely audible, but she hears and obeys.

Without hesitation, Caitlyn spreads your legs wider, throwing one over you. She stays like that for a few seconds before letting her weight fall on you, and when she does, you feel like you could die right then and there, and if you did, you’d die happy.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” Her movements are slow, deliberate. You just had an orgasm, and no matter how desperate she is, Caitlyn doesn’t want to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. She picks up the pace when she hears the moans escaping your mouth, mixed with sweet words and her name over and over.

You were a mess. Both of you were. The room is filled with obscene sounds, the scent of sex, and the proof of a passion that feels eternal. It didn’t take long for Caitlyn to come, and for you to reach a second orgasm.

She collapses beside you, her breathing ragged, just like yours. Without saying a word, she curls up against your chest, running a hand along your waist and pulling you close. You’re both sweaty, sticky, and you hate sweat. Yours, anyone’s, but not hers. Not when it’s proof of the love you share.

“I missed you,” she whispers, and your hand travels to her neck. “I mean it. I’m not happy when you’re away.”

You smile, snuggling closer, seeking the warmth of her body. “I missed you too. A lot.”

Neither of you says anything else. You just stay wrapped up in the comfort the other provides. You’re sticky, sweaty, and exhausted. So exhausted that neither of you hears your mother’s shrill voice announcing she’s home.

Uh-oh...

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[bri-cheeses]

| May 5th | Prompt: Hand | Word Count: 532 | @rosekillermicrofic |

-

Barty throws another crumpled ball on Evan’s desk, grinning as it hits its marks and skids the rest of the way to the back of Evan’s hand. Evan looks down in equal parts annoyance and apprehension.

He glares at Barty, but still picks it up—after, of course, looking around to make sure McGonagall wasn’t paying attention. They’d learned their lesson yesterday when she’d decided to move Barty over a desk, pronouncing the two of them “a distraction to the entire class.”

He watches closely as Evan reads the note, grins when his ears go pink and mouth falls open a little in shock. He looks up at Barty with a taken-aback expression, and Barty just smiles at him even wider. Getting Evan all flushed and embarrassed was his favorite pastime in classes like this, when he already had figured out what the lesson was meant to be teaching them and consequently didn’t need to pay attention. And he got to compliment Evan while doing it, so it was a win-win, really.

Evan crumpled up the paper, the one that may or may not have had something to do with the way his backside looked in those new robes of his, and slipped it back into his pocket, resolutely refocusing on the spell they were meant to be practicing.

Hm. He’ll have to try harder, then.

He rips another small piece of paper out of his notebook and starts writing, smirking while imagining Evan’s reaction to it.

His throw this time is no less precise. Evan looks down at, maybe even more tentative this time, and is in the middle of picking it up, when—

“Mr. Rosier! You know the rules about passing notes in class.” McGonagal appears with a stern voice and expectant palm, and Evan goes pink once more. His mouth opens, closes. He swallows.

McGonagall’s raised eyebrow conveys more than her words ever could.

“Well?” she says. “Hand it over.”

Evan has no choice, placing it in McGonagall’s hand like he’d rather do anything else. The second it’s gone, he shoots a look at Barty as if to say, “I hope you didn’t put anything insane in that note, because she’s about to read it to the whole class.”

After six years of being best friends, and one year of being more than that, Barty is really good at reading Evan’s body language and expression. In return, Evan is good at reading his, which is probably why his shoulders slump and his face adopts a resigned look when Barty just shrugs in response.

McGonagall opens the note with sharp, determined movements, the class completely silent as they watch the proceedings.

It’s when the note is fully opened that McGonagall blanches, blinking rapidly. Barty has to stifle a laugh.

“I am not reading that out loud,” McGonagall announces. She shakes her head in a stunned movement, then passes the note back to Evan. When she speaks, it’s with a faint voice.

“Next time, Mr. Rosier, don’t pass notes in class. And please keep your thoughts to yourself, Mr. Crouch.”

Barty has to work hard to keep a straight face. He’s not entirely sure he succeeds as he responds, “Will do, ma’am.”

-

[violetwifey]

UNDERGR★UND H★UND — pitfighter!vi x ex!reader

✧.* — summary ⸝⸝ ex!reader has been following pitfighter!vi for two weeks. on a fateful night at zaun’s bustling bar, they fiddled, they diddled, BOOMSHAKALA

✧.* — word count ⸝⸝ 1.3k

✧.* — warnings ⸝⸝ kinda angsty, smut, unsupportive parents (didn’t really get into details but they’re the reason why they broke up)

✧.* — nessa’s thoughts ⸝⸝ guys um…idk wtf this is, alright? it’s been years since i wrote smut so…this is all i got now. please don’t bully me, i tried my best. also, literally such a poor plot in my opinion but i was kinda horny so…🤷🏽‍♀️can’t blame a girl thirsting over THE vi, can you?

vi screamed after knocking down her opponent, raising a fist up in the air. the crowd roared. pennies fell down to the pit around her.

you stood still, smiling too softly for a place like this. you didn’t mind the stench of body heat, the loud atmosphere, the gory scenes that play out in the pit. you didn’t mind it if it meant getting a glimpse of her. tears pooled at the corner of your eyes.

you raised up your hoodie, covering your face as you pushed through sweaty bodies. you had to get out before she saw you.

you were perched on the bar stool, watching the green olive swirl in your martini glass. you missed her. missed the way she touched you. the way she had this soft, soft smile, just for you. her scent— earthy, grounding. did you really throw away something so precious? was it a bad decision? was what you did really forgivable…?

“fuck…” you muttered under your breath, chugging down your slightly bitter drink. the apple martini burned your throat, grounding you.

“rough night?”

your head shot up, eyes wide in anticipation. then your heart shattered. not her. “you could say that.” you mumbled, not caring if the purple haired woman heard you over the loud music.

“i could help you.” could she, now? you raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed. “not in the mood. try for someone else.”

she scoffed, offended. “whatever.” she turned on her heels and stomped off.

you hung your head low, hair falling around your face. then you heard it. heard her.

“that was cold.” your heart stopped. then plunged into a race. you didn’t move. you don’t know if you deserve to face her after the way you threw her out of your house. your hand gripped the glass tighter. you had to hold on to something. or you’ll lose it.

