#like would a surgeon just do that if i got him the money and my id or something

[miesozernacma]

yall think a plastic surgeon would just snip my tiddies off no questions asked

[satorusugurugurl]

Never got a request for them you say…

I know i request way to fucking much but I can’t help myself I love ur writing🫶

Butttt hear me out adult trio gojo geto shoko with fem reader. I’m thinking professional reader, who has an exhausting but rewarding job comes home exhausted, but her 3 lovers cheer her right up <333

Could be fluff or smut, I just need them in my life Fr

-🍭

Welcome Home!

Character: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Shoko Ieiri, FAB!Reader

Word Count; 2,853

Warning: overworked reader, nipple play, oral sex, praising, making out, achohol consumption, Geto in a fucking apron has me FERAL

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I had lots of fun with this one 🥵🌶 Spicy loved it 1000000/10 would recommend.

Everything hurt, from your feet to your back, as you exited your car, the garage shutting behind you. You had been gone for twelve hours, leaving at six and getting home when you'd left this morning. But you couldn't complain. Your business had taken off, and as CEO, you had responsibilities to take care of, which tended to keep you away from home longer than you'd like, but the paycheck was worth it.

You had started your own candle company in college. Book tropes, characters, and television series inspired the candles you made. Your shop had been small, and you were content with that. Until your partners suggested advertising on social media, reaching out to authors, broadening your horizons. You hadn't expected much, maybe a couple of dozen more orders, a few rejection letters from said authors. What you hadn't been expecting was for your products to go viral, and several authors jumped at the opportunity to commission you for custom character candles.

Your tiny little shop became a big-time shop so fast it had your head spinning. You shipped orders worldwide, made custom customer orders, and were featured on several podcasts. Your company was close to being a multimillion-dollar company with several locations. While exciting, and you didn't need to worry about money, it was exhausting. Long hours, dozens of meetings, and business trips were your new norm; it came with the title CEO. You loved your job! There was, however, one downside.

You missed the fuck out of your partners.

With your position, you could take care of the house payment and utilities. Allowing your partners to do whatever they want without worry. Shoko was studying to become a surgeon, Geto was working on a novel, and Satoru was your biggest investor; seeing as he was from a wealthy family, he could do what he wanted. And what he wanted was to help your company grow. Things were perfect; it justified you working so hard all the time. Some days were more exhausting than others, but it was also gratifying. Your partners could pursue their dreams, and as long as they were happy, so were you.

”I’m home.” You announced mid-yawn, removing your heels and setting them to the side. You ventured into the living room. The condo was clean and tidy, as per usual, thanks to your amazing partners. They took such good care of the house when you were gone.

“Welcome home.” Suguru greeted you from the kitchen. Both the mouth-watering aroma of prepared food and the sexy man stopped you in your tracks. “Thank you for all of your hard work today, Princess.” He wore gray sweatpants, his hair pulled into his signature half up half down style.

The best part of his whole outfit was the apron. Good god, it was illegal! The black apron went around his neck and tied firmly around his waist. It read, ‘My meat is 100% Going In Your Mouth’. It was a gag gift, one you’d need to thank Satoru for purchasing. Suguru was wiping his damp hands on it as he made his way around the island, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

You melted in his embrace, your arms snaking around him as he kissed the top of your head. “Thank you. It’s good to be back.” You sniffed at the air, happily groaning at the scent of food. “That smells absolutely amazing, Sugu!”

“You had a long day, so I made one of your favorites.” You followed him into the kitchen, staring at the four neatly prepared plates of perfectly prepared katsudon and fluffy white rice. ”I was finishing up the salad. It should be done in a few minutes.”

A warm body pressed against your back; the smell of clean linen and musk followed the body's movements behind you as Satoru rested his chin on your shoulder. “I hope so, I’m starving.” The whiny tone that resonated from Satoru had Suguru rolling his eyes at his antics as he chopped up lettuce. “But not as hungry as you probably are. You busted your ass today, as usual.” Soft lips peppered your cheek with kisses.

“It was a very long day.” You reached forward, grabbing a slice of cucumber off the cutting board and popping it in your mouth. “But it’s well worth it.”

“Long day; I guess this calls for some sake,” Shoko added, handing you a glass of chilled peach sake.

You took a long sip, humming at the sweet taste that danced over your tastebuds. “Shoko, what would I do without you?” Your exhausted-looking girlfriend took a long sip of her drink before pressing a kiss against your lips.

”You would be stuck with these two idiots.”

“Hey!”

Satoru pouted, while Suguru just shook his head with an unbothered chuckle. The carefree atmosphere and warm aura had you relaxing, the tension leaving your shoulders as the four of you sat down for dinner. While you ate and conversed with them, your partners looked you over while you weren’t paying them attention. Suguru took note of the dark circles under your eyes before looking at Satoru from his peripheral vision. He had noticed the circles along with how your skin appeared paler tonight. Dark and blue-hued eyes focused on Shoko. Her dark brown eyes examined you as she would a patient.

The three of them reached the same conclusion: you were exhausted, burning the candle at both ends. They knew very well how seriously you took your job; your work ethic was nothing to be sneezed at. No matter how sick or tired you were, you constantly pushed yourself to do more, to provide for them. Your motivation was fueled by positive forces, and there was nothing wrong with being driven by a goal.

However, the moment your goal began to run you down, that’s when you had a problem. You needed a break—some time to rest properly and recuperate. The three of them set their plan into action just with mirror eye contact.

“All right,” Suguru stood, collecting the dishes off the table, “Satoru and I will clean the kitchen. Shoko, why don't you take our sweet girl and get her relaxed?”

“Oh, don't be silly, I can help.” You followed them, collecting dishes that were snatched away from you by Satoru. “Hey, I can help!”

Shoko gently grabbed your hand, her slender, delicate fingers interlacing with yours, pulling you towards the bedroom. “It’s not a matter of you being able to help or not; we all know you’re perfectly capable of that.” Shoko gently squeezed your hand before pushing you back against the bed. “It’s more of a matter that we want to take care of you.” Those same soft fingers that had gently held your hand began working at the buttons of your blouse. “So please don’t fight us on this. You’re exhausted.” Your chest moved up and down, your steady breathing quickening as she exposed your torso. “Just lay back and relax.”

A breathless sigh escaped you as her soft hands groped your breasts in both hands, squeezing the soft mounds. “A-alright, then, let me touch you too.” You reached for her breasts, her nipples erect, peeking through the thin fabric of her white t-shirt. Your fingers just grazed over the fabric, straining against her hardening buds, when she pulled back, out of your reach. “Shoko, why are—” Her lips met yours in a soft, delicate kiss, one that emanated her true intent and desires.

”Have you been hanging out with those two morons too much?” Soft fingers, unclasp the hook in the front of your bra. “What part of ‘lay back and relax’ did you not understand?” Warm caresses of your girlfriend's skin felt like a burning fire over your tingling nipples.

“But I hate not making you feel good.”

“Baby,” Shoko chastised, leaning down, gently flicking her tongue over one of your nipples. “You make our lives comfortable; you do so much for us.” She kitten-licked one of the buds, nearly sending you off the bed. “There will be plenty of other times for you to join in. For tonight, relax and enjoy being a pillow princess.”

You were hesitant to listen to her, but as you relaxed against the bed, you realized just how tired you were. Laying back, your head cradled by the pillow alleviated some of the throbbing pain in your upper back. Plus, you weren’t often told to be a pillow princess, to lose yourself in the pleasure. This might be precisely what you needed tonight.

Without any further protest, you melted against the bed, your hand gently running through Shoko’s long, silky hair as she suckled and nibbled at your nipples while her hands massaged your breasts. I felt so good to be touched so gently. It was a drastic contrast to the boys, who roughly groped and nipped at your sensitive breasts. No matter how many times they saw your breasts, they were still the teenage boys you met nearly a decade ago. Breasts were, and always would be, some of their favorite things. Shoko, on the other hand, knew what felt good, how to get those little moans and whimpers to escape your mouth. If the woman was given the chance, she very well could make you orgasm from your nipples alone one day.

”Oooh my god, S-Sho—” That day was today, “Shoko, f-feels so good, really good.” Your nails gently grazed her scalp before you tugged on the strands of her hair. “H-Holy shit.”

Your girlfriend giggled, sending vibrations to stimulate your already sensitive nipples. “Yeah? Feel good—“ her pink tongue swirling tantalizingly slow around them, “so good you’re going to cum like this?” A tiny whimper was the only response she received. “Such a good girl for me. Go ahead, baby.” She groped both your breasts, pushing them together, allowing her to suck and nibble at both your nipples at once. “Cum for me.”

Shoko pressed her knee against your clothed center, and that was all you needed to cum. “N-Nggh! C-cumming~ S-Sho! Fuck!” you withered and squirmed, your hips rocking g against her knee, extending the sweet pleasurable waves that rocked you to your core.

She was watching you get off from just the brush of her knee, and her mouth on your tits had Shoko giggling softly. Your face was twisted with pleasure, slowly shifting into a more lax face as you finished riding the waves. Once your heavy breathing turned into soft, content sighs, she pulled back with a grin. She’d like to see the boys try and get you off solely from your tits. Because she knew neither had the patience or skills for that.

“Good job, Shoko.” Your eyes fluttered open as the bed shifted. “Got her nice and relaxed for us.” Shoko sat back, watching as Suguru and Satoru crawled up the bed. “How are you feeling, sweetheart, better?” Satoru hummed as he unzipped your skirt, tugging it down.

“Mhmm, a lot better.” You lifted your ass off the bed. Allowing Suguru to tug your thigh-high stockings down. “Sho always takes good care of us.”

“Mmm,” larger hands forced your legs apart, “I can see that.” Suguru hummed, trailing a finger up and down over the wet spot on your panties. “She made you cum, and you did such a good job.” His fingers hooked under the lace hem and tugged them down, throwing them somewhere across the room.

Suguru’s fingers pulled your wet folds apart, admiring the slick coating of your lips and how your arousal seeped out of your tight entrance. His thumb pulled the hood over your clit back just enough, allowing him to rub sweet, gentle circles around the bundle of nerves. While he teased your clit Satoru nestled himself between your legs, kissing and nipping at your inner thighs up to your dripping sex.

“Mmm, I was wanting dessert.” His hot breath teased your twitching cunt. “Thanks for the meal, sweetheart.” His tongue dipped out, tracing teasing circles of your entrance. His wet tongue and Suguru’s thumb had you gasping, arching off the sheets. Your hips jolted forward, silently begging for more. “So fuckin’ needy~” Satoru growled into your pussy. “Normally, I’d make you beg, but you’ve been working so hard you deserve a reward.” His tongue dipped past your tight entrance, gently swirling it as he licked at your inner walls.

With Satoru’s tongue spearing you, working the muscle inside your pussy, Suguru takes the chance to lean down, kissing and sucking at your swollen nipples. “Fuck, you sound so pretty; make more sounds.” His teeth gently graze over the bud. The sudden sensation made your body jerk forward, here widening as his skilled mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking on it hard.

“Suguru,” Shoko sits on your other side, “try swirling it gently~ like this.” A raspy sigh shakes through your entire body as Shoko demonstrates her technique on your other nipple. “This gets her going.”

“Oooh~ I see now.” The dark-haired man watched Shoko closely, nodding as he observed her momentum. “So I need to do—“ his eyes meet yours as he flattens his tongue, “—this?” His tongue matches Shoko’s face as pressure, sending tingles coursing straight to your pussy, where you clench around Satoru’s skillful tongue.

Blue eyes widen as feeling the gentle spasms of your cunt on his tongue. Your wetness seeped out, coating his tongue, mouth, and chin. “Mmmphmm~ yeah.” His voice is hoarse with unfiltered, pure need. “She fucking likes it~ her cunts hugging my tongue, keep it going.”

Hearing the filthy words, Satoru spoke motivated his best friend. Suguru kept his ministrations up, his eyes darting between Shoko and back to you, doing his best to keep up with her pace, mirroring her movements to the exact inch. In turn, Shoko’s hand dipped down, pressing gently on your lower abdomen.

“S-Shiiit!” You hissed, lifting your head an inch, watching as your three beautiful partners worshiped you. “Ooooh haaah!” You arched, squirmed, and twitched on Satoru’s tongue. Your partner's fingers, tongues, and lips moved faster as you screamed, one hand gripping the sheet as your other hand thrust into Satoru’s hair, tugging and pulling at the strands as you rocked against his face.

“Good girl~” Suguru growled against your nipple. “Goood fuckin’ girl~ cum all over Satoru’s face.”

Shoko nodded her head in agreement, her hand pressing harder against you. In doing so, she put pressure on the coil that was twisting and twisting inside you. Satoru groaned loudly inside of your pussy, feeling your walls twitch slightly around him; the tiny movements had his tongue lapping faster and harder, rubbing against your g-spot with every flick.

The combination of all three of their efforts made you scream and squirt. Coating Satoru’s tongue and face. Watching the stream of clear liquid coat, Satoru’s face had Suguru rubbing your clit faster. Extending your orgasm, making you squirt again again.

“Oooh, that’s it! Good fucking girl!” Suguru praised while Satoru glowered at you. Not in anger or disgust, but in feral fucking need. His mouth and tongue didn’t stop moving as he drank all of you in, working you over the dips and rises of the orgasm that nearly took your life. He only pulled away when you grimaced, shaking at the overstimulation of his mouth, and that only happened because you yanked him out of your pussy.

“Mmm~ such a good girl~” your slack mouth was suddenly being kissed by Shoko before Satoru crawled up, slotting his mouth against yours, allowing you to taste the sticky, tangy essence of your cum. “She was the best, wasn’t she, Satoru.”

The white-haired man pulled back, collecting the remaining traces of your cum with his pointer finger. “She’s the fucking best. No questions asked.” You lazily watched as he offered his finger to Suguru.

“Oooh, thank you.” Dark eyes trailed over you before he smirked, gently wrapping his hand around Satoru’s wrist and leading his finger into his open mouth. You choked on a breath as you watched Suguru bob his head up and down Satoru’s finger, ensuring all of your juices were clean. “Mhmm, so sweet. Shoko, have a taste.��� Your girlfriend grinned slowly, leaning over your spent body, kissing Suguru with full tongue to get a taste of you. Their tongues swirled and massaged the other for what seemed like an eternity before they broke the kiss with a string of saliva and your cum connecting their tongues. “Isn’t she delicious?”

“She’s sweeter than the peach sake from dinner.”

With a gargled moan, your head fell back against the pillows as your lovers all leaned over to examine your face. Your pale skin from earlier was flushed a darker shade, your eyes were hazy and distant, and if this were an anime, they were sure you’d be spurting a nosebleed right about now. The trio exchanged knowing glances and gentle smiles. You did so much for them. The least they could do was give you a proper welcome home.

[netherfeildren]

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .5

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Possessive behavior; Jealousy; Size difference; Size kink; One sad horny old man; Angst!!!! that will continue just FYI no abusing poor little vic for enjoying the suffering of others :) it’s not my fault :)

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: peep the cameo!!!!!! :) 

Word Count: 6.1K

Read on AO3

.5

Vanish. Pass into nothingness: the Keats line that frightened her. Fade as the blue nights fade, go as the brightness goes. Go back into the blue. I myself placed her ashes in the wall. I myself saw the cathedral doors locked at six. I know what it is I am now experiencing. I know what the frailty is, I know what the fear is. The fear is not for what is lost. What is lost is already in the wall. What is lost is already behind the locked doors. The fear is for what is still to be lost. You may see nothing still to be lost. Yet there is no day in her life on which I do not see her.

Joan Didion, Blue Nights

Weeks pass after that night in his truck. He calls, many times, but you never answer. And it makes you feel like the worst sort of liar, but you can’t. You can’t hear the sound of his voice, it’ll ruin you, destroy your resolve, force you to your knees at his feet, which is, if you’re being honest, the only place you really want to be. It is, perhaps, the greatest struggle of your entire life, to hold on by the skin of your teeth to this idea you have of what it is he and his marriage should remain as, and what you and he should be and should not be. 

It’s Gerri’s birthday, and Tommy and her sister had decided to throw her a party at her house. Big surgeon money makes for a big fancy house, and Gerri was over the moon, filled with happiness and laughter and that wonderful brand of Gerri specific infectious glee that forces even your miserable, morose self to pull your butt out of bed and get ready to go celebrate her. She knows you’re sad, missing him, even if she doesn’t know it’s him specifically. Although, you suspect she might have an idea of it. 

She’d begged you to come during class at the start of the week, planting her stubborn butt on a stool to stare you down while the rest of your students finished up their work and then put away their materials. Please’s and threats of tears and bodily harm and promises of copious amounts of alcohol, and if you’re feeling up to it, I could even hook you up with someone – an accompanying waggle of her eyebrows. What about a surgeon? My sister knows the perfect, sexy doctor for you. You’d profusely, profusely refused that. You could not even consider another man right now, the idea was almost repulsive to you. As she begged and pleaded and whined, another one of your students had come up, eavesdropping on the pathetic display of supplication, “Come on, teach. Don’t be a sour puss, put her outta her misery, and go to the fucking party with her,” she’d laughed. One of your best students – she had the most gorgeous tattoo on the inside of her forearm of two overlapping ferns with an intricately detailed moth at the head. She’d told you once she’d sketched it herself. You’d rolled your eyes at them, sour puss, my ass. But you knew you had to get out of this hole you’d dug yourself into, and so, their teasing had gotten to you in the end – forced you to agree to the party out of sheer preservation for your reputation. Gerri’d taken to calling you the boring barnacle… yeah, and she’d never stop if you didn’t agree – would probably force all your other students into making fun of you for the rest of the semester, as well. Annoying little shit, it was very aggravating that you loved her so much. 

-

The house is stunning – big surgeon money indeed. All shining glass, sleek wood and modern edges. A huge infinity pool in the backyard, flanked by an impressively sized guest house that Gerri said she and Tommy stayed in sometimes when they got too drunk to drive home. 

There was, after all, a doctor from Andrea’s work waiting for you at their undesired and annoyingly meddlesome behest. He was nice, handsome, boring. Not tall enough, not broad enough, hair blonde and straight and kind of straw-like – no dark, silver streaked curls and deep, warm eyes. He kind of reminds you of a shiny scarecrow, if you’re being honest and not very kind. Not Joel enough. But he was nice, and seemingly interested and he’d gotten you a drink and stayed by your side all night, attentive and polite. 

You feel miserable and made out of plastic. Your smile, fake, forced, terrible. Something has to be done about this. Perhaps, electrotherapy, a lobotomy, an exorcism. Anything to get him out of your head. 

The shiny, blonde scarecrow – doctor – is telling you about his shiny, blonde family and their fancy skiing trips now, and oh, do you ski? No? I bet you’d love it – maybe I can take you one day? Never mind that you’d been born without a single athletic bone in your entire body, when, suddenly, you hear your name being barked, rough and angry, from behind you, and then a large, searing hot palm circling your bicep on one side while his other palm slides along the span of the small of your back to grip you at the bend of your waist. Fuck. 

“Joel–”

“Hi, sweetheart.” He does not look at you as he says it, but his grip on your waist tightens for one second. He’s staring down the shiny scarecrow, murder in his eyes. Oh, that look is very scary. 

“What are you doing here?” He turns the scary look on you at that, and nope, nope, it’s even scarier pointed in your direction.

“Tommy told me you were here.”

“Wh– what? Why would he tell you?” He gives you a pointed look, and you glance at the scarecrow, nervous. “You told Tommy?” you whisper back at Joel. 

Poor doctor man looks at a loss, gaze swinging back and forth between the two of you. “I’m so sorry, can you give us a minute?” you say, embarrassed. He takes one look at Joel’s terrifying face and scampers away.

