#surgeon seemed to agree)

[seilon]

had my top surgery phone consultation today and checked the post-appointment notes and idk why but I wasn’t ready for my chest skin to be considered Poor Quality. i know what he meant by it but still. amusing

[eloquentgifs]

I dont want to be mad bc the show isnt even out yet, but I'll be forever lowkey upset they made a new Sandokan adaptation and they didnt cast Onur Tuna as Sandokan

[madamechrissy]

=͟͟͞♡ Healing Hearts =͟͟͞♡

=͟͟͞♡ Pairings:-Doctor Gojo x Intern F!Reader

=͟͟͞♡ Contents/warnings- Medical procedures, surgery descriptions, crazy sexual tension, eventually explicit sex etc. ER setting. Reader 26, Dr. Gojo 34, small age gap, work sex, complications, lots of humor, eventual drama and angst. Grey's vibes ✨️

=͟͟͞♡ Summary- You are the top Surgical Doctor intern, along with Maki, Yuta and Toge. You all are exhausted from passing the first month, sixteen plus hour days, days you don't even go home, all to get a top spot with the star Surgeon, Dr. Gojo, your resident doctor and boss. Or as you call him, Dr. Hojo. He's takes nothing serious but his surgeries it seems, and has a reputation for being a player, but he has that top spot, so you want to prove your worth! You just have to ignore those stupid butterflies he gives you, and those pretty blue eyes, along with his interest in you, and focus!

Comment to get added to the tag list

=͟͟͞♡ Playlist =͟͟͞♡ Masterlist =͟͟͞♡

♡ Part One ♡

Fuck, you’re exhausted, the first month of your internship as a surgeon was brutal, you haven’t had but a couple hours of sleep here and there, mostly on some of the hospital beds. Your bones ache, your skincare routine is barely hanging by a thread, and your hair is a wreck in a messy bun today. You thought med school was difficult, but it was nothing like this.

“Hey, you okay babe?” Your best friend Maki Zenin asks softly, you look at her and smile, nodding, she purses her lips, tilting her glasses.  “No you’re not.”

“I’m wiped, Maki. This patient injected cocaine up his ass.” She bursts out laughing right in the middle of the hospital floor, you cover her mouth quickly, looking around. “Shh!”

“Shit, forreal? I thought my case was bad, he’s been here eight times for hits of pain meds since I have been here, he keeps bashing his hand on shit.” She sighs, handing her files to the desk then picking up several more.

You’re both in your pale blue scrubs, Maki’s pretty green hair is high up in a ponytail, now your other two best friends from your internship come up, Inumaki Toge and Yuta Okkotsu, both looking exhausted along with you. Yuta’s eye bags rival yours by far, he slicks back his dark hair as you all check the time on your watches.

“Another sixteen hours almost down.” He says through a yawn.

“Tired.” Inumaki says, and you sigh, nodding in agreement.

“Fuck that, we need to throw a party.” Maki says, somehow still so energetic, and you’re so confused how it’s possible.

“Party?” Inumaki asks, he’s certainly a man of few words, but his violet eyes explain whatever anyone needs to know.

“No way, Maki. Fuck that.” Yuta says, earning Maki sticking her tongue out at him.

“Buzz kill, ugh. Listen, this weekend, we’ll invite some of the people from our class, we can invite some of the other interns too. Ooh, maybe even those sexy resident doctors.” She wiggles her brows with a mischievous little grin.

“Maki, we're too old for that shit now.”  You grumble.

“Bitch we’re twenty six? How are we old.”

“I feel ancient.” Yuta agrees. “Coffee everyone?”

“I have to stop by Doctor Gojo’s real quick, meet you all there?” You say, and they nod, waving you off as you head to your Resident doctor’s office. Dr. Gojo was the boss of you four, one of the residents along with Dr. Nanami and Dr. Geto. All three were fawned over by all the interns, except you. 

Yes they were gorgeous, and yes Dr. Gojo was positively beautiful, with his snowy white hair, his glittery blue eyes, his big grin. But you were just too exhausted and too beat to really fawn over someone, especially someone you really could not be with, seeing as he is your resident, you’re just a little intern. Satoru also happens to be the top surgeon in the hospital.

You go to knock but see his door is cracked open, you carefully take the knob in your hand, twisting it and peeking your head in, seeing Satoru Gojo’s head fall back, as he’s gasping. You look curiously, but his hands are up on the desk, as he’s biting his lower lip, his brows together, eyes shut. You clear your throat and he jerks then, clearing his throat.

“Um… hey intern.” He says, his voice clipped. You shut the door behind you, tilting your head curiously at him, his face reddening slightly.

“Dr. Gojo, I have a question about this patient, is everything okay? It won’t take very long.” You say, and his eyes flicker over your face, an expression you can’t explain, as he sucks in a breath.

“I um… can listen… in… fuck, fuck!” He moans then, he clearly moans, and you hear a bump on his desk now. “Oh, oh that’s so much better.”

“I… what the fuck!?” He flushes then, sliding back, and one of the nurses jumps up, giggling now and wiping her mouth, she has pretty blue hair.

“Thank you Miwa, you’re a gem.” He stands, patting her head with a smile, and she giggles again, as you watch in confusion, your brows together, mouth open. “I need to talk to her about cool doctor things, I’ll see you around later?”

Cool Doctor things.

Blow jobs on the clock?

How is this your boss?

“Yes, Dr. Gojo. Hi there!” She waves at you, as if nothing has happened, as if she wasn’t just sucking Dr. Gojo off, and he’s looking bashful!?

“What the hell is this shit? Lock a door?” He comes to you, locking the big door with a click behind you. “Not now!”

“I forgot it was open, shit. I’m sorry. Stress relief, you know.” He smiles down at you, a stupid smirk you’d like to smack off his pretty face, hands in the pockets of his long white doctor jacket. “Don’t you ever need any?”

You heat up at his husky tone, as you realize just what you’d walked into. It had been a long time since you’d even thought that way, not just with Med school but now being an intern, especially since you broke up with your ex months back. “What? Yuck don’t come near me.”

“Why, ya jealous.” He brushes your hair back, earning your glare. “You’re awfully cute when you are.”

“Jealous of you? No thanks, I'm good. I sure am not part of your fan club.”

Satoru pouts. “Yeah, and you’re the only one.”

“Yep. Anyway, I’m now disturbed.” You shiver with feigned disgust, making him snort a bit in laughter. “But I only came in here to go over Mr. Lewis.” Sighing, you hand him the file with a gentle brush of your fingers against his palm. “He's been a difficult case.”

“Fuck, the cocaine dude? Ah shit, it’s that bad?”

“We have him stable, but something about it threw me off, how could it be that severe of an effect? Colitis has lasted days now and no improvement.”

“Mmm, true. But it makes sense, you can’t just inject cocaine into the anus and… have a party.” A hint of laughter escapes from his lips before he can control it, earning a stern look from you, making him study the file more carefully.

“Be serious.”

“I’m your boss, you know!”

“Yeah, somehow. Anyway, I feel there is something underlying. Perhaps exasperated by the cocaine.”

“Up the ass! Hah!” He’s smacking his long leg now, chuckling, earning your glare. “Oof you’re so serious, sorry, carry on.” He gives you a mock salute, and your eyes are so far back in your head they might stay that way.

“So I’m wondering if he has something else, untreated, the man has no history of any doctor visits since he was living with his parents.”

He taps his chin then. “Hmm, good point. It’s possible. Have we checked him for Chron’s?”

“Shit, maybe, that would make so much sense too, his white blood cell count is through the roof. I’ll leave a note to run some tests before I go.” You take the folder back then, your fingers brushing, and it brings a blush to your cheeks.

“What’s wrong, intern?”

“Just weirded out by you, Dr. Hojo.” He snorts then.

“Dr. Hojo!?”

“It’s what they call you, I guess it’s true.” You say, raising a brow, and he is leaning close, too close. You can smell that stupidly expensive cologne he wears every day, filling your senses far too much. You try to avoid those eyes, even though you look at them all the time, they still are…

Too much.

“And you don’t ever wanna just get eaten out?” You blush more now, looking down as he stands up tall, so fucking tall over you. “Don’t be shy now, we spend more time together than alone.”

“I don’t do that when not in relationships.” He pauses, and you expect some joke, since he takes nothing serious but surgery it seems. But he tilts your chin up, and studies you with those eyes, lids lowering ever so slightly.

“Aw, so you’re a good girl.” He says teasingly, causing a warm sensation to spread through your stomach at his words. You shake your head and try to ignore the fluttering feeling within you.

“Don’t say that!”

“Turn you on?”

“No! Jesus. I don’t care what people do with their bodies, I don’t care if you’re a whole manwhore-”

“Excuse me!”

“But I just need a relationship, I’m not attracted to just looks, there has to be a deeper connection.” He studies you carefully now, so serious unlike his usual goofy demeanor.

“Hmm, a challenge.”

“What now?” You glare up at him, clutching the folders to your chest tightly. “Not a challenge, you psycho. Go get all the blowjobs you want, like Thanos collecting all those infinity stones.”

He grins, sharp little fangs glinting, and you don’t like the effects it’s having on your body, or your mind. You can barely take a breath. “You’re actually so funny, holy shit.”

“You don’t really know me. Aside from work.”

“You never take me up on any of those offers of coffee, or grabbing a bite, all you do is work Missy. All work, no play, makes a sad girl.” He taps your nose, and it scrunches up, making him smile a bit. “Cute.”

“Whatever, I have to work my ass off, it’s important, I have to make sure I get to scrub in with you. That chance comes at the end of this month.”

“Well you’re the top intern I have, so don’t worry so much.” He pats your shoulder, and you blink a bit. “Surprised? How. You graduated top of the school, you bust your cute little butt, and you’re intelligent, caring for your patients. Of course I was picking you first.”

“Oh my god…”

“You’ve ruined your own surprise. Act surprised when you find out, mmkay?” You hug him then, heart racing as you think of it. “Oh so now you like me.”

“I can really scrub in to a surgery with you!?” You couldn't contain your excitement as you leaned back and looked up at Satoru Gojo. He nodded, his hands taking hold of your waist through your scrubs, and that touch?

Does things, fuck.

“I’m so sorry-”

“You’re fine, intern. Stay a little longer.” You nervously step back, his hands are still on your waist, making you tremble, as your eyes both lock.

“I can never fuck such an opportunity up. Um… thank you though, that gives me so much hope, maybe I can actually relax for two minutes!” He smiles softly, nodding, his hands falling to his sides. “I’m sorry I…”

“Interrupted? Nah. Think you made me cum quick.”

“What!?” You glare again, and his smirk makes you itch to smack him all over again. “Dr. Gojo!”

“You’re so pretty though, I think it made her job quicker. Win win.”

“I’m out of here. Ugh.” You turn away, hand on the knob, and then his comes on top of it and gently unlocks it with a twist, you feel his hard body against your back, and you get overwhelmed in his office, damn near unable to breathe, as he’s clearly…

Is Dr. Gojo inhaling your hair!?

“New shampoo?” He asks, you turn to glare up at him, putting your faces far, far too close.

“How would you know my…”

“You always wear that one that smells like strawberries, this one is more floral. Hmm I don’t know if I like it as much, but it’s still yummy.”

“I… you…”

“See you later, intern.” He says softly, then finally steps away, leaving you reeling as you hastily step out without a word, leaning your back against his door, shutting your eyes for a moment in the quiet hall his office is in. You shake yourself out of it quickly, he’s just being…

Dr. Hojo.

Notorious womanizer, but the best damn surgeon there was, a whole idiot and yet an entire genius. And not your type, not at all, even if he’s gorgeous, you did not like man whores, or men that aren’t serious, especially not your boss, anyway. Fucking your boss in this industry would essentially make everyone question every accomplishment as favoriteism.

You sure weren’t going to sacrifice all your hard work for some dick.

You bounce away, heading to the little cafe where your friends are waiting, sitting next to Yuta who hands you a coffee with a little smile. “Thank you, ugh.”

“You’re welcome, girlie.”

“So, party?”

“Maki!” You three say, and she sighs, shooting her espresso down.

“Next weekend! Come on you guys, what do you say?”

“Oh fine.” You concede. Maki, Yuta and Toge all live with you, in your town home, since you could absolutely not afford it yourself, with the shitty pay of your internship and the college bills. It was left to you, but you still had property taxes and other bills, so they helped a ton. “No one better fuck my house up, I swear.”

“Hell yeah, here’s to a party bitches.” She holds up her little styrofoam cup, and you all cheers each other then, laughing.

“Party, hmm?” Comes Dr. Gojo’s voice, he’s standing there with Dr. Geto and Dr. Nanami. You all get nervous then, but he grins. “I’m coming. What about you guys?”

“No way.” Nanami grumbles, he’s very serious, his glasses slung over his sandy blond hair, his face exhausted.

“I’ll come.” Dr. Geto chimes in, chuckling and sipping his coffee, he’s as tall as Dr. Gojo and well swoon worthy. He would be more your type you think, with that serious yet fun nature, whereas Dr. Gojo…

“C’mon Nanami. You gotta, you gotta, you-”

“Jesus you’re a child.” You say, and Gojo gasps at you, Geto and even Nanami laugh, only earning Gojo’s scowl.

“You brat, I’m a good eight years older than you!”

“You look like a twenty year old frat boy.”

"And you look like an angry little brat!” He shot back, only causing more laughter to erupt from the group.

“Okay, okay.” Dr. Geto holds up his hands now. “Let’s be nice, kids.”

“Kids! Suguru I’m older than you.” Gojo says with a glare.

“Like six months. Anyway, we’ll be there at this party, text us the details? We’d love to unwind.” Dr. Geto says, and Maki jumps up now, as you and Gojo are glaring at each other across your table. “Got it, thank you Maki.”

“Of course, we’ll invite both of your interns too. It’ll be much needed after hell month.” You just sit there, as they all talk, and Gojo is all pouty, like a baby. You peek at your phone now, seeing a text from your shitty ex, your face falls.

“Everything okay?” Maki asks softly, and you sigh, nodding.

“Just the ex.” You whisper back.

“Ex huh?” Satoru has somehow gotten behind you, leaning over, you smack at his hand then, glaring. “What, I wanna know!”

“You’re too fucking much sometimes. Ugh.” You stand up then, slinking past him. “I’m headed to get changed and then I’m leaving. See you all at home?” They all nod, eyeing you and Satoru curiously, you wave at the Doctors then head out.

Ugh, along with Satoru just being… weird and annoying, and your ex? He was a toxic, needy mess. He’d left you because you didn’t have enough time for him, and maybe you really didn’t, how could you have a relationship until your internship was finished? The first week none of you even left the hospital, sleeping in bunk beds and showering there.

But he constantly needed you, made you feel guilty, would fuck with your alarms and everything. Thank God he was long gone, even if he was annoying you currently, you delete his messages, heading to the locker room and hearing steps. You look back curiously to see Satoru holding the door open for you.

“What are you doing?”

“I am sorry, that was rude of me.”

“Yeah, well, what’s new.” You both walk into the locker room now, Satoru’s shrugging off his white lab coat, your cheeks heat up while you slip off your scrub top, it was normal to change in front of everyone, you all had co op locker rooms and showers even, all of you took years of anatomy, the human body was nothing really but parts.

But as you feel his eyes on you, when you’re down to just a black lace bra and a pair of boy shorts, you tense a bit, looking at him, shirtless, his lips parted as he looks at you. “I am sorry I know I annoy you, Miss perfect.”

“I’m no Miss perfect. I guess I have a lot to prove.” You say softly, trying not to drink in his rippling muscles, perfect well defined torso, cuts low where he’s now sliding up a pair of dark blue jeans.

His blue eyes fixate on you as he does, as you’re sliding on a pair of jeans yourself, buttoning them with trembling hands. “I had a lot to prove once too. I do understand.”

“You’re being serious?” You tease, earning a little smile, as he slides a black long sleeve shirt over his head. You get flustered as you realize your nipples are pressed against the cups of your bra, sliding your shirt and then a jacket on yourself, sitting at the bench to slide on your black boots.

“I can be serious sometimes, I just think there’s enough death, sadness, and depression in this career. Why not just try to have some fun? Otherwise, it’ll just consume you.” He says softly, in that husky voice of his, so sexy it alone could wreck someone. But his words…

“That makes sense.” You say softly now, standing as he does, grabbing your purse and locking up your locker, spinning the combination, at the same time he grabs his keys and wallet. “So you try to… brighten up things.”

“Yeah, someone has to.” He walks to you then, tapping your nose once more. “You’re too serious, you’ll have to lighten up, or this career will wreck you.”

You nod then, carefully, realizing perhaps this slutty, silly doctor had a lot more to him, than just being the perfect surgeon. “I’ll take that advice. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, also…” He leans forward as you all are stepping out of the locker room, headed toward the automatic glass doors, and you look at him curiously. “Nice panties.”

“Oh fuck you, Dr. Hojo!” You glare now, shoving at him, as he heads to his mercedes benz, and you’re in your ancient SUV that sounds like a beast.

“Night-night, intern.” He shoots you two fingers, sliding into his fancy car with blacked out windows. You roll your eyes, putting your car in gear.

What a day.

Part Two

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 8

Summary: It's Thanksgiving, your first official holiday with Wanda. Someone stops by to create a little havoc.

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

All the houses look the same, at least to him. The navigation system in his rental car isn’t any better.

Or maybe his sister gave him a fake address just to mess with him.

After a while, he decides it’s enough, pulling over when he sees someone jogging around the neighborhood.

“Excuse me”

“Hey” the woman says, stopping. Her smile is wide, and Pietro’s taken aback by how friendly she seems with a stranger.

“I’m looking for an address, can you help me out?”

“Sure”

“It’s Hill Drive 216”

“Right, well all you have to do is drive straight ahead for five blocks. Then turn right and then left” the woman says, leaning over the car window. As she’s giving directions, he can’t help but stare at her toned legs in full display.

“I really appreciate it. Maybe I can buy you some coffee to thank you?”

“Sure. See ya around” she says with a smirk, running in the opposite direction. Pietro didn’t get her number, but he figures she might know Wanda. So they’ll meet again.

In no time, he finds Wanda’s house. The woman is already sitting in the porch, as if she can feel her twin brother coming.

“This was supposed to be a surprise. You don’t look surprised”

“You asked my neighbor for my address. She called to know if you were a creep so she’d call the cops on you”

“What? She was so nice. And she’s very hot. You should have told me you had hot neighbors”

Wanda gives him a cryptic smile, but he doesn’t have time to ask the meaning behind it, as Tommy and Billy come running down the stairs.

“Uncle Pietro!”

“Bratan” he says, allowing the boys to tackle him to the ground. “You’re so big! What is your mom feeding you two?”

The boys laugh, pulling him inside so they can tell him all about school, soccer and their videogames.

A half hour later, there’s a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it” he volunteers. To his surprise, the girl he spoke to earlier is on the other side. She’s now wearing jeans and a long sleeved sweater.