“i just saved her a heartbreak.” you weakly defended yourself.

vi scoffed, throwing three pennies on the bar, whistling at the bartender. “give me your strongest.”

you finally found the courage to lift your head up.

your heart broke.

this was not the girl you remembered. sure, you’ve seen her new look in the pits. but up close? you could see every little detail— red-rimmed eyes, puffy cheeks (probably from constantly drinking), bruised skin, nasty cuts here and there.

the worse part? there was no life behind those once sparkling eyes. eyes that shone like the ocean when the sun woke up to kiss it. eyes that trusted you to stay by her side no matter what.

now they just stared back at you with nothing behind them.

“vi…”

her eyes dipped down. she missed it too. the sound of her name on your lips; the way it shaped when you called out to her so tenderly. vi’s breath hitched. her lips curled into a snarl. the next thing you knew was her deathly grip around your wrist, pulling you behind her as she took you somewhere.

“VI!”

you yelled out her name, walls tightening around her skilled fingers. they pounded into your squelching pussy angrily.

“that’s right, baby. scream my name.” she grabbed you by the back of your neck, pushing you down more, bending you over the sink.

the sight before you made your pussy weep harder. tears were streaming down your cheeks, tits hanging out of your tube top. vi held eye contact through the mirror.

“you see that? you feel that? feel me?”

you wanted to answer, tell her that you did feel her. but the way she curled her ring and middle finger just right, hitting the spot that had you rolling your eyes so far back you thought you could see your brain, had you moaning out strings of incoherent words.

it was pathetic.

but if this was the only way she would have you for now, then so be it.

“what’s the matter, sweetheart? can’t answer? can your pretty little brain even process what i’m saying, hm?”, she added a third finger, stretching you out deliciously, “pathetic. what would your prime and proper parents say, huh?”

“nngh…v-vi…i’m sorry—“ your apology got cut off with a loud moan.

“keep your half assed apologies to yourself. you’re sorry?”, she scoffed, hand leaving the back of your neck to pinch and toy with your clit. it had you seeing stars. you barely managed a nod, chanting out her name like a prayer.

“prove it. that you’re sorry.”

you hiked a knee up to the sink, willing yourself to suck her long fingers in more. not enough. you started thrusting back against her, tits bouncing deliciously in the process. “FUCK!” your vision started to blur, the familiar knot in your lower belly building up.

“there she is. my dirty little whore.” she praised.

“cum! gonna— ngh! cum!” vi smiled sweetly. her eyes, for the first time that night, shined. “gonna cum all over my fingers, beautiful? yeah? go ahead. let me see how sorry you fucking are.”

she drew fast, sloppy circles around your clit. that was your last straw. you came around her fingers, screaming out her name like it was the only word in your vocabulary. vi slowed her pace, stretching out your orgasm, letting you ride it out.

it was only when you whimpered and tried to writhe away, that she took her fingers out, getting impossibly wetter at the string of wetness connecting her fingers to your pussy. it was messy. it was perfect.

you came down as she cleaned her hands before helping you clean up. then she turned around on her heels, walking towards the locked door. “vi!” you wrapped your hand around her wrist gently. she could pull away if she wanted to. if she does, you’ll know to never bother her again.

but she didn’t…

she stilled, the hand gripping the knob tightening. “i…i regret it. truly. this isn’t a half assed apology, vi. please, just hear me out?” her shoulders dropped with a sigh. she didn’t turn around, but her silence was enough to let you know she was willing to hear you out.

“i fought with my parents the night they kicked you out—“,

“you kicked me out. not them.” she interrupted.

you winced. she was right. “y-yeah…i did… i fought with them after. i tried to make them understand. but they didn’t want to accept it. so i…i left, tried to find you. wasn’t really that hard. your posters were all over zaun in just a week. underground hound…,” you chuckled.

“i came to see you fight ever since. i always voted for you.” vi laughed bitterly, finally turning around to face you. “aww, you voted for me? aren’t you a sweet little girl.” she cooed mockingly before shaking her head.

“vi please…i miss you. i made a terrible mistake. please, give me another chance.” tears clouded your vision. you waited. and waited. nothing. when you thought this really was over—

vi sighed, thumb lovingly brushing away the tear that escaped. “jinx told me.” you sucked in a breath.

“she told me how you hunted her down and found her in her hideout on a stormy night. you were drenched. begged her to…take care of me. patch me up after fights.”

you did do that. you also begged jinx not to tell her. but she did anyway. and it was helping you now.

you blinked, waiting. “you really left your home?” you nodded instantly. vi laughed, a small one, but a real one nonetheless, at your eager response. “you’re gonna have to prove that you’re sorry, babycakes.” she whispered.

thank the fucking gods.

she’s actually giving you another shot!

you breathed out a watery laugh, throwing your arms around her. vi tucked your head under her chin, swaying the both of you softly as you cried and sniffled into her bandaged top.

“thank you, vi. thank you. i’ll prove it. i will…”

and when you both walked out the washroom, hand in hand, you thought that every second of those three weeks apart was worth waiting.

[nakidoriii]

In the Middle- Part 3

GeGo x Reader Mini Series

Warning: smut, squirting, cumming inside, male/male blowjob, threesome. || MDNI

Parts 1 and 2!

Art: Pintrest (if you know the artist feel free to tag.)

“Y/N, you didn’t…..” Utahime sighed.

“Oh, she did…” Shoko says while exhaling cigarette smoke.

You and the girls were sitting by the fountain in the courtyard. It was the day after your spontaneous endeavor with Gojo and Geto. You had just told the news to Shoko and Utahime. You didn’t want to tell anybody but you had to tell them.

“So let me get this straight… you let the snowman hit?” Utahime clarifies.

“Well, not exactly….. just my mouth.” You mumble.

Shoko lets out a laugh while Utahime covers her ears.

“I don’t want to know the details but thanks for telling us.” Utahime admits.

“Yea, we had a feeling that Geto liked you. He’d always ask us about you but we told him you weren’t looking to date. We had no idea about Gojo though.” Shoko also admits.