-

Moron, he thinks, sour gaze following the fucker as he tucks tail and runs. He turns back to you, answering your question, “Didn’t have to, baby. He figured it out on his own. Don’t think we’ve been what one could call discreet if you’re really paying attention.”

You shut your eyes tight, bring up a shaky hand up to rub at the delicate wing of your brow. He desperately wants to smooth out the tiny frown marring the space between your eyes. 

“N– no– but,” you stutter. 

He takes the drink you’re holding out of your hand, takes a sip of it – something sweet and way too strong for your light-weight little butt. “Mm, he get that for you?”

You scrunch your nose up at him, and he knows he’s meant to take it as a sign of your annoyance, but all he can think is that you’re too adorable for your own good. “Wh– I– you overbearing, ridiculous – give that back!” you frown up at him as he holds it out of your reach. He sets the glass on a table behind you.

“Hmm–” His big hands span the width of your waist, can’t help himself, you’re so small compared to him. It makes his cock so hard. “Let me talk to you, please. Let’s go somewhere quiet.” He doesn’t care that he’s not supposed to be here, that he shouldn’t be bothering you, he’s reached the end of his rope. 

“No – go away. It’s– it’s Gerri’s birthday.” You try to wiggle out of his grasp, but he pulls you further into his chest. “I’m supposed to be having fun. She said she’d be mad if I didn’t have fun.” There are already overwhelmed tears in your eyes, and if he wasn’t so fucking desperate to see you, to talk to you after all these weeks of you ignoring him, he’d run away. Far, far away, where he can never make you cry again. 

“Just for a little bit, please,” he whispers into the shell of your ear, causing the little wisps of hair there to flutter. 

You shiver. “Where– where’s Sarah?” You bring your small hand up to clutch at his beard, cup his jaw, and scratch your nails gently down the side of his cheek, and fuck, he’s ready to burst, just with that, even as your other hand feebly tries to push at his chest. He slides a hand low on your back to press your pelvis into his. 

“Baby-sitter.” Hearing you ask after his daughter has that soft spot behind his ribs where you live now, burn and pinch painfully. 

“And–” 

He cuts you off, doesn’t want to hear you talking about her. “Gone for the weekend – work conference.” Not that he believed that.

You open your eyes again, the tears lining your lashes make them almost glow in your skull. He can’t help himself, he bends to press a soft kiss over your eye, feels the whispering, wet flutter of your long lashes against his mouth. You let out a broken mewl for him – full of all your matched wanting. “F– fine. We’ll– we’ll just talk.”

Just talk, just talk, just talk. 

He can feel the pulse of his blood beat through the line of his erection against his thigh. He wraps his hand around yours and starts leading you through the house, spots Tommy at the back of the kitchen, leaning against the counter talking to someone. His brother takes in the two of you together, gives him a subtle nod, inclines his head towards the backyard – the guest house where Joel was headed. Tommy had known, since that day so long ago when Joel had tried to discreetly tag along to the college – hoping to get a glimpse of you, he’d known there was something. Nothing discreet about your half assed excuses, reeked’a desperation, he’d said. His brother wanted him to be happy, to have a good, fulfilling relationship. He’d been telling Joel to get a lawyer for months, had been the first to tell him to not get married. He’d help him now, give the two of you time to sort this out. He knows just how insane Joel had been these past few weeks, like a caged animal, pacing and hissing at not being able to get at you. 

He steps out the back door and pulls you towards the guest house. He’d been here once, months ago, helping Gerri’s sister out with a repair she’d needed. The two of you would have privacy there to talk, for you to finally stop avoiding him. He needs to speak to you, touch you, smell you. He was going out of his goddamn mind thinking about you, dreaming about you. His cock, constantly at half mast and leaking, at all hours of the day, just at your memory. Desperate, that’s what he is, he’s desperate for you. 

“Who was that guy?”

“Who?” Your voice is anxious, breath hitching. He knows you’re twisting yourself up in knots, and he turns to pull you into his arms now, in the privacy of the dark room, lit only by the light of the moon spilling through the large bay windows. 

“The one you were talking to.” He draws his palm slowly up and down the line of your spine, feelings the little bumps and jitters of your trembling form. Skittish little rabbit. He rubs his mouth over the line of your hair, baby soft wisps tickling his nose and mouth. You smell so good, he wants to rub himself all over you like some sort of animal – mark his territory.

“Wh– I– You cannot be serious right now.” You push at him, turn to move away, but he catches you around the bend of your elbow, tugging you back forcefully into his chest. He presses his front along the line of your back, grips your hip to bring your ass into the hard line of his cock. 

“Does this feel serious to you?” He’s hard as stone, throbbing beneath his jeans. 

“Oh God, Joel–”

“Don’t want you talkin’ to other men, thinking about any other men. I know it sounds insane – can’t help it, I’m sorry.”

“I– I don’t think about anyone else but you,” you whimper. 

He wraps his arms around your waist, brings one large hand up to cradle the weight of your breast and squeeze. He can feel the stiff little furl of your nipple through your dress. He feels a little unhinged right now, overwhelmed by the feel and scent of you. “I miss you,” he whispers. “Have you missed me?” He presses a soft kiss to the shell of your ear that has a violent shiver jerking down your vertebrae, you grind your ass harder into him, give him the sweetest little moan. “All I do is think about you.”

“I did, I did– I miss you so much. I wanted to talk to you, I did,” you whimper, “But– but we shouldn’t, Joel,” you say at the same time as your hand comes up and around to twist into the curls at the back of his head. He turns your head with his hand wrapped around your jaw, his entire palm cups around your neck to your cheek, thumb pressing harshly into the corner of your mouth to angle you exactly how he wants you, and then he’s tasting behind your teeth, the wet lick of his tongue into yours sends a bolt of lust straight through him, almost bringing him to his knees. He moans, deep and rumbling into your panting mouth, and your answering keen has the dribble of his precum sliding down his thigh. He needs to be closer, he needs to be inside. Fuck, he’s in danger of coming just from this, just from the sweet taste of you, your little moans, all for him. 

“Did you like that boy? Think he was nice, hmm?”

“Wha– No– no, Joel. I don’t even know him.” Brow scrunching into the most adorable little frown he’s ever seen. You blink your lashes at him, eyes glassy and slightly dazed. 

He snakes his other hand down the front of your dress and under the lace of your panties, cupping the entirety of your mound in his palm. Fuck, you’re soaked and he’s touching you, finally, finally, he’s touching you here. 

“Is all this wet for him or for me?” he says softly, dipping a single finger into your seam, a ghost of a touch over the bud of your clit. Fuck, you’re soft. Soft and swollen and soaking wet. He never wants to see you near another man again, it’s unreasonable, insane, he knows this. But the dilemma of having seen you, tasted you, felt you, but only by half measures, not really having you, well… it sets the stage for insanity. This he cannot help. 

“For you, for you– please, Joel. Just–”

“She’s drooling for me, baby.”

“Don’t be mean,” you cry.

“Will you let me make you feel good, sweet girl? Please, I just want to make you feel good.” He presses wet kisses over your cheek, down your neck to lick into the hollow of your collarbone. Your hips hitch in little grinds trying to gain more purchase against his palm, and he circles your clit slowly. You’re fucking dripping, and he moves down to press over your entrance, gives you the slightest hint of everything else he’d like to give you. 

“Oh, please–” He slides two of his fingers into the last knuckle then, to the hilt. You’re so wet, there’s no resistance at all. Your cunt swallows his fingers whole, and the both of you let out ragged moans in tandem. You’re fucking tight, and he needs to feel you around his cock, he has to. He’ll die if he doesn’t. He’ll die.

“We– we were supposed t– to talk,” you stutter, little cunt grinding down as hard as you can on his thrusting fingers. The wet squelch is deafening and obscene in the quiet of the guest house, and he can almost feel the steam of your lust and embarrassment at the sound rolling off of your skin like heat waves. 

“Yeah, yeah, baby. We’ll talk in a second.” He licks a long wet swipe along the edge of your jaw, bites down harshly, and he can feel the tight clench of your cunt at the small hurt. He pulls his fingers from you, and you let out a protesting mewl, but then he’s spinning you in his arms and kissing you. Something savage and uncontrolled rising up inside of him. He half carries, half drags you down the hall to the bedroom he knows is at the back of the house, pulls the neckline of your dress down to get at your tits, sucking and nipping as much of the soft flesh he can get at. All the previous moments of restraint, of not touching, of just watching, have turned him into this uncontrolled beast. He can feel your little feel dangling off the ground, over his boots. He almost stumbles as you lose one of your sandals, stepping over your shoe, and gripping the back of your thigh to hoist you up higher, grinding you against his length. 

He sets you down on the bed, pushing you back to lay across it as he tugs the soft cups of your bra down to get at your bare tits, sucking one peaked nipple into his mouth and pulling hard on the tip. So fucking beautiful. He swirls his tongue around your softness, kisses the underside of it, nips at the full, round side, switches to give the other one the same attention. You’re whining and crying out for him, almost sobbing. So sensitive, so sensitive – little fingers twisted in his hair to pull him closer, but he’s moving down, pulling away from your searching mouth and lifting the hem of your dress. He bends to bury his face in the soft apex of your thighs and breathes deep – satisfaction, hunger, rumbling through his chest. You smell so fucking good. He sticks his tongue out to lick at your slit over the lace of your soft, pink panties, sweet, little bow adorning the front of them. 

“Hush, lemme kiss your pussy for a little bit,” he soothes, “Don’t cry,” and you’re spreading your legs immediately at that. Good girl. 

He hooks his fingers under the soaking wet center plaque of your panties to pull it aside and drags the flat of his tongue right through your seam. Fuck, fuck. He shuts your legs to rip the fabric down your legs and then rips them open again to get at your cunt. Your back arches, curved tight like a bow string, and you spread your legs wider for him, tug on his hair to urge him closer. He settles between the space you’ve made for him – thinks that he just might like to live here for the rest of his life. He sucks your clit into his mouth and starts to press a single finger inside, giving you something to bear down on.

“God, Joel–” your gasps are wet, on the verge of overwhelmed tears, or already there, perhaps, “Feels so– so good.”

���Taste so fucking good–” He starts to fuck you with his finger, adding another, giving you more to stretch around. You’re so wet, leaking down to pool in his palm, and he focuses on your sensitive little nub, licking and sucking and kissing it, all while he watches the heave and tremble of your breasts, back arched so that you can rock into his ministrations. 

“Oh, I’m– I’m gonna come.” Yes, already, “I’m gonna–” He can feel the ripple and throb of your inner muscles working around his thrusting fingers, he hooks them against the deep, spongy spot at the front of your walls and sucks on your clit. Everything goes tight and liquid inside of you. The rapid flutter of your muscles trying to suck his fingers deeper, as you gush into his mouth, has all the blood rushing from his head to his dick so quickly he feels slightly faint. He licks you through it, gentling the thrust of his fingers but not stopping. Your restless legs shift around him, too much, and then he’s shifting back up to you, a bite to your nipple, a kiss pressed to the underside of your jaw, and he’s pulling you down the bed so your ass is right at the edge and tugging at his zipper, pulling his boxers down to free his aching cock and heavy balls. Fist clenched tight around himself, he jacks it once, twice and then presses the angry, red head to your clit, slides the underside of it through your cleft to feel the heat and wetness. Shit, your skin is scorching hot, soaked, and he can see the slight clench of your hole, begging to be filled. 

“Joel, please I– I want–”

“Fuck – will you let me– will you let me put it in? Just a little bit?” He’s thrusting against the slick red of you, palm pressed against the shaft to create friction on either side. On every pull back his head catches the smallest bit at your entrance, and fuck, fuck, it would be so easy, so good, “Just– just for a second, baby, please? Just the tip?”

“I – I don’t– I–” The head catches more fully, the wide tip of it giving you just the first slight stretch of it. “Oh, please–” Please, please, please. 

He feeds you the first inch – eyes glued to the way your little hole stretches obscenely around his fat girth, “Shit,” he snarls. He fucks you just like that, with just the tip and you try and arch even more, impossible, you’re already pulled tight as an arc, trying to take him deeper, and then your knee is hitching against his hip and pressing him in closer. He slides all the way inside, to the very end of you, in one smooth, devastating go. He feels his tip bump against the mouth of your womb, and your shared moan is pained and ragged. Your fluttering lids springing all the way open, eyes wide, almost shocked. The look shared between the two of you – incredulous, as if neither of you knew – had ever occurred to you – that something in this world could ever feel this good. 

He buries his face in your neck, shuts his eyes tight. Fuck, he’s gonna come, he’s gonna come. Your gasping moans, the lush press of your breasts to his chest, the fluttering of your cunt around him – nothing in all his life has ever felt like this. There’s a pain, deep in his chest, in a place he didn’t even know existed. This is like nothing else that has ever existed in this world. He’ll never be able to let you go after this, never, never. 

He wraps his hand around your throat, tries to settle you. “Don’t– don’t move, don’t make a sound–”

“I can’t– I can’t– You’re so deep.” Your legs kick restlessly around him.

“Baby, shut up, please,” he begs, he cannot come yet, he cannot. This is the first time in over three years he’s been inside of a woman, the first time he’s been inside of you. He cannot ruin it with a happy trigger finger. You’re clawing at his back, gasping and crying for him to move, to fuck you, please, please, please, fuck me. He slides a hand under your butt and lifts you slightly off the bed to bring you closer to him, grinds his cock deep, deep, right at your cervix so that you’re crying for real now. 

“Too much, too much,” you clutch tightly at his bicep, going back and forth between trying to push him away and pull him closer. He can feel the wet press of your tears sliding along his cheek, over his mouth, and he licks his lips to taste them, has his eyes rolling to the back of his head at their saltiness. He hitches you more firmly in his grasp and starts to fuck you. His thrusts, deep and devastating, punching all air, voice, thought out of you, heavy balls slapping wetly against your ass.

“You can take it, you can take it. You can take anything I give you. You’re my pretty, perfect girl,” he grits, pulls himself up so he can stare at the place where you’re taking him, puffy, red cunt stretched obscenely around his slick base. 

“You feel so good– I can’t, I can’t– What are we going to do? What are we going to do? It feels so good.” You’re crying, incoherent, fucked out look in your eyes as you claw at his shirt, little nails scraping over his belly and chest. He grips you under one knee to pull your leg up, hooking your ankle over his shoulder to deepen the angle. You come again, instantly, just at the change, the deepening of the angle, the head of his cock battering savagely against that deep, soft spot inside you.

“Fuck, yeah. Let me feel that cunt get wet, little girl.” Your mewls are high pitched, supplicant, and you gush around him. He feels it soak his pelvis, drip down his balls.

No one’s ever been this deep, nothing’s ever felt like this, you say, over and over again. 

He plants one knee on the bed and hunches over you, ankle still dangling limply over his shoulder and pounds into you. The feel of your cunt rippling around him, sucking him deeper is too much. He wishes he could last longer, feel you come around him again. What if you never let him do this again? What if you never want him again after this? What if it’s just a one time thing? He’ll never get over this, he’ll never be able to move on from this. He can’t hold back, he starts to fill you, hot thick spurts coating your insides, and you moan again at the searing heat of him, right at the mouth of your womb, grinds deep, deeper, as deep as he can, the contractions of your inner muscles pulling him in. He wishes he could crawl beneath your skin, live inside of you, make a home for himself behind the safe cage of your ribs, and he thinks that you’re right, nothing has ever felt like this, nothing will ever feel like this again. 

He’s ruined now. You’ve ruined him

He collapses on top of you, wants to crush you with his heavy weight, meld your chests together so that you’ll have to be with him forever after this. He presses wet, breathless kisses to the vulnerable underside of your jaw, behind your ear where your scent is the most concentrated, breathes you in deeply. You wrap your arms and legs around him, and he can feel the clench of your inner muscles around his softening cock. He hasn’t done this in a long time, he wonders what his refractory period is now, if he’ll be able to go again soon, if you’ll let him. 

“I wanted that so badly,” you whisper, nuzzle your nose into his hair. 

“Me too, sweetheart.” 

“I’m scared.”

“You have nothing to be scared of. I would never hurt you,” he promises because it’s the truth. He’d never do anything to purposely hurt you. 

“I’m scared of what I feel for you,” you say quietly, “I– I don’t–”

He slides his hand under you to press you closer. “I know, sweet girl. Me too.” He angles your head to give himself access to your mouth, starts his kiss out soft and gentle, slotting your full upper lip between both of his to pepper soft little pecks and sucks to it, then tilts his head to get a deeper angle and lick into you. 

You’re completely relaxed beneath him. Soft and warm and wet, entirely pliant. So sweet. It’s one of the things he loves most about you, how sweet you are. Sweet and kind and earnest – tenderhearted. You’re right, in a way, this is something to be afraid of. The things he feels for you – the depth of it, it’s not something he was expecting, not prepared for, but he’s certain there isn’t a way of stopping it now. This is what it is, will go where it was always going to go, from the first moment he saw you, touched you, tasted you. 

“What are we going to do?”

“I want to tell her.” It’s the only truth, the only road he wants to go down. He wants to be with you, he wants this out in the open. “You aren’t a secret to be kept or hidden. You deserve to be cherished out in the open.”

Your tears spill harder at that, “Joel–”

“Baby,” he lifts up slightly to look at you, “This is it.”

You turn to look away and he feels dread coil in his gut. If you pull away from him now he’ll lose his mind. He isn’t prepared for this, he isn’t the type of man who’s ever had to deal with this type of feeling. “I – I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I– I don’t want–”

“You don’t want what?” he brushes a loose strand of hair away from your face, runs the tip of his finger along the arch of your brow, down the slope of your nose. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you,” he says, because it’s the truth. In this moment, he thinks he’d do anything at all you’d ask of him. Open his very veins for you. You have him speared by the heart, eating out of the palm of your small hand. 

“I don’t want to be the reason your marriage ends,” your brow crumples, “I told you. I– I can’t be. I couldn’t live with that.”

“My marriage never really began to start with. I told you that.” He moves to pull out, both of you groaning softly at the sensitive slide of his cock slipping out of you, the slick gush that follows. He sits back on his heels, grips both of your knees to keep you spread and enjoy the sight of the viscous drip of his spend out of your messy hole. He wants to bend to eat his own come out of you. You’ve turned him into some sort of beast, subjugated to the scent and sound and feel of your body. But instead he turns to sit at the edge of the bed, tucks himself back into his jeans. He leans forward, elbows resting against his spread knees, and drags his palm over his face, rubs the scruff of his beard. He feels you turn to curve around him, your hand snaking up the back of his shirt to press your palm against his hot skin, your knees curling into his lap around his waist. “It was never – it was never– I don’t even know. Never a real marriage, I suppose. Or never something either of us wanted for the right reasons. I – I felt like it was the right thing to do, at the time, for Sarah. I told you this. But– but it was never how it should’ve been. I worry now, sometimes, if we haven’t just done more damage to her, built a foundation that’s so rotten, so broken, that she’ll be able to feel it for the rest of her life.”

“Joel,” you whisper, dragging your fingers softly up and down his back. 

“She was born into a broken home – how can I ever– how can I ever make that up to her?” He turns back to look at you then, “A home where her parents never loved each other – barely even tolerated each other. What is that gonna do to her? What will that teach her about love and relationships?” He grips you around the bend of your knee, anchors himself with the feel of your soft skin beneath his rough palm. 

“I think that, from– from experience, that it will be enough for her to know that she has you, that you love her, that you’ll always be there for her. You’re a good father, Joel. A– a wonderful father. She’s so, so lucky to have you.” And the look in your eyes as you say this to him is so earnest, so sincere and kind that he knows, in that very instant, that he’s falling in love with you, that he is already in love with you. He folds over to press his face into your belly, hug you tight to himself. “Your love for her will teach her what love is supposed to be. Honest, forgiving, patient. She doesn’t need any other example than that. That’s enough for a little girl, trust me.” You drag your nails gently along his scalp. 