“Hey, Pietro”

“I didn’t… tell you my name”

But before he can connect the dots, Wanda walks past him, standing on her toes to kiss the woman.

“Hey, baby. Apparently you already met Pietro”

“Oh, yeah. Heard he was hoping to get a hot date out of some simple directions”

At that, his sister and her girlfriend let out a laugh, and he groans, hiding his face in his hands.

—

It was totally worth it, to see Pietro’s face as realization hit him. You were Wanda’s girlfriend.

He looks shocked, and embarrassed as you walk past him, Wanda’s hand in yours.

“At least the Maximoffs have consistency in their taste” you comment, making Wanda laugh and Pietro blushes.

“She never sent me a picture of you, ok? How was I to know?”

“I didn’t send it because I knew you’d fall for her and she is all mine” Wanda rolls her eyes, arms around your waist. You kiss her temple, smiling.

“Are you staying for Thanksgiving?” you ask, curious about his plans for the holidays.

“That’s the idea”

“You’re little buddy Rogers isn’t joining us?” you glare, so he knows you know what he tried to do.

“Oh, yeah. Heard you felt threatened by him. Still jealous, Y/N?”

“Jealous? I’m a Trauma surgeon, for goodness sake. What is your job, by the way? Snowboarding? Or do you call it snow? You know, like Ken in the Barbie movie”

“It gets me all the girl’s phone numbers” he arches an eyebrow.

“You certainly didn’t get mine”

“Stop it” Wanda laughs it off to ease the tension, standing between you two. “It’s Thanksgiving. The holidays. A time to forgive and enjoy”

“Fine,” he agrees. “Truce?”

“Not until you take the kids for a movie so we have an afternoon to ourselves” you say, because now that you’re back to work it’s been harder to get alone time with your girlfriend.

“Alright”

—

“It’s very important to me” Wanda says, stuttering lightly as you kiss down her neck.

“Of course, baby” you say, holding her hips as she tries to continue the conversation. She’s saying something against your lips, so you roll her nipple between your fingers, which makes her quiet for a few minutes.

Then, you’re between her legs when she starts talking again.

“He’s my brother, we’ve known each other our whole lives. I really want him to get to know you”

“Wanda” you sigh, defeated. You look up, with a smile at her disheveled state. “Can we not talk about your brother when I’m eating you out?”

“Sorry”

You kiss her thighs, going up to lie next to her.

“Or am I that bad at giving you head these days, baby?”

“It’s not that” she rushes to say, straddling your lap. Wanda pecks your lips to appease you, hands going up and down your arms. You squeeze her hips, encouraging her to continue. “But I mean it, I want you to get along”

“I was joking before. Mostly”

“Y/N” she whines and you smile.

“Ok, I just feel… the last time we almost broke up because he was trying to test me using Steve, right? I’m a bit butthurt about it, you know I’m proud and petty like that. And I’m not… I’ve never met someone’s family. I told you I’m not good with this relationship stuff”

“All you have to do is try” she says, leaning down to kiss you. “And absolutely nothing will break us apart, my love”

“Promise?”

“Swear” she says against your lips. You kiss her again, hands going down to her ass.

“Can I carry on now or would you like to talk about more family members?”

“Carry on” Wanda giggles when you flip her on her back, but those turn to moans pretty soon, feeling how your tongue works through her folds.

—

“Ok, guys, just like we practiced” Pietro says as he parks in the street, looking at the twins. They nod, staying inside the car while their uncle walks to the door.

“Hey, sestra… ah, seriously?!”

All he sees as he walks in is his sister’s head thrown back on the couch, and he can guess where you are.

“I thought you locked the door” Wanda reprimands you, but you just smirk, getting dressed. You make sure that only Pietro is within earshot when you smack Wanda’s ass, and she yelps.

The man is glaring when Wanda opens the door, her hair a mess and your shirt all wrinkled.

“Where are the kids? Why are they waiting in the car?”

In that moment, the twins open the car door, and you can see they are carrying a small, white dog. You want to cackle, because Pietro is so dead. But you keep a neutral expression, staying behind Wanda.

“You idiot” Wanda says, followed by a string of curses in Sokovian. You’ve never seen her this upset and it’s kinda hot.

“Come on, kids. Let’s go back to my place and bathe this little dude”

“No, please don’t leave me alone with her” Pietro pleads as Wanda pulls him by the ear.

“Sorry, I don’t want to be a witness to whatever it is she’ll do to you” you give him finger guns, hurrying back to take the kids to your place. It’s pretty obvious Wanda won’t appreciate you using her bathtub to take care of the pup.

“So, wanna tell me what happened?” you say once you’re in the bathroom.

“Well, we found Sparky outside the cinema. He was looking for food in the garbage and was so sad and alone”

“Do you think Mom will let us keep him?” Tommy says.

“Let’s take him to the vet tomorrow. Maybe he escaped home and his owners are looking for him”

The boys remain silent as you rinse the soap from Sparky’s fur. Of course, he shakes as soon as you’re done, drops of water flying everywhere. Billy and Tommy laugh, which makes you smile.

They had never brought up the subject of pets, but you have a feeling that it’s because Wanda had told them that the answer was going to be no, no matter what.

You use an old t-shirt and your blow dryer to get him all fluffy. He is a cute dog, that’s for sure.

“Come on, let’s get back home” you tell the kids, letting Tommy carry Sparky.

Pietro is in the porch, hand on his cheek as he sulks around the stairs. His ear is so red from all the pulling that Wanda did and you almost want to laugh.

“She won’t talk to me” he mumbles like a grumpy teenager.

“Jeez, I wonder why”

You walk inside, going straight to Wanda’s room. Still, you knock and let her know it’s you.

“Hey, love. Woah” as soon as you open the door she’s hugging you, and you don’t know if her tears are from anger or sadness. “I’m here, what’s wrong?”

“Pietro is so… immature! Why would he think it’s a good idea to bring a dog into my home? He is always like this. Now, I’ll have to tell the kids we can’t keep him and they will hate me”

“Wanda, they won’t hate you. Breathe for me” you run your hands up and down her back. “Here’s what we’ll do. Tomorrow I will drive with the kids to the vet, they’ll check for a microchip or anything else that tells us if he has a family”

“They always wanted a pet and I just couldn’t do it, it was too much work for one person and I…”

“And you are not alone anymore, ok? You have me. And as it happens, my family’s always had dogs. Don’t stress, leave it to me” you say, kissing her temple.

“Thank you. I’m staying here. Can you make sure the kids have dinner?”

“Of course, baby”

You make a couple of sandwiches and let the kids eat in the living room, while Sparky walks around and smells everything. It’s a good sign that he’s not peeing in every surface of the house.

Once the kids have dinner, you take the dog to the backyard, noticing the wooden fence needs some work, or Sparky will be able to escape.

Another thing on your list.

“Is Mom mad at us?” Billy asks when you’re upstairs, tucking them in. Sparky is in the corner, sleeping between Tommy’s shoes.

“Not at all, kiddo. She’s just not sure we can take care of Sparky. Dogs can be a lot of work, ya know?”

“Did you have dogs?” Tommy says from his bed and you nod.

“Yeah, we had all kinds of dogs. Big ones, small like Sparky. You have to walk them, feed them, take them to the doctor…”

“Maybe it is a lot of work” Billy says, dropping his shoulders.

“Hey, no worries, we will figure it out. Just make sure you’re nice to your mom. She just wants the best for everyone. Rest now. And Sparky doesn’t sleep on anyone’s bed, got it?”

The kids giggle at that, and you roll your eyes, knowing they’ll probably break that rule.

—

“We’re home” you announce.

“How did it go?” Wanda says, while Pietro is in the living room, pretending to read.

“No microchip. But he did get blood work and everything seems fine, we also got him dewormed and he can start with vaccination in two weeks”

“You know a lot about dogs” Pietro says, but shuts his mouth the minute Wanda turns to glare.

“So, yeah. We could call a shelter and ask if they can take him”

“But he would be in one of those cages, alone” Wanda says, sounding sad.

“I guess”

“Let’s just keep him until we figure something out” she decides, looking as the kids play with the dog in the front yard.

“Yeah, ok. We got him some kibble, plates, a new leash and a bed, so he’s all set. I’ll just have to fix the fence”

“Oh? Will you wear your tool belt?” she says, biting her lip. Pietro gags from his place in the couch. Wanda turns to scold him. “Keep it up and you’re staying in a hotel”

“Bossy. And mean. I love it” you say, pulling her closer. You share a quick, but passionate kiss.

“I could fix the fence” Pietro offers.

“You don’t even know how to drive a nail,” Wanda argues.

“I’m trying to do something nice, sestra”

“You’ve done enough”

They begin to argue like a couple of teenagers so you have to step between them, raising your hands.

“Enough. Pietro can help me when I fix the fence. We all win. Isn’t that great? Two of your favorite people working together” you say.

“Only one” Wanda says and Pietro is ready to fight when you snap your fingers.

“To your corner, Pietro” you warn him, dragging Wanda to the kitchen. “Hey, gorgeous”

“Mmm?” she melts when you rub that spot in her lower back that always relaxes her.

“I don’t think Pietro meant to do any harm with this. At most, he thought you’d end up loving Sparky more than me” Wanda laughs, and she leans against you. “He’s visiting and you’re always talking about how much you miss him, so try to forgive him”

“You’re right”

“You sound surprised,” you joke, kissing her softly. “I have work. I’ll be back tomorrow, ok?”

“Don’t leave. I know nothing about dogs” she pleads.

“I’m always one call away, love of my life” you promise.

—

Five missed calls. You sigh when you leave the OR, though it is from an unknown number.

Before you can return the call or contact Wanda to make sure she’s fine, Darcy finds you, dragging you by the hand without any explanation.

“Does this belong to you?” she says, pulling the curtain to reveal Pietro, holding an ice pack against his right hand.

“It belongs to my girlfriend”

“It? Seriously?” he complains, but Darcy ignores him.

“Came in with hammered fingers and cries every time I try to examine him”

“I will take a look. Thanks, pal” you force him to remove the ice pack, ignoring his protests. “What happened?”

“I tried to fix the fence”

“Mhm” you bend his fingers and move them around, trying to check if there’s a fracture. He complains and tries to jank his hand back, but you don’t let him.

“Can’t you take some X-Rays?”

Now, where’s the fun in that?

“Honestly, I think you’ll just have some swelling and pain. Let’s put a bandage in those three fingers and make sure you don’t move them too much”

“At least Wanda’s less mad at me”

You smile.

“Glad to hear it. Did she drive you here?”

“No, I wasn't in the mood to be lectured. I just told her I needed something from the hardware store and came straight to the ER”

You nod, writing a prescription for him. Once you’re done, you take the hand, bandaging the three fingers together.

“You know, I just worry” he interrupts the silence.

“About what?”

“Well, has she ever told you about the twins’ father?”

You glance back at him, arching an eyebrow.

“No, and I respect that. If she ever feels like telling me, I’m sure she will. So I’d appreciate it if we keep it at that, Pietro”

“I’ll just say, he was the biggest asshole. And it almost destroyed her. I promised myself no one would hurt her again”

You nod, still working in silence. Of course, the shovel talk. After the stunt he pulled with Rogers, this is nothing, really. Going along and nodding a few times might just do the trick.

“To be fair, I never liked him. You’re fine, I guess”

“I can live with being just fine in the eyes of Frosty the snowman” you mutter, finishing the bandaging and giving him some pills. “Now go back home and let me take care of the fence when I’m there”

An ambulance parks right outside of the ER and you excuse yourself. You don’t notice Pietro hanging back, watching as you help the paramedics move a woman from their gurney to a hospital bed.

It isn’t until a few hours later when you’re out of the OR and see a text from Wanda that you remember the incident.

Wanda: Thank you for checking Pietro.

Y/N: Happy to help the evil twin, love.

Wanda: What would that make me? The good twin?

Y/N: The hot, beautiful, angel twin.

The sound of your pager snaps you back to reality, which means the last hours of your shift will be busy.

—

“I should go and help”

“Please, don’t”

Wanda and Pietro are sitting in the backyard’s deck, watching as you fix the fence.

“Did you get Sparky as a test? To see how she’d react?”

“That is actually a great idea but no” Pietro laughs, stretching his arms. “I can’t believe you don’t remember”

“Remember what?”

“We were at school, back in Sokovia when we were five or six. The teacher asked us to draw our pet, but we didn’t have one so…”

“So you drew a dragon and said you wanted one for our birthday” Wanda suddenly remembers, frowning. “But what did I draw?”

“A white dog, with a very pink nose and fuzzy hair. And when we were at the theater, I saw him and thought, that’s my sister’s dog”

Wanda laughs, trying not to cry at her brother’s antics, wiping the corner of her eyes before she gets emotional. She reaches for his hand and he squeezes it, smiling.

“Why haven’t you told her about how you had the twins?” Pietro asks after a while, his voice soft.

“Because… I’m afraid she’ll see me differently. And I don’t know if it’s worth it, dwelling in the past. It’s done and nothing can change it”

“It’s not about dwelling in the past, it’s about sharing everything that makes you who you are. And that’s a big part of it” Pietro insists, standing up when the boys show up with Sparky. “We’re going to the park. See you for dinner”

Wanda stays on the deck, watching as you finish replacing the last wooden panel.

“I am so ready for a shower and a nap” you sigh, plopping down next to her. “At least Sparky can be out safely now”

“How can I pay for your very hard work?” Wanda says, and your hand squeezes her thigh.

“I can think of a few ways, Mrs. Maximoff. But when I’m not all sweaty”

“You’ll have to leave the toolbelt on, though” she says, making you laugh as you kiss the spot behind her ear.

You enjoy the breeze as you sit together on the deck, drinking a beer while Wanda looks out her yard.

“If I told you something, would you promise not to judge me?”

“I would never, my love” you say, putting a strand of hair behind her ear gently. “What is it?”

“It’s about the twins”

“Uh. Did Pietro put you up for this?” you click your tongue. “You don’t have to tell me anything; whatever the situation is, I imagine it’s not easy”

“I think… It would help explain why he’s so protective of me. And I want you to know, I do”

“Alright, then. I’m listening”

It takes her a moment to gather her thoughts, looking at her clasped hands.

“We met in college” she begins. “I was 20 and he was on an exchange program. Came from Oxford University, I think. We were in different faculties but somehow crossed paths at a party and got talking. It was the first time I was in love”

“He was elegant and acted like a gentleman, and said funny things without being crass. He acted differently than the rest of guys I ever tried to date. So we were together the whole semester, until winter break came. I was considering inviting him over to spend Christmas with us when he got an unexpected visit from his fiance”

You breathe deeply, knowing where this is going. Wanda still won’t look at you, and she takes a moment to continue.

“Uhm. So, yeah. The minute I saw them together I wanted to scream, but all I could do was hide. I felt like such an idiot. He didn’t even try to find me and apologize. And for a few weeks I was… sick. I threw up every morning, and felt tired. But I thought it was stress”

“Wanda, I’m so sorry” you say, pulling her close and kissing her temple. She leans against you, letting your touch ground her. Wanda’s hand goes to hold your own, and you squeeze it, trying to show your support.

“When I realized what it was, I tried talking to him. I thought he at least deserved to know. But he just wanted to give me some money to deal with it, in his words”

Those words make your heart ache, but you grit your teeth. You admire Pietro’s self control more than ever.

“I’m gonna need you to give me a name so I can find him and kill him”

“I let that go, for my sake. I had two babies to care for. No matter how it happened, I knew I always wanted them. So I told my parents everything and then Pietro, well…”

“He went crazy, I can imagine. Can’t really blame him”

“So, now you know it all. I still have things to figure out, because sometimes the kids ask me about their father and I don’t know how to tell them he never cared about us” she sighs, leaning against you.

“We’ll figure it out together, when the time comes” you promise, kissing her cheek. “And you don’t have to be afraid of me judging you, you did nothing wrong, Wands. I’m so sorry you had to go through that”

“I just thought… I wanted you to know”

“Did you ever see him again? I mean, does he even know their names?”

“No, and I hope it stays that way. If he comes back, I don’t want him anywhere near Tommy and Billy” her voice shakes with emotion, and a bit of her accent comes back.

“That’s ok. We won’t let it happen” you promise, kissing her temple.

“I love you”

“I love you too. And our boys”

“And our dog” she says, which makes you look back at her. She smiles at your shocked expression. “We’re keeping Sparky. No further comment”

“Yes, Ma’am”

—

The twins couldn’t believe it when Wanda told them they could keep Sparky. Pietro smiled as the kids hugged their mother, promising to always take care of him.

“You’re the best mom ever!” Tommy says, running around the living room.

“You’re welcome” Pietro mocks as he walks past her, and she elbows him.

You spend the evening watching a movie in the living room, Sparky sitting between both boys.

The 36 hour shift, coupled with the work on the backyard leaves you exhausted, so 15 minutes into the movie you begin to fall asleep.

“Come on, sweetheart” Wanda says when your head keeps loling to the side. “You need to rest”

“No, but I wanna know what happens with Big Welder” you mumble. Wanda stands up, kissing your forehead and pulling you all the way to the stairs. After brushing your teeth and almost sleeping while standing up, you plop down in bed, taking everything off and deciding to sleep in nothing but your underwear.

“Very tempting” Wanda comments when she sees you.

“I thought you’d be watching the movie” you stretch, appreciating how Wanda’s eyes linger on your breasts.

“Uh, they started playing video games. So that was my cue to go” she crawls into bed with you, not ready to go to sleep but wanting to share some alone time. “Before I forget, who are you inviting for Thanksgiving?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, dinner. We’re having turkey, the Barton’s are stopping by…. You do know it’s this Thursday, right?”

“I haven’t had a Thanksgiving dinner in like 15 years”

“You’re kidding” Wanda says, and you shrug your shoulders.

“I started volunteering when I was 16 to avoid being home. And you know I rarely went back for that stuff. I think the most I’ve done is eat pizza with Darcy while we’re working”

“Well, Darcy should come too! Have her over, I only get to see her at the hospital”

“You sure?” you say, smiling nervously. All you know about holidays in the last decade has been the chaos of a hospital.

“Yeah. It’s gonna be great, you’ll love it” she promises, kissing you.

—

Chaos isn’t exclusive to the ER, it seems. You’ve had a busy morning, mowing the lawn, cleaning the deck and getting ready to set a large table for everyone who’s joining. To your annoyance, Pietro is using his bruised hand as an excuse to not help.

“You’re doing great” he gives you a thumbs up and you want to throw the broom straight to his head.

“You could help your sister in the kitchen” you say, wiping the sweat from your forehead and coming to look over his shoulder. “Tinder? Seriously?”

“Yeah, check this out” he says, showing you some of the matches he’s had.

“Oh, wow” you whistle at a picture of a blonde woman in a bikini. You’re about to comment something else when you hear a cough behind you. Of course, Wanda is staring, her signature head tilt letting you know you’re in danger.