“I’m honestly glad it happened the way it did. I think it was just a one time thing.” You say.

“Oh it definitely won’t be, knowing them.” Shoko says as she starts walking away.

“What do you mean by that?” You say as Utahime starts following her.

“I don't really need to explain! Keep us updated though!” She yells as she walks off with Utahime to their next class.

You start walking to the food court, thinking about whether or not you should text the boys. Would that be weird? Is that clingy? It hasn't even been 24 hours yet.

“Y/N!”

You quickly turn your head to see Gojo with his usual toothy grin. You look him up and down taking in his outfit. He had on baggy cargo jeans and loose fitted graphic tee and silver accessories. These pieces were definitely out of Geto’s closet. He had a pep in his step as he walked up to you…more than usual of course.

“Heyyy.” You sing in response.

He casually throws his arm around your shoulders and starts walking with you. Almost every girl in sight has their eyes burning through you. I’m sure they are curious to know when this happened.

“How’s my favorite girl? You sore at all?” He asks loud enough so that only you can hear.

You laugh and say, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would, that’s why I asked.” He pouts, sighs and says, “I never got a turn yesterday.”

“Ahh, that’s why you’re shouting my name across campus. Yea, that makes sense.” You say sarcastically.

“Oh, my bad. Are we keeping this a secret? That’s no fun.” He teases.

“Your fangirls are already staring holes into me just because you’re touching me.” You say under your breath.

Gojo’s hand slides down your arm and onto your waist, pulling you closer to him as you two walk. He’s trying to get a rise out of these girls.

“I’m hoping it motivates you to come over. Is it working?” He says as he flashes you his pearly whites.

“Maybe a little.” You laugh at his sheer dedication to get into your pants. “What about Geto though?”

Gojo stops you in your tracks and lets out a, “Hmm” as he thinks. He bends down, placing his glossed lips next to your ear and says, “He wouldn’t mind if we got started early.”

Those words send sparks down to your center, causing you to clench your legs together as you stand in front of him. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious about how Gojo is in bed. All you two did was give each other head and that was mostly because you couldn’t last another round.

“Under one condition.” You state.

“Anything.” He pleads.

“Since you’re derailing my whole day, it’s gotta be worth it. I’m cumming multiple times, got it?” You demand.

Gojo bites his lip in anticipation. Now you’re speaking his language.

“Yes ma’am. Let me call Suguru so I can let him know what will be waiting when he gets home. Ugh! Just thinking about you both is making me really excited.” He says giddily as he dials his best friend's number. “Suguru, meet us at the apartment. Y/Ns gonna be there. We’re getting started without you……. Yes, I’ll be gentle…..She said she wanted to multiple times…….Hahaha, yea I’ll snap a couple photos, you know me……See you soon.”

He hangs up the phone and starts leading you to his place. Gojo couldn’t keep his hands off of you during the whole walk. He would stand directly behind you knowing you’d feel his bulge on the small of your back. He’d whisper sweet nothings directly in your ear on the train. He wanted you soaked by the time you got to his place, calling it the “foreplay before the foreplay.” The moment you get to his front door, he pins your back to it. One of his hands is already sliding past the waistband of your panties, the other unlocking the door.

“G-Gojo, let's get inside first.” Your protest grows into a moan as his finger glides past your clit.

He opens the door, causing both of you to scuffle into the apartment. He uses his free hand to close the door. Articles of clothes get flung to different areas of his shared apartment as you two make your way to his bedroom. You crawl into his bed wearing only your bra and panties. He grabs your ankles and pulls you back to the edge of the bed. You squeal as he pries your legs open.

“Your panties are soaked.” He admires his work before he pulls them down your long legs.

You run your hands through his unpigmented hair as he licks up and down your folds. His hands pressed on the back of your thighs, lifting your legs up so he could have full access to your most sensitive parts. Gojo loved getting a reaction out of you and he planned to get so much more than that out of you.

“Satoruuu!” You moaned as he sucked on your clit.

This jump started Gojo’s pulse. He had never heard you call him by his first name, it kinda just slipped out. He spits on your puffy lips and slides two fingers in you. Your lips part from the new feeling inside you.

“Ugh, I love that! Say it again, baby. Who’s making you feel this good?” He says in between your folds.

“Mmmhnn, S-Satoru!” You moan as you throw your head back.

It was getting hard for you to keep your legs open as he fingered you, moving his fingers in a ‘come here’ motion. He pried your legs open with his free hand as he continued eating you out, making that knot form in your stomach.

“Mmm.” he moaned as if he was receiving pleasure from this.

He picks up the pace knowing that you're close.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cuumm!” You say as you push his face deeper into your folds. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as waves of pleasure crash over you.

He held you down as you rode out your orgasm, moaning his name the entire time. He slides his fingers out of you and starts kissing all over your body. Before you could open your eyes, you felt two more hands on your body.

“You did so good, Satoru.” Geto says right before slipping his tongue into Gojo’s mouth.

You don’t think you could ever get used to watching them kiss like this. It turns you on more than anything. The way Geto teasingly bites Gojo’s lip or how Gojo smiles during their kisses, it’s really fucking hot to you.

“She tastes so good, my God.” Geto moans as Gojo kisses his neck.

You sit up and start unbuttoning both their pants as they make out and feel each other up. You couldn’t take your eyes off them as you pulled their boxers to their knees. You spit on both their dicks and start stroking.

“What a good girl.” Gojo moans as both their attentions shift to you.

You take Geto down your throat as you continue to stroke Gojo with your hand. You look up at Geto as you moan with him down your throat. You take Geto from your throat and replace it with Gojo’s throbbing member, going back and forth between the best friends.

“How should I fuck her, Suguru?” Gojo asks as he caresses your jawline.

“I think she should be on top. I wanna see both of your pretty faces when you cum.” Geto states.

Gojo smirks as he lays down on his bed. He grabs onto your hips as you position yourself on top of him. You line up the tip of his dick with your entrance and slowly lower yourself down on his hard member.

“Shit.” You say under your breath.