He presses a kiss to your belly, another to your still bared breast. He rests his cheek on your chest to look up at you. “Thank you. Thank you for that.” What he really wants to say is, thank you for existing, thank you for finding me, thank you for being magic, thank you for letting me touch you. Please, let me keep even one small piece of you, I’ll take such good care of it for the rest of my life, I promise.

“But you– you can’t tell your wife about this, can’t– can’t leave her for me. That isn’t– that isn’t ever what I wanted, or– or set out to do. I told you why, I explained this to you.” He watches a bright flush flood your cheeks, brow folding into a frown as you stutter out the words. “I don’t want you to do that.”

“What’s left of this marriage is going to end either way. It’s only a matter of time.”

“But not for me. Not because of me, or for you to run straight to me. I can’t– I couldn’t live knowing I’d done that.”

“You haven’t done anything. This was done a long time ago, the foundation was damaged from the start.”

“N– no, still. I can’t.” You shift away from him, sit up to right your clothes. There is a part of you that hums the sounds of uncertainty, he can hear it in your voice, but it is so quiet in the face of everything else. The echo of your screeching guilt and fear so loud, it overwhelms everything else. 

“So, then what? This was just a one time thing? You want nothing more from this? From me?” He spits, hurt. He knows he should be gentle, not get angry, but the thought of you taking yourself away from him now makes panic climb like fire up his chest and throat. 

“I don’t know,” you say quietly, face still turned away from him. “I– I can’t tell you that right now. But I do know that I don’t want you to tell your wife, or to leave her for me.”

“So you think I should stay with her? Even though we’re both miserable. Even though all I want is to be with you. That’s what you want me to do?”

You let out a hoarse, anguished little sound at that, but then: “That’s not for me to say.” Your voice sounds broken, jagged, lacerating. “That isn’t my business,” you say so quietly, almost like you’re afraid to utter the words out loud, know what a lie they are. But he hears it. Loud and clear, like a slap to the face. 

“Not your business?”

“I should get back.” You stand to right your dress, he watches your shaking knees knock together, and he reaches out to catch you if you need him, but you steady yourself on your own. When you finally turn back to look at him, there are tears streaming down your face. In some sick, twisted way, the sight of them is a comfort. They tell him that this isn’t what you really want, that your words hurt you too. In a way, they help him understand you better, as well. You’re trying to do what you think is the right thing, as wrong as it is for all of you involved. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, wringing your hands together. He only nods. You go to clean yourself up in the restroom, shutting the door quietly behind you.

-

When you step back out into the bedroom, he’s already gone, but there’s a glass of water left waiting for you on the bedside table. 

Chapter .6

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

[richarlotte]

High Class Dating.

I’m spending the summer interning in New York before I move to California and I’ve not had any trouble at all when it comes to getting dates, meeting men, or being taken out. I do sugar date and date hypergamously because if you’ve not leveled up your dating game in 2024, you’re missing out. I think it’s imperative to only except dates with men that make you feel good, have good careers and have something to offer, and make an effort to treat you like a lady. 2024 is the decade of the black woman and I know what I want so it’s time for me to get it. I’ve been dating since I was 18, I’m not a love guru by any means but I hold my own, and I love going out and having a good time with high quality men who will treat me well and show me their lifestyle.

My Stats.

As a background, here are my stats: I’m about 5’11 and weigh 140 pounds, I’m dark skin, and I have alopecia (I do wear a wig). Am I drop dead gorgeous? I’m not Jasmine Tookes but I’m confident and love the way I look, I’ve taken time to level up, I have a good workout routine and a toned body, and I’ve made strides with my personal style and makeup skills over the past few years. I’m happy to make posts related to the process that I went through when I started leveling up, the changes I made to my style and to my makeup routine, and the workout routine and some of the food I eat to keep myself healthy and motivated. I don’t believe in dating out of desperation and I think that it’s always important to make an effort if you are a woman; if you make an effort and know your audience then you’ll find that it’s easier to meet people and go to better places.

A few of my dates.

I went to lunch at the Penn Club with a man who I met on Hinge. He’s a successful young plastic surgeon and we spoke for two days before he asked me out on his first day off. He was tall, had big brown eyes and a strong jaw, handsome, an excellent conversationalist, and very intelligent. He made such an effort to take me somewhere beautiful, treat me well, and make sure that I was having fun and he had so much potential. I really liked our date and think it’s one of the best I’ve been on since I landed in New York for my internship.

I went to Martha’s Vineyard for Fourth of July weekend with another date. His family owns a huge house on the island and I’d mentioned to him that I wanted to go somewhere that felt luxurious so he invited me and a few of my friends to visit. It was a beautiful long weekend and I got to do so much; we swam, cooked, watched the fireworks, danced, listened to so much good music, and got to know each other better. I love a man who comes for money and has his own money but is still humble and he is the definition of a good guy.

I feel like every girl has her own story about going out with an NHL player but OMG let me tell you mine. I went out with a Swedish NHL player and these wealthy Scandinavian men and athletes love black women. People will try to say that they only like thin blondes but this man treated me like a princess, he still sends me gifts, he got me tickets for the Stanley Cup finals, and he’s an angel with the most beautiful accent I’ve ever heard. I slid into his DMs on IG and then he was messaging me an hour later, liking all my pics, and asking me if I’ve ever been to Sweden. I’m going to try to go visit Stockholm in December to try to see him during Christmas when I know he’ll be back at home.

How I meet men.

I use Bumble, Hinge, and the good old-fashioned way of leading people in person. I can do a post on the best way I’ve met people in person and some of the venues I like. I think everyone who reads this will agree that there’s just something about a man who treats you well, is strong, and has a thick wallet and good looks. Every girl deserves a guy like that and I think it’s important that black women do not take any bullshit and don’t compromise on what they want. There are men out there who would drop everything in their hands to do something for me, the princess treatment isn’t a myth at all, and I have met so many men who are able and willing to invest in me and my lifestyle. Again, if you know what you want, then you’re going to get it but you have to be willing to put the work in.

Richarlotte x

[kittyit]

This is a long and loaded ask so feel free to delete but it's completely earnest

I've been a radfem for about 3-4 years now (radfemhagen but I got termed) and honestly I still struggle w genuine dysphoria. All the reading, critical thinking, talking w detrans women is definitely eye opening and helped me but it hasn't healed me of my ~gender feels~ if you know what I mean. I remember trying to get tips from other blogs but all I remember was something about doing physical labor with other women or just being around other women but that isn't helping either, I'm so disgusted by my female body and how I'm seen (especially by men and especially as a lesbian) and it's just getting worse. I've been thinking about going on a low dose of T even but I know there's other options to coping, like there HAS to be SOMETHING. I can't just will it out anymore.

Help a gyn out

this and it's probably better saved for an essay but i felt moved to respond to you straight up. i'm going to explain three really important parts of my journey to a place where i almost never experience the intense and life-disrupting distress around my sex (diagnosed as dysphoria) except in times of extreme stress, and even then it's fleeting.

one essential thing i did was stop thinking of transition as an option for myself. this is something i see a lot of detrans/desisted women struggle with. i think this is a mental trap. "if i don't feel better in x amount of time or when i do x, i'll transition" removes the urgency and necessary nature of working through the distress around your sex. i've written in a few pieces about when my girlfriend max asked me to not do it 3 days before my first t shot, it genuinely felt like the last light in a dark harbor going out. i felt utterly hopeless. i felt like my last solution had been taken from me and i would never feel better.

i came to my decision to never pursue transitional medicine first through listening from my girlfriend and other detrans women. to take seriously the pain & trauma detrans women go through. to listen when they said this did not help me, this was not help, it did not fix these feelings of distress. to listen to detrans women is to understand that transitional medicine is an unethical practice being done by unethical practitioners. it's also to understand that this solution is not what it's presented as. taking these women's experiences and analysis seriously meant ruling it out as a coping mechanism for myself, ever. but there are so many reasons to make the decision not to participate in transition medicine - political & practical. not giving money to surgeons who traffic in literal female flesh. not wanting to risk all of the under-studied, ignored negative long-term health effects. not wanting to signal to the women around you that there is no way to survive as a woman like you without transitional medicine. defiance of new patriarchal expectations for women like you. defiance of the pressures that tell you that this is the thing that will make you feel better - like makeup, like labiaplasty, like breast implants, like an elective double mastectomy. defiance in general.

so the first thing was to stop thinking of transitioning as an option. i said no. the second thing was to stop thinking of my distress as dysphoria. to un-diagnose myself with this word that means i need to take T and get a mastectomy and undergo phalloplasty to have a chance of ever being happy. you mention disgust for your body, you mention disgust for how you're seen by men and as a lesbian. disgust for yourself on these points is anger at patriarchy, lesbian-hating society & men turned inward on yourself instead of the people who deserve it. it's an impulse of someone dealing with oppression to blame one's self for it and think there are things we can do to escape it. it's no different than a woman trapped in domestic violence obsessing over what she could have done differently to not set him off this time - the right dinner, place setting, clothing & tone. the idea that woman- and lesbian-hating can be escaped as easily as transitional medicine claims it can is simply not true. the experiece of a woman who passes as a man is another exerperience of womanhood, still under the bell jar of misogyny.

what helped me with these feelings of distress was pinpointing exactly where they came from and what they meant. i know this isn't helpful for everyone. but it's almost like going deeper and deeper on the feeling make it more and more clear what needed to be addressed. here's one spiral to the center: i want to chop off my tits → why? → i hate my breasts → why? → they feel ugly and disgusting → why? → i got them so young, they're so large and people stare → why does that bother you? → i feel so ugly and out of place → why does that bother you? → i feel so alone and worthless → how do you feel? → i feel lonely → what do you need? → i need connection.

"i want to chop off my tits" is not a coherent feeling - every human alive has complex reasons for the things they say, think and do. if you can get to the bottom of where these sensations and feelings and disturbances diangosed as dysphoria are coming from, you can figure out how to address them. what is the feeling at the bottom, what is going unaddressed? and quite honestly a lot of the time it's not an easy answer. sometimes the answers are super hard to grapple with. sometimes the need cannot be fulfilled or are very difficult to fulfill. but once you've decided that transition is not on the table, the quest to find those answers becomes a lot more essential.

this isn't something anyone is really meant to do alone. when i hear you say you hate being seen as a lesbian and how men treat you, i hear an inherent isolation in that. i could be wrong, i know a lot of people can still feel lonely when they have a strong support system, but i would say the majority of women do not have the kind of friend group and number of connections they need to be socially supported. so another big part of this is breaking out of isolation and being around other women who "get it" - whether virutally or in real life. humans are a pack animal and this is an isolating age.

so that's my three parter to your question

1. say no to transitional medicine

2. undiagnose yourself with dysphoria and instead figure out why you're feeling what you're feeling

3. seek out friendship, community, and ways of thought that can help you address those feelings

[writing-for-marvel]

Blunt Force Trauma

[He’s Hazardous To My Health Series]

Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x Resident!Fem!Reader

< < PART 6 | Series Masterlist | PART 8 > >

Summary: While out for an unusual date night, Bucky and you witness an emergency.

Warnings: strictly 18+, car accident in which cars plough into storefronts (not involving reader or Bucky), multiple injuries including the drivers of the cars, someone trapped under a car having trouble breathing, description of lacerations, blood, no casualties, Bucky doubting himself and being insecure, discussion of money/disparity in wages, John Walker because he is always a warning

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: a BIG thank you to @skittle479 who gave me the inspiration for this part, I hope I did your idea justice darling ❤️ I apologise if this is a little rusty, I haven’t been writing consistently for a little while. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

Bucky usually feels adept and influential sitting in the front seat of an ambulance, uniform proudly donned with the badge above his heart, perched higher than most of the traffic and capable of speeding past with sirens blaring whenever required.

But when John Walker sits beside him in the driver's seat, all he feels is agitation.

“You got any plans this weekend?” His annoyingly snarky voice fills the otherwise silent cabin as they pull up to a red light.

“Yeah, I’m taking my girlfriend to see the new Barbie movie on our mutual day off. And then probably just grab some food afterwards.” Bucky tries keeping his answer short and to the point, not wishing to divulge any more information than he needs to fundamentally answer the question without being rude, nor the giddy fluttering of his heart at referring to you as his girlfriend.

Not only does John Walker have a reputation of doing a rushed job in the field, with somehow thinking his skills are far superior to anyone else in the force, but he is also too nosy for his own good and incapable of keeping topics discussed in confidence to himself.

Steve’s learnt that lesson a few times.

“Dinner and a movie?” The inflection of John’s voice makes it seem like a query, but it’s muttered under his breath in what Bucky would classify as an almost disgusted tone.

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“Just that… she’s a doctor right?” The intonation of John’s question has doubt settling like led in the pit of Bucky’s stomach. That there is inherently something erroneous about a paramedic like him being with a doctor like you.

“Yes.” He confirms without questioning how John even knows that information given Bucky has never mentioned directly to him who you are or what you do for a living.

“Well don’t you think she’ll be after something a little more… upmarket than dinner and a movie? She’ll be friends with other doctors and surgeons at the hospital, they’ll be able to afford fancy dinners in the best part of town, seeing expensive shows, musicals, operas that cost a hell of a lot more than seeing a movie. Girls wanna be treated like princesses, not some commoner.”

Bucky’s heart drops. He specifically remembers you telling him about how for every date night Wanda and her new boyfriend, an anaesthesiologist, try out another lavishly expensive restaurant in the richest part of the city.

Was that you dropping hints that’s where you wanted him to take you for date night? Is he greatly disappointing you by instead taking you on such a generic date?

He hates to let anything John tells him get under his skin, but maybe he has a good point in this instance…

Of course you deserve far better than something so plain, but Bucky doesn’t have the savings to be able to take you to Michelin star restaurants that charge exorbitant prices for such small servings.

But if he doesn’t do this, at least once, will it be the reason you leave him? Will you want someone who earns more money than he does and can spoil you like the queen you are. He has no experience in this area, no real idea about what it takes to keep a partner happy in a relationship, and he knows John is, at least from the outside, happily married.

“I guess I could try something more upmarket.” Bucky suggests, though he’s not thoroughly convinced. You’ve never once expressed this is something you want, but perhaps it’s one of those parts of a relationship you want the other to take control of without needing to convey out loud. That directly telling him defeats the purpose all together.

He supposes that once you’ve spent a couple months with someone you need to shake things up to keep it interesting. Besides his bank account, there really is no downside to treating you both to an extravagant night out.

“I’m telling you man, you won’t regret it.”

They continue on with their shift in complete silence, Bucky’s mind churning with gears of insecurity and reservation.

He loves you and he sure as hell doesn’t want to fuck this up before he finally gains the courage to tell you.

* * *

“Can’t you give me a hint of where we’re going?”

Bucky’s fingers are interlocked with yours as you casually stroll down the sidewalk. You’re in a much fancier part of town than you’ve ever been to together before, and all of a sudden the informal pink dress you chose to wear to the earlier showing of Barbie Bucky treated you to makes you feel underdressed and completely out of place.

“We’re almost there, but I want it to be a surprise!” Bucky kisses the back of your intertwined hand, but you sense from the stiffness in his broad shoulders that even though he’s by your side, he doesn’t quite feel comfortable here either.

It’s only a short walk before Bucky stops outside a sleek restaurant where a group of smartly dressed patrons are queuing for entry. The waiters are dressed in black pants, white shirts with bow ties, and velvet vests - which gives away how high end the place is before you even have a chance to glance at the prices on the menus.

“I’m sorry I can’t take you anywhere fancier, I know Wanda and Vis keep trying all these upmarket restaurants…” His intentions for taking you to this part of town become as apparent as a lightbulb turning on in pitch darkness.

You place a delicate hand on his cheek to direct his uncertain gaze to your own. He looks like a nervous puppy.

“Bucky, it isn’t how expensive the restaurant is, it’s the fact that we’re together that’s important. You could take me to McDonalds and I wouldn’t care because I’d be with you.” You emphasise the end of your sentence, wiping your thumb across his cheek affectionately as his eyes brim with both hesitation and tenderness.

“Are you sure? Is this one of the things girls say but they actually mean the opposite?”

There have been a few fleeting occasions in your relationship with Bucky where you’ve seen glimpses of an inexperienced, naive and slightly insecure man who is navigating his first long term relationship. This is one of those moments and all you want is to eliminate all wavering doubt swirling in his mind.

It’s honestly endearing how sweet he is. You’re sure the only reason he is anxious is because he cares so much.

“Bucky, who’s gotten into your head?” You ask, shaking your own. You’re sure neither his best friend nor his mother is responsible for this line of thinking. “I promise you, I don’t need you to spend an entire paycheck on a single dinner at a restaurant where I can’t tell the difference between their cheapest and most expensive bottles of wine. And remember I’m only a couple years out of med school, I’m still drowning in years of student loans. All I care about is spending time with you.”

“You really mean that? You’re not just saying that to be nice cause I can’t afford pricey places like the anaesthesiologists and surgeons at the hospital can.” Your heart drops below your stomach. The concept that Bucky thinks you would ever want anyone other than him, simply because they happen to make more money, has the centre of your chest aching and makes the corners of your eyes prickle with tears.

“James, I care about you so much.” You declare, standing on your tiptoes and kissing him gently. “And that has absolutely nothing to do with the number that’s written on the bottom of your paycheck. One of the reasons I initially fell for you was seeing how you interacted with Sasha in the ER - no anaesthesiologist or surgeon I know has shown that kind of rapport with a patient.”

The smile tugging at the corners of his mouth abates the sting punching your chest.

“Really?”

“Mhmm. You’re one of a kind baby. Please don’t you ever doubt that you are the one for me.” You affirm as you thread your arms around his waist, placing a delicate kiss on the underside of his jaw.

There are tears in Bucky’s eyes he’s trying, and failing, to conceal. He looks in absolute disbelief, but as he gazes down at you, you could so easily be fooled into believing there is also so much love in his eyes.

“You are-, I am so-” You wait in anxious anticipation as he stutters.

Is this it?

Is Bucky finally about to say those three magical words you have been dying to hear for the past few weeks? That overwhelming feeling of pure love and adoration you feel for him and so desperately wish he reciprocates.

But before he is able to finish his sentence, you hear a vehicle’s tyres skidding along asphalt and two consecutive, deafening crashes sound close by, startling you.

You feel the ground shake violently and Bucky’s arms instinctively fly around your head and pull you into his chest in what you can only assume is an attempt to protect you from flying debris.

Before your mind can comprehend what on earth just happened and even look towards the origin of the booming impact, Bucky’s set off at a sprint, launching himself directly into action.

Once your brain is able to catch up to what your eyes are seeing - two cars, who potentially swerved to miss each other, ploughed through the shopfronts of two different restaurants only a couple stores away from where you are standing - you feel a surge of adrenaline in your chest and you begin a chase after Bucky, the screams of onlookers the soundtrack as you assess the scene.

You’ve seen some horrible and gory injuries during your time as an emergency medicine resident, but you’ve never seen it as raw and gruesome as you do right now in the field for the first time. It’s dedicated paramedics and EMTs like Bucky who do the initial triage, treatment and transport so that the patient arrives at the ER in the best possible condition. Seeing the carnage here, is confronting.

When you reach the incident, wails of pain fill the air, shattered glass covers the concrete ground and panic clenches tightly in your stomach. You first notice the driver of the car, dazed at the wheel, the airbag having cushioned his impact.

“You!” Calling out to a young man seemingly unharmed but immobilised with fear, you point to him and continue. “Call an ambulance.”

Seeing him fumble to pull his phone out of his pocket, your attention switches back to the inside of the car.

“Sir, try not to move. You’ve been in an accident.” You advise as your hands fly out to keep the man inside the car, groaning in pain as he turns to exit the vehicle. Reaching across him, careful not to move his position or cause him any pain, you put on the handbrake, shift the car into park and remove the keys from the ignition. “I’m a doctor, please try to keep your neck still.”