“I mean, oh, wow, what a horrible, unattractive person. Blegh. So not my type” you say, pretending to gag.

“I’m only letting it slide because it’s Thanksgiving” she warns and you nod.

“Yes, love. I’m sorry”

Pietro snorts and you turn to slap the back of his head.

“Sestra, are you gonna let her do that to your brother?”

“Yes” Wanda says, leaning forward to snatch his phone. “Come help me in the kitchen. Now”

“You know, I’m twelve minutes older” he says as they go back inside.

Once you’re done with mowing and picking up the dry leaves, you set a table across the backyard and some lights for extra decoration. Hoping the kids won’t look, you set up a trampoline you know they’ve been asking for.

“Alright, come supervise” you ask Wanda, and for some reason the entire Maximoff entourage follows behind.

“It looks amazing!” she says, inspecting the lights you installed. “I love these”

“I know. I may have stalked your Pinterest board, @witchy16”

“Billy, look!” Tommy points at the trampoline, running to try it out, his brother close behind.

“Be careful” Wanda warns. “I’m not sure I love that”

“They can use it only when I’m around” you promise, turning to her. “That way I can get more alone time with my girl”

Wanda laughs, but the sound is drowned out by your lips on hers, and your hands travel south to squeeze her ass.

“I’m right here!” Pietro complains, which makes you smirk.

“I didn’t see you, sorry” Wanda says.

“I did” you smile, earning a slap on the shoulder from your girlfriend. Something pings in the kitchen, so she excuses herself.

“You know, we usually save the presents for last”

“What presents? This isn’t Christmas” you say.

“People give each other presents during Thanksgiving too. Isn’t it obvious? How do you give thanks to someone? You get them something” he insists, which makes you doubt yourself. Pietro leaves to join the twins on the trampoline.

Maybe he’s right. What if Wanda got you something and after everything she’s done to make sure you enjoy this holiday, you have nothing to give back.

Fuck.

“Hey, sweetheart. Are you done in the backyard?” Wanda says when you walk in.

“I… yeah. Do you want me to do anything else?”

“No, that’s fine. I’m just letting everything in the oven for now. Come sit” 

“Actually… I need to go check something” you lie, feeling awful about it. But you have to get her a present.

“At the hospital?”

“Yes. I won’t take long, I promise” you say when she looks disappointed. “I’ll be back in an hour and I’ll help with whatever’s missing” 

“I just want us to spend time together,” she smiles, taking your hands. You lean forward, kissing her. “Oh, and call Darcy, I just want to confirm she’s coming”

“Yes, my love” 

Pretending to be super calm, you walk to your car. You only let panic take over when you’re driving around, finding the traffic to be awful. Seems like people always leave everything for the last minute, and you hate yourself for not thinking about this sooner.

You can’t let Wanda down.

Darcy’s the only person who can help out, so you call her while you try to find a place to park.

“Hello”

“Hey. Wanda wanted to confirm you’re coming to dinner”

“I am, only for the amazing food. But the hospital will page me if there’s an emergency so don’t expect me to stay for long”

“Got it. By the way, did uh, your family happen to give each other presents during Thanksgiving?”

“No, they only get drunk and yell at each other. Why? Do I have to bring a present? Because then I’m out”

“No, that was just me being stupid, never mind. See you at seven”

You hang up, leaving the car to walk around the shops. Most of them are closed, because of course, it’s a holiday. The only places still working are supermarkets. So, what? Will you have to get your perfect girlfriend toilet paper and say “happy holidays”?

After walking down several blocks, you finally find a jewelry store open. 

“Welcome. How can I help you?” a woman says.

“Hi. I can’t believe you’re open at this time of day” you comment, looking around the store. Wanda never really wears bracelets, or earrings. Necklaces, yes. Though they’re always very discreet. 

“You wouldn’t believe the amount of people who have to buy a peace offering for the holidays” 

“Huh”

“Or last minute engagements” 

“Oh. That’s definitely not the case” you smile, and something behind the woman catches your eye. “That’s a nice pearl necklace”

The woman puts on her sales hat, telling you every detail about the very elegant, very real pearls and how it is an absolute must for any woman. It honestly doesn’t take a lot of convincing. It’s beautiful and you remember how Wanda mentioned she always wanted one, but considered it a bit of a silly expense with two kids and no real use for it.

“I’ll take it” 

“You don’t want to look at the price?”

“I imagine it’s those four figures there”

“Yes”

“Yeah. That’s fine. I’m a trauma surgeon” you explain with a smile, feeling a little smug. 

“She’s a lucky lady”

You don’t really agree, considering this is very last minute. For the twins, you decide to take some of the Christmas presents you started to buy for them and store at your house.

And as much as Pietro annoys you, you’ll have to get him something too. 

Looking at the time, you decide to keep shopping for a bit longer, hoping no one notices if you’re gone too long. 

Wanda definitely notices. By the time you come back home, you’re sneaking around with a few boxes but she comes out of the kitchen.

“Where have you been?” 

Her tone makes you jump, and you look at her with wide eyes.

“I…”

“Doesn’t matter. I need you to go to the supermarket and get me some boxes of mac and cheese for all the kids. And a few bottles of wine, in case Laura and Clint stay longer” 

“Ok” you say, wishing she had called you since you were around the supermarket not long ago. 

By the time you finish all her errands, it’s four and you’ll only have an hour or two to rest. 

“Hey, here’s everything you asked for” you greet with a smile, hoping Wanda is less stressed now.

“Oh, thank you, sweetheart. I think the Bartons aren’t even staying for dinner so I made you go for no reason, I’m sorry”

“It’s ok” you say, putting your arms around her. “What’s wrong?”

“I want this to be perfect. For you to know that having a family is nice so you won’t…” she trails off, trying not to look at you.

“So I won’t, what?”

“So you won’t leave. It’s silly”

“Hey, I’d never leave… sorry” you grumble, looking at your phone and ignoring the call.

“If you need to pick up...”

“It’s just my landlord asking about the lease renewal” you roll your eyes which makes her laugh. “As I was saying, I don’t need a perfect Thanksgiving as a reason to stay. I love you. That’s it”

“I love you too” she smiles, leaning forward to kiss you. With your hands on her cheeks, you deepen the kiss, enjoying how she sighs against your lips when your tongue darts out. Then, your hands travel south to squeeze her ass, encouraging her to put her legs around your waist. 

“Hey, can we…? Ugh, not again” Pietro says, covering his eyes. “We’re thirsty”

Without dropping Wanda, you go through the stuff in the fridge and hand him some drinks.

“We’ll be upstairs, don’t go up in… 20 minutes” you say, making Wanda giggle.

“You guys are gross,” Pietro complains, crashing against the table as he keeps his eyes closed.

“Come on, let’s make those 20 minutes count” you say, carrying Wanda to the bedroom.

—

The Bartons arrive at 7, just like Wanda told them to. Sparky is the main attraction, as all the kids coo and aw at the funky little dog that loves all the attention.

“Pietro, nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you” Laura says.

“Only good things, I hope”

“That must have been a short conversation” you laugh at your own joke, while Pietro glares.

The kids run around the yard as Laura and Wanda chat, Clint handing over Nathaniel to you while Pietro talks about his job.

Darcy shows up a little later, and you make your rounds, introducing her to everyone that hasn’t met her yet. 

“You again” she says when her eyes land on Pietro. 

“What? You’ve heard a lot about me too?” 

“Yeah, mostly bad shit”

“Bad word” all the kids turn to point at her, and she facepalms.

“Fuck”

“Two bad words!” Cooper says. Laura covers Lila’s ears, though she is laughing. You clasp your hands over Darcy‘s mouth because you know she can keep going forever.

“Kids, have you tried going on our brand new trampoline? You can take Sparky with you” that gets them distracted enough, running away to the backyard. “There. Don’t worry, it took me a minute to get used to the no swearing”

“This is why I don’t hang out at PG-13 events. Anyways, I brought some stuff to make pumpkin cocktails and guacamole. Help yourselves” Darcy says, holding a bag of tortilla chips.

“Nobody eats guacamole at Thanksgiving” Pietro says. 

“They do if they’re Mexican. We can pretend. I’ll call you Pedro all night long” Darcy says just to annoy him. “Plus, this is all I can make” 

“Are all surgeons bad cooks?” Wanda teases, and you’re dumb enough to answer honestly.

“Not all! Carol is actually a great… huh” you scratch the back of your neck at Wanda’s glare. 

“Someone’s in trouble,” Pietro guesses.

“Yeah” Wanda tilts her head, making you smile weakly. 

“I’m making cocktails” Darcy interrupts everyone, dragging you to the kitchen. For a while, you talk about some patients that arrived during the day, but it was still a strangely calm shift at the hospital. It was usually busy during dinner or after that some people got injured, while driving back home. 

“Take this to Wanda, that will make her forget that Carol comment” 

Approaching slowly, you put the drink in front of your girlfriend, who takes a sip and then coughs.

“Wow, what is this?” she laughs, the alcohol strong enough to knock her off her feet.

“A fire hazard” Clint comments, able to smell it across the table. Still, Wanda sips on the drink and nods, enjoying the taste.

“Go easy, Miss Maximoff” you joke, which makes her smile.

“I still remember why I’m mad at you”

“Then forget what I said, take these like tequila shots”

“Carol is an ex,” Pietro says, putting together the information. 

“As in Carol Danvers? Nice” Clint comments, earning a slap on the arm by Laura.

“Thread carefully” 

“Ah, jeez. Look what you made me do” Clint laughs, looking at you.

“Pumpkin cocktail for Laura coming right up”

“I’ll bring it, I have to check the turkey” Wanda says, slightly slurring her words. 

“If you go anywhere near the oven, leave that thing here” Clint points out, not wanting to put out fires on his day off.

You take Wanda’s place, sipping casually on the rest of her drink. Everyone stares as you don’t even make a face to the amount of alcohol on it.

“We’ve known each other since college” you explain. ”So this is just like drinking water”

While you keep chatting in the backyard, Darcy and Wanda are both in the kitchen, your friend making herself a drink while Wanda turns off the oven to get the turkey ready.

“Want another cocktail?” she says, pushing a glass towards Wanda. The woman grabs it, sipping again. The sweet taste of the pumpkin hides a bit of the alcohol, so the punch isn’t hitting quite yet. 

“Listen, I know your brother already gave my friend the shovel talk” 

“Really? When?” Wanda says, a little too loudly. 

”Back in the hospital. And I had to hold off on mine because you were always in my territory and I didn’t want to seem like a bully. However, now is the time to tell you… she’s my best friend, has been since college. Life hasn’t been particularly fair and her mother certainly didn’t help, though I’m sure she’s made it seem like no big deal, but Y/N really does deserve someone nice and kind. So don’t break her heart. Under any circumstance”

“I’m not planning to, Daisy” Wanda nods her head, her thoughts a little fuzzy.

“Nobody plans to hurt someone they love. And I’m Darcy”

“I’m a little drunk” Wanda clicks her tongue, leaning on Darcy as they go back to the backyard. 

“Everything ok, love?” you say when Wanda comes back, and to your surprise, she sits on your lap instead of a chair.

“These things are strong. A couple more and I’ll consider doing that thing you wanted to try in bed”

“Oh, dear God” you blush, while Clint, Laura and Darcy whistle. Pietro covers his ears, gagging. “No more cocktails for you… at least with the kids around”

The Bartons stay a little while longer, eating and drinking until Lila and Cooper approach Clint.

“Can we get a dog?”

“That’s our cue to go” he sighs, standing up.

“Please, we want one!” Lila insists, and you laugh at Clint’s defeated expression.

“We’ll see” he compromises. “Come on, we gotta stop by at your grandparents”

They leave, thanking you for the food and you promise to take the twins and Sparky to play at the farm very soon.

Pietro finally gets off his ass to bring the turkey, which looks absolutely delicious. He carves it, saving the biggest piece for his sister.

“I love Thanksgiving” you say, enjoying what’s probably the best meal you’ve ever had.

“Me too” Darcy agrees, getting seconds and thirds of everything. Truth be told, you never get to sit around and eat as much as you like so this is a total luxury for a workaholic doctor.

As you’re finishing up, Wanda takes out a pecan pie. 

“I’m in heaven” Darcy comments upon the first bite.

On the other hand, you cannot hold back a moan, which makes Wanda bite her lip, one of her hands going to squeeze your thigh. 

“Hey, quick question, will you marry me?” Darcy says to Wanda and you elbow her.

“Right in front of my pecan pie?”

“I’m just saying, if you don’t, I will”

“She better get a ring then” Wanda says, smiling at you. Your mind goes back to the woman at the shop, telling you about those last minute engagements.

Surprisingly, Pietro is the one that changes the subject.

“You know what I always find funny? How the flavor makes my throat all tingly. And my tongue numb”

Everyone looks at him in silence, until Darcy speaks.

“That’s an allergic reaction”

“What? No” Pietro dismisses her point.

“It is” you insist, which earns another hand gesture from the man. “Oh, you’re right, what do we know? We only went to medical school”

“You’re so dumb” Wanda says, laughing and holding her sides. “You’ve been allergic our whole lives? Oh, my God!”

“Very funny, sestra. But now you can’t make this anymore”

“Hey, eat a granola bar or something” Darcy snaps, getting a second slice. “Why should we pay the price for your weakness?”

“Let’s finish the pie so he doesn’t get an allergy” you tease.

Darcy and you keep eating while Pietro is instructed to clean up the table and load the dishwasher. As the celebration ends, Darcy goes back home with tons of leftovers.

“I’ll walk you out ” you say, accompanying your friend. As you’re chatting, your phone rings again.

“Your mother?” Darcy guesses when you ignore the call. You click your tongue, putting the phone back in your pocket. “Let me guess, she’s calling for the usual wish you were here bullshit while never calling in advance”

“Yeah, that’s our thing. This year I’m not in the mood to do it, though”

“Well, she’ll hopefully get the hint” Darcy’s pager goes off and she sighs. “There it is”

“Want me to tag along?”

“It’s fine. I’ll call if it gets too crazy. Bye, pal”

You wave as she drives away, walking back with Sparky. For a second, you feel guilty and think about calling your mother back, but this day has been perfect and you don’t want to ruin it.

“Hey, kiddos, did you have fun?” you ruffle Tommy’s hair when you get home, getting Sparky his dinner.

“Yeah, it was awesome!”

“Well, you better check your rooms because I got you a little present”

As usual, Tommy is faster, but Billy is right behind him, both of them shouting excitedly.

“What is all that noise?” Wanda says, alarmed.

“Just following tradition” you explain with a smile, waiting for the kids to open their presents.

“What tradition?” Wanda says, looking confused.

“Thanksgiving presents”

Then you hear it. Pietro snorts a laughter from his spot in the kitchen.

Motherfucker.

“I’m gonna kill you, Evil Twin” you say, going straight to where he’s standing. Pietro runs around the kitchen island, putting distance between you two.

“Stop it, you two!” Wanda says, hands on her hips.

“Sorry, love. But he’s got it coming” you throw a towel his way, and take advantage of the distraction to jump over the counter, falling on top of him.

“Cool!” Billy says, watching as you have Pietro in a headlock.

“How are you so strong?” he complains, unable to free himself.

“I’m in the ER, do you really think I don’t have to deal with drunk assholes?”

“Enough!” Wanda shouts, pulling you by the belt loop of your pants until you’re off balance. “Explain” she asks standing between you two.

“He told me you gave each other presents during Thanksgiving!”

“We love ours!” Tommy says, showing the stands for their controls. You smile, fixing your shirt.

“Well, you’re the only ones getting one. Your uncle is definitely not”

“You got me something?”

“Yes, and it was a damn good present” you smile, knowing the curiosity will drive him crazy.

“Come on, can I have it?”

“No” Wanda and you say at the same time.

You make fun of him, and then Wanda tilts her head.

“Did you get me something?”

“Of course I did” you pat the back of your jeans, finding the necklace box there. “Here”

Wanda’s eyes widen as soon as she opens it, her hand covering her mouth.

“What? You don’t like it? I can return it. Or maybe I can’t. But you don’t have to wear it” you rant, afraid that it’s too much for a tradition that isn’t even real.

“Sweetheart, stop” she says, smiling. “I-I love it. Thank you”

“Well, I love you” you lean forward, letting her kiss you. Billy and Tommy protest at the contact, something that they have unfortunately picked up from their uncle.

“Can I have my present? Please?” Pietro says.

“No, wait until Christmas” you say.

“And for this little joke you’re gonna clean the kitchen” Wanda says, pointing at all the dirty pots and pans.

“My joke got you a pearl necklace”

“Chop, chop, Pietro” she ignores him, pushing the kids upstairs so they can get ready for bed. “You two stink, go and take a shower”

“Where do you want me, Bossypants?” you joke, standing next to her.

“Mhm” she smiles, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “You like it when I’m bossy?”

“Yes, Ma’am”

“Then go shower too. And stay in bed. You were running around all day”

“Wanna join me in the shower?”

“I’ll help Pietro clean. Or we’ll never hear the end of it” she says, smiling when you pull her close, kissing her cheek.

“Don’t be long”

By the time Wanda comes up, you’re asleep, wearing nothing but shorts and a t-shirt.

The gentleness of her lips against your neck wakes you up with a shudder, and you bring your hand to rub up and down her back.

“Are you done with cleaning?” you say, trying not to yawn. Wanda’s teeth, marking the spot between your shoulder and neck jolt you awake. “Baby?”

“You always give me so much. I want to thank you” she says, moving down your lap. You lean on your elbows, unsure if you’re understanding what she’s saying.

“Wanda?” you’re about to ask something else, but the words get stuck in your throat when you feel her rubbing her nose against your clit through your shorts. “I… uh…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong” you say, having trouble breathing when she pulls down your shorts, revealing you’re not wearing any underwear.

“Perfect” Wanda smiles, leaning down. You can tell she’s hovering, teasing you with anticipation. Even when she kisses the inside of your thighs, it feels heavenly.

You make the mistake of looking down, and Wanda’s eyes meet yours. She has a predatory smirk on her face, one you’ve never seen before. She knows how much you want this, she can see it, smell it. You’re about to plead for her to continue when she goes down, tongue licking a strip down your center.

“Fuck” you say, your legs instantly going to close around her head. You’re so sensitive and she’s sucking on your clit with such abandonment. Wanda lets you ride her face, enjoying the feeling of your juices coating every inch of her chin.

When you’re close to coming, she manages to pull free of your hold, pushing her hair back. Her chest is heaving, face glistening with your arousal.

“Wha-“ she doesn’t let you finish, pulling down her own shorts, and crawling on top of you.

“I want you to come with me” she sighs against your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself. Her pussy comes in contact with yours, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel her wetness.

“Be quiet for me” she hisses, though there’s certain tenderness in her voice. Her palm covers your mouth, and Wanda only moves when you nod, pushing her hips against yours.