You couldn’t believe how tight you were considering Geto had fucked you out yesterday. Gojo’s lips were slightly parted as your walls adjusted around him. You start to grind your hips back and forth, feeling the tip of Gojo’s dick rubbing against your cervix. He grinds his hips back towards you making you squirm. His fingers were pressing into your hips making sure he had control of your movements. You pick up the pace and start bouncing on it.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Show Suguru how good you ride my dick.” Gojo moans.

Suguru chuckles at this statement. He undresses fully as he watches his best friend slide in and out of you. Gojo was making direct eye contact with Geto as he slapped your ass, almost like he was luring him in. Geto saunters over with his dick in hand. You watch as Geto runs his hand through Gojo’s hair, making Gojo look up at him.

“Be a good boy and show y/n how you suck me off.” Suguru's voice weighed down with lust.

Your eyes grow wide at Geto’s statement. Gojo opens his mouth with his tongue out. He looks up at his best friend with pleading eyes, begging Geto to put his dick in his mouth. Geto slides his hard member between Gojo’s lips as you ride him. You throw your head back and moan, “Fuuck, I can't get enough of you two.”

Geto shifts his attention to you while Gojo pleases him. You start running your hands up and down your breasts and body as you ride Gojo. You wanted to entice him.

“You like watching me ride your best friend's dick?” The question slides off your tongue like silk.

Geto bites his lip and says, “Yea, but I wanna watch you cum on it.”

He places his hand on the back of your neck and pulls you into a heated kiss with him. Gojo moans on Geto’s dick as he watches you two make out. You couldn’t help but to moan into Geto’s mouth as your tongues caressed each other. His hand slides down your stomach and goes to your clit. He starts rubbing tight circles on it, making you pull away from the kiss.

“Hah!- Suguru!!” You moan as he gives your clit the attention it was looking for.

Geto was dominating both you and Gojo, at the same damn time. Gojo sees this and starts bucking his hips up into you at a faster rate. He couldn’t let Suguru be responsible for the orgasm you were getting close to.

“Satoru, fuuckk!! Oh my god, I-I’m so close.” You whine. Your walls clench around Gojo’s cock which caused him to moan on Geto’s dick. All three of you were so close.

“Make us cum, Satoru. Ugh, fuck! We’re so close.” Geto says as he presses his forehead up against yours.

Geto was not letting up on your clit. The amount of pleasure both of these men were giving you was sending you over the edge. You felt an unbelieve amount of pressure in your lower abdomen.

“Suguuurrruu!! Fuck, Saattooruuu!!” You screamed as you squirt.

The moment your juices got on them, both Gojo and Geto were pushed over the edge. Gojo busted first, painting your walls with thick warm ropes of his cum. His aquamarine eyes were rolled to the back of his head as his cheeks grew pink from the amount of pleasure. Watching this caused Geto to paint Satoru’s blushing face with his thick ropes of cum. All three of you were out of breath, over stimulated, and covered in each other's cum.

Taglist: @boopjuice  @thatmf-jay @whiter4bbitcorner @sukunaslilsocks @zombiiegrlx @candiceiscrazy @jinjen @arminsxseashell @tokyolhtl @vertigoswan @nazzysworld13 @zinflo @rllytiredrn @stinkmf @lnette04 @princess-bblgm @ovela @fiercedeception @arabellasolstice

This is the final chapter to ITM! Thank you all for reading! My submissions are open so feel free to put in some requests :) Comments and Reblogs are appreciated!

Masterlist

Please do not alter or steal my writings.

[pedge-page]

I think Joel would be so turned on by Preggo wife doing absolutely simplestest domestic stuff. Like holding baby Ellie on her hip and flipping pan cake while Sarah is talking to her about her preschool life.

Maybe Joely has woken up to a cold bed, and walked into their kitchen seeing wifey with a messy hair bun and his flannels on her, sleepy eyes bt so fucking happy. And bonus points if he sees a teeny weeny peeky of her tattas...

In conclusion, Uncle Tommy is goin' to be forced as a baby sister tonight.

Hes been sleeping so damn hard too. Now that Ellie is less fuzzy, more consistent sleep. He doesn't realize your side of the bed is empty when he wakes. His hair still fuzzy, he rubs his eyes and slips out of the covers, off to look for you because damnit where's his morning kiss? His brain doesn't fully turn on until he sees you so there's very little floating through his mind at the moment. As he makes his way downstairs, he can hear your soft humming. You're holding Ellie at the hip, with her own binky in held between her chubby cheeks as you fiddle at the stove. Sarah is seated at the table, even her hair fuzzy as she tells you about the field trip they had yesterday at the zoo. You somehow manage to listen and respond to her accurately while plating eggs with one hand, and constantly swaying your hips to rock Ellie to peaceful comfort. You don't seem disturbed at all. In fact, you seemed natural to it all.

Unfortunately, Joel's not as good as you are at multitasking, because all he can focus on is the way you look: wearing his long red flannel shirt, only half buttoned in the middle. The buttons didn't even line up, not that you cared to fix it it seems. It just barely covered the lower portion of your butt. He could tell too, as the top portions was disheveled from just having breastfed Ellie a moment ago. When you turned a bit to the sink, still not noticing him, he could see your breast from the sliver of the exposed shirt. You were barefoot too, your legs exposed.

The girls don't care. Why would they? Their mom is doing mom stuff.

Joel? Yeah. Joel notices. Wife doing mom stuff.

You finally see him standing there, and smile. He looks very out of sorts: his hand rested on his belly, brows scrunched almost in a dazed confusion, not sure what planets he's on, bags underneath his lids and the widest fluffy hair style he's ever had.

"Good morning bear," you giggle, patting over to give him a quick kiss. He softly growls into it, and before you can pull away, he wraps his hands around your waist, sucking you back in for a deeper kiss. He presses your body flush against his, feeling everything.

"Ew," Sarah groans, closing her eyes with her hands.

You pull away to take a breath, but his hand remains on your lower back, holding you close. Those eyes are lidded, but a little more alert with intention as he grins at you. "Good morning," he hums darkly.

You bite your lip a little, eyes flicking down to his plush lips again. They belong on you a lot more than--

"AH" says the little thing sitting in your arms at the present moment. Ellie has a scowl across her face, sucking her binky furiously as she stares at Joel. Who hasn't even addressed her yet.