You do a quick assessment, his breathing is quick and shallow, but most of his impact seems to have been absorbed by the airbag. He has no signs of external bleeding, though you are concerned about internal bleeding as well as whiplash and other head and neck injuries.

“Can you help me?” You ask the man who you had instructed to call an ambulance. He rushes over despite his hesitation earlier. “I need you to keep this man’s head still, hand on either side of his face, just like this, making sure he doesn’t twist his neck. Keep him awake and talking, and scream out to me if he loses consciousness.”

In the chaos and mayhem of the scene you’ve lost sight of Bucky. He’s no doubt somewhere close by providing medical assistance, probably at the other restaurant doing exactly what you are here.

Inside the restaurant the air smells of engine fuel, powdered plaster and metallic blood. It’s encouraging to see those that are unharmed lend assistance to those injured and in pain.

Your eye catches a lady in a blue pantsuit lying on the ground, back against an overturned table, face contorting in excruciating pain as she grips both hands onto her trembling leg. Her suit has ripped open and you can see a long laceration through the muscle of her thigh weeping blood. A man beside her has a look of pure terror in his eye, wavering hands unsure of what to do in this situation.

“Wrap a tourniquet around her leg above the laceration, as tight as you can!” You direct as you notice a patient out of the corner of your eye, closer to the car in far greater need of your assistance, your heart squeezing in terror and the pool of blood growing slowly bigger each second before you get to him. When you see her friend's mouth open in question you continue. “Your jacket, the tablecloth, anything you can tie tightly!”

Rushing over to the underside of the front of the car, you observe a young man in a waiter's uniform trapped between the car, ground and the rubble of the shopfront displaced by the force of the car. Your hands fly to apply pressure on his chest wound, the source of the pool of blood surrounding him.

“Help me.” He wheezes, his eyes dilated, alarmed in a life threatening way you’re unfortunately used to seeing having worked in emergency medicine.

“I’m a doctor and I’m here to help. I know you're in pain but I have to put pressure to quell the bleeding. Try taking a deep breath for me.” He tries to do as you request but all he is capable of is panting in short, shallow breaths. The already terrified young man starts hyperventilating when he realises that he can’t use the full capacity of his lungs.

“What’s your name?” You ask, feigning a calm smile, trying to distract him in any way you can from his current predicament.

“Noah.” He can barely get the sound out, and you intuitively press down harder on his chest, feeling warm liquid trickle through your fingers.

“Noah, I am going to get you out of here. Just hang on for me.” You look around at the resources available to you, stomach churning knowing there’s nothing within reach which can assist.

Your gaze rises to those who still remain in the restaurant, but everyone else is tending to other victims, until a familiar face rushes into view.

“Bucky!” You call out and his eyes instantly meet yours, concern flooding out of those baby blues as he swivels to the sound of your voice. Having him beside you brings a buoyant relief to your chest, despite the gravity of the situation. “We need to get the car off him. He can’t breathe.”

As if Bucky hadn’t heard you, he rushes out of the restaurant. Fear replaces any alleviation you felt, believing you are now truly alone to do what you can for Noah.

You can’t lift a car by yourself.

Especially considering you’ve also got to keep pressure on his seeping wound to ensure he doesn’t bleed out in front of your eyes.

You don’t want to feel completely hopeless with this young man’s life literally in your hands. But unless you get some help soon, you know he doesn’t stand a chance.

“Paramedics will be here soon. Just hang on for me. Keep your eyes open. I’m sure you have someone in this world you love - your mom, dad, maybe a partner, your best friend. They’ll want you to fight so you can see them again. I know it hurts but you stay with me. You got someone in mind?” He nods in response to your question, a ghost of a smile appearing on his features and you know unequivocally this boy has experienced some form of love.

You think of Bucky, that if you were in a life threatening situation, he’d be the one you fought to stay alive for. To tell him you love him. To kiss him again, to hold him in your arms and revel in the solace he provides you.

Out of nowhere, as if your imagination of him conjured him next to you, Bucky appears by your side, sweat mixed with dirt on his forehead. He flashes you his signature smirk as he places a scissor car jack beneath the rocker panel near the front tyre.

He’s an absolute genius.

How did you ever doubt him?

Bucky carefully, yet quickly, starts turning the handle and jacking up the car. You immediately see the alleviation on Noah’s face as he takes a slightly deeper breath, but in turn you need to apply even more pressure to his wound, the force of the car on him having previously done part of your job for you.

“We need to move him, in case the jack slips.”

Bucky steadies Noah’s head as you both manoeuvre him away from under the car by placing a detached, flat tabletop beneath his back. As you perform the action, you hear sirens approaching.

Help has arrived.

“Bucky, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” It’s Steve’s voice behind you, and you sigh in relief at seeing Bucky’s best friend on scene.

“He was trapped under the car, a penetrating wound to the abdomen, crushing injuries to the chest, and a potential pneumothorax. Breathing is shallow and his pulse is weak.” You list off, maintaining pressure on Noah’s abdomen as Bucky, Steve and the other paramedic you’ve seen around the ER shift him onto a yellow spinal board.

You refuse to move from your position as they load Noah into the ambulance, knowing releasing your pressure even for a moment could result in catastrophic blood loss.

Bucky hops into the back of the ambulance behind you, placing a small kiss to the back of your shoulder when Steve isn’t looking. You flash him a sweet smile that makes his stomach somersault and forget for a moment that he’s in an ambulance on his day off.

“Bucky, not in front of a patient.” You bashfully protest, but he just can’t help himself. His chest burst with pride at seeing how natural you were out in the field, saving lives even on your day off.

“Y’all probably saved my life, you can do whatever you want.” The young man mutters breathlessly with a smile.

Though Bucky wants to kiss your shoulder again, you made a point of not wanting him to do so in this scenario, so he refrains. He’ll just wait until you’re alone tonight to show his awe of you, and maybe find the courage to finally tell you he loves you as he was attempting to outside of the restaurant before the incident.

Once inside the hospital, the additional staff ensure Noah can be transferred safely, Steve having radioed ahead so they could prepare for the severity of his injuries. Wanda is one of the faces who assist with the handover, starting a blood transfusion right away before Noah is whisked away towards the surgical wing.

“They’ve got it from here guys, thanks to you Noah should be okay after a fairly routine surgery. Go enjoy the rest of your date.” Wanda comments as she not so subtly shoots you a quick wink. It’s only then, when Bucky realises both your jobs are finally complete, does he recognise he is indeed exhausted.

You turn to him and flash an equally tired smile, which, even in the face of how your night ended up, makes him feel like he’s floating on a cloud.

“Let’s go home, yeah? I’m beat and have to be back here in like 9 hours.” You chuckle and the sound is music to Bucky's ears. He swears that sound alone sustains him.

How did he get so lucky?

“Yeah… home.” Bucky murmurs, placing a kiss to your hairline which Wanda notices out of the corner of her eye with a smile.

You don’t clarify where home is. Your place? His place? You simply take his hand in your own and walk out of the hospital. But it doesn’t matter where you’re going, because to Bucky, home is wherever you are.

Part 8 > >

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[justagalwhowrites]

HI BESTIE !!! 🫂

i was wondering how Joel would react to Doc spoiling him ROTTEN after she got that big girl money 🫦 (in the lavender au)

(because i know she will spoil him so much as a thank you for his unwavering support throughout her career 🥹)

OMG Hi Bestie!

I love this ask so so SO much. Joel is so soft with his girls and he deserves all the good things, including his wife treating him to all the best things once she's a big time surgeon.

This is just the perfect prompt for our favorite man's birthday, too! I hope this is just what you were hoping for. Love you!

Spoiled

After years of Joel taking care of you, you take care of Joel. A one shot set in the Lavender AU timeline.

Yes I know it's not a Joel gif but it fits the fic so well I had to.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (Joel and Doc from the Lavender AU)

Warnings: Fluff and smut, smut and fluff. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 4.4K

It started with a shopping trip in Houston for Sarah’s wedding. 

She needed a dress for the rehearsal and her bachelorette party and the malls in Austin just weren’t cutting it. 

“I’m telling you,” she said after coming up empty handed on another Saturday spent shopping as the two of you ate salads and drank sweet tea at a patio cafe. “We need to go to Houston. We haven’t found anything for you, either.”

“I can just…” you began, but Sarah cut you off. 

“Mom,” she raised her brows. “You do not get to say ‘just’ anything about my wedding, come on.” 

You rolled your eyes a little but smiled. 

“Alright,” you put your hands up in surrender. “I’ve got the weekend off again in two weeks, I’ll get us a hotel room in Houston and we can shop til we drop.” 

“I’m going to get you comfortable with spending some of those big surgeon bucks one of these days,” she said. “You need to treat yourself! Live a little!” 

“I live plenty, thank you,” you replied. “And I do it just fine in my Goodwill jeans.” 

“Whatever you say,” she smirked a little, flagging down the server and grabbing the bill before you had a chance to fight her on it. 

Sarah might have had a point. You’d been an attending for the better part of a year now and the jump in pay had been staggering. You were making more now in a year than you had your entire life - or it felt that way, anyway. You’d already made good progress paying off your student loans but you made quick work of the rest. Joel had asked if you wanted to move - something bigger or better somehow - now that you could easily afford it but you’d just frowned at him, almost hurt. 

“This is our home,” you said. “I fell in love with you here, Sarah grew up here, we made Evie here. This is the first place I ever really felt like I belonged, I don’t want to leave.” 

Joel just smiled and kissed your forehead. 

“Then we’ll stay,” he said. “Moving’s a fuckin’ hassle anyway.” 

You’d just been saving money, not really sure what to do with it. You donated some of it, stopped spending time clipping coupons, finally bought a car that was from this decade (but still used). But actually spending it made you anxious. You’d never had money before. You weren’t poor, exactly. You’d always had enough to eat and a roof over your head but you almost never bought new clothes, had never really traveled outside of places that you could easily get to by car. You were pretty sure you’d never even been in a car that wasn’t at least 10 years old before you came to college and your friend Cassie gave you a ride to the store in her new BMW. It was hard to get used to the idea that money could be spent at all, that it wasn’t already earmarked for some bill or, if there was any left, that it had to be saved for a rainy day. 

“You gotta actually spend some of that hard earned money on yourself, Baby,” Joel said as you headed outside to meet Sarah for your weekend in Houston. “Buy some ridiculously expensive dress that I’m gonna want to rip off you in seconds or some purse that’s $1,000 for reasons I don’t understand.” 

“That’s two mortgage payments,” you said, eyes wide. 

“Baby.” 

“Right, right,” you nodded. “On a mission, spend money. Got it.” 

“On yourself,” he added. “Not Sarah. Or not just Sarah, anyway. You two have fun.” 

“You too,” you said, stretching up to kiss him goodbye. “Don’t let Evie con you into giving her candy when she gets home from school.” 

“What wild thing and I get up to when you’re not around is none of your business,” he gave you one last peck on the lips. “Now go, stop worryin’, live a little.” 

The mall in Houston was almost overwhelming. Not in the crowds way malls sometimes were for you, thank goodness, but with the kinds of stores. There were names you recognized from Cassie’s closet and from some of the trust fund girls in your med school program but you realized quickly you had no concept of what things like this actually cost. 

Sarah picked a dress for the rehearsal that was nearly $600 and you choked on the champagne the sales person had given you to sip while Sarah tried on options. 

“You really buy $600 dresses?” You gaped at her as you wandered back into the store from the dressing rooms. 

“Not all the time,” she shrugged. “But we make good money and sometimes it’s fun to buy something nice.” 

She held up a floor length gown to you, the bottom pooling on the ground. 

“That’s too long,” you said. 

“Well we’d get it tailored,” she laughed a little. “Come on, try it on.” 

Another sales person wandered over and offered to set up a fitting room and you snuck a peek at the price tag. Your eyes went wide. 

“That dress is $1200!” You whispered at Sarah as you trailed after the attendant. 

“And it’s for my wedding,” she replied. “And don’t you have that gala thing every spring for work? You can wear it for that, you need a new dress for that anyway. Plus I’m the bride and I say you have to try it on. You can’t disappoint the bride.” 

You sighed and went into the fitting room, feeling utterly out of place in your second hand Levis and vintage top you’d picked up on a shopping trip a few weeks back that felt much more your speed. 

But the dress - outside of the length - looked like it had been made for you. The silk hugged your every curve, the neckline dipping just low enough to display just enough cleavage to be sexy but not so much that it would be scandalous. It was simple, no embellishments beyond the structure of the dress and the deep emerald green of the fabric. Normally you’d have scoffed at something so basic fetching such a high price but, now that it was on your body, you understood it. It was like you’d put on a work of art and, in doing so, become art yourself. 

“OK you can’t laugh,” you said. “But I’m coming out.” 

Sarah was waiting patiently in the little show room attached to your fitting room and you had to hold up the hem of the dress to not trip but she gasped all the same. 

“Oh Mom,” her hand went to her mouth, her eyes wide. “You look incredible.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, turning in the mirrors to look at yourself from every angle. “I don’t look like I’m playing dress up?” 

“Not at all,” she spoke with almost a sense of reverence, looking you up and down. “You’re getting that dress. I’ll buy it for you if you won’t…” 

“No, Sarah,” you protested but she pulled out her phone and snapped a picture before you had a chance to really realize what she was doing. “What was that for?” 

“I’m sending this to Dad…” her voice trailed off and she took a sip of champagne just as her phone rang. She smirked and answered, putting it on speaker phone. “Speak of the devil. Hey old man, your wife is trying to tell me this dress costs too much.” 

“I don’t care if that dress costs $200,000 she’s bringing it home,” Joel said. “She hear me?” 

“Yes,” Sarah smiled, a shit eating grin if there ever was one. 

“Good,” he said. “Baby, you look so damn amazing I’m about to jump in the truck and drive over there just to see you in that thing in person sooner. Save me a trip, bring it home, alright?” 

“Alright,” you sighed. 

“Didn’t quite hear that,” Joel said. 

“I said alright you dork,” you said a little, grinning in spite of yourself. 

“That’s my girl.” 

You bought the dress. And a bag that Sarah insisted you needed for work because she was tired of seeing you haul around a canvas tote. And shoes for the dress. 

When you passed the jeweler window, you were on the way to the car after spending so much money you were surprised you hadn’t fainted. You stopped, the hanger with the garment bag for the dress hooked in your fingers over your shoulder, and looked at the watch sitting in the window. 

It was large and silver but not too ornate, no diamonds or anything like that. The face of the watch was black with elegant white roman numerals on the face. 

“What?” Sarah asked, stopping next to you. 

“Do you think your dad would like that?” You asked, head cocked a little, still looking at the timepiece through the glass. 

“Yeah,” Sarah said after a moment. “Seems like a him watch, if he were going to wear a nice watch, anyway.” 

Joel did already have a watch. A simple one with a green strap and silver colored case and a black face. You and Sarah had picked it out together for his birthday one year. She’d been giddy about it, you had to all but beg her to keep it a secret for a few days until it came time to give it to him. He loved the thing, wore it every day, even more than a decade later. 

But your career wasn’t the only one that had advanced. Joel was no longer doing the manual labor of a contractor every day. More often than not, he was going to meet with clients and arrange contracts and make plans. For a lot of those meetings, he wore a suit and, for a lot of those meetings, you saw him stick his watch in his pocket before leaving the house instead of putting it on. 

“Hard sometimes,” he said when you’d asked him about it. “Fittin’ in with these clients.” 

“Let me just…” you doubled back to the entrance to the store and went inside. 

The watch was more than you thought it would be. A lot more. So, so much more. You watched as the sale’s person’s eyes went from encouraging and hopeful to let down when you reacted to the price. 

“One second,” you smiled sheepishly and pulled out your phone, going into your banking app. Even after spending an arm and a leg on yourself that day, the number in your personal checking account seemed obscenely high. More money than you’d ever had at once until very, very recently. You could afford the watch. You looked at the sales person and smiled. 

“I’ll take it.” 

You had several very strong cocktails when out to dinner with Sarah that night to make yourself feel a little better about spending thousands of dollars on things like clothes and a watch and she just smiled. 

“See, Mom? You spent some money on yourself and the apocalypse did not happen, I think you can actually buy yourself things from time to time.” 

“And things for your dad,” you said. “Because he needs nice things, too.” 

When you got home, Joel insisted that you model the dress for him. 

“It needs to be tailored,” you tried to protest. 

“Not for me to take it off you it doesn’t,” he smiled from his spot on the couch, beer in hand. 

“Fine,” you said. “But only if you let me model everything I bought and you can’t return any of it.” 

“Deal.” 

You went to your bedroom and put on the dress and the shoes and took the watch out of the bag, the face almost comically large on your wrist, before going back to the living room, hem of the dress in hand. 

“Jesus Christ Baby,” he looked at you, his eyes wide. “You look… fuck me.” 

“That is the idea,” you winked. “You like it?” 

“Like is a fuckin’ understatement,” he said, getting up and walking around you slowly, his eyes going up and down your body. “You know, Evie’s at a friend’s for two more hours…” 

“So you’re not going to make me return anything I have on?” You asked. 

“Fuck no.” 

“Not this dress?” You started unzipping the side before sliding the straps down your arms. 

“Dress stays,” he said, gently tugging it down and exposing your chest, kissing the swell of your breasts. 

“What about the shoes?” You asked, putting a sandaled foot out from below the hem. He glanced down, eyes ranging over the straps. 

“Those stay, too,” he said, going back to kissing your chest. “Everything you’ve got on stays, already agreed to that.” 

“Good,” you said as he made it to your neck. “Even this?” 

You held up your wrist, the watch sliding down your arm. 

He frowned, looking at it. 

“Don’t look like you’re style,” he said. “But if it makes you happy, Baby, keep it.” 

“Never said it was for me, Joel,” you smiled a little. You watched him piece it together, taking a moment for him to dawn on him. 

“No,” he shook his head, looking from your arm to your face. “No, you were supposed to get stuff for yourself for a change not…” 

“I did get stuff for me,” you said. “And I got this for you. Because you’re wearing suits more now and I wanted you to have the watch for that. So really, it is for me.” 

He took your wrist gently in one hand, elbow in the other, tilting your arm this way and that to look at the watch in different lights. 

“Baby, this…” he shook his head again. “This is too much, this is…” 

“Not for you,” you cut him off. “Not after everything you’ve given me. This is not enough. But it’s a start. Besides, you said I got to keep everything I was wearing. You already agreed to it, Miller.” 

“Baby,” he sighed. 

“Joel,” you smiled a little. “You’re my husband. Let me give you something nice. Please.” 

He brought the inside of your wrist to his lips and kissed you there, making your pulse flutter against his mouth. 

“Already gave me the best thing there is,” he said. “Anything more feels like I’m stealin’ it.” 

“Steal whatever you want, Miller,” you teased. “But you’re keeping the watch.” 

Joel ended up wearing the watch often. Not as much as the Sarah watch - and he stuck with the Sarah watch for her wedding - but at least once a week for meetings where he needed to dress up for. Every time you gave him a little knowing smile and every time he rolled his eyes a little before kissing you goodbye. But you had yet to get him to accept anything like it in the years since, Joel trying to dodge everything every time you spent money on him. 

So when his birthday was around the corner, you were bound and determined to get him something good. 

“Anything you want for your birthday?” You asked as you, Joel and Ellie wandered around a street fair, meandering towards the car show. “Anything you want to do?” 

“S’not like it’s a big one,” he shrugged. “Just 56. Would love to see all my girls, of course. Could use some new tongs for the grill.” 

“Tongs?” Ellie said, brows raised. “Seriously? Old people are so WEIRD.” 

“You know what kiddo?” Joel smiled a little, faking exasperation. “We’ll see how you’re doin’ when you’re pushin’ 60.” 