“Wanda” you plead, not knowing exactly what you’re after. Even though she’s also getting pleasure out of this, she’s still very much in control, keeping you steady as she rocks her hips, setting the pace.

As your breathing quickens, Wanda picks up the pace, and your arm snakes around her waist, pulling her closer until she drops her body on top of yours, moving and panting next to your ear.

“I’m close” you breathe, and the way she bites down your neck is what pushes you over the edge, letting out a groan and a string of curse words that would put your best friend to shame.

Wanda’s release follows, and you let her dig her nails in your shoulders as she comes. She relaxes against your chest, her heart slowing down as you run your hand up and down her back.

You don’t need to look to know there’s a mess of sheets and clothes around you. Wanda is too far gone to care, the intensity of her orgasm and the exhaustion of the day making her doze off.

“Can we make this into a tradition?” you whisper against her temple. She laughs, cuddling against your side.

“Totally”

—

Wanda: Hey

Y/N: Hey, gorgeous

Wanda: Miss you

Y/N: Miss you more.

Y/N: Thinking about that mindblowing orgasm too.

“Someone got laid for Thanksgiving” Carol reads over your shoulder and you huff.

“Mind your business, Danvers”

“Darcy said it was the best meal of her life. What do we have to do to get invited next year?” she says as you walk down the hospital halls.

“Go back in time and not sleep with me”

“Damn. Wanda’s still jealous? Would it change if I’m a married gal?”

“You set a date?” you stop Carol, excited to hear more.

“Your invitation should be in the mail soon”

“Congrats!” you smile, pulling her for a hug.

“There’s one more thing… I was wondering if you’d be my maid of honor…”

The request catches you completely off guard. Carol had been your friend since you arrived at the hospital, but considering everything that happened, you’d figure Maria wouldn’t be comfortable with that.

“I mean… I would love to, but Maria”

“She’s fine with it. Understands it was just a distraction”

“Aww, that makes me feel so special” you put your hands over your chest, sighing dramatically.

“You know what I mean” Carol says, making you walk to the ER. “So, you in? You’ll have to do dress fittings. Organize a bachelorette party. Make sure I’m there on time”

“Fine, yes. Oh, did I mention we got a dog?”

On the way to the ER, you show Carol a bunch of pictures of Sparky, and she’s still obsessing over his funky hair when you find Kate, finishing some charts.

“How was your night, Bishop?”

“A bit crazy. Some accidents on the road, and cuts with kitchen knives… but it’s been pretty quiet now”

Carol gasps and you want to scream.

“Don’t say the q word, Bishop” you plead.

“Why?”

Two ambulances park right outside and you nod towards them.

“That’s why”

True to the lore, the word quiet attracts a wave of emergencies and freak accidents that take up most of your shift.

That’s not what has you on the edge of a nervouse breakdown, though.

During your first break of the night, you answer a text from Wanda, telling her you’ll be sure to be there for Pietro’s dinner tomorrow, as he’s finally leaving on Monday morning.

No one ever leaves a voicemail so you check out the notification, and you wish you hadn’t.

“For someone who works in the ER, you sure as hell aren’t around for family emergencies” your mother says. “Well, it’s not really an emergency, but you get my point. We’re gonna be in town, Jane’s probably applying to Westview university next year. Call me when you can, it would help if you give us a tour around the city. And pick up the damn phone, it’s Thanksgiving”

Kate finds you in that moment, making you jump out of your seat.

“You wanted me to…”

“Follow up with the patient in 403, yes. I’m going out for a while. Call me if it’s urgent”

The first thing you want to do is throw your phone away, but you settle for walking to a nearby store, looking for a pack of cigarrettes and a lighter. If you didn’t have a shift to go back to, you’d certainly get a bottle of cheap booze.

As you sit on the sidewalk, your hands tremble when you light up a cigarrette. It’s been ten minutes and you’re through the third one when Darcy stops by.

“What’s the matter with you?”

Since you can’t find the strenght to explain it, you hand over your phone. Your friend physically recoils at the sound of your mother’s voice, that’s how much she dislikes her.

“I’m sorry” Darcy says, sitting next to you. “She might not even make time to see you, she’s probably just pretending, like with every holiday”

“It’s not just that, Darcy. What if Jane goes to Westview University? I’m going to… I’m going to be worrying about whether or not she’ll be around. If her daughter needs anything, she’ll call me, if something goes wrong and I don’t find a way to fix it immediately, I’ll be the screw up of a daughter who never cares about her family. I’m gonna have to move, there’s just no way I can…”

“Slow down” Darcy sits next to you, her hand on your shoulder. Her touch helps you stay calm, and you breathe slowly. “That’s a massive if. You don’t know if it’s happening. And we’re both very much aware that you could do everything your mother asks and it still wouldn’t be enough. Don’t let her control you”

“I don’t know how” you admit, your voice breaking down.

“That’s ok” Darcy pulls you in, hugging you. “We’ll figure it out. Or just take her to the nastiest places in town, she’ll never let Jane come here again”

You let out a laugh at that, wiping your tears.

“I love you, friend” you say, feeling exhausted.

“Ugh, you always get so emotional when that witch is lurking around. Careful or you’ll end up proposing to Wanda”

“I don’t want my mother anywhere near Wanda. If she says anything hurtful to her, I swear to God she’ll really regret the minute she pushed me out of her fucking insides”

“Damn, bitch, now that’s the fire I want to see in you” Darcy claps, pulling you up. “Come back inside. Heard it’s been non stop since your minion summoned the entire city”

“Yeah, she said the q word”

“Queef” Darcy sighs and you cackle.

“Sassy queef”

—

The last thing you want to do when your shift is over is have dinner and be social, but you promised Wanda.

So you walk through the door with a smile on your face and some flowers for your girlfriend. Wanda greets you with a kiss, but quickly pulls apart.

“Did you smoke?”

“Uh…”

Seems like the entire pack of gum after smoking for the last 48 hours didn’t do the trick.

“Yes, sorry. I’ll go use some mouthwash and change clothes”

“Hold on” Wanda pulls your hand, looking at you. “What’s wrong? You only smoke if you’re stressed”

“Sestra!” her brother calls, and you’re actually grateful for the interruption.

“I’ll tell you later. Pietro needs your help”

Thankfully the conversation centers on the other Maximoff and his plans for the upcoming weeks, now that the conditions seem more favorable for snowboarding.

You ask a question here and there, but mostly keep to yourself, eating the chicken paprikash and drinking wine. Yeah, you definitely drink a couple of glasses to keep your cool.

If Wanda notices, she keeps it to herself once again.

“Well, sounds like you’ll be needing a pair of brand new gloves” you say to Pietro at one point, taking out a box from behind the tv. “Hidden in plain sight”

“She’s a keeper!” he exclaims when he notices the fine material. “I’m definitely coming back for Christmas now”

“Hey, you better get me something nice too”

You’re halfway the second bottle of wine when everyone’s done with dinner, and the kids are debating between going for ice cream or watching a movie. It’s safer to stay in the kitchen, cleaning everything and hoping you can excuse yourself early.

Truth is, you really want to drink until you pass out but that would raise too many questions with Wanda.

“They settled on Jumanji” Wanda announces when you’re drying your hands.

“Mmkay. I’ll take Sparky out for his walk then” you volunteer, rushing to get his leash before she can ask anything else.

The cold air makes you sober up a little, remembering what Darcy told you.

Don’t let her control you, don’t let her ruin your life.

You’ve told Wanda your relationship with your mother is not the best, but how could you possibly explain that’s a wild understatement?

“Isn’t that the cutest dog?” Agatha greets Sparky, who wags his tail. “What’s their name?”

“Sparky”

“Oh, wow” Agatha waves her hand in front of her nose. “Booze and cigarrettes, did you have fun at the casino?”

“Uh…”

“Come on, I’ll get you a special tea. It always helps”

She rushes you to her porch, making you sit while Sparky is on your lap, comfortably napping.

“One cup of “specialty”. Hah! Get it? Special tea, specialty”

“Very clever… oh, wow! Does this have peppermint?”

“Yes, clever girl”

“My grandmother grew peppermint on her front yard. I always loved the smell of it… even the taste when she made tea” you smile, sipping slowly.

“Everything ok, kiddo?” she asks after a beat of silence.

“No, not really”

“Well, I’m here if you want to…” your neighbor says, petting Sparky.

“I mean, thank you, but I feel like I don’t have a lot of people to tell this to, without being judged. Because you know what it is? I fucking hate my mother, Agatha”

To your surprise, the woman let’s out a loud laugh.

“Oh, honey, please. Tell me about it. My mother was a witch”

“Is that figuratively or…”

“I mean, who knows. She was evil, that’s for sure” Agatha rolls her eyes, and then looks at you. “Yeah, I get it. Most people say that you have to love your family, just because you share blood. Blood is thicker than water, they say. Meanwhile, they don’t know the full phrase is the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb”

“Is that so?”

“Trust me, I know” Agatha nods. “My mother would tell me I was evil, I was bad. Just rotten to the core, in her own words.”

“I’m so sorry”

“Darling, you don’t owe anyone an explanation. You have your own family with the Brady bunch over there.”

“I guess a part of me still believes she’ll apologize”

“Don’t hold your breath. And if she doesn’t, it still doesn’t mean you did something to deserve her shit”

“Thank you, Agatha”

The woman pats your leg, smiling.

“My love, are you coming back to bed?” a voice says from the inside of her house and you almost snap your neck looking back.

“Coming, Rio”

“I had no idea I was interrupting, I’ll leave right now” you stutter, carrying Sparky down the steps of the woman’s porch.

“Don’t sweat it, hot stuff. She needed a break after everything we just did” Agatha winks.

“Good talk, bye Agatha, bye Rio” you wave your hand, running back home all flustered.

The kids are with their uncle watching tv when you go inside. You let Sparky go so he can sit on the couch with them, and go upstairs to get changed and sleep.

Once you’re settling in bed, Wanda pushes the door open, eyeing you curiously.

“Sweetheart” is all she says. It’s both a question and an affirmation.

“It’s been a long day” you admit, too tired to pretend you’re ok, but also not in the mood to explain everything.

Maybe your mother won’t even come, and you’ll have shown Wanda how broken and fucked up you are for no reason. She doesn’t need to know it. Not now, at least.

“Let me help” she offers, climbing on your lap, kissing every inch of your face. You hold on to her waist, digging your fingers in her flesh. “I love you”

“I know. I love you too” you smile, finally connecting her lips with yours. She’s meant to comfort you with her touch, not wanting to start something else, because everyone’s downstairs. But when you swipe your tongue across her bottom lip, Wanda lets out a groan, nails scrapping your scalp as you deepen the kiss.

“Please” you say, switching positions so she’s on her back, you on top. You don’t really know what you’re asking for, but she can sense your desperation, holding on to your shoulders.

“It’s ok. I’m here. Use me, love. Take me”

Those words spurr you on, making you go down to kiss her neck, unbuttoning her shirt and leaving a trail of marks all the way to her hips. You desperately pull at her pants, immediately going down on her, your touch impatient as Wanda covers her mouth to keep quiet.

“Please” she manages to ask, and you give her more, stretching her with two of your fingers. “More”

You’re happy to comply, adding another digit and working them in and out of her clenching cunt, while you go back to meet her lips in a messy kiss.

“I fucking love you” you say against her mouth, and that sends Wanda over the edge, arousal gushing out of her with each of your final thrusts.

“I was… supposed to make you feel better” she says, trying to catch her breath.

“Oh, trust me. You did”

Wanda laughs, looking at you lovingly while you kiss her temple.

“I love you too” she says when your lips meet hers for a quick kiss.

“I know. I’m very lovable”

Her laugh makes you forget all the bad shit you’ve been carrying with you for the last day and a half.

—

“Take care, brat” Wanda says, her arms going around her brother. “See you soon”

“Yes” he then says something in Sokovian, making Wanda laugh.

“Do you guys know what they’re saying?” you approach Billy and Tommy.

“No, mama hasn’t taught us any Sokovian”

“We think it’s so they can say bad words without getting caught”

“Huh”

“What is all that mumbling I’m hearing?” Wanda says, making you stand straight.

“Nothing” the three of you say at the same time, making her laugh.

“Relax, sestra. You two, be good while I’m gone. And if you’re not good…”

“Be careful” they finish the sentence, laughing.

“And you…” Pietro points at you. Wanda is about to intervene, thinking he’s about to give you another shovel talk. but you wink at her, smiling. “Welcome to the family”

“Thank you, Evil Twin. See you at Christmas”

“You’re dressing up as Santa this year” he says in a low voice and you laugh.

The man gets in his car, waving goodbye one last time.

“Alright, you two, we’re gonna be late for school” Wanda says, and the routine slips you back to reality.

“Hey” you say, pulling her close to you. Before she can answer, you kiss her, hands on her cheeks. She squeezes your wrists, smiling. “Do I really have to be Santa?”

“We’ll see” she laughs, kissing you once again. “Come on. We got a busy day ahead of ourselves”

You smile, letting her take you back home.

Whatever happens next, you just need Wanda to get through it.

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍

# with trafalgar law.

the heir to a throne had taken a liking to you — and law takes it upon himself to mark you his.

⎰ & KINKTOBER, day eleven. smut (mdni!). hate!sex. choking. possessive!law. biting. marking. mentions of blood. shower!sex. dom!law. afab!reader. no y/n used.

WC: 2.3k.

one could mention beyond one dozen fear-stricken adjectives when it came to the surgeon of death. sadistic, ruthless, cruel. the one to rearrange your limbs, to tear your beating heart off your chest and sell to whoever paid more. strangers trembled at the mention; lower-ranks marines were advised to not engage. law was but a monstrous criminal to most, a force to be reckoned with. to his crewmates, he lost partial sharpness, for he was but cap — strict, strategical, cunning, with a preference for solitude more often than not ignored by said boisterous subordinates. to you, he was law. a passionate, yet cold, individual — as though white flame. wielder of neutral facade that hid a habit of collecting coins; an excitement over illustrated, super-hero stories. zelous glances; fleeting brushes of fingers. love explicit through palid eyes, the mirror to his soul with your name all but engraved on it.

a commonly chosen adjective, agreed regardless of those who spoke, was that trafalgar law was thoroughly unlucky. which had been shown a fair amount of times through his journey at sea, one of them right in that instance.

it was supposed to be a common, brief, re-stocking period. when considering the increasing bounty on his head, law being the one assigned to stay-at-ship, caring for it rather than venturing through the streets, was understandable — advisable, even. whenever the captain was in need of particulars, he’d write it down and entrust you with the task of buying it all for a fair price. bepo acted as both a companion and an escort, and said routine had been settled for such a prolonged period that neither of you had expected law to leave later on that day. as capable as he was, captains had first-mates for a reason, and as a result of his stubborn nature, law suffered a combined attack from the kingdom’s security force, which culminated in his capture altogether.

the promise of the marines’ arrival had the crew on edge, desperately seeking for a route to the palace’s dungeon, yet finding none. the solution, however, fell from the skies — or rather you had thrown yourself in its arms. a naive prince, wielder of a bleeding heart and with quite a haste to fall in love. it had taken neither effort nor time to sway him off his feet, a golden crown wrapped around your criminal-esque finger. the man had taken you for a sweet commoner, enlightened at the idea of meeting one who was not royal, and after proper wording you had him at your feet within the midday.

you were showered in jewelry; poems; promises. he demanded a song to be written in your honor and defended you to whoever dared meddle. by the end of the afternoon, you had managed to successfully convince him to escort you to the dungeons — oh, my brave knight! —, for you were ever-so-curious to see the terrible surgeon of death, chained and set to execution. the prince had no time to react — too busy bragging — when you knocked both him and the guard off, stealing the keys and freeing your lover within the second.

law was revolted at your recklessness, yet curious as to how you had managed to get an audience in the dungeon. regardless, the flame of rage dimmed down into an endless, dark pit of hatred when the pair of you managed to escape and run towards the polar tang ashore. as it seemed, you were far too successful in your seducing, for now the guards followed-in-suit, shouting at each other and informing that the surgeon of death kidnapped the prince’s bride. to make matters worse, a celebratory festival was arranged and thrown, exploding fireworks announcing the incoming marriage.

law grew quieter; deadlier. he sliced whichever guard dared to come in between the route of your escape, and once the tang, at last, submerged, he was in such a mood that no crewmate had enough courage to approach him, rather focusing on the urgent task of fleeing. you weren’t given the privilege of shying away from his wrath, for a room, followed-in-suit by a shambles, had you locked in his chambers the second thereafter.

he scanned your figure, face contorting in both disgust and non-contained possessiveness. you were adorned in gold from head-to-toe, courtesy of the prince. the silken dress you wore, expensive and brand new. law prided himself in the jumpsuits the others’ wore — chest embroidered with the symbol of his crew, a lingering reminder to the external that their loyalty laid with him. yet, with you — his lover —, said jumpsuit had him growing twice as territorial; twice as prideful. he used to smirk at the thought of lustful men and women alike, cowering at the sight of the symbol you proudly displayed, retreating in fear for they knew you were his. his to protect; to adore; to touch. not the bride of a prince so incompetent he could neither sway a sword nor differentiate west from east. not a queen, but a pirate — his pirate.

at last, however, law had grown envious. the submarine’s temperature was erratic, oftentimes freezing, yet prone to insufferable warmth, depending on the sea’s conditions. those jumpsuits, although unfashionable, unflattering, had a purpose — to guarantee the comfort and safety of his crew. you feigned indifference, but he never once missed your lingering glance at the outfits worn by the straw-hat’s crew during the alliance. you, too, wished for that, and the context of being a heart pirate did not allow it. there you stood, wearing a dress gifted by another man, shining with the jewelry of his family. it made law’s entire being flare with revolt, and as if that hadn’t been enough, the scent of that prince was smeared all over your skin, causing his own to itch. treacherous thoughts a haze of unwanted images, the sight of that man hugging your shoulders; hunched over you; breath fanning over your face.

perhaps that had been the price to pay for his request for discretion; for the desperate — and unnecessary — grip he had on his privacy. your skin was unmarked, untraced. he never dared bite, never thought useful to apply perfume. no wonder that royal blood believed you free for the taking. law would need to fix that.

if he were a decent man, he would have spared the time to appreciate your efforts; to thank you for going through such lengths to save his life. yet law had not an ounce of gratitude to spare, for he cared more for the claim of your life than for the maintenance of his own.