He sighs with a chuckle. "Good morning to you, little miss." He sucks her chubby cheeks into his lips and let's go with a pop, causing the baby to erupt in giggles. Suddenly very pleased.

Joel clears his throat, back on you. "How about... Tommy makes breakfast for them this morning?" His eyes fit down to you again.

"They're already eating breakfast baby. Besides ..."

Tommy does get a lot of baby sitting he doesn't ask for. It's really unfair of you two to just put them off to him whenever you and Joel want some alone time--

"How about dinner?"

"Yeah. Yeah he'll take em for dinner tonight." You nod, absolutely no care in the world to your previous thought.

[leoruby-draws]

Here's Jason and Steph hanging out and contemplating their futures, aren't they amazing artists? As you can see here, Steph loves to pull Jason's chain, he gives great reactions.

I like to think Jason might be a fan of those EXTREME 90's comics with the super ripped anti-heroes. Though Jason would've been 6ft under during the 90s in the real world. Jason wants nothing more than to be huge and buff, like a real superhero. So he might be a little inspired by those 90s comics here, but he also might've wanted to emulate his new dad as well, who's often drawn with huge muscles. Lucky for him, he's been shown to be pretty swole in canon, maybe too swole sometimes lol.

Btw, Steph's adorable drawing is suppose to say "ACTION PRINCESS SUPER STEPH" might be a bit hard to read there. She's so creative.

It was pretty fun to try to draw like a little kid, the drawings might've come off as too unskilled for their age group I think (Jason and Steph are 8 and 7 here). I don't really remember how I drew at that age, I don't think it looked like this. I think I was trying to draw pokemon and Sailor Moon at that age, some things don't change lol.

This next comic is Jason being ecstatic to share what he created with his dad, I'm sure a lot of artists might know this feeling. Bruce can't believe how cute his new kid is.

To be honest, I like this comic, its cute, but it felt kinda tonally inconsistent to me a little? I think I was trying to compare Jason's two drawings, so Bruce would've been confused at the contrast. But I ended up with Bruce finding what Jason drew, and him enthusiastically trying to show Bruce, really adorable. Sometimes I draw a comic without really thinking what the end result will end up as, so it can feel muddled. idk I had fun drawing it.

As for why Jason's drawings look so different, Bruce likes to train his Robins in the art of memory drawing, to draw all the details they saw in any recent crime/incident. Somewhat similar to a forensic sketch artist (which they're also trained to do). But amusingly this skill didn't translate over to Jason's recreational drawing, so it ended up still looking like that. I remember in middle school how some boys would try to copy the Dragonball z art style with all the huge muscles and stuff. Jason's sketch doesn't quite match that, except in how goofy it looks.

Also it honestly wouldn't surprise me if Batman's been shown to be able to do memory drawing in the comics, I feel like he does? I never really keep track of all of Bruce's skills and knowledge, its just endless.

More of Jason wanting big muscles, Steph finds his ambition funny, while Cass just wants to be somewhere else.

Another one, with Dick this time, I think this was the first drawing I had of super buff Jason. I noticed I had a few drawings of Jason imagining himself as a buff adult, so I decided to pool them all together here. Made for a funny theme I guess lol.

Jason seems to keep imagining himself as still being Blue Jay in his future, it hasn't really occurred to him to take on a different name it seems. In fact, Dick is the one to offer Jason his Robin costume and name, once he becomes Nightwing. Something I obviously pulled from pre-crisis.

Anyways hope you found all this as funny as I did, take care!

[paperclips37]

I am on a writing role.

And Frank being a yearning sap of a man is too fun to write. He is down bad and that is where I like it.

Set two years after the season finale.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65282857

-----

Almost two years sober.

Frank stares up at the cloudy sky above him. Carefully stretching his abused back as best he can. The urges still linger on the back of his tongue most days. Instead of that intense itching, ants under the skill there just a want to numb the pain. Be free of it even for a moment.

But he knows how to walk past it. Is better about contact his sponsor for middle of the night rants. Cassie when he needs his ass kicked. Robbie when he craves absolution. Mel and Becs when he needs to be reminded that he can be a good person. And someone to make him laugh.

It’s a life long struggle.

His NA support group are insisting on a party for him. This weekend; family and friends are more than welcome.

The 1 year chip is warm in his hand. He has yet to ask a soul to come.

It feels like a slap in the face to ask Abbey but he knows she’d straight up murder him if he doesn’t. They’ve stayed friends. The divorce was as easy as any of things go. Kids seem content. There’s more attention and adventures to Dad’s place. She’s been quietly supportive. Easily adapting when he has a bad day and plans change.

The guilt digs into his soul.

The time missed. Added weight to Abbey’s shoulders.

But the more he sits and reflects or even sees her. They’re both better for it. She’s not carrying his bullshit any more and neither of them have to act like things are okay. For the first time in a long time they have honesty. Abbey freely talks about how angry and scared she was. How his behaviours and inability to ask for help drove her away. No judgement just the truth.

How she fell out of love with him long before his addiction become obvious to her. It was just her limit.

He had to agree. Their relationship had naturally moved into that of partners, tied to one another for the rest of their lives but the romantic aspect had faded naturally. He braced himself against the metal railings and let those thought drift away.

‘It’s just weird. My brain is freakin’ me out!’ Santos in her classic fashion is talking/yelling about something. She’s so fucking loud and abrasive. Irritating. She’s been intent on stealing his shtick since her first day. They’re relationship had evolved from completely adversarial to mutually competitive. Dare he say he found it fun and friendly? Exchanging barbs back and forth. Being critical of papers the other wrote. Calling each other out on the pettiest of things.

‘Brains are known to do that.’ Mel. Her deep voice always drew his focus. He turned to see the pair walk outside. Trinity was flailing. Actually flailing. Mel’s eyebrows raised and knotted in that way they always did when people were being weird. When she was trying to determine what they actually meant. Glasses slipping down her nose.

‘I had a sex dream about a GUY.’ Frank choked.

‘Oh hi Langdon.’ He turned around and rested his lower back against the railing. Doing his level best to not laugh in Santos’s face. The woman knew Krav Maga, he was not going to piss her off any more than he already had.