“Ew,” she crinkled her nose and wandered to the first car in the row of vehicles on display. You laughed, strolling along with Joel until he stopped at a beautiful old convertible, giving a low whistle. 

“What?” You asked. 

“Just a pretty fuckin’ car,” he said, his hands in his pockets as he walked slowly around it. “Always wanted one of these when I was a kid.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, getting an idea. 

“Neighbor had one,” he nodded. “Let me ride in the back once. Coolest fuckin’ car.” 

He looked over every inch of the thing and Ellie caught up with you while he did, pouting a little as she leaned on the door of the car, her chin propped on her folded arms. 

“I’m starving,” she groaned. “Can I go get some fries at least?” 

“Sure,” you laughed a little, pulling some cash out of your pocket. “Grab me a lemonade, too?” 

You watched as she went to the food stands and you and Joel moved on, walking slowly down the row of cars when Ellie caught up with you again, passing you the lemonade. Joel stole a fry from her cup. 

“Hey!” She protested. “Go get your own!” 

“Might have to,” he said, giving her a wink. “Back in a sec.” 

You waited until he was out of earshot before you grabbed Ellie. 

“Do me a favor,” you said. “That car we were looking at? The blue one? Can you go talk to the owner and find out what make, model and year it is?” 

“I guess,” she frowned. “Why?” 

“Because,” you said. “I found something your dad wants besides tongs.” 

You went and stood in line with Joel, keeping him distracted while Ellie did recon. She took some pictures of the car and texted you all the information which you texted to Andrew as Joel drove home from the fair. 

“Can you help me find this car?” You asked him. “One that’s for sale?”

“Becoming a collector?” He texted back. 

“Joel’s birthday,” you added a smilie face emoji. 

“Excellent,” he replied. “I’ll find you something, don’t worry.” 

It took a few weeks but Andrew found the car. A blue 1967 Mustang Convertible that was being sold down in San Antonio. He went down with you to help you test drive it - you didn’t know a damn thing about cars - and you bought it on the spot. 

“He’s going to freak the fuck out,” Andrew said, driving it home since you couldn’t drive stick. “Seriously, you might give the man a heart attack…” 

You rolled your eyes but laughed all the same. 

“I really hope he loves it,” you said, running your fingers over the dash. 

“I’ll take it off your hands if he doesn’t,” Andrew smiled. “Just don’t tell Jess.” 

Tommy agreed to store the car in his garage until Joel’s party at his house in two weeks and you were giddy as you drove home, feeling like a kid at Christmas as you tried to keep the car a secret. 

By the time the party rolled around, even Ellie was excited and having a hard time holding it together. 

“It’s really just a cookout at Tommy’s,” Joel said as the three of you piled in the car to head over. “Not sure why you two are actin’ like we’re going to fuckin’ Six Flags…” 

“Tommy’s cooler than you,” Ellie said. “Nice to spend time with someone who isn’t a total dinosaur…” 

“Alright, in the car kiddo,” Joel smiled and shook his head a little. “Can’t take you anywhere ’til seatbelts are on, let’s go!” 

You texted Tommy that you were on the way and he responded with a picture of the car, shiny in his driveway with a big, red bow on the hood. 

“He’s going to lose his mind, Kid,” he texted back. “Please tell Maria I want this same treatment when I’m old.” 

“Better put in some work to deserve it, Miller,” you replied, smiling a little. 

Joel parked on the street, frowning at the car in Tommy’s driveway. 

“When the hell’d Tommy get a Mustang?” He got out, his frown deepening. You almost laughed. 

“He didn’t,” you smiled, so big it was like your face was going to crack. 

Joel looked confused for half a moment before his mouth dropped open in shock. 

“No,” he shook his head. Ellie leaned between the front seats, grinning hugely, “No, no that’s… Baby. No.” 

“Suck it up, old man,” Ellie smirked as Sarah and Brandon came out of the house, little Carson making a beeline for the car. Sarah and Brandon waved as Tommy and Maria joined them in the yard. Ellie pulled the keys out of her pocket and dangled them between you and Joel. He took them, staring at them in his hand for a second.

“Should take it before I do,” Tommy hollered and you laughed as you got out of the car and followed an almost dazed Joel toward the Mustang. 

He walked, in awe, around the car twice. 

“I…” he said but stopped, staring at the convertible for a moment. “I don’t….” 

“Do you like it?” You asked, coming up beside him and wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“Fuckin’ love it,” he said, immediately looking at you. “But Baby, this is too much, way too much, I can’t…” 

“Yes you can,” you smiled up at him. He looked down at you, the awed expression still on his face. “After everything you’ve done for me? For us? Everything you’ve sacrificed, all the ways you take care of me and our girls? The life you gave me? Still not enough, Joel. Not for you.” 

He pulled you tight to him and kissed the top of your head. 

“I love you,” he said, his voice wet. “So goddamn much, Baby.” 

Tommy set up chairs and a table in the front yard so everyone could sit near the car while celebrating Joel. He kept looking over at it in disbelief before looking at you with eyes filled with gratitude and wonder. You couldn’t remember the last time your heart felt quite so full. 

You drove Ellie home, following slowly behind Joel in the new convertible. 

“OK I know what this shit means,” Ellie said, gesturing between you and Joel after you got home, your husband clutching you to his side. “Try to keep it down and not be gross about it because ugh.” 

“Was actually going to see if you wanted to take the car for a spin,” you smiled up at Joel. “Just you and me. Assuming Ellie will behave herself and actually go to bed at a reasonable time.” 

“Anything to get away from whatever that is,” Ellie said, smiling a little as she went to her room. You laughed. 

“So,” you said, once she closed the door to her room. You looked up at Joel, smiling. “Care to take me for a ride, Mr. Miller?” 

He grinned.

“Whatever you say, Mrs. Miller.” 

He took you through town slowly, down quiet side streets filled with sleeping people and past businesses that had closed for the night, until the two of you ended up at a large park on the edge of town where things were a little darker and you could see some of the stars. 

“I can’t believe you got me a car, Baby,” he said, his hands running over the steering wheel. His smile was so big you could see it even in the dim light of the moon. “It’s really…” 

“If you say it’s too much again, Joel, I will go and buy you a second one on principle.” 

He laughed at that. 

“I was gonna say it was the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” he said, turning to look at you. “Besides you and the girls of course.” 

“Oh, of course,” you smiled. 

He leaned in and kissed you gently. 

“Not sure what I did to deserve you,” he said. “But I sure am grateful for it.” 

Your kiss shifted and you started climbing over the center console, Joel taking a second to move his seat all the way back. You bunched your skirt around your hips and settled over him, kissing him harder, more eager. 

“I’m pretty damn grateful for you,” you whispered against his mouth, his hands going to your hips. You ground down on him and he moaned, pressing his hard length up against you through his jeans. “And I think the birthday boy should get laid in his dream car.” 

“Dream car,” he said, kissing you. “Dream woman.” He kissed you again. “Perfect fuckin’ birthday.” 

You unzipped his fly as you kissed him and tucked your panties to the side, notching his cock against your entrance. He moaned as you sank slowly down onto him, taking all of him inside of you, savoring how he filled you. 

You started slowly, just grinding him deeper into you as you kissed him, his tongue licking into your mouth. 

“You feel fuckin’ amazing Baby,” he moaned, kissing down your throat until he reached your breasts, cleavage bared in your v-neck top. “Always feel so damn good…” 

He was thrusting up into you, trying to set his own pace, and you decided to allow that, matching him stroke for stroke as he groaned below you. His hands ranged up your back, pawing at your shirt until be was able to raise it enough to slide below it and get at your skin with a satisfied moan. He clutched you close, so close that you could hardly move over him anymore. Instead, he fucked up into you, making you whimper and your channel tighten around him. 

“C’mon Baby,” he grunted, voice strained. “Want you to come for me. All I want now is you to come for me, come all over me, fuck Baby…” 

You bit down on his shoulder to keep quiet, the sounds of crickets and cicadas on the air as you came, your sex throbbed around him. You whimpered against him as you came down from your high and he kept working you, his grip on you tightening. 

“Fuck Baby,” he gasped. “Feel too good, I’m gonna… fuck… I’m…” 

He cut himself off with a groan, thrusting deep and filling you, his grip on you relaxing enough that you could sit up a little. You looked at him in the moonlight his eyes closed, a blissed out look on his face. You smiled a little, brushing his more unruly curls back from his forehead. 

“I love you so much, Baby,” he smiled a little, eyes still closed. 

“So I did alright for your birthday?” You teased lightly, his softening cock still buried inside you. 

He laughed. 

“Did perfect,” he tugged you close enough that he could kiss you again, careful to not push you back against the horn. “Perfect fuckin’ birthday, perfect fuckin’ woman, perfect fuckin’ wife.” 

“Good,” you smiled, kissing him. “You deserve it, Joel. You deserve the world.” 

[the-fiction-witch]

Sugar Lump

Media - The Artful Dodger Character - Doctor Jack Dawkins Couple - Jack X Reader Reader - Y/n Rating - Sweet AF + Smutty Word Count - 3278

I hurried my way up the stairs of the Port Victory Royal Hospital, when I reached the familiar brown door I adjusted my little Y/E/C dress perfectly picked out to match my eyes, I fixed my hair a little and headed inside the room. Seeing it much like usual filled with his dusty trinkets and books tools and clothes strewn about, Jack lay in his bed still dressed his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed. 

So I gave a sweet smile, "Evening," 

"Not in the mood Y/n."

"Oh... why not?"

"I have had a very long day, and night, and... week at this point," He sighed,

"Oh," I sighed, "You poor thing," I sat down on his bed and set my hand on his waistcoat gently massaging his chest as he laid there and slowly a content smile slowly crawled onto his lips, 

"How are you so good at this?"

"At what?"

"Dealing with me honey,"

"Men are simple creatures, rub their bellies, give them treats, scratch behind their ears." I laughed, "you're like a puppy," I teased,

"Careful I might start slobbering all over you?" he raised an eyebrow,

"I'd rather that than you trying to hump my leg, Jack," 

We both laughed for a moment but it settled into the usual tense silence, I wanted to say so much but as usual, I didn't say anything.  But I forced myself to break this silence after what felt like an hour, "So..." I said, "What's troubling you, my little sugar lump?" 

"it's complicated," he sighed sitting up putting his elbows on his knees and picking at his nails which I quickly stopped by taking his hand, 

"You can tell me anything you know that,"

"I know honey," He squeezed my hand back, "... I have a twenty-six-pound debt on my head, and if I don't pay it back by Friday... I get my hand chopped off," 

Silence settled again this time more understandable, I glanced down to his hand in mine and I perished at the thought of such a loss. I tried to break the silence with a joke in the hope to cheer him up,

"Which one?"

"My choice," 

"Well... that's something," I nodded, "Any thoughts on which hand you might choose?"

"Y/n," He pulled his hand away from mine picking his nails again, "I'm a surgeon honey, no matter which hand he takes I'm fucked. I need both my hands."

"I know sugar lump, I know," I cooed resting my head on his shoulder a little, "How much money do you have?"

he chuckled, "Two pounds, eight shillings and fourpence," 

"Ah... well... that's a problem," I sighed, "How long would it take you to earn twenty-six pounds?"

He rubbed his face, "Uhhhh four hundred years," He said, 

"What? But you always have money? I mean... you're never rolling in strawberry baths eating roast duck on truffle salad," I joked, "But you always have some money kicking around?"

"Honey I get paid in buttons and fimbles," He sighed, "I make a... float of money of poker but thats what got me into this mess, everyone knows I've got a debt with Darius so they won't play with me. Besides I'd have to be doing some kinda mad three-card tricks to make twenty-six pounds of the people in this town," 

I sighed, "It'll be okay sugar lump, you'll figure it out. You always do." I encouraged, 

"Thanks, Y/n," He took my hand again, 

"You're welcome Jack," I smiled giving his forehead a small kiss which turned us both a little red,

"Did uhh did you mean do to that?"

"Uhhh no, no I uhh just wanted to cheer you up is all," I shrugged,

"Well, it did work," He nodded, "Why do you call me what anyway?"

"What?"

"Sugarlump?"

"I don't know, you're sweet, sugary sometimes, you feel kinda square to hug,"

"Hey!"

"And you're kinda expensive,"

"Can't really fault your logic,"

"Why do you call me honey?"

"Because your sweet, always around whenever I get the desire to see you, you always seem to stick to me," he chuckled moving his shoulder a little to move my head, "Plus your hair," he smiled running a hand through my Y/H/C hair, 

I blushed and for a moment we met eyes I wanted to lean forward and kiss him as I had wanted to for so long but we broke away both blushing a little more. 

I felt my stomach sink to my feet, and my heart rise to my throat. This was a terrible idea but I was out of ideas, I had been doing everything I could to help Jack find some money, having to go off on wild adventures while he was working trying to earn what little he could in the surgical theatre, but options where low and so where the funds. I held my breath a moment as I stood behind the hung sheets from the laundrette, I watched the target I had picked out. The glimmer of her gold and emerald necklace and bracelet glinted in the Australian sun, ripe for the taking as she walked with her parasol in one hand and her arm with her husband. I let out a breath and began my walk down the street holding the hem of my dress as I did, I counted the seconds and saw them stop at a market stall selling fresh fruits, so I took my chance, I kicked the door off the bottom crate beside the stall across from them, setting loose the six chickens mad from their tiny enclosed crate. They squealed and began to run around the market pecking at anything in their reach, everyone panicked and began to get away from them, I ran across the street and squealed.

"Ahhh!" I screamed faking like I had been pecked, 

"My goodness!" The woman gasped, "Harold darling, help the poor girl," she demanded,

"Come here young lady, you'll be safe," Her husband ushered me up onto a market stalls box with his wife, 

"Thank you, sir," I told him accepting his help, quickly in the panic I snagged her bracelet off her wrist, and into my pocket, the necklace was a little harder given the clasp under her hair but the clasp was cheap recently replaced so I snapped it and stuffed it down my pocket before I could be caught, Once I had them I kicked the box we stood on sending a woman and me tumbling into the dirt, of course, her husband came to help her and in the panic, I scampered away as fast as I could. 

Once I knew I was safe I took a breath, I did feel bad about what I had done the guilt seemed to burn in my pocket but she was a wealthy woman with a businessman husband, he could just buy her more fancy jewellery, she would never miss these. Jack needs the money and his hand more than she needs a necklace. Maybe one day god forbid one of those two needs surgery, they'll be begging Jack to have both his hands then. I made my way through the streets to the Cat and Bagpipes where I saw Rotty at the bar.

"Afternoon," I told her,

"Afternoon?" She raised an eyebrow, "What are you after?"

"I uhh wanted a word," I told her, 

She nodded and brought me back to the rooms where her girls live, the many barmaids and lap warmers she employed, "what is it then? not often we get a girl like you around here,"

"I uhhh... I uhh I need some money," I told her,

She looked me up and down once more, "I can get you work, ready too... pretty thing like you," 

"No, no I uhh..."

"No shame in it girl, you'd be surprised the coins you'd make on a good night with a fresh load of sailors in the bar," 

"No, thank you," I told her, "I have this," I revealed the bracelet, 

"Ohh... I see," she nodded trying to take it but I held it back, "Let me see little girl,"

I begrudgingly handed it over, she looked it over a few times and smiled wickedly, 

"Very beautiful, real stones too... How much where do you want?"

"How much would you give me?"

"...I'd give you a solid seven pounds. Maybe eight."

"What about twenty-six?"

"You must be joking!" She scoffed, 

"What about now?" I asked showing the necklace, 

"Twenty-six will be just fine," she nodded, handing me the bracelet back and heading to fetch the money, "Where did a pretty little thing like you get that then?"

"That's my business,"

"Alright, what do you need the money for?"

"That's my bus-"

"I know, but come on young thing like you coming in here ready to sell off some emeralds for twenty-six quid? something tells me you're not after a new wardrobe?" she laughed, 

"No, I'm not," I answered,

"You know... I heard about a debt of twenty-six pounds floating around town. That doctor's got his hand in for it for betting what he didn't have ... so I heard?" I didn't answer her, "And correct me if I'm wrong... old lady, my eyes are going but... I could say I've seen yourself around the doctor Dawkins more than once?" She smirked at me, 

I gulped, "Well I uhh I umm..."

"That's your business," She smirked, Handing me the money so I could give her the jewellery, "I'd hurry up if I were you, his debts with Darius and he never waits to get his money," 

I nodded and quickly hurried my way back towards the hospital but I heard a familiar voice,

"No! No please!" Jack was yelling out, 

So I turned on my heels and bolted in the direction of the building work on West Street, where I saw Darius, his men, and Jack. 

Darius stood as pompous as usual, his men had Jack pinned to the floor with his hand on a block ready for the chop, 

"For god's sake, Man! I cannot perform surgery without both of my hands!" Jack protested, 

"It's a shame you didn't factor that before you took up cards, Jack," Darius smirked, "You owe me what you owe me, and it's considerable... 

"I give you my word, I will have the funds... soon," Jack reasoned,

"You think I trust you?" He smirked grabbing another taken hand, "I took this hand from another welcher this morning, I have rules see. So do you or do you not have my money, in full?"

"I do not.... but-"

"Take his hand,"

"No!" Jack tried to squirm away as Darius' men readied the cleaver, 

"No! Please!" I bolted over and stood between them, 

"Y/n!" Jack yelped as he saw me, "What are you doing here!"

"Helping," 

"I don't think you are going to be much help here,"

"And you are?!"

"I'm... working on it, honey,"

"Badly." I snapped, "I know you are a stubborn little sugar lump but sometimes you need help," I told him off,

"I don't take pleas, sweetheart, he owes me a good deal. And as sweet as your words maybe they won't repay his debts," Daruis told me,

"I know," I gulped, 

he chuckled, "Come to offer yourself then? I'm sure I could figure out some ways to get Twenty-six pounds out of you," He smirked fixing some of my hair behind my ear, 

"Don't. You. Dare." Jack warned him through gritted teeth, 

"I have come to clear his debts," I nodded,

"Have you now?" Daruis smirked, 

"Y/n... no... you, you can't," Jack pleaded, 

"You hand or her hole," Darius growled, 

"Hand! Hand. Take my hand." Jack answered,

"Jack!" I yelled, 

"I am not letting that happen to you honey," He told me, 

"If you just-" I began, 

"Well then, make your choice... left or right Jack?" Darius smirked, "Personally I'd pick whichever hand you slap her on the ass with," He smirked pinching my bottom and making me squeal, "Or whichever of her tits you prefer," 

"whichever hand I have after this I am going to deck you with the other," Jack told him, 

His men once again went to move the cleaver but I again stopped them,

"No! I can pay his debts," I said, "His debt is twenty-six pounds right?" 

"Well..." Daruis glanced at one of his men,

"Twenty-five pounds nine shillings and six pennies," his man answered,

"So Twenty-six for easy maths," I sighed, "Here," I told him handing him over the money, 

He raised an eyebrow and so did Jack honestly, Daruis counted it all up and seemed disappointed, "Fine, debts paid up. Have a nice day." he smirked taking his men and heading away, 

"There all done-" I smiled helping Jack to his feet but the moment I did he held me tight and kissed my lips with a firey passion, I blushed hard but happily kissed him back with a wide smile, until we pulled away, "did uhh did you mean to do that?" I asked, 

"Yes, yes I did, I very very much did," he said getting teary and kissing all over my face, 

"Jack!" I laughed pushing him back,

"How did you get that much money!?"

"It doesn't matter,"

"It very much does honey,"

"Don't worry your sweet little head about it sugar lump," I smiled cuddling into his chest,"

"You didn't have to... you know, did you?"