“did you have fun?” he inquired, drawing pleasure from your wariness, shrinking as though a cornered prey. law grimaced at his approach, bitter as the prince’s perfume invaded his nostrils. “was it enjoyable being pampered while i rotted in a cell?”

your eyes widened, lips parted in shock. “of course not! i was worried sick—”

“don’t interrupt me,” law snapped, struggling to control his breathing.

it was unusual for him to behave in such an angered state, logic thrown aside for the sake of raw emotion. he was not an untamed beast of uncontrollable impulses; he was the patient feline who sent his prey to the edge of despair before offering them the sweet reprieve of death. law was not some half-assed hound who pounded without appreciating what had been given; he was not the damned eustass kid. yet, perhaps the bastard had a point — not that law would ever admit that out loud.

law kicked the small trash can straight into your feet, his eyes boring into yours. “throw it away.”

your fingers wrapped themselves around the clasp of the necklace you wore, and he clicked his tongue in annoyance, gripping the cleavage of your dress. “this one first.”

you complied, scanning him through worried eyes. law drowned in the sight of silk slipping from your shoulders to the ground, fluid fabric wavering in its descent as though a cascate of liquid, pale fire. law hated it. once he was done with you, he’d set that dress aflame with not a care for the stench whatsoever. you hunched over to grab the silk and throw it in the trash as has been instructed, yet law placed a firm hand on the crown of your head when you began to rise to your feet, forcing your knees to meet the ground.

you looked at him through your eyelashes, and his cock all but throbbed at the sight. “law—”

“why are you still with those jewels on? i told you to take it off,” he interrupted, tethering his glance to your cleavage. the lingerie set had not been altered — lacy, beige — one he had gifted to you. your hand went to the bracelet at your wrist, concentrated eyes glued to the piece. “who told you to stop looking at me?”

you shivered, careful when returning your gaze up to his face. the golden band fell onto the can, the round, diamond encrusted earrings following-in-suit. your fingers struggled with the clasp of the necklace, and law grunted with delight at the sight, aroused by your frustration. the star pendant fell into your cleavage, and had it been gifted by him, law would have commanded you to retrieve it with your teeth. but there mere thought of you doing it so in that instance had him seething.

“hurry up,” he barked, revolted with his own thoughts. you were swift — borderline desperate — in the act, throwing it out with a willingness that had him grunting in approval. “on your feet.”

despite having emerged to your full height, you shrunk under the pressure of his gaze, hugging your frame with uncertainty. law wanted to caress your cheek and spread your arms; scold you for depriving him of the sight of your breasts and abdomen, while comforting you on his desire altogether. yet, the scent lingered as though the remnant of a pest on one’s skin. law refused to give in to the urges to ravage you; to touch you as your gleaming eyes begged him to. but you would not leave without a lesson learned.

law teleported the pair of you to the bathroom, pointing towards the shower. “turn it on and stand underneath it.”

a cascade of water was bestowed upon you, soaking the fabric of your lingerie until it left nothing to the imagination. two minutes were required for it to heat up, yet law had no mercy whatsoever, forcing you to withstand the freezing liquid as he stood steps further, stripping himself without haste. vapor swirled around the room, covering inches of your flesh. your trembling stopped, and though law approached with his body bare, cock slapped against his stomach, you remained with the lingerie, for he hadn’t — and wouldn’t — order you to remove it. that had been his gift to you, and law would fuck you numb in it.

his tattooed hand closed around your neck, not quite squeezing it, yet. your head was angled as in a way to have your eyes glued to his own. “where were you touched?”

“waist,” you mumbled, ashamed. “sometimes he hugged my shoulders, too, but he’d rather have his hand on my waist.”

his pupils dilated, tempers rising. you gasped at the strength of his grip, wasting your reserve of air in a single act. law felt the wild pulse of your pressure point, crescent pace beating against the palm of his hand. underneath bone and flesh and muscle, caged amidst ribs, rested a heart whose surface that prince hadn’t touched, for that inch of you was his. every breath you took, every contraction of your heart, belonged to him. those wide, lust-coated eyes were his, as were the hardened nipples, trembling legs and awaiting lips.

law smashed his mouth against yours, more an act of violence than a kiss itself. his teeth dug into flesh, drawing blood from your lower lip, allowing it to drip down your chin. law hummed to himself at the sight, before he pushed you against the wall, ignoring the echo of your head meeting the ceramic. his canines were dragged on your shoulders, nose buried in. he hummed half-approvingly, for the water had expelled the most prominent aspects of the insufferable perfume — not nearly enough. law bit on every inch of your shoulder, steel grip unmoving on your throat, with not a care for your lack of air in your lungs. if you fell unconscious, the shower and his cock would eventually bring you back.

crystalline water merged with specks of dripping blood, soothing tongue licking your fresh wounds. law pressed himself against you, rolling his hips in order to be granted an ounce of friction. your eyes were rolled, maimed waist bearing the marks of his fingers. the grip on your neck loosened, for you could neither moan nor beg without proper breathing.

the white of his smile was tainted crimson when he smirked at you, digging his nails into your waist. “were you enjoying his attention? the festival had beautiful fireworks, wouldn’t you agree?”

his taunts fell on deaf ears. your eyes were filled with tears that dared not fall, your voice rough. the golden collar wrapped around your throat had been replaced by the mark of his fingers.

“i don’t know,” you croaked out, hissing ever-so-slightly at the wound left on your lower lip. “i was staring at you the whole time.”

his anger faltered ever-so-slightly, cock twitching at the confession. for an instance, the bathroom was filled with nothing but the steady sound of the shower and your shallow breathing. until law pressed his mouth against yours with enough strength to have your head hitting the wall behind yet again, clashing teeth; tongue forcing itself inside. he swallowed your mewl, grunting as his shaft pressed itself against you; rutting hips, dragging the tip around the slick flesh.

“law, please,” you begged, choking on your words. sadistic bastard of considerable strength. he stole the air off your lungs, yet demanded you to speak. words but a meek plea, strained and pathetic. “fuck me, please.”

“who do you belong to?” he demanded, teasing your entrance with his leaking tip.

“you,” he dug his teeth into your shoulders, squeezing your neck. his eyes spoke when words failed him; narrowed slits demanding for more. “i’m yours, yours!”

he grunted, shoving his cock inside. law increased the pressure on your neck, muffled moans sending vibrations through your skin as he slid in — base to the tip; balls slapping your ass. his tip assaulted your g-spot, hardened nipples sliding onto his chest. the angle itself was odd; challenging. your back slipped, and your legs wrapped themselves around his waist, offering him a better angle and chance to support your weight. you let out a strangled, desperate moan when his tip forced itself deeper, a ruthless pace that gave neither of you enough time to form a coherent thought.

law retreated from your shoulder in order to catch a glimpse of your face. water had united some of your eyelashes; your lips were swollen where he bit it; your eyes were facing a losing battle against consciousness. he had never seen a prettier sight.

your legs trembled, muted sounds pointing out to the approach of your bliss. law threw his head back to witness it in its full glory, snapping his hips with particular strength, holding a moan at the sensation of your walls — tightening; caging him. when you came, spurs of white smeared the pool of water underneath, law picked up his pace, torturing your abused cunt as he selfishly seeked out his own bliss.

law was a doctor. he did not fall into the spectrum of irresponsible individuals who thought themselves acquitted to the effects of unprotected sex. he had a fair stash of condoms well-hidden and set for usage, and if he ever were to run out of it, either your stomach, tits or face were chosen to be smeared with his cum. however, after the previous demonstration of desire from another, law grew territorial. his cock was yet sheltered within your walls when he reached his high, smearing your insides with his essence and grunting in the process of it all — knowing that you were his; that it was your tight, demanding cunt who milked him dry. his hand raised from your throat to caress your cheeks with an affection at odds with his past behavior.

you were soaked; exhausted. with his load lodged inside, traces of his teeth on your maimed shoulder. you would be sore in the morning, and the collar of his fingers would linger for at least a week. not the bride of a prince — rather the treasure of a pirate.

— 🐈‍⬛ : i should NOT be allowed to write this man. happy kinktober friday!

[ghostzzy]

I Did It

anyway it’s pride today and i am leading a hangout of 5 people without my emotional support extrovert bestie so wish me luck

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking my gf's son not to call me dad?

I (22M) have been dating my gf (24F) for 4 years now. She has a 7 year old whose dad isn't in the picture anymore - he hasn't been since the kid was born. My gf says he was abusive and I think there are some charges against him but as far as I know, nothing was proven. He has other kids too who he does have a relationship with but he doesn't have custody rights with my gf's son so they hasn't been allowed to have a relationship.

My gf and I live together and are both in college. I am going to be a surgeon and she wants to study science but she hasn't decided what to do with it yet. Because we're both busy with that, her son doesn't live with us full time. He stays with her parents during the week. This means that we have to dedicate our weekends to looking after the kid. I didn't really mind this at first but her parents are really pushing for her to look after him during the week now too, which we don't have time for. I hear how that doesn't sound great but the plan has always been that her parents will take care of the kid until she finishes with school. She has classes for 4+ hours from Mon-Thurs, plus she needs to spend a few hours studying every day, then she has labs on Friday for most of the day. I have classes all week for fewer hours each day but next semester I'll probably be doing an internship so I'll have more work to do. Then we pick up her kid on Friday evenings and spend the whole weekend with him. There's hardly any time for us to spend time alone together. I like her son and he's usually fun to have around but both of us are obviously stressed from having no down time so most weekends my gf and her son get into an argument or something and things escalate. I try not to get involved when that happens. Sometimes my gf and I are the ones who end up arguing and in that case, I usually go to my parents house.

Basically, I'm not super involved with the kid. Her parents want us to spend all of our free time on parenting despite originally agreeing that it was better if my gf focused on school. He has a dad who could probably be more involved but my gf and her family don't want him around. I've suggested that maybe it would be a better solution for her son to live with his dad full time, that way she can focus on school and then her career and still have time for herself and for us. I love her but she doesn't really have maternal instincts and she doesn't actually want kids, she has said a lot that she regrets not giving him up for adoption.

Recently, we were out for dinner with my gf's sister and kid, and the kid called me his dad. He's done this a lot and usually I just kind of ignore it, but no one else corrected him this time and I felt like the kid deserved the truth. I asked him then and there not to call me dad because he has a real dad who probably wouldn't like it. He didn't seem upset by it but my gf's sister lost it. She thinks I don't want the kid around and that I'm the reason my gf doesn't spend more time with him. She also thinks this was the first time my gf's son heard about his bio dad. Total conjecture, but she won't hear my side of it. The kid knows I havent been around since he was born so he obviously knows someone else must be his dad. I told my gf I don't think it's fair to let the kid call me dad when he has a real dad out there and she sort of agrees. She told her son not to call me dad anymore and they had a long talk about it. She still doesn't want the real dad involved but that's a whole other battle.

Here's why I think I might be the asshole: I said this to the kid in a moment of annoyance, which probably wasn't the way to bring it up. Like I said, he didn't seem upset by it but I wasn't there for the longer conversation so I don't know exactly. I think he's old enough to be allowed to know about his real dad in a more serious way. It's kind of messed up that he could run into his dad in the street (we live in a pretty small town) and wouldn't know it. I'm not his dad and for the foreseeable future, I won't be responsible for him as a parent because he still lives with his grandparents. I think it's reasonable to say that he shouldn't call me dad. So, AITA?

[doc-who]

When Green Turns Red

Emily Prentiss/Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Chapters: 4/?

Words: 1745

Categories: Angst, Jealousy, Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Eventual Smut

Emily sits in the waiting room, eyes glued to the emergency department doors. She’s chewed her lip raw, and the traces of blood on her tongue match the stains of yours on her clothes. The rest of the team waits around her, silent. Barely a word has been spoken since the paramedics had taken you away in the ambulance.

The clock on the wall seems to tick louder with each passing second, seemingly mocking Emily and her inability to do anything to help you. She buries her head in her hands in an effort to stop the onslaught of images that torment her.

Her thoughts start to spiral, a mixture of guilt and fear. She can’t shake the thought that if she had done something differently, if she hadn’t left you alone that night, you wouldn’t be fighting for your life right now. It’s a weight that threatens to crush her.

The surgeon finally emerges with a look on his face that makes Emily’s heart sink. He beckons the team over, and Emily jumps to her feet. The room feels too small, the air too thick, as he delivers the news. You’re in critical condition. The surgery was successful, but you lost a huge amount of blood, along with sustaining severe head trauma. Emily’s world narrows at the sound of his words. She nods, throat too tight to speak, as the doctor explains your recovery, assuming you’ll pull through.

“When can we see her?” Garcia asks.

“It’ll be a few hours until she can have visitors. Right now we’ve had to put her in a medically induced coma. If the swelling in her brain goes down like we hope, then we should be able to wake her up tomorrow.”

Emily tries to focus on the positives. That they found you, that you’re alive, but she can’t help but think about all the things that could still go wrong. She turns away from the team, knowing the thoughts are clear on her face.

Morgan is the only one to have the courage to approach her. “Emily, she’ll be okay.”

She nods, not trusting her voice. JJ pulls Morgan away for a second, handing him a bag.

“Here, a change of clothes. Why don’t you get cleaned up and I’ll get us some coffee.”

Emily shakes her head, “I need to be here when she wakes up.”

“Emily, you heard the doctor, it’s going to be a while. Do you really want the first thing she sees being you covered in blood?”

Sighing, she takes the bag from his outstretched hand. She waves off Garcia when she moves to come with her, needing to be alone. Locking the door to the bathroom behind her, she braces herself at the sink, and hangs her head. She hesitates for a moment, not having the nerve to face herself. Taking a deep breath, she looks up, her eyes meeting the strangers in the mirror.

For the first time since she found you, she let’s herself cry.

—

The team had forced Emily to go home, refusing to let her sit in the waiting room all night. She had fought them at first, but she was tired, the weight of the day heavy on her shoulders. They told her she wasn’t any use to you half dead on her feet, and she reluctantly agreed.

Walking into her empty apartment, she’s greeted by Sergio nudging her leg. “Hey buddy,” she whispers, picking him up and holding him to her chest. Burying her face in his fur, she focuses on the rumbling of his purrs.

Not bothering to turn on any lights, she heads straight for the bedroom and puts Sergio down on the bed. Pulling back the covers, she gets underneath them without getting changed and draws the spare pillow towards her.

The scent of your hair lingers on the pillowcase, and she clutches it to her chest. If she closes her eyes she can pretend that you’re next to her. That the scent of your shampoo isn’t just traces of where you used to be. The tears come again, silent and hot, rolling down her cheeks and staining the pillow. She’s not sure how long she has lays there, holding the memory of you close.

Eventually, the exhaustion of the day overcomes her. She drifts between fits of sleep and wakefulness. In the brief moments of unconsciousness she relives a slideshow of the worst moments of the past two days - and every time she wakes, she’s hit with the agonizing reality that you’re not here.

—

Morning comes and Emily is surprised she’s slept at all. There’s a brief moment before she’s woken fully, where she’s at peace. Then she remembers and the pain returns. She goes through the motions of her morning routine on autopilot, the sting of the too hot water barely registering as she showers. The sun has barely risen by the time she leaves and the early hour means she’s the first one to arrive at the hospital.

She lingers in the doorway to your room, listening to the beep of the machines that are hooked up to your bruised and broken body. She’s not sure how much time has passed before she hears footsteps approaching. Dragging her eyes away from you, she quietly greets the team, giving an acceptable answer when they ask how she’s doing.

“She should be waking up soon,” JJ says, leaning next to Emily on the other side of the doorway.

A panic starts to build in her chest and she feels the overwhelming urge to run. “I’m going to go get some coffee,” she says suddenly, walking away before they have the chance to reply. She rounds the corner and collapses into the nearest chair. Pressing her palms into her eyes, she tries to calm her breathing. Gradually, the panic starts to recede, and she manages to take in a full breath.

Feeling someone sit down next to her, she lowers her hands from her face. When she sees it’s Morgan she tenses. He sits in silence with her for a moment, waiting to see if she’ll open up without him having to pry. When a few minutes have passed he leans back, assessing her in that particular way he does.

“Why don’t you want to see her, Emily?”

She clenches her jaw at the question, “I have seen her.”

Morgan sighs, “Alright, then. Why don’t you want her to see you?”

Emily stills, before she leans forward and braces herself on her knees. Morgan is patient, letting her organize her thoughts.

Finally, she answers with a shaking voice, “It would be selfish,” she whispers, “for me to be there when she wakes up.”

Morgan looks at her in confusion, “How would that be selfish? If anyone should be there it should be you.”

Emily scoffs, “After what I said to her? What I did? She probably hates me.”

“Emily, you know that’s not true. She doesn’t hate you.”

“If she doesn’t, then she should,” she mumbles to herself.

Morgan sighs in exasperation and stands up, “If you want to sit here and feel sorry for yourself, then fine.”

The mortification of being called out so blatantly renders her speechless. He waits, giving her the chance to defend herself, to get herself together and be there for you. When she doesn’t, the look of disappointment he gives her makes her hang her head in shame.

—

You wake slowly to the sound of beeping. Gradually emerging from sleep, you lay there, bits and pieces of the past few days slowly coming back to you.

“Emily?” You mumble, wincing in pain when you try to move.

“Hey, just relax. You’re in the hospital.” JJ, not Emily. You fight against the heaviness in your eyes, opening them just enough to see her hovering over you.

Clearing your throat, you try to get your thoughts straight. “Where’s Emily?”

JJ looks behind her to the rest of the team and they share a look that makes your heart speed up. The increasing beeps from the monitor draws their attention back to you.

Your voice shakes, “Is she okay?”

JJ sits down on the chair next to your bed, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “She’s fine, I promise.”

Her words provide some reassurance, but you still don’t understand. “Where is she?” Your eyes dart between the team, waiting for an answer.

Morgan steps forward, eyes shifting. “She’s here,” he says quickly, “She just…had some things to deal with.” It’s obvious there’s more he’s not telling you.

Your heart sinks. Of course. Why would Emily be here? She hates you. She said you were a mistake. You turn your head away, trying to hide the tears building in your eyes. You don’t want to be here. You feel exposed and vulnerable now that you’ve realised what happened between you and Emily is common knowledge amongst the team.

“When can I go home?” You whisper.

The team gives you an incredulous look. JJ utters your name in disbelief, “You almost died.”

You nod as much as your aching head allows. You guess you won’t be going home anytime soon. JJ sees that you’re about to break and motions to the team, who all give you a sympathetic look before filing out of the room.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?” JJ asks, voice gentle and unimposing.

You swallow back tears and put on the most convincing smile you can manage, “Nothing, just tired.”

You can see that she doesn’t believe you. “Are you sure?” JJ asks, and you nod.

“I’m fine, really,” you smooth your hands over the rough blanket that covers you, “I think I just need to be alone for a while.”

JJ studies you, trying to discern how you’re really feeling. You try not to squirm under the observation. When she realises she’s not getting anything more out of you, she sighs and gets to her feet.

“I’ll get a doctor to come and check in on you,” she pauses, hovering next to you, “We are all here for you. You know that, right?”

You nod, even though you know it’s not completely true. The one person you really need doesn’t want anything to do with you.

You keep yourself composed until JJ is gone, then you let out a sigh of relief. Turning your head into the pillow, you finally allow yourself to feel the absence of Emily.

The tears burn as they fall.

ao3

[penkura]

Could you do a Trafalgar law x female where he rescued her a few years back and now is finally seeing her again but now she's a fierce doctor pirate?