‘Hi Frank.’ There was a squeak to Mel’s voice that could be interpreted as a laugh. Trinity was slowly turning beet red. Crossing his arm he doesn’t say a word. Just raises his eyebrows at Mel. Her dark eyes shift away hiding a smile. Trin shoots him a middle finger. Refreshing to see her so on the back step.

‘It’s wrong.’ Her voice is so petulant, so childish and un-Trinity that Frank couldn’t stop the laugh if he tried. Trinity turns apoplectic. ‘I’m a fucking lesbian Langdon.’ He snorts. It seems the absurdity finally sinks in and Trinity succumbs to the humour. Mel’s face, rosy from her own much better contained mirth turns contemplative.

‘Research is still on going into why we have sex dreams.’ Her head bobs in that way it does when her brain is ruining through her knowledge of things. So she completely misses how he’s having a fucking heart attack.

She’s researched this?

Luckily Trinity also look as flabbergasted as he does. Her eyes huge saucers. Frank makes himself blink and tries not to wonder what Mel’s dreams may look like. Or who might be in them. He fails miserably.

‘Dreams are inherently hard to research as the data is entirely subjective and I imagine that trying to standardise the data is next to impossible.’ Mel nods to herself, as she leans over the railing and stares down at the ground below.

‘Is there anything about sexual orientation in what you’ve read?’ Jesus Christ what was happening. Trinity looked concerned. Mel twists around, her braid slapping him on the shoulder. The hit giving him a much needed jolt of reality.

‘Most experts theorise that dreaming is the brain filtering through information gathered through the day. So it’s likely that one of your interactions yesterday was the trigger for your dream. I don’t think it means anything deeper?’

It was Trinity’s turn to choke. Her flush deeper with constipated look on her face. Parts of her dream coming back to her. Mel looked up at him slightly bewildered. Frank was not touching that particular comment with a 10 foot pole. Telling his brain not to do anything with it.

God only knows what his brain was going to make of any of this.

‘Okay maybe I can avoid an existential crisis.’

‘I think Abbot is doing consults if you need any advice.’ Frank throws the comment at Trinity’s jogging back. Her phone is buzzing. Off break. She once again shoots him a middle finger but she’d chuckling.

It’s nice having her on side Frank decides.

Mel is single hand clapping next to him. Head bopping to a quick rhythm. Frank knows her well enough that’s she working through something and it’s best to give her space to do so. He just waits. Besides it’s interesting watching her think. In The Pitt when she’d thinking she’s tends to still. Like every part of her is diverting energy to her brain. But when it’s more casual thinking she moves. Feet shift and tap. Hands tense and relax. She bends them at angles that worried him for a while. Then he learned that over half of people with a diagnosis of neurodivergency have some degree of hyperflexibility. 20% for neurotypicals. Or neuroborings as Becca calls them every so often. His own fingers bend back more than he expected.

Her face is a constant whirl of silent speaking and expressions. Maybe he pays too much attention but it’s fascinating the way Mel moves through the world. Sometimes you could see everything in her face and eyes. Other times her mind was a complete mystery. He smiles.

‘Trinity was surprised I’d ever had a sex dream.’

Her voice is flat monotone. Mel has shut down her emotional reaction.

Shit.

‘I think she was actually surprised I’ve had sex.’ Frank winces at that. He knows from previous conversations that Mel has experienced judgements and infantilisation simply because she’s different. He’s even seen it himself. People trying to be nice but coming off as condescending. As though she isn’t a high intelligent competent woman. She’s a doctor for fucks sake. It enrages him, how Mel tolerates it so patiently is beyond him. Also he tries to stop himself from picturing her actual having sex. He does not do well with that.

‘Santos can be clueless.’ Mel turns around and folds in on herself. He resists the urge to pull in close. That wouldn’t help right now. So he just leans against her. Enough pressure to tell her he’s there but not forcing much contact. He is far more pleased than he should be as she matched his pressure.

‘I know my brain is different but I have the same needs and desires as anyone else. I just approach it differently.’ He can tell her bottom lip is wobbling. Her voice has the tiniest hint of vibrato. ‘And she did say sorry for her assumption but...’

‘It hurt.’ He finishes, his voice low and careful. She nods slowly.

‘She’s known me for two years and still made an ableist assumption.’ Frank just wants to get her out of the hospital and back to her place. Bundle her up on the coach and make her laugh. But they still have a few more hours to go.

‘You didn’t think that did you? That I was a virgin. Not that I judge anyone for that, but I'm definitely not.’ In classic form Mel turns the situation to him. Not that she’s trying to get a rise out of him or anything. She genuinely wants his opinion and take. The more information the better for her internal analysis. Frank shakes his head quickly, trying to parse his words cautiously.

‘Of course not Mel.’ She turns to face him fully. He immediately mourns the lack of contact with her. Her eyebrows lift and come together they way they do when she’s fully keyed into something. Not one word will be forgotten. Frank mimics her, leaning more on the railing so he’s a bit closer to her eye level.

‘Like you said you have your own needs and wants.’ He cannot bring him to say desires to her face. Mel misses some underlying things, part of her charm, but he can’t risk her figuring out how this whole conversation is messing with his head. The heat simmering from the controllable to an inferno that could burn them both to ash if he looses hold of it.

Because fucking hell, there’s something about Mel King that haunts him. She’s so direct and honest. Sweet to absolutely everyone. The way she tries so hard to connect. Mel sees the best in everyone. Even a wrecked soul like him. She’d known him all of 12 hours and still turned up to the rehab centre. Not a lick of judgement in her eyes. One of the very few who doesn’t look at him any bit differently to that first day. He’s overheard her scolding people for the whispers behind his back.

Mel is strong and stubborn- but her fully asserting herself and talking people down isn’t really her style.

And she did it for him.

It was fucking hot.

And she was. That was the other thing about her. She had absolutely zero clue about the effect she had on people. Her bright sunny smile always demanded one back. Not even Robby and Abbot were immune to her magnetism. Dark brown doe eyes that could bring any one to their knees if she had half a mind to. Strong and athletic. The EMTs could be frequently overheard rating asses and she tended to be at the top. Every so often when he was close enough and her glasses slipped due to exertion, she’d stare up at him over the top of her frames. Each time he had to fight the urge to drag her away to any private place he could find. A cliché but the hot librarian thing was a thing for him.