"No, I didn't,"

"Good, it would break my heart to think you went through that for me, but what did you do?" He cooed stroking my hair, 

"Borrowed some things,"

"Borrowed?" He raised an eyebrow, "That my kinda borrow, or your kinda borrow?"

"...Yours,"

"My- Ohh... You- stole... for me?"

"Of course I did, I couldn't let you get your hand chopped off,"

"Awww I love you, honey!"

"You- you do?"

"Of course I do, I should have told you years ago," He smiled, "sorry I uh..."

"I love you too,"

"You- you do!"

"of course I do!" I giggled almost crying I was so happy we shared another sweet this time a tears of joy-stained kiss before we pulled back unable to leave each other's arms, 

"I love you so much honey," He rubbed his nose on mine,

"I love you too sugar lump," I cooed,

"Come on, we have a lot of time and kisses to make up for," He cooed as we began our way back to the hospital, 

I woke with a long yawn as the morning light forced me awake but I felt so happy and warm wrapped up in the bed with Jack beside me, his arms around me tightly peppering little kisses against my skin,

I chuckled, "Good morning,"

"Good morning," He muttered between kisses, "Um come here honey," He cooed pulling me into a kiss, I happily kissed him back enjoying the soft gentle laziness of morning kisses, until I noticed his wandering hands one slid under my nightie and grabbed my ass the other down my shoulder and cupped my breast, I pulled away and glared a little at his wondering adventurous hands, 

"Excuse me?" I chuckled,

"What?" He smirked, 

"What are you up to sugar lump," I teased him,

"Enjoying... still having both my hands," He smirked as he squeezed me,

"Jack!" I giggled, "That is not a reason to go fondling!" 

"Humm yes it is," he smirked returning to our kisses, 

But we both stopped short as a loud clattering came from downstairs, 

"Oh shit-" he sighed, jumping out of bed and getting some clothes on, I got my dress on too and ran down with him braiding my hair as I went the hospital was filled with soldiers who were upturning the place.

"What the hell is going on!" Jack complained, 

"Ahh Doctor Dawkins, just the man I was looking for," Captain Gains smirked on approach, 

"Captain, would you like to tell me why you are tearing apart my hospital!" 

"I'd be delighted, Take her!" He ordered,

"What?!" I gulped and two soldiers grabbed me by the arms making me scream, 

"Get off her!" Jack tried to pull me away but they were too strong, "Unhand her immediately!" he demanded, "What is going on!" 

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but your... female companion, is a theif," 

"You have no proof of this! How are you arresting her on this lie!" Jack yelled, "Now let her go now!"

"Oh, we have proof." Captain Gains smirked, as he pulled the necklace and bracelet from his pocket, "This familiar to you Miss?"

"That doesn't prove anything," Jack attempted to defend me,

"We have a trusted source she traded these in for twenty-six pounds cash. for unknown reasons,"

Jack looked at me and we both knew, I didn't answer I knew I didn't have a case, "Doesn't mean she stole them,"

"Mrs Oslington?" Captain Gains called, 

She came down the corridor and we met eyes, the woman I had stolen them from. "That's her. That's the little theif." 

"And as you full well know, thieves in my colony hang." Captain Gains smirked at me, "Take her away,"

"No! No please!" I begged,

"No! Let her go! Let her go! I demand that you release her! you are not taking her!" Jack battled with the men as they forced me out Jack followed behind trying to please them, stop them, anything he could but it was too late "... Y/n!" 

I sat in the small stone cell watching the moon move across my window, soon it would be gone completely, and when the sun rose... I'd go to the gallows. I hadn't stopped crying to think this would be my end, but... I was somewhat happy, I didn't regret what I did. Not for a moment. I'm just happy Jack's okay. and safe. or at least as much as I can make him. I didn't feel like a horrid little theif as they had labelled me. I did what I had to do, and my soul felt clean. 

I heard footsteps so I perked up a little confused how it could be so late, but I saw Jack.

"Hi, Honey,"

"What are you doing here!" I jumped to the bars and we shared a sweet kiss between them,

"I couldn't just leave you," 

"Thats so sweet of you sugar lump, but... you should go the soldiers-"

"We have time.," He said moving to his knees, his hands moving my dress a little "Chloraphom," he shrugged,

"... I don't think we have that much time Jack, I know you're going to miss me sugar lump but I don't think these bars are quite going to make this work,"

"... I adore your enthusiasm Y/n, but not what I'm doing," he chuckled using my dress as a cover as he began picking the lock,

"Ooh..." I nodded, "What are you doing?!"

"Getting you off." He said, "Well out." he corrected, "I can get you off later honey," He winked as he worked, 

"You mean it?"

"Of course, I am not going to let the woman I love rot in a cell for stealing some old cunts necklace just because she was trying to save my hand, Let alone Hang for it." He explained, 

"But what are we going to do they'll just arrest me again!"

"Not likely," He said, "I've packed our things, all of them. There is a ship bound for the Pacific islands on the tide." he explained cracking the lock and opening up the door to my cell where I all but fell into his arms, "You and I are leaving, going where no one knows anything about our past, a whole fresh start, in the sunshine, we can start our hospital, get married, raise little adorable children by the crystal blue water." He explained stroking my hair, "Come with me honey, Please."

I teared up and pulled him into a sweet kiss, "I want nothing more in this world my little sugar lump," I cried,

"I love you, Y/n, so so much,"

"I love you too Jack,"

"Come on, before the guards wake up." He smiled, "We have a whole new life to build," 

I nodded and we linked our hands tightly sneaking our way out of the jail, and out of Port Victory. 

[soggyriceee]

I Can't Hurt You ~ Ghost NSFW

[ mentions of gunshot wounds, anxiety, trauma and sex. plz like and lmk if there angsty type of stories interest anyone, have a good day <3 ]

It had been 6 weeks since you'd been shot. Once in the leg, once in the arm. For days you had thought you'd lose your arm and leg. All you could really remember was Simon yelling your name while blood covered his hands. Your blood. But, the base surgeons were some of the best and you were at home almost fully recovered. Your husband, Simon Riley, the man who unfortunately was leading that mission you'd suffered injury from, was always by your side. He was on e for giving you your space so having him everywhere you were at was new. But you loved it because the more you saw him and how caring he was towards literally only you, it made your heart flutter.

Ghost was a whole war criminal, why would he spend his time going to the store, getting flowers, cards, clothes gifts, all that stuff? Because he was so deeply in love with you, it was like his money and time quite literally belonged to you. He spent hours trying to learn to cook for you since you were glued to the bed.

" Tell me if it needs more salt." He demanded, towering over you as your sims started a house fire on your laptop screen. " Its good baby please stop bothering me now." You laughed, wiping some of the homemade pasta sauce from your lip. As much as he did annoy you, you couldn't ask him to really leave you alone.

He wasn't stupid, he knew that the whole happy persona you put on in front of him was fake. You were trying to act tough and brave for him. Independence was something you both had and in your eyes alone, it was embarrassing to be the first in the relationship to need help. Consistent help. Ghost was good at reassuring to you that he did not see you as weak, he actually saw you as brave, strong. " You survived two gun shot wounds at once lovie.. that makes you stronger than me." He whispered to her as you quietly sobbed in the hospital bed a few weeks back.

And this injury definitely caused some small bumps for you both. For example.. sex. It wasn't that it was different, it literally was not happening. Despite you being able to move almost all on your own, stairs were still a bit hard, he wouldn't touch you unless it was to help you. And as much as you loved how gentle and genuinely kind and caring he was for you, you needed a bit more. " Simon.." You'd whisper in his ear when it was close to your given bedtime. By Simon. "Yes my love? Do you need anything?" He asked, looking away from the news on your guys TV.

You moved to sit on his lap, struggling to raise your injured leg a bit. But you made it onto his lap successfully and with mi animal pain. But he sensed it immediately. " Lovie.." You shushed him and placed your arms around his neck. " I appreciate all the care you've been giving me.. but I need a bit more." You spoke softly, eyeing his lips. You began to move in but you could tell he began to panic, jolting his head back and hitting the bed frame. You looked up at him, your chest feeling like it just got shot this time. " I-i can't.. Im sorry." He had took you off his lap before standing and walking out the room and rubbing the back of his head.

It had been about a week since that encounter. It hurt you, and you definitely cried about it after. He ended up sleeping on the couch that night, but still coming every 30 to check on you, even when you were asleep. Neither of you really spoke about it. And you could assume thats what made the relationship more awkward now. While yes he did sleep in the bed again, and he was still taking care of you, the conversations were small and minimal. " He won't touch me Soap.. I don't know what to do. We used to have sex almost every day at least twice a day." You spoke into your phone as you looked up " How to Get My Husband To Have Sex With Me After Gunshot Wound". Almost no good articles came up. I mean, who really goes through this?

" Im sure he'll come around. I mean, he did see you literally almost die in his arms. You mean a lot to him and I think he's just terrified of hurting you more." He said through the speaker. He was on base, doing paperwork for the next mission. Another you and Ghost would be sitting out on. " Its been almost three months. Im practically healed... it just sucks because I feel like a..like a disease. He won't touch me in any way other than to help me. Even when I dont need it." You sighed.

Simon had gone to the store, grabbing you ice cream you had mentioned to yourself you wanted to get at some point and your positive other things to go along with it. Despite that awkward encounter he was still there to make you feel better. " He hasn't really said anything to me but you know how he is. Try talking to him again. I have to go, Price is calling." He said before hanging up abruptly. You sighed and looked around. You needed to get up and do.. something.

You moved your laptop to the side and began to stand. A minor pain stabbed your injured leg, causing a whimper of pain to leave your lips. As you opened the bedroom door, you heard Simon return into the house. " Lovie? Im home with that ice cream you wanted." He yelled from downstairs. You moved towards the stairs, gripping the handles and moving slowly. As your uninjured leg hit the bottom stair, your injured one again gave your a little trouble. "Shit" You squeaked, gripping the handle more. " Lovie?" He walked over swiftly to the stairs, dropping the ice cream and spoon that was in his hands. " What are you doing?! If you wanted to come down you should've waited for me to carry you down." He began to approach you but your hand hit his chest, stopping him. " I-i can do it mys-self." You grunted. Finally, your injured leg was on the same step as you. " You can't thats why your face is scrunched up in pain just let me help-" " GO AWAY! I dont need you here every two seconds simply just to help me. You won't do so much as cuddle with me let alone have sex with me. Im not made of glass im a human im your wife for crying out loud but you treat me l-like im not. leave me alone!" You screamed at him, tears welling in your eyes.

His face looked hurt, but also surprised. " L-lovie I just-" You cut him off by turning away, moving back up the stairs. He wanted to help you, but you had made it clear you wanted him to back off. You made it back up the one step and walked into the bedroom, slamming the door. You moved onto the bed, holding one out of the 10 stuffed animals Simon bought you and silently, again, cried into it. You felt bad, but at the same time you didn't. You were able to tell him finally how you felt. You heard his boots at the door, no matter how hard he tried to keep quiet. And he just stayed there. Listening to you cry but feeling too scared to say, or do anything.

The next morning you woke up and Simon wasn't there to wake you this time. You rubbed your eyes as the sun peaked into the room. " Simon..?" You asked, your voice a bit hoarse. You looked around and noticed a rectangular, long box at the end of the bed. You reached over and grabbed it.

Your right, ive been too overbearing. I'm sorry lovie..

You opened the box and inside was a cute lingerie set. It was with and pink, a little bow in the center of the bra. Your cheeks turned a bright red as you read the second note inside.

I hope you like it. I hope I see you in it soon <3

Just as you finished reading, Simon walked in the room. In his hands was a tray full of French toast, coffee and fruit. His eyes met yours, his big puppy eyes. " Oh I was.. expecting you to still be asleep." He chuckled softly, placing your breakfast on the night stand. " Im sorry for y-" For the first time in almost three months his lips touched yours. You gasped into the kiss, your heart going a 100 miles per hour. His hands snaked around your waist, pulling you up into him.

His lips yearned for yours. He slowly sat next to you, keeping your lips connected. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him just as passionately back. He broke away, sighing. " Dont apologize. You were right. And plus.." He right hand snaked up to your cheek, cupping it. " I've missed touching you like this." He whispered. His lips landed on yours again, this time a bit more passionately. You moaned into the kiss, a signal to him that you felt good. His free hand moved up your body, slowly. You had nothing on but his hoodie and some underwear. His favorite outfit of yours.

" Is this okay?" He asked against your lips. You nodded, smiling softly. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt genuinely happy. He smiled and gently pushed you down on the bed, fixing you a bit so that your head was on the pillow. He hovered over you but you could tell he was still nervous as ever. " You can touch me anywhere.. Simon. Im not hurt anymore." You said softly, looking into his worried eyes. " I know but.. w-what if I get too aggressive-" You took his hand from beside your head and smiled. " How about this. If im hurting, ill call out.. "strawberries." Then you'll know to stop." You suggested, smiling up at him still. He pursed his lips but nodded.

He leaned down, attaching his lips to your again. This time, with lust and desperation. You could tell how much you both missed each others touch. Your hands slid under his black hoodie, tracing every ab until you got to the top. He hummed at your soft fingers against his skin, breaking away from the kiss. He moved down to your neck, gently sucking your skin. His right hand slowly, like criminally slow, slid up your thigh, gripping it every now and then.

Your eyes fluttered closed, your bottom lip trapped under your top teeth. Small, quiet whimpers left your lips every time he'd suck your neck. He left behind big and small marks, red and purple mix. He pushed himself off your body a bit, smiling at his work. " You look beautiful my love.." He whispered. You blushed and looked down. You saw the tent in his sweats, his Calvin Klein boxers peaking through at the top. His hand gripped your chin, gently moving your head to look up at him. " Don't be shy." He smirked. His hand that was still on your thigh was now at your wet core, It was throbbing for him at this point. Desperate.

" Awh.. your so wet.. show me how deprived you are from my touch baby.." He whispered, his thumb moving in small circles exactly at your swollen clit. Your body jerked up, a small moan leaving your lips. You watched his hands, only turning you on more. He watched you, his eyes not telling you what he was feeling. You felt embarrassed and began to slowly cover your face. He growled and grabbed your hands, pinning them above your head. " What did I tell you? Dont be shy.. I dont wanna have to stop you from cumming baby.. especially if you deserve it." He said, slowly moving his eyes down your body.

You shook your head, grinding your hips against him more. " Awh baby your so fucking cute when you get desperate like this." He sighed. You felt his thumb stop moving and instead, two of his fingers pulling your soaked panties down for you. He tossed them off the bed, licking his lips at your exposed pussy. " Fuck.. I wish you'd yelled at me sooner my love.. its gonna be so hard trying to hold back." He said before pulling off his hoodie. He tossed it away, before grabbing your knees, spreading them apart.

Yes this was your husband, but after being celibate for three months, you were nervous. And he felt it. He looked at you from through your legs, smiling. " Let me take care of you.. you deserve it baby." He smiled, kissing your inner thigh. He kissed down, surely leaving marks on your thighs, before finally reaching your dripping pussy again. He kissed it, earning a desperate whine from you. He chuckled before sliding his tongue through your folds, a gasp coming from you.

He slowly spread your legs more far apart. " Am I hurting you?" He asked, looking at your injured leg. " No.. remember ill say strawberry if you do." You said, patting his head gently. He smiled and nodded before turning his attention back to your pussy. It was on full display for him. He placed his hands on your hips, moving you onto his tongue. His tongue immediately went to your aching clit, sucking it ever so gently. You let out a satisfied whimper, your eyes again fluttering closed. He worked his tongue on your clit, sucking it, kissing it. His hands definitely started to make bruises on your skin but you were happy with that. Because it felt like normal. Like the sex you both used to have.

" O-oh Simon~' You'd whimper below him, gripping his brown hair. Your knees tried to connect but he gently, still worried about hurting you, kept them apart. " Don't close your legs until im done with you." He said, his lips glossy with your juices. It was such a hot sight to see. it felt like you guys were teenagers all over. Horny and desperate. His lips went back to working on your pussy, sucking your clit perfectly. " Because you had been deprived of your regular orgasms, you felt this one building fast. And it was surely gonna hit hard.

Your legs began to shake and you began to let out pathetic, desperate whimpers. " Sim-Simon I f-feel it.. shit." You cried out, gripping his hair and the sheets. He only moved his tongue faster, pulling you onto his face more. He was desperate. You could tell. He even began to moan against your pussy, looking up at you. " Thats it baby.. feel good for me. You deserve it." He said against your pussy, his middle and ring finger sliding in to help his tongue out. " Cum on my fucking face." he growled, moving his fingers faster.

His tongue moved with his fingers and quickly, you felt your body release its high. Your whole body began to shake, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. He whimpered quietly as he devoured every last drop of your cum. " Fuck baby.." He whimpered against your pussy as your body still jerked from the intensity of your orgasm. He moved his lips slowly against your pussy, sighing. He eventually sat up, his lips, nose and chin completely covered in your juices.

" You did amazing my love. Im so proud." He said, smiling down at you. You were out of breath, your eyes still shut. You felt him kiss your neck before your lips. " Do you want to continue baby? I can take care of myself. I want you to feel rested-" You pulled him down by the collar, your lips smashing onto his. He moaned into the kiss, smiling. " Yes.. I want to continue." You said after pulling away from him.

He kissed your cheeks before standing from the bed, pulling his pants down. His dick was huge. But, after three months of nothing, not even self pleasure, his dick looked..bigger. You had to admit, it made you a bit nervous. You watched as he pulled his boxers down, his whole body exposed in front of you. You quickly felt your clit throbbing all over as your eyes looked at every part of his body. " Are you positive you want this my love?" He asked, crawling back on the bed with you. He hovered over you, looking at your naked body as well.

" I swear Simon.. this is what I want." You said, looking up at him. He nodded before placing a soft but passionate kiss on your lips again. You kissed back as you felt him position himself at your entrance. " Just.. take my hand. And squeeze as hard as you want if it hurts." You nodded up at him. Despite how sex deprived you both were, how desperate, he still was patient and careful with you. He didn't want to do anything other than take care of you. " Okay.." He breathed out. Slowly, you felt him push into you. By the time his tip was in, you had already felt how thick he really was. He continued until he felt your hand grip him hard. He stopped.

" A..are you okay?" He breathed out, looking into your eyes. He was a little more than halfway in you by now and he felt like he could cum just off that alone. " I just.. need to get u-used to the feeling." You said, your other hand gripping his forearm. He nodded, kissing your cheek, then ear then neck. You loved his caring and gentle side. If you weren't injured, he'd probably be a bit less gentle, but still respectful of your needs.

" You can keep going." You smiled up at him after a minuet or so. " Are you positive?" He asked, moving his lips away from your breasts, again leaving behind more red and purple marks. You nodded and slowly, he pushed the rest of himself in. You both let out a gasp, his balls hitting the bottom of your ass as he went all the way in. " Fuck." He groaned before moving his hips back and forth slowly. With each thrust, a whimper left your lips. His head fell in the crook of your neck, slowly his hips picking up the pace.

You didnt have to ask for anything. He could read your body and what it was that you needed easily. You wanted him to go faster? He was already doing it before you moved your lips to ask. Your nails dug into his back, his hips now slamming into yours. " Yes Simon! y-your fucking me so well." You moaned, both of you not caring if your neighbors heard your moans. His hand slipped around your neck, his eyes hooded. " Yea? I am baby? Is my dick making you go.. fucking crazy?" He moaned, his free hand on your hip.

You whimpered and nodded, your body jolting up with each thrust of his. " U-Use your words..lemme hear that pretty voice." He whispered into your ear, slamming his hips into yours. You couldn't feel any pain. It was like all you needed was him fucking you silly. " I-i'm crazy..Im crazy for y...your dick Simon." You whimpered, barely able to make out words. He chuckled and kept his hand on your neck, moving at the same consistent pace.