Hi!! I hope this is good, I wasn't sure what to do for it so I just went with what came to me. ;3; I'd be glad to look at it again for another part in the future if you'd like!

Law wasn’t expecting to ever see you again, just like he’d never expected to meet you and save your life while he was still getting started as a pirate himself. Its strange to see you now, you look so different yet still the same, just like the day the Heart Pirates had left your little island. You must be about twenty-two at this point, it’s already been eight years since you met, right? You were fourteen back then and near death’s door, sixteen-year-old Law hadn’t ever expected to be convinced to heal a random girl on the small island his crew ended up on by accident. Your father begged them for help when he heard Law was a doctor, you were all he had left after your mother left the two of you, he couldn’t lose you too.

You were beyond lucky that it wasn’t more than a bad case of pneumonia, according to Law once he agreed to come check you. Left unchecked, you probably would have died in a few days as your sickness progressed and got worse, you and your father were grateful to Law and allowed him, Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo to stay with you for the few days they needed to restock supplies and make sure you were really on the mend. You wanted to go with the Heart Pirates when they left, even talked to your dad about it and he agreed to letting you go if Law accepted tour proposal to join them, but they were gone before you ever had a chance. You didn’t even have the time to say goodbye before they left, it was so sudden you wondered if you’d done something to make them leave sooner than you expected they would.

Part of you believed you and Law were getting along well. You had told him you wanted to become a nurse one day, and thought that might lead to him accepting you joining his crew, but there was no chance of that after they left.

Now Law is surprised to see you on Sabaody, with another pirate crew. Small timers it seems, he can’t be bothered to remember your crews name, but oh does he remember you. Part of their sudden departure from your home was because Law didn’t want to get too close to you, he didn’t want to start having feelings for you, though it was a bit too late for that at the time, and now he realizes he should’ve brought you along.

Law doesn’t think you notice him at first, you’re a bit busy reprimanding one of your crewmates for being reckless as you tend to his wounds, the man swearing that it was the fault of a Celestial Dragon that he’d been injured. The surgeon of death completely ignores your crewmate while he watches you dress the wounds, you really are good at it. You were serious back then after all, when you told him you wanted to be a nurse.  It looks like you’ve become the actual doctor for your crew though, in just the little bit of time he’s watched you.

You don’t notice him for a few minutes more, until one of your crewmates points out that you’re being stared at, and it makes you happy to see Law again. You’re about to go over and say hello, see how he’s been the last eight years, before your captain calls for you, so you simply give him a grin and a wave, which Law returns with the slightest wave himself as you go off with your crew, hearing you shout back at your captain that you were busy because someone else was an idiot.

Maybe, Law thinks, he’ll get the chance to catch up with you later on. If you’re not too attached to your crew, perhaps you’ll want to go along with him instead.

[mavrintarou]

[3:33 PM] Suna Rintarou [1]

OKAY. I started something. I don't know where it's going but it's going to go somewhere.

Warning: TW - death & kidney failure disease, angst, daddy Rin (literally)

.

Rin sits with his face buried in his hands, elbows resting on his trembling knees as he tries to process the news he just received just ten minutes ago. It was the best news he’d heard in what felt like an eternity.

A matching kidney donor has been found for his little girl, Ren.

Eight months ago, his five-year-old daughter was diagnosed with kidney failure and began treatment right away. Rin and his wife did their best to stay strong and hopeful for her, but things only seemed to get worse.

Six months ago, he lost his wife and mother-in-law in a car accident. In such a short time, life had completely turned upside down for both Rin and his daughter. With trembling hands, Rin dialed his mother’s number, and she answered on the first ring.

“Rintarou?”

“Mom,” his voice cracked, and immediately, he was bombarded with questions. “No, no—everything is still the same… but I just got good news from the hospital…” he took a deep breath. They found a donor match for Ren. We’ll be going to the hospital tomorrow to get more information.”

“Oh, that is wonderful news. Thank the Gods,” she cried.

.

“The donor match currently lives in the US.”

Rin’s heart collapsed, “so… what does that mean?”

“When we submit test results to find a match, we don’t limit the search to within the country – it’s worldwide. We always consider the possibility that a match could come from anywhere,” Ren’s doctor explained, reminding them when they had agreed to allow any match. He gave a half-chuckle as if the situation amused him. “This is a unique case. The donor, a female adult, just so happens to be a vascular surgeon who specializes in kidney transplant patients. And now, she is getting first-hand experience.”

“Really?” Rin gasped.

The doctor nodded, “yes, I spoke to her directly this morning and she will fly out here with the time comes, so you do not need to worry about taking Ren abroad.”

A shaky breath is expelled from his chest and he looks down at his daughter who seems to be unaware of the conversation, just watching her iPad. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“If…” Ren’s doctor hesitated before continuing, “if you don’t mind me asking, Mr. Suna, I cannot reveal certain details I can’t disclose, but when I saw the donor’s match results, I was honestly stunned.”

Rin’s head tilted as he frowned, “why do you say that?”

The doctor frowned slightly and scratched the back of his head. “I recall when we were conducting tests, your family members all agreed to come in and see if they were a match for Ren. Was that… all of the family members?”

All immediate family members were tested as soon as Rin and his wife found out they weren’t a match for their daughter. Rin’s brow furrowed. “Yes, my wife was an only child raised by her mother. Her parents divorced, and she hasn’t seen her father since she was one year old. I only have one sister and my parents. Why? Is there a problem?”

“No problem at all, the donor has matched the blood, tissue, and antibody types and is currently undergoing a health test, and as soon as they pass, we can move forward with the next steps.”

.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?” Rin murmured as he carried her into their home. With her treatment, she is often tired and vulnerable. She would sleep at odd times throughout the day.

“Am I going to get better?”

“Yes, baby. You are,” he promised, “you’re going to get better very soon.”

.

Three weeks later felt long, but according to the doctor, it was an incredibly fast process.

The donor was on their way and will arrive in a few hours. They will have to conduct one final test before proceeding to the surgery.

Rin has offered to pay for their stay while they’re in the country but they have politely declined.

 He was thankful for this person but understood why they would like to remain anonymous.

“Some donor wants to remain anonymous to protect their confidentiality and protect the recipient.”

For some reason, Rin felt an overwhelming, eager desire to meet this donor. His heart yearned to encounter this person.

.

“Go, go enjoy a night out with the twins.”

Ren hugged her teddy bear tightly, “you’ll be back later to tuck me in?”

Rin nodded, crouching down to her eye level. “Just tonight, grandma will tuck you in, is that okay?”

She nodded, “okay, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes, baby, I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll be home later but just late after your bedtime.” He kisses her forehead, “I’m just going out with uncle Osamu and Atsumu for their birthday.”

“Okay,” she answered with a  small smile, “tell them I miss them.”

Rin smiles, “I will, good night.”

.

“Thank the Gods my baby girl found a donor!” Atsumu slapped a hand over his heart. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all week.”

Osamu raised his glass of beer, “cheers boys, cheers to baby girl matching a donor.”

They all raised their glasses in sync. “Thank you, it’s wonderful news and everything is going well.”

“Are you going to meet the donor?” Atsumu asked.

Rin shook his head, “no, they want to remain anonymous.”

“So, that means you guys will never know this person who is giving their kidney to Ren?”

Rin nodded his head, “correct. It’s unfortunate, I really wish I could meet them to thank them but the best I can do is give them a card, maybe?”

“That’s a bummer,” Osamu muttered, “I understand where they’re coming from but it’s not like… you guys know each other, you know? What’s so bad about meeting each other.”

“I’m not sure either, but I’ll respect their wishes, it’s the least I can do after all they are doing for my baby girl,” Rin says, twisting his wedding band around his finger.

.

After parting ways with the twins, Rin decided to take a walk. He stuffed his hands into his jacket, the nights have become colder and colder. His wife’s favorite scarf hung loosely around his neck. It was one of the few items of hers that still had her scent and on days that he missed her more than usual, he would wear it, feeling a little closer to her.

It has been a while since he has gone out with the boys, let alone have some good beer and relax. It was much needed and he felt the buzz kick in.

It was a weekend and downtown was busy with a live crowd.

Normally he would avoid the crowd but something was pulling him towards that direction.

With a soft sigh, his feet began moving. He didn’t know where he was going, but he was going somewhere.

He needed to sober up before calling for a taxi, not wanting to return home intoxicated.

As he headed towards the busy part of town, it was like he was going through memory lane.

He is suddenly reminded of when he met his late wife Sumi seven years ago. They were set up through Osamu and his wife, Hayumi, and immediately hit it off. They married a year and a half later and welcomed their daughter shortly after.

Everything was going well, they were a happy family.

His heart nearly broke when his daughter was diagnosed with a disease that could take her away from him. His career was put on pause and he put his focus on his daughter alongside his wife.

His whole world completely shattered when he received the news his wife and mother-in-law were involved in a fatal car accident trying to make it to their daughter’s treatment.

He felt like a shell, barely living. The only thing keeping him going every day was his daughter.

A rush of school girls ran towards him, excitedly screaming as they recognized him.

“Oh my gosh! You’re Suna Rintarou!”

“Can I have your autograph!”

“Can we have a picture with you!”

Suddenly sobering up, Rin accepted the marker from one of the girls, signing his name and forcing a smile for the cameras.

“Goodness,” he murmurs, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t help but feel a bit of life knowing he was still admired and recognized in the volleyball world.

“Excuse me, did you drop this?” A hand holding Sumi’s scarf.

“Oh,” Rin said, instinctively reaching for the scarf that was no longer around his neck. As he extended his hand to grasp it, he glanced at the person offering him. “Thank… you.”

At that moment, his world froze. It had been happening a lot lately, but this time, he truly felt everything stop. Time itself seemed to stand still as he stared into the eyes of the person before him.

How?

“Sumi?”

Her brow rose, “excuse me?” She blinked and then looked at the scarf and then up at him confused.

Rin grasped her shoulders, his eyes wide. “Sumi. Sumi?”

His grip around her tightened. His eyes scan her face. The eyes, the nose, the lips… everything looked exactly like his wife.

His breath heaved heavily, cold air burning his lungs.

He searched her eyes, finding anything that would prove it was his wife.

“You…” she breathed, her breath clouded the cold night.

He was unable to read her expression. Her eyes narrowed, in the way Sumi’s would when he and Ren was playing a trick on her.

His heart ache.

His hands drop and he turns away. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he rubbed his face with his hands.

He was drunk.

He was hallucinating.

He turned around and the person was still standing there, looking at him with concern and hesitation. “Are you… okay?”

She looked so much like Sumi.

Exactly like her.

“You…” he blinked, tears blurring his vision. “You look - look so much like… my late wife.”

“I think you have the wrong person, I’m sorry.” She shoved the scarf into his arm and hurried away.

.

“Is something wrong?” Rin asked his daughter’s doctor who seemed to be distracted, unlike himself.

“No, Mr. Suna.”

Rin wasn’t convinced.

He had been unconvinced by anything since two nights ago when he ran into a woman who looked identical to his late wife.

Nothing made sense.

He swears by his life that he was not dreaming or hallucinating.

She looked exactly like his wife.

“It was strange,” Rin mumbled, his eyes fixed on the chipped wood of the desk. “The other night… I ran into a woman…” he trailed off, unsure of where he was going with this conversation with his daughter’s doctor. “She looked…”

“Just like your late wife.”

Rin’s eyes met the doctor’s eyes. “You’ve met her too?”

His breath caught before he softly replied, “that is your daughter’s donor.” A heavy silence settled between them. “I had a video call with her and couldn’t believe my eyes. I thought maybe… I was – seeing things? That was a similarity but then again, we were on a virtual call.” He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I met her… in person, this morning… and she shocked the living shit out of me.”

. . .

E/n: to try and combat this writing slump, I'll be posting random writings to get back so bear with me on this bandwagon.

@queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[bettsfic]

Venting-

When I hear people give the advice that writing is never a waste of time if you’re having fun or you should never feel like a story was a waste of time, you should enjoy the process. This advice I believe is real and true and works for some writers. But at the same time, there are writers who are very stressed when writing and feel better about their work when it’s finished. Not the “I enjoy having written.” But the “I have crippling anxiety and can only tell if my time, effort, and semi-breakdowns were worth something if I complete what I set out to do.”

Not to diminish anyone who agrees or resonates with the first statement, I admire those people a lot and wish I was calm enough to feel the same.

in my years of teaching and coaching, i've noticed there are two kinds of writers: "process" writers and "product" writers. rather, there exists a spectrum from one to the other.

on the process side, you have writers who reach a flow state fairly easily, who can become immersed in a world or idea of their own invention, and they write in large part to seek that immersive state. the end of a project seems more like a tragedy than an achievement because it marks the loss of the immersive state, and it will take energy and discipline and happenstance to find the next. i've also noticed that it becomes harder rather than easier to find that state over time; the more projects you finish, the fewer ideas appeal to you in the same way.

conversely, product writers get to feel that sense of achievement upon completing a project that process writers may lack, and that pleasure is worth the pain and turmoil of the act of creating something. product writing takes a lot of strength, patience, and discipline i think, to do something hard for the reward of having done it. it's the difference between an athlete and a surgeon. a person becomes an athlete for love of the sport, the act of playing. winning is important, but they wouldn't be able to win without first finding joy in the game. a surgeon, on the other hand, probably doesn't get into the job for the fun of operating. the fulfillment is in the operation's success; it's hard work with high risk. but the reward of saving or improving lives is worth it.

admittedly as a process writer it's always been hard for me to wrap my head around product writers. not only do i not have the patience to seek a sense of achievement, i think i'm mostly incapable of relishing any reward at all unless the reward is in the pursuit itself. looking back, i can't think of any single moment i've ever felt a sense of success. but also i've always struggled with concepts like ambition and competition. i've never had any drive to win anything, but also i've never felt much when i lose or fail. sometimes i wish those things mattered more to me, because then i would be a more driven and decisive person, and i'd be more successful in my career.

i know i'm on the extreme end of the process-product divide, and that colors a lot of my perspective of teaching and mentoring. but i think writers can shift on the spectrum depending on where they're at in their writing life or even with whatever project they're working on. i've been trying to have a more product-based mentality recently to at least develop the skill of shifting to the other side when i need to, so that i can get the patience and focus to write a novel that is not just me plopping my heart onto the page and hoping somebody out there cares. product writers have an easier time convincing other people of the value of their story, because the value of the story is a big reason why they write it. a purely product writer, like the surgeon, writes something because they feel that thing needs to exist in the world. meanwhile the only way for a purely process writer to be professionally successful is to happen by sheer coincidence to find an immersive state that also crosses with the interests of the current market. like the athlete, success involves training, hard work, and being at the right place at the right time. sure, churning out 100k words in a couple months and having a blast while doing it is great, but it comes from this wild inner place that can't really be controlled; meanwhile product writers can take that wildness and intentionally shape it into something. when you're feeling jealous of the other side, though, it's important to remember that both the meadow and the garden are equally beautiful.

[vodika-vibes]

👋

Hi Vod'ika! I adore your writing. I've only just come across it recently, but I especially love your Crosshair & Echo stuff 🥰

If you're still taking requests, would you mind doing something along these lines? Totally okay if not, there's no obligation!

I'd love to see Crosshair with a crush or pining - but he doesn't really realise it. It takes his brothers pointing things out to him to make him aware. With a non-Jedi fem!reader pretty please (who of course reciprocates his feelings).

Bonus points for brothers and omega being good wing-siblings?

Extra bonus points for them to all be happy and healthy together living their best lives with an alive Tech?

Sending you all the love 💕

The Other Side

Summary: Crosshair doesn’t have a crush. He’s above such things. Unluckily, his brothers and kid sister don’t agree.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Reader

Word Count: 1035

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @kimiheartblade @mire-draws-things

A/N: I wrote this without being on coffee, after being very sick all weekend, so I hope it's not too bad. Happy reading~

“You should ask her on a date!” Omega says cheerfully from where she’s sitting on a stone wall near where Crosshair is working on the speeder. This is normally Tech’s job, but Crosshair needed something to do with his hands, and Tech is on a date with Phee.

He sighs and pulls away to look at the petite blonde, “What are you talking about?”

Omega grins at him, “The pretty doctor. You should ask her out.”

Crosshair frowns, “No.”

“Oh, come on!” Omega hops off the wall and almost bounces over to Crosshair’s side, “You have a thing for her. We all see it.”

“You’re seeing things then,” Crosshair counters, “She’s a friend, no more and no less.”

She crosses her arms, “Well then, you won’t care that I invited her to dinner.”

“Does Hunter know that you’re harassing the Islands only Pediatric Surgeon?”

Omega opens her mouth to argue with him, only to pause when a soft laugh reaches their ears, “Well now, I can’t say that I’m feeling harassed. And I do prefer not having to cook.”

Crosshair’s gaze flickers towards the walkway in front of the house he shares with his siblings, and a small smile lifts his lips. “Lucky for you, then, that Wrecker loves cooking. And he always makes too much.”

“Too much food is never a problem,” She counters with a teasing smile as she steps around the fence and walks up to him and Omega, “I do appreciate the invite, Omega.”

For her part, Omega beams at the doctor, “I remember you mentioning that you spend most of your time alone, and thought you might appreciate it.”

“That is true,” she shrugs, “to all of it.”

Crosshair shoots her a look, “What’s wrong, Doc? No Boytoy for you to spend your time with?”

“Alas, I only have interest in one Boy and he doesn’t seem all that interested in being my toy.” She wanders to Crosshair and peers over his shoulder, “What are you working on?”

“You know speeders?” He asks with an arched brow.

“I know they’re supposed to go forward and back.” She counters with a grin.

Crosshair shakes his head and lightly taps the Doctor’s forehead, “You have that big brain and you never bothered to learn about speeders?”

“My big brain is dedicated to medicine.” She leans against his side, “So teach me.”

“Do I look like a teacher, kitten?”

“Mm. You don’t look anything like my university professors, no. They were much less good-looking.” She counters with a laugh.

Crosshair pauses and the only reason he doesn’t drop anything is from sheer stubbornness, “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe.” She shrugs again, “Come on, teach me.”

“I’m not teaching you how to take care of a speeder. This is Tech’s thing, not mine.”

A pout crosses her face and she drops her chin on his shoulder, “Please Crosshair?”

“How about I teach you how to shoot instead?”

Her pout becomes deeper, and then she grins, “Deal.”

“Oh thank kriff.”

“I heard that!”

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t, seeing as you’re using me as a chin rest.” Crosshair counters snarkily.

“You’re not a very good chin rest, you’re very bony.”

“So sorry for having a working skeletal system.”

“Apology accepted.” She pulls away and favors him with a bright smile, “I’m just going to head inside, is that alright?” She asks Crosshair, and Omega, who is watching with a growing grin on her face.

“We’re eating outside, actually.” Hunter calls from the porch, “Around back. Omega, come help me get things set up.”