‘You are a beautiful, intelligent and funny woman. Of course people want you.’ His mouth was drier than the Sahara. Felt like he was chomping down on cotton balls. It's a miracle he's managing to be any bit eloquent.

I want you. Damnit Mel I need you. Climb me like a fucking tree. His brain chants entirely unhelpfully.

‘Thank you.’ He’s really not sure if he’s more relieved she hasn’t caught on to his increasing heart rate. Damn scrubs do not hide a damn thing. Or annoyed that she hasn’t figured out that he’d give his left arm for any sort of chance with her.

But she’s too good for him.

Frank is a wreck of a human. Recovering addict, one fucked up marriage with two kids in tow.

He’s irritable, impatient, quick to judgement and way too mean for someone so good.

As she stares up at him, the cutest little please smile on her face he feels that maybe someday be might be close to her goodness.

Maybe.

She glows under his complement. If only she knew what he really thought. Would it freak her out? Or would she be curious? Even into it? Frank doesn’t have the stones to ask it. Not now. Mel turns to leave, expecting him to follow. They’ve really pushed the limit on their break. Frank is surprised that Dana hasn’t come investigating.

‘Ah Mel?’ She stops dead and turns to face him. Head tilting, the lights behind her head dancing off her blonde hair. He’s struck dumb for a second by the halo of light. Pure good.

‘Yes?’ Her cute little frown returns as she waits for him to speak.

‘It’s my two year soberversary this weekend.’ He swallows heavily, breathing through the swell of emotions. Some pride, bitterness, guilt and exhaustion rolling through him like a thunderstorm. Mel nods like she already knew. He feels his lips quirk up in a lopsided smile. She does know. Mel remembers the important things.

‘I was wondering, if you are free. Family and friends are welcome. Would you-’

‘Yes.’ Her interruption takes him by surprise. Mel follows the unspoken rule book as much as she can. He can count on two hand the number of times he’s ever seen her cut someone off. Her easy quick reply settles him. His shoulders drop in relief.

‘Really?’

‘Of course! It’s a big thing. I’m honoured you want me there.’

‘You’re one of my best friends Mel. Of course I need- want you there.’ Shit his self control is slipping. Mel dithers for a second, rapidly trying to make a decision. Then her arms around his neck and her lips are burning against his cheek. The hug is so out of left field his hands hover in mid air for a second. Freezing as he goes into sensory overdrive.

He has hugged Mel before. But it’s always been him initiating contact after checking in. Never just her throwing herself at him. This hug, she’s on her tip toes with more of her weight on him. Mel is always so careful to avoid any risk of aggravation to his back. This time she’s done it on a whim so she is fully pressed up against him.

Holy fucking shit.

It has been years since he’s had sex. His and Abbey’s failing relationship coupled with his benzo addiction pretty much killed his libido. Two years in and single. Mel’s lithe and yet soft body is shutting down all higher brain function. Her lips pressing that quick and light to his cheek and the fire burns through his body from the tiny contact. It takes every remaining brain cell he has (which is probably about three) to do his best to clamp down on a physical reaction to her.

His hands damn near span her back. Her hair smells like lavender and her skin is dangerously soft and smooth. Images threaten to flash in his mind. Tongue and teeth dragging along the satin skin.

‘Do you want Becca there?’ The loss of her heat has his base brain screaming. He thinks he’s imagining things but her breath seems a little shallow, voice a little huskier. Was she affected by the contact like he was? No. No a chance.

‘Have a cake related event without Becs? I may be an idiot but I’m not suicidal.’ Mel’s face scrunches for a second. Her sarcasm radar has improved greatly but every so often, context depending, it takes her a second. It’s adorable. Then her face is brighter than any sunlit day he’s ever seen.

‘Great!’ She does her little happy dance, hands clapping eagerly. It’s not so hard asking people. He quickly takes out his phone and sends Abbey a quick message. Kids don’t need to be there. They are still a little too young. He tells her if she wants to be there he’ll cover the sitter. Abbey responds with a thumbs up and her parents are happy to spend some time with the kids.

He feels decidedly lighter as he follows Mel back down to the Pitt.

Mel is muttering to herself about something. Frank is so distracted by his own thoughts that he doesn’t really pay attention to it. He stops to scan for Cassie and Robby. They’re next on their list. He spies them at the boards and makes a beeline towards them. But then he catches Mel’s voice behind him. Her deeper pitch travels further than he expects.

‘That hug is going to trigger another dream.’

Another dream?

His brain completely short circuits at the idea that Mel whether conscious or unconscious has thought about sex with him.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Those previous images he fought against flood his fried brain and he’s done.

Then he trips over a gurney.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 5/6/2025

i feel a little weird whenever i post an “incomplete” tuesdaypost but my brain is the consistency of mashed potato rn

listening

normal by emily jeffri off my spotify discover weekly. if you told me this song was created in 2011 i would believe you— a lot of vocals i associate with marina and the diamonds/recession indie pop of that era’s rapid range jumps, roller-coaster-scream, and sort of sing-spoken musical theater delivery. plus a beat i can only describe as very up-and-down?

she’s fucking nineteen which is an infant tbqh. very fun interview here

Q8: What would you tell someone who’s about to listen to your music for the first time?

A: Eat something really sour, maybe buy some poppers, cover yourself in spray-on glitter and go for a run in an empty street in the middle of the night. If you put enough glitter on it will float around you as you sprint along the dimly lit path. If going out isn’t an option, spin around in your bedroom - I will not judge you, this is a safe space.

-

reading

this is the part that’s going to have to come later bc i did read a lesbian romance novel and it was a lot

-

watching

im sitting on a lot of Andor thoughts until the season finishes and these thoughts finish percolating in my brain. i dont know that i super love the dropping-three-episodes-at-once style they’re going with but i suppose it makes sense as an artistic statement and its probably a good compromise between vomiting up the entire season at once and the normal weekly tv appointment of the first season.

anyway! everything is happening so much. just a really effective television show that would not work in any other format. thank you tony gilroy for my life.

i have very little interest in watching Skeleton Crew, the live action show with a gaggle of elementary schoolers, or the Mandalorian movie. i know why that’s coming to theaters (it will make a billion dollars) but it feels like it should be direct to VHS, especially with that show’s stated and explicit lack of interest in any sort of overarching storyline. if star wars was good i wouldn’t feel so strongly about it.