Above you, his eyes were closed, squeezed shut matter of fact. His thrusts began to become a bit inconsistent, signaling to you he was close. " Baby.. I-ive missed this.. this pussy so much.. your gonna make..me fill you up." He groaned, his grip on you tightening. "Your gonna take.. all my cum to. Every..last..drop." He said, slamming his hips into yours with every word. You felt your stomach start to cramp and your legs shake. Both of you slowly became louder with your moans, your hands resting on his chest.

You could feel his arms wrap around your waist, hugging you as his body rested on top of you. His thrusts got sloppy, and he at this point, was a whimpering mess. " Oh baby.. im gonna..im gonna cum." he mumbled into your boobs. You tried to tell him the same but you again, felt your high wash over you. Your whole body froze, your vision weirdly went white for a quick 5 seconds. You didnt even realize Simon slamming into you fast, chasing his high. "F-fuck!" You felt his warm cum shoot into you, his body jerking as he tried to stay on top of you. But he failed, collapsing on top of you.

" s-shit.. Simon." you moaned, closing your eyes. His chest rose and fell fast, holding you tight as his cum slowly seeped out of you. He gently pushed himself back into you, wanting all of his cum stuffed into you. " I know baby.." he said, his voice tired.

both of you stayed like this for about 10 minuets. he eventually pulled out, watching your body react. " Are you hurt?" He asked, finally realizing his grip on your hips left finger marks. You smiled and shook your head. " I feel the best ive felt in three months baby.. thank you." You whispered, smiling up at him. He nodded before sliding off the bed. " I know.. I said I wanted to see you in this but. You looked beautiful and sexy regardless." He smiled before placing the box on the floor. You sat up, stretching.

" Lets shower and eat breakfast. We can go shopping. I want today tp be everything you want." He said as he lifted you up bridal style, carrying you to the bathroom. " I love you Simon.." You whispered, watching him as he carried you. He smiled and kissed your nose. " I love you more my love.. ill love you no matter what."

the end

[cornyonmains]

Just got done watching episode 6 of 4 Minutes. At this point I'm almost certain they do the weird music over Bible's NC scenes because they might be too horny otherwise.

Anyways, I've been thinking about the curse the woman Great hit with her car bought. Initially, I thought she was paying for an assassin using selling spells and charms as a front or means of embezzling the money. But if that shit actually worked, and it's what's allowing Great to fiddle with the timelines, then we have to wonder who she's trying to separate from her loved ones with this.

All signs point to this being Great's father. I keep getting stuck on the lyrics they mentioned in an interview, with one of them being something along the lines of giving up everything to be with someone.

In the timeline Great's creating, his mother has (presumably) died. Great's a smitten 21 year old, still kind of a kid, being spoon fed a do-over with the Barbie Dream Doctor Boyfriend Edition that is Tyme, and his father is a homophobic footnote in his subconscious.

Korn has been given a romantic ultimatum by Fasai that's not likely to end well. Korn was able to tolerate her because he had Tonkla to go to to reclaim a sense of agency and control with. All the characters around Great's father are either being killed, in the process of dying, or in the process of events that could see them choosing their own paths over one provided by his dirty money.

The woman also specifically told Great that he would have a bright future, and this is one of those situations where I wish I understood Thai because I feel like there's some stuff that was likely baked into her wording that got lost in translation.

This episode also once again proved Sammon is the real queen on the scene in the BL writing community. I was so convinced the Great we were seeing in the new timeline was reflective of the one in the old timeline. But no, Great was a coward, a spoiled brat, completely removed from a world of consequences, an accomplice to murder, and so fraught with Daddy issues the idea of getting caught on 4K letting time hit it like a 747 filled him with childish glee. And Tyme was into that. These two definitely deserve each other, and would definitely have me considering an OnlyFans subscription. The Great we were seeing in the new timeline was a Great reacting to his subconscious trauma of all his actions catching up to him.

In summation, I have no idea what's going on, but I deeply hope that getting shot does not deter either of them from starting an OnlyFans if Tyme's career as a surgeon doesn't work out. Also, I still have no solid theories as to who Tonkla is killing that field. My theories are Title, Korn, or Win. Yeah, that's right, I finally remembered Win's name and am not calling him lanky cop anymore. I am capable of positive change on occasion. If some of you little 20 year old shits had been smoking weed since the tail end of the Clinton administration you'd have memory problems too.

[fiddleyoumust]

I'm thinking about Tyme's grandmother telling him, "I just want you to be happy like before," when Tyme talks about becoming a surgeon and making lots of money.

And Tyme's reaction to Manee's story about her son's suicide. He looks SAD/sympathetic, which would be a normal person's reaction, but not Tyme's from what we've seen of his bedside manner.

And the story about Tyme's ex doctor gf Natcha that we got from the gossipy nurses makes it sound Iike his bedside manner has always been fierce since they use that as the reason for Natcha maybe leaving him, so we can assume his current state of unhappiness is not a result, or not totally a result of his breakup. (We'll be meeting Natcha soon, too. Bet.)

So, my theory is he lost someone close to him to suicide and that maybe that person was also in debt due to the gambling business run by Great's family, and that is why he is meeting gambling mole girl to get the goods on the gambling ring. And is also what is ultimately going to get him killed if my other theory is correct, that the opening sequences from episode 1 are actually in the future (kind of??? Really, that is the present, and we're currently in the past, but all of that is hurting my brain. Thanks, Sammon!). The point is, I think the events at the beginning of episode 1 can be changed, and that's what Great's new fun ability is allowing him to do.

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

The guest PT 25

Masterlist.

You awake to the sound of laughter outside. And slide from your warm bed. You wrap a thing blanket around your shoulders and walk out to your yard. There by the crystal clear lake Jack was playing with two small children. A girl and a boy. It had been five years to the day that you arrived in Port Victory and one dream had finally come true.

"my love, it's time to get ready for work." You call over to him. Your blonde daughter comes dancing over to you and hugs you around the waist. You pat her hair.

"Already? We only just began to play." He laughs, lifting the boy over his shoulder and walking over to you.

"Come on, we've got work and Fanny will be here soon to look after the children." You explain taking the boy from him.

"Go get your shoes, children." You say and they dart off together. You and Jack walk inside to get ready for the day.

As you pulled your trousers up and buttoned them you heard Jack welcoming Fanny into the house. She was there to collect your two children for the day. She had become closer than any sister over the years and now would take your son and daughter along with her own when you and Jack both needed to work. She had married Lord Grinlow eight months after the incident with Oliver Twist and quickly gave birth to two beautiful twin boys. You dart down to see her and give her a hug. She looked beautiful in her pale blue dress and bright smile.

"Thank you, Fanny." You say as you did every day.

"Anything for my sister." She giggled.

Jack took your arm in his and you walked towards the hospital were you both worked.

Sneed had become a wonderful head surgeon, bringing in many new practices from around the world. A few months ago he and Belle had announced their engagement, though she had admitted to you it was more of convenience than love. She wanted to move out of her parents house and his brother wouldn't release the nutmeg money until he was married. Belle was also working in the hospital as a surgeon in the women's wing. You were in there as well, working happily to help any woman that came in, no matter what they needed.

In a way this was a perfect life for you. There are times when you recall your old life. Moments when you miss things, like a microwave or your hairdryer. Yet, none of that could compare to the life you were living with Jack and your children.

Jack kissed you at the hospital door, his hands on your jaw.

"Is Fagin here today?" You ask.

"I'd rather you didn't think about him when I kiss you." He laughs, "Yes, I suspect so. He has too much money and nothing to do."

"At least he bathed now." You smile against his lips, "have a good day"you said.

"I love you." He replied to you.

The end

Well that's it. I hope you enjoyed this story!

I'm going to take a little break from the Artful Dodger for a bit but requests for other TBS are welcome. Much love to you all for reading along. 💜

@afalls14universe @fandomfan-102 @deanstolemydragon @mydeputyghostwagon

[smileydk]

''Noona and Hyung should marry!''

Pairing: Idol!Beomgyu x OC

Summary: Beomgyu has to work at a kids café for some kind of promotion for his band. Jiwoo is partially forced and partially happy to bring her newphew to the very same kids café.

cw/tw: fluff, crack, k-drama shit, oral (m, f), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it if you wanna tap it), car sex, tummy bulge, kissing, hickeys, orgasm denial (kind of?)

Note: Based on the youtube video obviously. Not gonna be exact since we need some romance.

''Noona!'' Changmin screamed as he ran through the house.

Jiwoo chuckled to herself. She was playing hide and seek with the boy and was currently sitting in his closet. Changmin had been screaming Noona for 3 minutes while he searched, and Jiwoo had zero intentions to reply.

His small feet could be heard outside the closet, they tapped against the carpet as he ran around the room, looking everywhere he possibly could.

''Noona?'' His voice was breaking.

''Fuck'' Jiwoo mumbled to herself and opened the closet. ''Changmin, I'm here'' She wrapped her arms around his small body and smiled as sweetly as she possibly could.

''Why didn't you answer me when I screamed?'' Changmin glared at the older woman.

Sometimes Jiwoo forgot that Changmin was only 3 since he was very bright, but then again, at moments like these his actual age showed.

''Because we were playing hide and seek. It wouldn't have been fun if you knew where I hid, would it?''

Changmin sniffled and wiped his eyes. He pouted slightly but nodded slowly.

While the two just sat in Changmin’s room his single father, Changkyun, and Jiwoo’s brother peeked inside the room.

''Jiwoo, would you mind taking Changmin to KiCa today? I’ve gotta go to work. Some paper work I, apparently, forgot the other day''

''Wow, the Kim Changkyun didn’t do all his paper work in time? I’m so telling mom about this'' Jiwoo teased.

Changkyun was a brain surgeon. He finished his education at the young age of 30. Despite his young age he was a very skilled surgeon. Jiwoo was proud of him, but she also saw it as her duty to keep his ego to a minimum.

''That didn’t answer my question. Can you take him or not?''

Jiwoo nodded. ''Of course. If I get the car''

Yes. Jiwoo lived with her brother. Why? Simply because they had a great relationship and because she was a broke college student. It was hard to make enough money to live in Seoul while also studying at Seoul university.

Jiwoo had saved since she was a little child so she could get into the best of the best, and she got some money with her scholarship. She wanted to become an attorney, after being 19 and seeing Extraordinary Attorney Woo.

Yes, a k-drama was the reason.

Besides, it was Changkyun’s proposal that Jiwoo moved in with him. His idea was that she could help him out with Changmin, and she gets to live with them. Plus his apartment was close to university.

''But I'm going across town!'' Changkyun exclaimed. ''And you know, it's mine!''

''Fine! Where is KiCa anyways?''

''It takes 10 minutes with the bus, come on, you've been there before! Dumbass. The new workers there are your age. Find a boyfriend'' Changkyun smiled sweetly as he threw on his coat. ''See you later, sis! Might wanna put on something other than that mini-skirt, it's cold outside''

Jiwoo turned to her nepwhew. ''Your appa is mean, Noona can wear whatever she wants''

''I know, you look pretty, let's go to KiCa!'' Changmin was very excited. He adored the place. He was quick to put on his shoes and jacket. Jiwoo wasn't even by the door when he was done, and the three year old was impatient.

''Noona! Hurry up!'' Changmin jumped.

''Calm down, Changmin-ah, I'm coming. KiCa doesn't open for another 20 minutes'' Jiwoo put on her favorite knee-high boots. They were a gift from Changkyun on her birthfay, and she basically lived in them at ths point. And then she threw on her leather jacket.

''Noona looks like a kpop idol. But Noona is also the slowest person on this planet'' Changmin complained as Jiwoo finally opened the front door.

''Yah, I can also stay home which means you have to stay home'' Jiwoo raised a daring eyebrow.

''Sorry Noona! Let's go, please'' He pouted.

''Aish, fine'' The woman couldn't say no when he pouted.

A small, happy squeal left Changmin's lips as they got on the bus. He hadn't seen his friends in so long! He missed them so much. He also really wanted to play in the dirt! And have P.E with the work-Hyung.

As they got off the bus, and Changmin bowed politely at the driver, he broke into a sprint. The Kids Café was right by the bus stop. Jiwoo chuckled slightly as she jogged to catch up.

Changmin pulled gently at the door to check if they'd opened. The door opened with ease and the boy's smile widened. He rushed towards the elevator and immediately pressed the button.

''Noona, hurry! The elevator will be here any second! I wanna meet Juhyeon!''

Jiwoo chuckled as she nodded. She sped up her walk and reached the boy just as the elevator dinged, signaling it was on their floor.

Changmin quickly pushed the button to the KiCa floor and the elevator doors closed. As the display showed the floors ticking by Changmin only grew more excited.

Jiwoo had been at the KiCa before and she knew the ones who worked there, kind of. According to Changkyun there were a few new faces, but when they entered she spotted the old workers, and an unfamiliar head.

He turned around and Jiwoo's eyes were as wide as saucers.

''Choi Beomgyu'' She mumbled to herself.

''You must be Changmin'' He smiled and leaned down to put a name sticker on the boy's chest.

Changmin nodded happily, not frightened by the unfamiliar face. He had always loved meeting new people. He was a social butterfly. ''Yeah! I'm Changmin, what's your name, Hyung?''

''Beomgyu'' Beomgyu smiled as the three year old nodded, before he quickly walked into the playroom to join his friends in whatever they were doing.

Jiwoo took a seat in the café area. She got herself a fruit tea before pulling out her phone. She was usually bored out of her mind since Changmin spent the full hour at this place, and she couldn't leave during that one hour.

She was facing the little window they had, which showed the play area. She chuckled to herself as Beomgyu clearly tried his best at bonding with the children, without much success.

Beomgyu looked up from his failed bonding attempt and spotted the laughing girl. He raised an eyebrow at her and crossed his arms. Jiwoo tried her best to not laugh at him, but it was hard when he pouted like a five year old kid.

Changmin spotted his Aunt looking through the window with an amused grin. ''That's my Noona. Appa says she's single and needs to find a boyfriend. Hey, you're pretty, are you single?''

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. ''Changmin, your Noona is very pretty''

''Wait here'' Changmin stood up. He dusted off the dirt on his clothes before he rushed out to Jiwoo.

''Changmin, what did you do?''

''Work-hyung, I can't remember his name, thinks you're pretty! Come on, I'll introduce you!'' Changmin grabbed Jiwoo's skirt and tugged gently.

''Changmin, I can't be in there. I can talk to him la-''

Before Jiwoo could finish her sentence Changmin had walked back into the playroom. He walked straight up to Beomgyu, who had now managed to make a little girl cry, grabbed his arm and gave it a harsh tug.

''I'm gonna introduce you to Noona!''

Beomgyu's only thought was that at least one child seemed to like him, even if it was because he wanted to match him with his Noona.

He pulled him outside and forced Beomgyu to sit. ''Get to know each other. I'm gonna play with Juhyeon'' Changmin smiled sweetly before taking of once more.

Jiwoo looked after her nephew with a confused look. She had no idea what his plan was, but she was sure she didn't like it.

Beomgyu also looked quite confused. ''You're a mom!?'' Was the first thing he exclaimed. Not "hi" like the normal person would.

''Aren't you too young to be a mom? And too beautiful?'' He continued and winked before he leaned back, trying to act cool.

A small chuckle left Jiwoo's lips. ''Nope, I'm his aunt. Why he calls me Noona is a mystery. And do you mean mom's aren't beautiful?'' She raised an eyebrow.

She was born a tease. It didn't make it better that she was almost 10 years younger than her older brother, meaning she could tease without any consequence.

''No! I didn't mean it like that- don't twist my words!'' Beomgyu sat up with furrowed eyebrows. He enjoyed meeting someone who a) weren't his members and b) someone who didn't treat him like a global superstar.

''I'm not twisting your words. I'm creating my own interpretation'' Jiwoo shrugged and put her phone away as well as her Airpods.

''So, Ms. Tease, got a name?''

''Yeah, don't you? I thought everyone had a name'' Jiwoo raised her eyebrow again, knowing very well that she probably got on his nerves.

''I would like to know it if you would like to tell me'' Beomgyu took a deep breath. She was a bit too good at teasing.

''Kim Jiwoo, I know you're Choi Beomgyu. Must say, big fan, and you look damn taller without the other giants in your group'' Jiwoo stretched out her hand for Beomgyu to shake. ''What is Mr. Superstar doing here? At KiCa? And what in the world did you do to make that girl cry?''

''I'm here... why am I here? I have no idea. And she started'' Beomgyu mumbled in an accusing tone, as if he wasn't almost four times her age.

''Ah yes, the four year old girl probably deserved a grown man fake-crying in her face'' Jiwoo chuckled as Beomgyu tried explaining himself. ''I think that's some kind of record''

Beomgyu narrowed his eyes at her. ''You're actually worse than Yeonjun-Hyung''

''It's a talent'' She flipped her hair dramatically, causing it to whip Beomgyu in the face.

''Are you always this rude?'' Beomgyu raised and eyebrow and leaned closer to her.

''Yep'' Jiwoo wouldn’t admit it, but he made her a little nervous.

''Beomgyu-ssi, I told you to clean the shoes. It's a punishment for making a girl cry'' One of the, female, workers scolded Beomgyu.

''Fine''

20 minutes later Beomgyu finished cleaning the children’s, very dirty, shoes. And the other workers decided he'd probably do better in the "P.E" room.

Why?

Mostly boys, and apparently the boys were a bit more hardcore. And because the P.E room was a lot more… well physical and less sitting still.

Beomgyu put name tags on the boys as they lined up after each other.

''Are you a female teacher or a male teacher?'' One of the kids asked, causing Jiwoo to burst out laughing.

''Yah, Seoan, he's clearly a man'' Changmin protected Beomgyu as he spoke. ''Men can also have long hair, and be very pretty!''

''Thank you, Changmin'' Beomgyu patted his head and glared slightly at Jiwoo as she still laughed.

''Yes Beomgyu, you’re a very pretty man'' Jiwoo snickered as Beomgyu still looked a little offended.

''I know. Now stop laughing at me''

Jiwoo raised her hands and nodded.

''Good girl'' Beomgyu disappeared into the playroom with the four boys.

Jiwoo did not enjoy the fact that him calling her that had such an affect on her. Nor did she like that the comment basically went straight to her core.

''Fuck''

''Yah! You can’t just leave me here!'' Beomgyu whined as the staff and crew from HYBE packed into the car.

''You made a girl cry. Yeonjun said you deserve it'' One if the producers shrugged and closed the car door. ''Here’s a few bills for the bus. Have a good time''

''Hey, Mr. Superstar, need help?''

Beomgyu turned around and found Jiwoo standing in front of him, holding Changmin’s hand.

He was slightly embarrassed, since he came from Daegu he didn’t know the bus system that well Seoul. In his defense they never took the bus in Seoul, someone always drove them around.

''Uhm… yeah?''

''Me and Changmin are heading home and uhm… hopefully Changkyun’s back with the car and I can give you a ride to HYBE. Sounds good?''

Beomgyu nodded. As Jiwoo started walking she missed the fact that Beomgyu didn’t follow her.

Changmin noticed. ''Work-Hyung, you coming or not? And stop staring at Noona’s ass''

Jiwoo chuckled to herself as an awkward cough left the man’s lips, followed by some quick steps.

''Noona and Hyung should marry!'' Changmin exclaimed out of the blue.

The two adults looked at the child. ''No. Noona and Beomgyu are friends. Nothing else''

Beomgyu nodded along.

''No, marry'' Changmin pouted.

Jiwoo sighed and shook her head. Sadly Changmin got the genes everyone in the family had. The ones that basically made it impossible to convince you once you'd decided on something.

After the 10 minute bus ride and another bow from Changmin to the bus driver the three found themselves in Changkyun’s luxury apartment.

''Oppa~''

''Yes I’m home, yes you can borrow the car. Key’s in the bowl. Hello Beomgyu''

Changkyun looked up from his phone and waved at Beomgyu.