“Oh, but—”

Hunter glances at Crosshair and then over to the Doctor, a small grin on his face, before he looks at Omega, “Now, Meg.”

“Oh, if you need any help—” Crosshair’s pretty Doctor starts, only to be cut off when Hunter waves her concerns away.

“You’re a guest. Crosshair, entertain her.”

“What am I, a clown?”

“You look like one.” Hunter counters, and then he dodges the filthy rag that Crosshair throws at him, “Be nice! We have company! You don’t want her thinking that you’re a violent criminal do you?”

“I hate you.”

“I’m okay with that. Come on, Meg.”

“Coming~”

Crosshair rubs his face with a heavy sigh, “Right, so I’m supposed to entertain you until dinner starts.” He wishes the others were here…but he’s also glad that they’re not. After all, all of his brothers have been bugging him about asking her out for weeks now.

It’s beginning to become infuriating.

“I have an idea!”

“I’m not pulling out my rifle for you to learn how to use it.” Crosshair warns.

“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” She says brightly, as she moves so she’s standing in front of him.

“No?”

“Nope.”

“Alright, let’s hear it.”

She grins a bright expression that makes his heart skip a beat. And then she steps closer until she’s in his personal space. She raises on her toes and lightly brushes her lips against his, and then she takes a step back, a nervous smile on her face.

Crosshair blinks at her, twice.

She looks even more nervous, absently twisting her hair between her fingers.

He’s genuinely speechless. The sensation of her lips, soft and warm, pressing against his seems to be the only thing he can think of. And he can’t help but think that it wasn’t enough. That he wants more.

“...I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that—” She says as she averts her gaze, “It’s just…I thought that…” She trails off, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Crosshair says, “Don’t apologize.” His hands move to cup her cheeks and he tilts her head so that she’s looking at him, “Do it again.”

She blinks, “What?”

“You heard me,”

“You don’t have to—” Crosshair cuts off her sentence with a heavy press of his lips against hers, and he presses himself against her as her arms come up to wrap around his neck.

Seems like his brothers were right about this whole thing, Crosshair thinks as he backs her up to sit on the hood of the speeder. He’s never going to tell them that, though. 

And then her tongue slides against his lips, and Crosshair can’t think of anything at all.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Outbreak Pt 1 (LU in Healthcare)

(Content warning: This is likely to hit close to home for everyone as it's essentially a pandemic fic told from healthcare workers' POV. It's as mild as I can make it, with the boys dealing with their usually lives and stuff, since I don't want this to be a drawn out fic, but still. FYI.)

It started like a whisper.

One case. A new illness, a variant of a disease that had torn through Hyrule's military during the war, had popped up in the outskirts of the Gerudo Desert. Someone who had traveled there recently brought it to Castle Town. But it was just one case.

Everyone had been put on alert with emails from the health department, but no one had really thought much of it. Legend had seen plenty of scares in the past - just as recently as two years ago, there had been another stir like this over a far deadlier disease, and nothing had come of it.

But this new disease--officially named Respiratory Failure Influenza, colloquially called Arfy by healthcare workers, and unofficially called Yiga's Revenge by the public given its point of origin and how it was tearing cities in the desert apart--was starting to make an impact.

To the world at large, the media would not stop talking about Arfy and stirring up the public. Inside Hyrule General, though, the staff was pretty calm about it.

"Who names a disease Arfy, anyway?" one of Legend's coworkers chuckled.

Legend shrugged and stretched. "I've heard worse. At least it's not based after somebody's name - I hated memorizing all those names for diseases. Nowadays the naming scheme's much better - respiratory failure influenza makes it pretty straightforward to figure out what happens."

"Preach," a tech who was in nursing school grumbled.

Time walked by as they chatted, and Legend nodded in greeting, throwing out, "Whatever reason you're here for, it wasn't me, my patients are fine."

The trauma surgeon smirked. "I'm not here for your patients, no."

Legend bristled. "Look, this is my first night shift, I haven't been working insane hours."

Time outright cackled now. "I was consulted for someone else. Relax."

"Good," Legend huffed. "Anyway, did you hear there's a case of Arfy in town? I haven't seen them pop through here, though, think they got diagnosed at an urgent care clinic."

Time hummed thoughtfully, growing serious. "Hopefully it just stays one case."

"Eh," Legend shrugged again with a noncommittal sound. "The media stirs everyone up. This happened last time, and it was contained and never came here."

"Arfy's cousin nearly killed me during the war," Time noted gravely. "Don't underestimate it too much. The fact that it's a brand new strain, and the typical medications for its cousin don't work on it, isn't promising."

"Look, I'm not saying it isn't something to take seriously," Legend argued mildly. "But it's isolated to three cities in Gerudo Desert, and then the one guy who came here. The media makes it sound like the world's ending."

"They tend to do that," Time agreed, looking down the hallway. "But in either case... let's just hope it stays as one case."

Wild wandered over at that point with an empty stretcher, having just transported someone to the floor, and both men honed in on him. He looked pale and distracted, but he somehow still managed to notice their scrutiny.

Wild watched them silently, not seeming eager to speak. So Legend talked first. "You want to explain what happened earlier?"

Time glanced between the two, brow furrowing in confusion, and he silently observed the exchange. Wild seemed to grow colder, crossing his arms, but Legend wasn't going to back down.

When his friend remained silent, Wild pressed, "Rulie said it looked like you had another absence seizure when we were dealing with that heart attack patient. Tell me what's wrong. Now."

"I didn't have a seizure," Wild assured them as Time took a protective step towards him. "Look, I just..."

The young man sighed, shriveling into himself further.

"Link," Time said sternly. "I understand you have a lot of things in your past that you're trying to reconcile. But not telling us led to you going undiagnosed and getting into a wreck that almost killed you. What's wrong?"

"When I have absence seizures, sometimes I just zone out. But other times, I get hit with... I don't know, I feel like seizures don't give you memories, okay? I don't think it was a seizure. It was a trigger."

"Trigger?" Legend repeated. "You got PTSD?"

Wild blinked, thought about it, and shrugged while shaking his head. "Probably not. Sorry. Bad phrasing."

"You have said before that you don't remember much of the war and your past because you sustained serious injuries," Time supplied. "I know you did. I operated on you. Twice."

"Sorry," Wild mumbled sheepishly.

"Just tell us what's wrong," Legend insisted as gently as he could. "What set you off?"

Wild was silent for a long time, and Legend almost grew impatient. However, eventually, he finally said, "I... I know the guy. The one who you were taking to the cath lab. I knew him be-before. Please, I don't want to talk about it right now."

Time and Legend exchanged a look, and the surgeon shook his head. Legend sighed, backing off. "Okay. But you're okay? Like physically?"

"Yeah," Wild answered, voice growing raw. Legend watched him worriedly.

"You know, you can talk to us," the nurse tried to say, but Wild shook his head.

"I don't want to talk about it," he repeated.

Time nodded, putting a hand on the young man's shoulder. "When you're comfortable, we're all here for you, okay?"

Wild stared at Time for too long, eyes watering, and he cleared his throat, nodding and walking away.

Legend bit his lip, swallowed, and looked back at Time. The surgeon was still watching Wild go down the hall. A call bell light went off, as well as a cautionary alarm on the monitors, and the nurse had to return to work, brain filled with too many thoughts and worries.

Time found himself far more nostalgic than he needed to be. Wild's words about his past, about the war, and this new virus that was kin to the one that had almost killed the surgeon were mixing together. He sighed, shaking his head. This all just needed to resolve.

He would keep an eye on Wild. That was the bigger issue than anything else.

It started like a whisper. But the roar of their pasts was coming for them, haunting and rumbling and demanding everyone’s attention.

[celestie0]

ok, this is something that i've been thinking about for a while, and i need to share my thoughts with you so hear me out…

imagine gojo and yn being academic rivals at school, both wanting to be better than the other, and both wanting to be the student council president. but in the end, gojo ends up taking the role as he's popular among everyone, leaving yn bitter.

gojo and yn graduate high school and go their respective paths—gojo to med school and yn to law school—never seeing each other again (or so they thought). years later, gojo is a surgeon working at his family's hospital (yes, because he's a nepo baby lmao, his parents both came from generation after generation of doctors and surgeons, so it was natural for him to go in the same direction, although he had a strained relationship with his parents). yn, on the other hand, is a qualified medical lawyer (i think you know where this is going atp but imma continue lol).

imagine yn breaking up with her bf of almost a decade and being left completely heartbroken. upon realizing that her life wasn't as perfect as she thought (having barely any friends and only depending on her ex), she goes through a whole identity crisis and decides that she needs to change her environment. this is where she moves cities and starts a new life in a whole different place. she gets a new job at a hospital as a healthcare lawyer.

on her first day of work, she turns up all excited at her new workplace and everything is going well. as she works through the day, she gets familiar with all the departments and the staff, makes new acquaintances like shoko, who insists on introducing her to her other friends/colleagues whom she went to college with. yn agrees, reminding herself that she needs to make more friends and not end up like she was when she was with her ex—all alone. shoko introduces her to geto and then a very familiar face who also seems to recognize her. upon realizing who she was facing, they both immediately start tweaking, and the rest is history (i can't be bothered to write more hahaha).

pls i was so invested reading this LOL xd this sounds soooooo freaking good i love stories where there's like professional aspect or just workplace romances in general,, those are my FAAAAAVESS and this has academic rivals trope?!?!? anon i fear you've just created like my most ideal story ever lmfaooo if you ever write this PLEAASASEEE lemme know

[sleepy-fiction]

Filthy, Dirty, Doktor.

-johan liebert x fem!reader

content warning⚠️ nsfw, smut, masturbation + dual masturbation, cream pie, p in v, uncomfortable power dynamics, sadism, manipulation, porn with plot, happy endings hurray

synopsis‼️johan liebert has been missing for three years since his escape. One day, after a blizzard, you come home from your tireless job as a surgeon to find him frozen half to death after crawling into your home through your window. As the months progress with Johan, he enjoys a new cozy life as a wife-like housemate, supporting your career. The issue arrives when you can't stop masturbating to the idea of Johan, and he can't stop himself from listening.

an: this fic came to me in a dream (lie), and it's entirely self-serving. I biased Johan's character off the little rumor that Johan becomes a fisherman in the countryside after his escape and lives peacefully. If you don't like that, then the fic is not for you.

wordcount: 6.3k

You had been living with Johan for quite some time. You remembered that bitter wintery night when a destructive blizzard had struck Düsseldorf. The blizzard was harsh and violent, predicting to reign over country throughout the week. You had just painted your room hours before you learned of it and childishly you left for work as a surgeon, leaving your window open.

When you came home, you were surprised to find a half-frozen, homeless, scruffy man unconscious on your bed. He ws barely breathing when you found him, with icy skin that pierced you for every touch. You jumped into action to help and ended up nursing the entire week. You learned a lot about the stranger and how his beautiful eyes seemed to twinkle in the moonlight. How, despite his predicament, he still was well, manner, and polite. He told you he was an orphan who was unable to cope after he left the foster system. How he was never able to recover and spent much of his adult life homeless. How he was robbed off everything, how he ran into a bad crowd. You were the same age, but your lives were so different.

You couldn't bring yourself to throw him out. Maybe it was because you saved his life. Without him, he truly would've died.

You were gullible the way you invited him to sleep on your couch for the time being. You had just moved to Germany from the United States, and because of this, most of your home was littered with mess and boxes. It wasn't much of a home for him yet, but it was the least you could do.

Over the months, he began to trust you. You helped him gain his strength and fully recover. You were there when he finally shaved his battered face.

He was an angel before, with his proper way of speaking and his gentle tone. But by God. Once that scruff came off his face, your world had changed. He was incredibly beautiful, with sweet blue eyes and pearlescent whispy lashes. His hair was cut and neat, with a perfect nose with pink lips. Your heart practically stopped in your chest that morning he walked in for breakfast.

That became the issue.

No longer was he the scruffy, sweet, homeless man you were sheltering out of the kindness of your heart. He was handsome and alluring. With a face like that, you couldn't help but shut your thighs together and breathe swallowed breaths.

It wasn't like you didn't see him naked before. You were nursing him, and he was too weak to walk on his own when he first got here. You bathed him, you clothed him, you washed his hair day in and day out. You brushed his teeth, you bonded over childhood pains and cried on his shoulder. You spent nights sleeping next to him-- things you could easily do because you weren't attracted to him.

Yes, sure, even before the change, you agreed he had an attractive personality. But could you blame yourself for not liking the giant blonde beard and the long shaggy hair that touched his shoulders?

But now he was all cleaned up, with hair that caressed his ears, splitting down the middle in a breathy swoop.

Every morning before you went to work, Johan would prepare you a nice hearty breakfast. No matter how many times you told him you didn't want him to worry about you, he always said it was the least he could do. And you couldn't really argue with that, you loved the breakfast and you loved his company.

He started unpacking your home, too, while you were working. He understood that you'd be too busy to take care of the house as an on-call surgeon. You remember the day you started seeing clothes and furniture slowly being rearranged. Johan was perfect. Too perfect, it was frightening for you at timed.

Frightening because you started to feel something.

He was someone you didn't want to lose.

But your body craved him.

You remember that day you were in the shower, trying to stop your hands from plummeting deep within your walls, but you couldn't. The way you'd arch and moan out his name as you rocked against your fingers. The embarrassment that fled you when you orgasmed, and even more so having to face Johan at dinner, trying not to seem suspicious as he told you about his day at home.

You remember how after a year of having him, you got so out of control that you couldn't use your fingers anymore. You bought a few toys to play with, and getting them into the house was so hard too.

Knowing Johan, the sweet housemate that he was, he kept trying to put the "groceries" up for you, and you didn't have the strength to tell him the truth. You kept insisting that it was menstruation hygiene, something he didn't want to see. But he kept going on about how he didn't care about that, it's what you needed.

He was so perfect, like a sweet angel.

Luckily, you were able to hide your new purchases in a locked bin under the sink cabinet, and that night, you got to town feeding your itch.

You fantasized about him. He was a perfect housemate. Would he also be perfect and gentle with you in bed? You imagined that bare body from all those years ago shamefully as you rocked back and forth on the dildo you trapped to the side of the tub. It was incredibly uncomfortable for your legs, but you were so out of your mind that you didn't care.

You could imagine those pale hands drumming up your body to your breasts, gentle peppery kisses lining up your nipples and you'd arch even more, sopping wet down below.

You remember facing him again at dinner that night, hearing how he commented on your long-winded showers. You, being too embarrassed, simply told some fab about how it detoxed you after work, and you watched his careful, icy eyes flicker in curiosity. You gulped, and even now, you can hear the chilling words that fell from his lips, "My. Well… Keep taking those showers, doctor. I'm sure you have a lot of pent-up frustrations from work. It's good to wash it all away and… take care of yourself."

Every part of you felt conflicted about his sultry words. Your brain was convinced that somehow he knew about your daily routine, that he knew what you did in the image of him. Your heartfelt odds about the words, was he inviting you? Was he flirting? That pause he had, he bound to have-- What did he mean by that?

His gaze was narrowed down on you like you were prey. And it was in memory of those hunter eyes that you fucked yourself again at the croak of night, slapping a hand over your mouth to stay quiet. Turning the shower on now would be too suspicious, and the bathroom was right next door to his room.

You couldn't believe yourself, your lack of control. It was disgustingly shameful how your brain twisted his innocent, caring words, his innocent caring eyes to fit some sadistic fantasy you were building up of him.

The truth is, Johan, he was deadly aware of your little playtime. He first noticed it when he went to get something from his room while preparing dinner. When you first started masturbating, you were loud, and the bathroom wall was thinner than you could imagine. In his shock, he pressed his ear against the wall and heard the muffled cry of his name.

He twitched in his pants.

The monster in him was salivating. You had tamed him well. He was loyal to you, grateful to you for saving him (a lot at first, he longed to die). The monster in him respected you-- it needed you at times. You were the only thing that made him calm, and this lovely little life of being a housewife was something he couldn't imagine he'd end up loving.

Him? A runaway killer? Finding delight in wearing the aprons you bought for him and gardening your home to look better for the neighborhood. Mowing your lawn, cleaning your home, unboxing all your stuff, and doing laundry. Sweeping and cleaning became his favorite coping mechanism. It made him feel fully in control and fully zen. You'd take him fishing on the weekends, and whatever you caught together, he'd always cook something lovely and aromatic.

He found he loved orchids, especially the blue ones, and he gardened the front of the house with it. He heard from neighbors the compliments about him, how'd they call him your boyfriend or your lover. You weren't any of those things officially, but for some reason, he liked it.

It was stable.

It was serene.

He felt sort of.

Normal.

So when he found out you, his savior, was lustfully touching herself to him every single damn day, he had mixed emotions.

Fear.

That was his first. He was afraid of himself, afraid of the sudden power he was given over you now. Before, he was in your control, meekly like some little wife tending to your every need (despite your protests). He liked it, when he was powerless, the monster never complained. But now, now he's given some authority and control over you. You could do whatever he wanted all for a little sex.

He wasn't that person anymore.

He wasn't a manipulator.

So out of fear, he wouldn't dare to walk near the bathroom under any circumstances. He didn't ask about your day at first, he couldn't keep himself down enough to see you flush like that. To watch you come up with an excuse or try to forget your playing to remember something else that happened in your day. It gave him too much power, and he didn't know how to handle that burning feeling yet.

But. Your beautiful affirmations about him made him feel vulnerable again. What if he trusted that feeling? What if he explored it? What if he let it take control over him just for a second? You always told him that he could trust his body, that his body is "capable of handling every sensation" he experiences.

So maybe.

When Johan passed by your bathroom while you were at work, he couldn't help but freeze. That burning sensation was back, the monster in him clawing at him. He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. And that burning continued.

He let his darkest fears hold him for a second. And Johan quickly found himself on his knees shifting through your dirty laundry, pumping his pent-up cock into his fists, moaning like an uncontrollable wild man.

It was then he discovered his second emotion about your playtime wasn't fear after all.

Lust.

Upon his discovery, he never realized how heavy his balls had gotten. He spent three years on the run before finding your home by accident, not once did he ever have the time or energy to release himself. And it was like once he opened those floodgates, he couldn't stop the desire that overtook his body. He felt like a predator, looking for any opportunity to extend himself.

Like that one time, you stumbled into his room drunk after a work outing, confessing your dirty sins to him. It was something you long forgot, and it took him all his strength to trap you in your room so you wouldn't do anything stupid.

But man did he spend that whole night playing with himself, replaying your drunken confession over and over. He was so excited to explore this with you, to hear you apologize in the morning, and for him to segway that into a discussion about sex. So he could communicate how he felt. But when the morning came, and his eagerness budded- you had completely forgotten.

Confidence was his third and final emotion.

Johan knew he was beautiful. How else did he survive all those years in hell? He swindled women, he gained the trust of men. He slaughtered.