-

playing

nervous about two things in genshin 1) the next update which will have some Lore and 2) the next big map update coming soonish which is supposed to wrap up a lot of loose ends before we go into the last of the seven nations and kick off the endgame. it feels like they’re stalling and im genuinely not sure why. i don’t follow a lot of things as they’re actively coming out, and genshin has been in my brain on and off since about the start of the pandemic, so thinking about it ending (even if that end is about three or four years off) feels very strange!

-

making

potion of vanilla extract for the local crew (and perhaps coworkers?) christmas gifts. i will hopefully be flying back to the east coast to spend some sort of winter holiday with my siblings and i want to simplify the larger local friend group gift process which has, to be so for real, stressed me the fuck out these past two years. thinking about making those beeswax food wraps from a giant pile of thrifted nice linen handkerchiefs and including them in the gift bag bc i could play around with different dyeing techniques. however that would be an EXTREMELY crunchy granola gift for south texas lmao

had a very funny interaction at the liquor store bc i rolled up, told the alarmingly beautiful cashier “im making vanilla extract-“ and he held up one finger, silently led me behind a row of coolers to a corner of the store i did not know existed, and handed me this bottle of their most $7 rotgut liter of 40% vodka.

[esperantoauthor]

So, I have cancer...

About 6 weeks ago, at the age of 35, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. In less than 2 weeks, I'm having a double mastectomy.

So Esp, why are you posting about this on your fandom blog? Well, because it is really my only anonymous presence on the internet and while I am sharing a lot about my journey with friends and family, there are things I want to say that I don't want them to hear.

Also, I am hoping to do some watch parties with y'all while I am recovering. Time to take advantage of all those disparate time zones so you can watch shit with me in the middle of the work day (my time) and the early evening (your time).

Cancer really does feel like something that happens to other people, stronger people. When it comes for you, it is most of all surreal. I read a little about the stages of grief and something that stood out to me was that denial is a healthy coping mechanism your mind engages to protect itself from overwhelmingly bad news. It lets you put off fully confronting until you are ready, or it lets you confront it in little pieces rather than all at once.

I am incredibly lucky in so many ways. My cancer was caught very early and as long as the pathology comes back showing the same thing the biopsy showed, this surgery will be the beginning and the end of my cancer treatment. The reason it was caught so early feels like such a happy accident that it's a little scary to think about, honestly. I get chills.

So here's the story: A while back, my doctor's office pushed out an online questionnaire that wanted some family history. I filled it out and at the end it said that based on my family history, they recommended I take a genetic cancer panel. I kind of shrugged and said sure, why not. I didn't expect it to show anything. My family cancer history is minimal. I have exactly one blood relative who had breast cancer and she got it in her 70s. My dad had prostate cancer but back then I had no idea that could have anything to do with breast cancer. None of my doctor's have ever brought up concerns that I might be at increased risk of cancer. I did the test with sort of a shrug might as well attitude and that ambivalent decision is the only reason my cancer was caught stage zero.

I learned that I have a pathogenic BRCA mutation (yes, like the one Angelina Jolie was very public about having), which was a lot to process and probably needs to be a separate post. My gynecologist was flabbergasted when I told her, that's how unsuspicious my history looked. I started on the recommended "high risk" schedule of breast screenings, starting with a mammogram and a breast MRI (which I would then alternate doing every 6 months). I was told these tests would establish a baseline and was warned that since they have nothing to compare it to, there is a higher rate of false positives. So I wasn't overly concerned when the MRI results indicated a biopsy. The mammogram was clear, the clinical breast exam was clear. It was probably nothing. I was mostly just stressed about the procedure itself, since I don't do well with needles.

Well, the biopsy did not come back clear, as you probably guessed. They called me the next day to tell me I had cancer. I had a good cry and was mostly in shock. Two days later, I met with an oncologist who explained that even though my cancer was not yet invasive, it had already spread across a large area. So large that the surgery I was expecting to hear about, a lumpectomy, wasn't an option. I had already been reading about mastectomies, since many women choose to do a preventative double mastectomy when they find out they have BRCA. I had mostly decided I would stick with the screenings when I found out that I no longer had that choice. The only question was one breast or two. I thought about it but honestly it was easy to decide to do both at that point. My main fear was going through surgery and that was happening no matter what. My risk for developing cancer on the other side would be pretty high, thanks to my genetics. Plus, if I kept the other breast I would need to take hormone suppressing drugs for at least 5 years, which have unpleasant side effects.

So that's how I got here. My house is full of special mastectomy shirts and surgical bras and antiseptic body wash and special wedge pillows. I'm terrified. I just want to be on the other side of it. Wish me luck!

I don't know if I will post more on this topic, but if I do I will try to use the tag #esperanto does cancer, so feel free to filter that if you want to skip any future posts.

[chestersbraincell]

[ecrireverie]

okay lol mini rant in the tags sorry i just HAD to get this off my chest 😭 sorry if this is very incoherent and poorly worded or structured or whatever i'm just. pretty out of it and i cannot really think to write this properly. well, that or i am probably just illiterate actually. Yeah that's it lol

[afterthelambs]

Oh my god haikyuu is so right volleyball is so FUNNNN

[miercolaes]

fancy tags are making me sad so as of rn, everything will be simpler. i just want to write and for some reason i always create smth that just's sucking the enjoyment with a biodegradable straw. until i find smth easier to tag that doesn't make the brain juice sad, i'll only tag the user.

[paradisaeidaes]

People just LOOOVEEEEE to piss me off don’t they !

[thepandalion]

just had to pause mid reading a fic because a character assumed another character's age (as in, assuming they're a kid. which I mean. canonically 14 at the time I guess?) and like. as a person who has that happen to me. I would not allow that to continue to be a conversation