Beomgyu and Changkyun went to the same high school. Changkyun remembered Beomgyu as a small, adorable, shy nerd.

Now he was 6’1 tall, grew out his hair, grew some muscle, could sing, his voice dropped about 4 octaves, and he wasn’t as shy anymore.

''You got a glow-up. You look a lot better in long hair'' Beomgyu smiled and bowed.

''Thank you~ I’m giving Beomgyu a ride to the HYBE building''

Changkyun smirked. ''Condoms in the glovebox''

Jiwoo flipped him off as she exited the apartment. Beomgyu only followed, and chuckled slightly at Jiwoo’s red cheeks.

During the few hours he’d known her she’d only been an ass, a teasing ass, not that he minded. She was fun to hang out with. But now Ms. Cocky was blushing over something as simple as condoms.

''So… if you’re a fan, whatcha think about my longer hair?''

Jiwoo totally forgot the fact that she was speaking to the Choi Beomgyu. She spoke as if it was her best friend, Sanghoon, in the passanger seat. They always made suggestive, flirty jokes with each other.

''Sexy, easy to pull- I mean… it looks fine''

Beomgyu smirked. He enjoyed every second. ''You think I’m sexy? And your thoughts are what now?''

''What? You are sexy and you know it'' Jiwoo slowed down and stopped outside the HYBE building.

''And you’re sexy as hell'' Beomgyu smirked. ''Here’s my number. Call me''

''Uhm… sure''

Jiwoo never meant to actually call Beomgyu. Not because she didn’t like him. But come on. She was a “normal” person, not famous in any way other than possibly being the sister of the "best surgeon in the world".

Beomgyu was a global superstar. He had millions of fans who adored him, cried as they saw him, spent all of their savings in hope to pull a little piece of paper with his face on.

She was sure he didn’t even give her his real number.

She was convinced he only did it as some kind of thank you, for the ride.

But Changmin found her phone one day, unlocked, wondered who it was and decided to find out himself.

When he realized it was work-Hyung he immediately found his father, told him about the situation and the two quickly went into action. Action meaning: getting Jiwoo a boyfriend.

With other words, Changkyun forced his sister to drive to a place he’d chosen, pick up Beomgyu and drive to another place, which he'd also chosen.

She hadn’t planned for anything that happened that day to actually happen.

It was all her brother’s fault.

She was absolutely not planning on laying on her back in the backseat, Beomgyu’s head burried between her legs. Chest heaving quickly as Beomgyu shoved his tongue between her folds.

Her hands were pulling at Beomgyu’s long locks, making the man smirk, due to the statement she made a few days ago.

As her high was approaching Jiwoo tried closing her legs, which Beomgyu didn’t seem to like. His fingers dug into her plush thighs, forcing them to stay open.

''Fuck~ I am so… close- fuck!''

The man smirked and pulled away from her pussy. He smirked as he wiped his lips. ''You tease me, I tease you, princess'' Jiwoo whined as she felt her orgasm fading away.

''Fuck your legs are sexy, especially in these boots'' Beomgyu ran his nose along her legs, leaving a kiss or hickey along the way.

Jiwoo was embarrassed over how easily he made her wet. But then again. He was Choi Beomgyu. He was basically famous for singing and good looks.

''Changkyun is gonna kill me'' Jiwoo mumbled as Beomgyu continued kissing her legs, which seemed to go on forever in Beomgyu's mind.

A small chuckle left the man’s lips. ''Wasn’t he fhe one who wanted you to do this?''

''Shut up'' Jiwoo whined and punched Beomgyu in the chest. Beomgyu only continued chuckling and leaned closer. He pressed his lips against Jiwoo’s while he allowed his hand to travel south. His ego grew slightly as a high pitched moan left Jiwoo’s lips.

It was dark. The clock might have been 1 in the morning. But someone passed the car, which caused Beomgyu to slap his hand over Jiwoo’s mouth.

The person stopped slightly and turned towards the car.

''Keep walking!'' Beomgyu snapped in a rude tone. The person seemed terrified and disappeared. He removed his right hand, which covered her mouth, while his left hand sped up it's movements.

Beomgyu dipped his head down and started leaving hickeys all over Jiwoo’s neck. Jiwoo’s fingers found Beomgyu’s scalp again and started pulled at his roots.

A small groan left Beomgyu’s lips as her nail scratched against his scalp. He might have enjoyed her pulling his hair a bit too much. ''Fuck that's nice- do that again, princess''

Jiwoo chuckled and repeated the action, forcing another groan from his pink, plump lips.

As Jiwoo felt her orgasm building up again, which didn’t take long due to previous orgasm build up, she clenched around Beomgyu’s long, slender fingers, only he had no intnetions of letting her cum anytime soon. He ripped his fingers from her and smirked.

''Beomgyu!'' Jiwoo whined loudly. ''I swear. If you don’t let me cum soon, I’m doing it myself and forcing you to watch''

''Fine, only because you asked so nicely, princess ''

He pulled down his pants and underwear. He pumped himself a couple of times.

Jiwoo stared with wide eyes. ''That is not gonna fit'' She mumbled to herself.

''We’re gonna make it fit, princess. Hands and knees''

Jiwoo did as ordered. Beomgyu could almost cum from the sight of her on her knees, mouth open and ready for him.

Beomgyu pushed his dick past her lips and immediately let out a groan. Her warm mouth embracing him was almost enough for him to burst right away.

Without a second thought he grabbed her hair and pushed her head all the way. A choked sound left Jiwoo’s lips while Beomgyu thrusted into her mouth.

Beomgyu had a firm grip on her hair, pulling slightly, which forced a moan from Jiwoo’s lips. ''You like that, hm?''

Jiwoo hummed in response, which sent vibrations down his shaft. A loud, throaty groan left his lips. An ego boost on Jiwoo's behalf. She hollowed her cheeks as much as she possibly could.

Beomgyu groaned again, feeling his own orgasm coming. He twitched in her mouth, causing the woman to hollow her cheeks again. His thrusts sped up and a final groan left his lips.

A moment later he came down her throat. As Beomgyu pulled out he groaned at the sight. A string of cum, mixed with saliva, hung between her perfect, pink lips and the tip of his dick.

''Oh my god- best head ever. So your smart mouth is good for something other than snappy remarks''

Jiwoo laid back down on her back, per Beomgyu's demand, and waited for him to do... anything to her.

The man placed his hands by her head. He hovered over her and smirked as he stopped just an inch from her face. He laid his cock across her stomach, groaning to himself.

Jiwoo spotted it as well and a concerned whimper left her lips.

''It's gonna fit, or I'm gonna make it fit'' Beomgyu pumped himself a few times before running the head along her slit.

A whiney moan left her lips and her body jerked slightly. A taunting chuckle left Beomgyu's lips. ''Needy?''

''Yes, please fuck me~''

''Your wish is my command, princess'' Beomgyu chuckled but did as wished.

As he entered her slowly Jiwoo's jaw fell open, eyes closed and eyebrows scrunched. ''Fuck- you're too big'' She panted as she could feel him still pushing inside her.

''Come on princess, be a good girl, you can take it''

When he bottomed out he stopped for a moment. Both so that Jiwoo could adjust to him, and to allow his eyes to take in the heavenly look before him. As he let his gaze travel her body, it stopped by her belly.

''My god, you are tiny'' Beomgyu mumbled as he laid his hand on her tummy. His ego grew as he could see his own dick all the way up in her belly.

And the size difference was a bit too hot on Beomgyu’s behalf.

Another whimper left Jiwoo's lips. ''Fuck- please move~''

The man nodded slightly and pulled out slowly. He pulled almost all the way out before thrusting back in, harshly, making the whole car shake.

His ego grew with each moan that left Jiwoo's lips. It grew even more when she moaned his name, loud and clear.

Jiwoo placed her hand over her mouth in an attempt to silence her moans. It didn't do much, but it did something.

Beomgyu chuckled and grabbed her hand. He pinned them both by her head. ''Nuh-uh, I wanna hear those pretty sounds''

Due to the two earlier, almost, orgasms it wasn't hard for the third one to build up. Quickly.

Apparently Beomgyu could tell as well as his hips sped up even more.

If someone was to talk by they'd know right away what was happening. But the two inside the car? Not a single care in the world, except chasing their much needed orgasms.

''Fuck- please let me cum this time'' Jiwoo managed to get out between moans and pants.

''Of course, princess. You've been such a good girl''

Those were all the words Jiwoo needed to hear before she released around Beomgyu. A moment later Beomgyu came inisde her, slowing down his movements to ride out both their highs.

As he pulled out a cocky grin grew on his lips. ''And you said it wouldn't fit''

Jiwoo only punched him in the chest again. A small "ouff" left his lips. ''Fuck you''

''Hey, you texted me first''

''My brother texted you first. I left my phone unlocked, which seemed to have been a mistake''

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. ''You calling me a mistake? The sounds you made say otherwise''

''You- I- we-'' Jiwoo didn't know what to say, which was a rare thing.

''Cat got your tongue, princess?'' An amused grin grew on Beomgyu's lips as he spoke. He leaned down and pecked her lips. ''Sorry''

'They both got dressed and walked around the car to get into the front. They both missed the paparazzis snapping photos of them. They both missed the fact that they were, most likely, gonna be on the news tomorrow.

''Asshole''

''Your asshole''

''Whatever, cheescake''

[blacklegsanjiii]

i love all of your sanji aus sooo much :D always makes my day to see one of your ideas on them!! i adore shirohige!sanji so much and trafalgar!sanji has been hoarding my brain like crazy and i keep imagining different scenarios for dracule!sanji and-- yeah, you probably get the picture. sanji really is such a versatile character <3 truly the all blue of men

is there anything about trafalgar!sanji you havent shared? that ones a fav of mine ^^ no pressure, but your ideas are all always gorgeous

Ahhh! Thank you so much! He's just a perfect little orphan to just slot into random families in the Blues that are just..unhinged(Dofla!Sanji for example).

I feel like it depends on when they find out Law and Sanji are brothers. If it's on Punk Hazard I feel like when the Heart and the Strawhat's meet up on Zou Nami and Chopper are bowing to Law and apologising and if Law goes to WCI his nose would bleed, he's a fucking nerd and Germa is real and they're his little brother's birth family! The escape plan includes Sanji letting Law take his heart, Law screaming about Sanji about flying(sky walking, you shitty surgeon!), screaming about fire legs, and Law juggling Judge's vital organs before telling him to fetch and quit shit talking his little brother. Wano is Wano but Law relents with Soba Mask. (Still finds out Luffy and Sanji are dating somehow)

If it's after WCI when everyone finds out they're siblings and Luffy and Sanji are dating there is definitely a talk between Law and Luffy that is like:

"you understand Black Leg is my little brother and I will do what Ace did for you for him, correct?"

"wrong, he won't let you and neither will I"

Law wouldn't be calling him Stealth Black on this either but I definitely feel like Zoro would tell him about what Sanji asked him to do and that if it comes down to it Zoro will follow through and I feel like Law would take Sanji's blood and just start fucking with his DNA to make sure it doesn't happen? Law who explains, against his will, that he's already thought Sanji died twice so he will not lose him again. Bepo who won't stop clinging to Sanji crying about leaving again to go after Black Beard.

Before they got separated though? When Sanji is 8 and Law is 13? Sanji is like, a willing but scared participant for the op-op fruit so Law is playing both doctor in training and also bi brother and Lami and Sanji are both extremely similar and vastly different. Lmao and Sanji both like/d to cook and when they smile it's so bright and joyous. They both hate bugs but fuck if Sanji's panic attacks and PTSD flashbacks aren't the most concerning thing to Law. Sanji won't talk about it and Law has suffered from losing his first family, Cora, and he needs to get revenge against Doflamingo and the Government for what they have done.

When Bepo comes along and is so huggy and touchy Law is kind of jealous but Law isn't and Sanji is touch starved so. Law deals with it at first but Bepo is warm dammit so he caves and they all sleep in a pile. Then Shachi and Penguin join. The pile grows.

Before the crews split up after Wano everyone found the five of them in a sleep pile. Nami uses this to blackmail the Heart Pirates for money, or tries to at least. Law and Sanji don't really care and point out that they'll think Sanji has just switched crews. That makes Luffy angry so he stops Nami but Bepo does pay for a copy of the photo. It is proudly displayed in Bepo's navigation room on the Polar Tang, Shachi and Penguin love it, Law does secretly but Kidd making fun of him for it makes Law wonder if he shouldn't shambles the man into the ocean.

[saintsenara]

there is so much new stuff on your blog that i need to catch up with omg and i swear i will get to it BUT. BUT FIRST. i have a question (which, funnily, is really relevant to my actual offline life rn): if tom riddle was a doctor, what specialty would he practice? [he gives me major neurosurgery vibes] and, more laterally, what do you think makes a good surgeon? as in, what kind of personality types fare the best in a surgical program?

now this is the sort of content i like to see!

while i can certainly see good old dr riddle [bmbch oxon] very much enjoying having a rummage around in a patient's cranium, he strikes me as someone who would prefer specialties on the medical, rather than surgical, spectrum - and, especially, would like specialties which require a lot of sifting through evidence and solving mysteries. he's clearly a puzzle girly [why else would he spend his teenage years coming up with anagrams of his own name?] and so i think he'd very much like the parts of his job which allowed him to spend half his time running a lot of invasive tests on people and the other half skulking in a lab getting an enormous amount of money to run research projects...

so he's applying for:

haematology

aka: staring at blood - which is right up his alley. his particular interest is coagulation disorders in pregnant women - and their contribution to these women dying in childbirth.

histopathology

aka: staring at slices of tissue. he's determined to find out whether or not the soul resides in the liver.

neuropathology

i think we can all picture him presiding over a collection of brains preserved in formalin. one of them is dumbledore's.

forensic pathology

cutting up corpses by order of the state? he's in! his team of graduate students have conned several million out of the wellcome trust and are spending it trying to reanimate their specimens.

forensic psychiatry

because while if you want to be a good psychiatrist you need an iron will and well-developed sense of empathy, if you want to be a bad one you need to be able to gaslight, gatekeep, and girlboss. and our tom's got that nailed...

now.

the above flippancy is about to make me look quite bad, because i am also a puzzle girly, and i like medicine precisely for the sort of mystery solving and research paper publishing it enables. but i'm not a mass-murderer, which i feel it's important to clarify...

i'm not a surgeon either - i didn't struggle with the gory bits of the work, i just didn't find any of the surgical specialties i shadowed during my training particularly compelling in re: that element of mystery.

while the reputation they sometimes have - especially on tv - for being scalpel-wielding jocks isn't accurate, it's certainly true that the defining trait you need as a surgeon is total, unshakeable conviction. in all medical specialities outside of emergency medicine you have the option to adopt a wait-and-see approach a lot of the time - but you do not have this option if you've got someone open on the table in front of you. you need to be enormously decisive, capable of tunnel-vision, incredibly good under pressure, and also a little bit arrogant - the only way you can get through the terror of knowing that you're responsible for slicing and dicing someone [particularly in specialties like neonatal surgery or neurosurgery] is to believe unquestioningly that you're going to smash it.

these are probably all traits you already possess - they're certainly something it benefits all doctors to have, in moderation - and they can also be learned and honed through practise, but they're going to be most crucial in surgery because - the vast majority of the time - your issue won't be working out what's wrong with a patient, it'll be pulling off the operation without a hitch.

surgeons still get to do academic work, clinical research and so on, but if you think you want to be a surgeon, you really have to like that slicing and dicing, in-and-out aspect of the work. if you can't see yourself performing thousands upon thousands of the same operation, it's not for you.

[pixeldistractions]

After that conversation, Jordan just felt defeated all around. He decided to call it a day at the adventure park and retreat to his humble home on wheels to finish a few modifications. He was building bunks in the back bedroom for the kids.

He texted his boys independently of Colette. He wanted them to know that they could come any time, that they were not forgotten. He was naive, maybe, to think that Colette would work with him on this. He hoped they might have been allowed to visit for a weekend by now.

These climbing classes ran through November. That was another six weeks on top of the six he’d already been away, and that wasn’t soon enough for nine-year-olds. He felt like he was doing so much wrong. But what was the alternative?

A phone call broke his work. It wasn’t Maria. It wasn’t Colette, either. It was Milo.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Sorry, Dad.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“I wanted to tell you before Mom does. I got a detention.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want to tell me about it?”

“It’s just because my homework, and—”

“Hang up,” Colette demanded, storming into the room.

“He doesn’t have to hang up,” Jordan said, but she couldn’t hear him, and Milo couldn’t hear, either. She’d already swiped the phone. And then she hung up.

Colette regretted letting the boys have phones. It didn’t seem a choice these days—all the kids had them—but she didn’t feel wrong for regulating their usage on her own terms.

“Go downstairs and start that homework,” she ordered. “I want to see progress when I come down.”

Jordan redialed, and the call went straight to voicemail. She must have turned the phone off. All Jordan could do was sit there in the dust and fume.

He didn’t think she’d be so obstinate. And maybe that made him a fool, because of course Colette intended to be as obstinate as possible. She seemed determined to fight every possible thing there was to fight, and he knew she wasn’t always this unreasonable. She allowed him to take the boys backpacking in Canada last summer. But now she won’t let them come out to Nevada for a weekend? Because she was mad and she could.

He was pretty sure he had some rights, but he’d need a lawyer to find out what those rights were. And lawyers cost money, which he was quickly running out of.

Colette took her time walking across the short hallway to her own bedroom. She sat on her bed and called Jordan back.

“He got a detention, you know. He isn’t doing his homework anymore. It’s weeks behind. Seems like he thinks his father is okay with ditching his responsibilities, so that’s what he’ll do, too.”

“Give his phone back. Let him call me.”

“It’s too late,” Colette said. “It’s a school night and he doesn’t have his homework done.”

“So he needs his homework done to talk to his dad?”

“You’re not here, you don’t make the rules. Stop undermining me.”

“Stop making this so difficult,” Jordan said.

“I’m making this difficult?! You fucking left! You left us—them, you left them.”

“It’s not like that,” Jordan said. “I’ll have them any time. I’d have them now, this weekend, whenever. They get a break for Thanksgiving, and they get another long weekend at the end of the month. Sierra Nova has a direct connection from Chicago. I’ll buy the tickets.”

“Damn right, you will.”

“Okay, fine, then let them come out.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Colette said. “Get an apartment. Get a lawyer. Get custody. Then, when all that’s done, you can pay for the train tickets and you can have them.”

“It’s up to you, you know,” Jordan said, his teeth gritted. “It’s entirely your fault they’re not out here. We could cooperate. Plenty of people co-parent and cooperate without making it a huge war. Or you can just have it your way like you always do.”

Yes, actually, she did intend to have it her way. Should she feel sorry about that?

“I’m going on a date, by the way,” Colette said, with a smug grin. “He’s a doctor. An emergency trauma surgeon. He sounds very successful.”

“Is it important for me to know that he’s a doctor, or are you just being as mean as possible?”

“If you feel bad about him being a doctor, then that’s your problem.”

She hung up on him, unwilling to let him have the last word.

— from “boxes and squares #4.1: first fall apart” (3/5)

a little story note: because this is a fringe lifestyle that I’m a little obsessed with, lol! Legally, in the USA, it’s 100% fine to house your kids in a camper, even full-time. When public schools get involved, it’s a little more complicated, which is why most nomadic families choose to homeschool their kids. On principle though, Colette is just being a stinker. I’m not a lawyer, of course, but from my handy-dandy internet research, the way it works with custody is that two parents can cooperate and decide whatever they want for their kids if they agree with each other. And plenty of parents do that all the time without lawyers and courts. Maybe Jordan was a little naive to hope that he and Colette might be one of those ex-couples who can have a civilized conversation and compromise. 😬

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