Yet he noticed how embarrassed he had become and how skittish and secretive he was about masturbating. It was like he was a teenager all over again, pretending to cook food until you got in the shower and then running to his room to touch himself to your sweet voice. He always finished early so he could clean up and rush back to the food. Developed a system where he'd cook before you got there but didn't assemble anything and kept it all separate, which cost him many pans and extra dishes, but it kept the facade up just so he could wank off like a child.

His favorite thing was the nervous conversation you had with him after your shower, too skittish to look him deep in the eyes. That's when his confidence started pouring in. At dinner, he'd be more challenging, more teasing. He'd "accidentally" stroke his foot up your leg to hear you squirm. He'd make more eye contact than usual, watching you bounce around a bit. He'd stop you right before you'd walk into the bathroom to make small talk while your frustrated eyes struggled against his stare.

You thought you were slick, but you weren't.

And he decided he'd test the waters.

"Doctor, you always take such long showers. It's become a large part of our dinner routine." He smiled innocently and watched his prey tense up like a bunny in the stare of a hawk.

"Ah. Aah… Well, it helps me detox." You panted, keeping your eyes down on your plate.

Checkmate.

You were right where he wanted you.

"My." He made his voice low as he burrowed a stare deep into your eyes, "Well… Keep taking those showers, doctor. I'm sure you have a lot of pent-up frustrations from work. It's good to wash it all away and… take care of yourself."

And you practically fell apart for the rest of the night. He watched your shame confusion and fear plague your face while you helped him watch the dishes. And to be extra harmful, he bothered you all night with conversations and small talk, knowing the frustration and confusion that was uncomfortably building in your body. He forced you up late, chatting with a glass of wine until you had to scurry into your room to retire.

His trap was set.

And just as quickly as you disappeared into your room, he disappeared into his and awaited himself on the bed (that he pushed against that wall this morning), cock in hand. Much like how he planned, you couldn't help yourself, and he couldn't help himself either. It was thrilling, the power placed on his shoulders as he heard your moans finally unmuffled by the streaming shower. His cock was extra twitchy and sensitive that day.

It was the chase and hunt of it all that made this so rewarding.

He played cat and mouse with you all week. Always pushing you, making you feel uncontrollable and weak about your growing desire. He pretended to be sick, too weak for dinner, and paraded around the house without his shirt and in some shorts instead of his usual day wear. He made up some excuse as to why he stayed in his pajamas, it cost him too much energy and he was sweating so much. He watched the guilt that panned over your eyes for looking at him so dirty.

He begged you to watch television with him, saying how lonely he was all day just so he could scoot close to you and trap you in his body. The body that he knew you could not handle. You could cut the tension in that room that night like a knife. And after pushing you to stay up late just like before, he waited, once again, for you to play with yourself:

Johan snuck into his room and laid back on the bed, thrill striking through his body. He laid flat on top of his comforter, his pillow cupping his head forward. He had already prepared by leaving a bottle of lotion next to him. His hands pulled down his shorts, an eerie sense of satisfaction and gratification bubbling in his body. His hand scooped up his hardening member, squeezing it a few times to manage his excitement.

You would be heading to the bathroom any minute now.

His eyes widened.

He reached over and sprayed the scentless balm into his hands, working them from his fingers and to his currently dry muscles. Precum leaked from his reddened head.

He heard your door open and his mouth ran dry. "There she goes." He mutters, unable to fight the way his hands moved before his show began.

You were so easy to push. Johan couldn't stop the moan that bullied from his lips, he was too eager. He couldn't calm himself. His hand pumped himself fast, that cold, devilish glare striking his face once again. He couldn't help the self-serving grin that sliced his face open.

By now you were probably inside the bathroom, fishing for the little toys you always--

His doorknob creaked, and a striking gasp fled his lips.

"Johan I -"

You didn't go to the bathroom.

His eyes flew to you in the dark, as the lights from the hallway cast a shadow over you.

For you, you only wanted to remind him to take his medicine. It was true, you cared for his sickness but also you wanted to see him one last time. So when you creaked open his door, you never would've expected such a sight.

There was Johan, laid back comfortably on his bed, cock in hand, head shot forward, with piercing blue eyes that saw right through you. You clenched on air, frozen in shock. Silence filled the air, and after a second of it, he moaned wistfully. A sound that went straight to your ears and down to your wet pussy.

"Oh my gosh!" You half-screamed. You quickly dove behind the door, shutting yourself back in the hallway. "I'm so sorry!" You cried, hands covering your face.

"I should've knocked!" To your horror, the door opened again, and there stood Johan, his face unreadable, threatening, and bland. He stepped out into the hallway, and you looked into his eyes for reassurance, but nothing was there. Confused, cautious, and anxious, you threw yourself away, hitting the other wall. Your thighs clamped shut, and you clenched again and again on nothing.

What was he thinking? This was scary, this was scaring you.

Your hole clenched around nothing again and again and again, begging to be filled.

"Sorry?" He finally said in that cool, collect monotone. "Oh, doctor. You shouldn't be sorry."

"I caught you uh… M-" Despite being a doctor, even you couldn't say it. It was like saying it would make it all the more real.

"Masturbating? You caught me masturbating? Haha. Why, doctor, I didn't take you to be skittish. It's natural, isn't it? Masturbating? It shows that I am healthy." He said, and boy was he right.

He was just throwing that word around and around everywhere. It took everything in you not to whimper, your pussy beginning to drown in dirty slick. A vicious puddle was ruining your underwear.

"Yes but still I'm so sorry I uh…" You didn't know what to say. You were cornered.

"It was a mistake, wasn't it? You weren't trying to peek at me." He said, his head tilting like a wild hare.

You gulped as guilt bound sickeningly in your chest. You were trying to peek, not at him masturbating you didn't know! You were trying to see him before he went to bed, that's why you didn't knock- it was innocent. "I wasn't." You rushed out without thought.

Innocent?

What were you saying? You were peeking for masturbation fuel. You gulped, guilty your eyes couldn't find his.

"Johan I-"

"What brings you?" He asked so kindly, so calm. It only made you feel worse.

"I wanted to make sure you took medicine for your cold." You whispered, but the sound was too soft.

Checkmate.

You felt him step closer. "What was that?" He asked, a cunning grin slicing about his face once more.

"I said I wanted to give you medicine." You said.

"Medicine? But you don't have anything in your hand?" He said.

Your face dropped in horror, your eyes running to Johan's stare. You couldn't think of anything to say.

And that's when he finally won. His cock hardened like a rock, large and proud, and he didn't care if you saw it.

"Doctor, I think you are lying."

Your knees buckle into each other, rubbing your thighs together like a madman. You couldn't stop dripping, your panties were completely soaked by now, and it only made you feel more horrified of yourself.

"I know what you've been doing." He said, and your gasp was soul-sucking. "Every day you touch yourself to me. And then you pretend to be a normal housemate." He was sharp.

"I didn't mean to--"

"You lie to me at dinner time."

"I'm not trying to -"

"Trying to what? Take advantage of me? You know I have nowhere to go, I can't say no to you. Can't you see the power dynamic here?" His hand lay against the wall next to your head, pinning you to the wall as he leaned close to you. "I am at will to you. If I say no to your advances, I could be out of a home. You want me to stay here forever so you can get your pleasure off it, doctor."

You couldn't help the moans that bubbled out of your body, your hips that rocked uncontrollably, your clit that begged for friction, and your little hole that cried for a stretch. Humiliation bounded tears from your eyes.

He was right.

"Johan I'm so--"

"A-Ah… Haa." He moaned, and wildly your eyes found him again.

His eyes shut.

You glanced down.

He was hard.

You glanced up.

His eyes opened.

Slowly the pieces came together in your mind.

Johan could see your gears turning.

He was toying with you. He was getting off to all of the torture he put you through this past year.

You blinked once.

That asshole.

Before you knew it you crashed your lips onto his angrily, muttering out a string of curses as you wrapped your legs about his waist. "Fuck you, Johan. You're so horrible." You muttered between the kiss, unable to stop your hips that grinning against the bare skin of his waist.

He laughed but you were quick to interrupt it with your tongue. You slipped your muscle deep into the services of his mouth, sliding wild hands into his hair and pulling at it tightly. You lapped and licked at his inside, feeling your pussy burn for attention. His tongue was even quicker to steal yours as he hobbled back into his room, his hands supporting you to him. He turned about and laid you down on the bed, breaking the kiss to pant.

His room was dark, with the only air of light being the moon glow drifting from the window about you. It caught his eyes in a captivating icy loom, and your hips bucked forward in anticipation. Your mouth began to water.

You waited for this for so long. He leaned down and found your mouth again, sucking on your wet muscle, milking an aggressively dirty moan from your confused lips. His hands quickly invaded your space again, and with total carelessness for your well-being, he clawed away your pajama shirt, unbuttoning it tiresomely.

Being a well-respected surgeon you always had respect and might power in your hands. You had lives in your hands, you had to always be in control. But here with Johan, as he brutally pulled your bra up and nipped at your bottom lips, he didn't give you a second to think- no he stole your power right from under your nose. His bullying bites dipped into your neck, licking and slurping at your throat like some sort of wild beast.

His canines dragged harshly against the cost of your throat, his body etching around your life- the life he had planned to take years ago. His penis twitched hard in his pants, feeling his balls get heavier by the second.

He's never had sex like this. Before it was all perfect, he'd pleasure his partner, they'd give him what he wanted. Whether it was money, information, silence, or just to seem normal, it all was painfully forced. Here, he could fully intact his deepest desires to hurt you. For total domination over you but in a safe way.

The paradox of wanting to hurt you but wanting to be safe about it reigned ruler in his mind and coated his brief with serious precum. Look at you, you tamed his monster.

He dipped his tongue from the cup of your collarbone in a lengthy stripe to your chin, feeling his eyes lid as he succumbed to your intoxicatingly confused moans. His mouth parted and sucked on the base of your neck, careless with how his teeth rubbed against your skin. Your mind had shut off, the thoughts of stress that typically plagued your everyday growing deathly quiet. Every part of you agreed that right now you needed his cock so deep inside of you.

You needed him to pleasure himself on you like you were some sort of toy. You arched forward when he finally parted from his barrage of sucking and biting. He leaned up and stared down at you with hunting eyes, his hands reaching and pulling and twisting your poor nipples in his hands.

"Ah! Oohh." You cried in shock, his winding of you was direct and sharp, sending vicious sensations to your drenched hole. His face grew in satisfaction at your frantic sounds, a sadistic giggle trailing from his lips.

"Of course you'd like that. You dirty doctor." He snickered as your eyes looked deep into his belittling glare. You moaned hoarsely at his words, feeling your thighs grind against each other. One of his hands flees from your hand and dives into his shorts again. As you watch breathlessly, he pulls himself out. His cock springs out of its confinement, his penis pulsing with furious veins, his cock head a pungent red as his slick made his member a wet mess.

You moaned egregiously at the sight, your arching back hardening into a locked state. He did all this teasing and he was just as wet as he was. He was just as uncontrollable as you felt. "Johaan." You whined reaching up to touch it.

He swatted your hand away, and punishingly so his other hand pulled your nipple. "I didn't say you could touch. You dont deserve to touch." He hissed as you whimpered out. "You've lost all sorts of manners, haven't you? So wild from all those toys you put up inside you. Does it make you feel better about yourself?" He says in his painful, precise rasp.

You gasp and grunt at his words, feeling your clit pulse and cry out. Your mind was becoming a jumbled mess, your crying sex overtaking your every move. You couldn't take it anymore, and you slipped your hand down your pajama shorts, diving past your underwear to bully your hole. The restricting pressure of your underwear snapping back against your knuckles limited your movement, but your mind was savage.

You plugged your little hole with two fingers, rocking and plunging them hideously.

"A-Aah… Doctor..." You heard Johan suddenly cry. Your eyes flickered up to his and his face was incredibly red. His jaw was slack and his eyes bulged out in surprise. "You're so-ugh wh--" Was all he could say before he leaned his head back, his hand jerking himself furiously. Your orgasm was building harshly at the pretty sight.

"Mngh… Ah!" You cried. There was Johan on top of you, with each leg of his straddled against your side. He stood up above you on his knees. Careless with how he fucked his fists inches away from your face, his body hovering over your stomach. The view from below was ridiculing, and his furious pumps splattered precum all over your face and neck.

"Scheiße!" He cursed, his fapping growing wild, dysregulated, and brisk. He did this as if you were truly nothing to him, like a pornographic magazine that he couldn't get enough up. That he pent himself off so he could cum on the pages. It made you hornier than ever.

Your hole clenched hard around your fingers, your breath stammering si hard your brain had to convince your pussy's vice grip to loosen so you could pummel yourself. "Te-- augh! Tell me ah… Tell me I'm a whore uh-ah-again Johan." You whined, unaware of how saliva drooped pit of the corners of your mouth.

"You're so filthy, d-dirty, doctor. Whore." He gulped, watching his head lean back farther, revealing the peak of his neck and chin. Your orgasm was becoming familiar to you as you arched your hips high forward, plunging your hands faster and faster, matching Johan's rapid pumps.

"J-Johan… Johan!" His name became the only word you knew.

Your voices became a choir of delighted song, the sounds loud and free, and your eyes were privy to soak up all of his beautiful cries. His voice grew raspy and higher for each pump, his orgasm trailing near to yours. You dropped your mouth open wild, your tongue barreling out to catch the wayward fluids flying towards you.

"Ich k-komme, aah Doktor. Komme." He growled out. Your orgasm burst deep onto your fingers at the word, your eyes fleeing back up to the crevices of your head. Your hole wrapping deadly tight against your fleeting fingers.

With a few high sounds from Johan, you blinked out of your high, forcing your eyes open to watch. His head leaned back down to you, his teeth bared and clenched tensely, while his eyebrows folded upwards angelically. His blue eyes peeked out from his daze and found you, tongue out and ready for his disposal. With one final cry, the sight sent him over the edge.

White, hot ropes shot out from him and onto your nose, his hand quickly redirecting his aim to splatter onto your tongue and teeth. He shot heavy, long-winded loads with hard pants, his hands shaking trying to contain his excited high.

With heavy pants, his cock sent its final queue of hot cum and softened slightly. The room was filled with you and Johan's doggish pants, trying to catch our breaths from your ecstasy.

"Johan." You mewled pulling your hand out of yourself. You reached up for him and he buried himself into your arms, digging a whorish needy tongue into your mouth. His body hovered over yours, with his chest slumped against you. You whined into the sloppy kiss, but it didn't last as his wet mouth brushed you on his way down. His forehead leaned into the bed next to you, his bottom flying into the air weakly.

"Scheiße." He mumbled again but it was quieter this time.

Now that the high was running to a close. Humiliation and embarrassment were piercing his pale blue eyes. Instead of cuming deep inside the doctor, the object of his fantasies for months, he got too excited and came all over her. She didn't even get to touch him once. How pitiful had he become since becoming her housewife?

"Johan that was amazing." He heard her sweet voice say. The shame was building as he hid his face in the crook of her neck. Her hands slid up his back to chase him, her dirty slicked-up finger intertwining worriedly into his hair. "Johan? What's wrong sweetheart." You whispered comfortingly, and his heart whined at the sound.

He was becoming too soft, too attached.

He couldn't fight his words.

"I came on you. Not in you." It was humiliating. He was reduced this low. By this woman?

Your eyebrows quirked up with a hearty laugh. "Then cum in me, crybaby."

He blinked.

Crybaby?

Johan slid out of your neck with unreadable eyes and stern brows. You blinked at his stare, one you were quick to identify as his surprise.

Suddenly his face melted into a loving smile, his eyes brewing with butterscotch affection. A cooing laugh fell out of him. Under the twinkling moonlight, he truly did look like an angel. Your breath caught in your lungs. His lips leaned down and kissed you politely, a dance of short bubbly friction. "Alright, my dear. Let me take care of you." He said as his hands nicely gripped your hips, helping you to turn onto your stomach.

What?

What was that? He was a totally different person? An angelic sweetheart, just like the man who cooked every meal for her. The man who unpacked her home and did her laundry so innocently.

You couldn't help but moan in confused eagerness. He lifted your hips to place a pillow under you, propping you up so that you didn't have to arch for him. You gulped and mewled again in confusion, feeling as he guided the rest of your unbuttoned shirt off you.

"Johan," you whined childishly, "I can't take this." You felt your hole clench again on nothing. His behavior was so overwhelming, your pussy began to scream needly.

"I'm sorry. I'm here now." He said, and his tongue innocently and neatly swiped the nape of your neck. He kissed the middle of your bare back gently in reassurance before his gentle fingers slid off your panties and shirts in one long swoop. The air nipped at your exposed sloppy sex, the sight of it making him groan. He grabbed the softness of your ass, giving it a tender grope.

He leaned into your sweetness, pulling your lips apart with each of his thumbs. Peering into your hole, he could see your leaking cum and slick water out of you, dribbling down your folds and onto your messy clit. With a deep inhale he memorized your scent.

"Oh, darling." He sighed wistfully.

You melted like butter into your arms. "Fill me up, please. Sweetheart, I need it." Your voice matched his contagiously charming tone.

"Yes, dear. I will." He let go and you whined at it. You peered back at him while he shuffled out of his shorts, his exposed body being revealed to you once again. He caught you looking as he leaned back dear to you, kissing your lips before lining up his cock to your sweet hole.

"Going in now, alright my dear?" He whispered. His tip kissed you civilly, and the sensation took everything in you not to clench down. Soon the innocent kiss dipped deeper, as a quarter of his length plunged into your cum lubed body. "Aa-ah." He groaned delightfully, choking out the sound as his breath grew heavy. Your eyes rolled back, your jaw falling slack.

"Here's the rest." He hummed as he pressed himself fully inside you, the stretch bonding through your body. He wasn't the girthiest, but his length was piercing. You could feel him snuggly bump your service as you mewled out in sync with him.

"Oh god, Johan." You clenched around his pretty cock, earning a delectable moan from him.

"Darling…" He chuckled, leaning in to pepper your shoulder. Before you could beg for friction, Johan began to move slow tantalizing strokes. The kind you were privy to distract yourself with after a long day. You cried out at the feeling, more heat rising to your flushed face. "I memorized this rhythm to all your moans." You shivered at his hushed words in your ear.

"You're so cr-creepy…" You moaned.

"You like that, don't you? Doctor." He groaned, loosing himself in the pumps. You couldn't say anything against him either. "On good days," His thrusts turned erratic, "You fucked yourself like this- ugh. I always guessed… Mmh. It was cause you were rushing to… See me." He was right. You gasped and cried out.

"Too fast, Johan!" You cried, your gummy walls struggling to adjust to his sudden speed.

"This way is too sloppy." He muttered. Painfully he janked himself out again, causing your body to sputter and arch harshly. "You need something like this." Johan slipped back in again, his cockhead ramming straight into your bladder. You jerked forward with a start, crying out loudly.

His hand laid against the back of your perked head, guiding your face back down into the bed. "Relax, Doktor." He laughed airy. He thrust strongly into you, never failing to hit your sweet spot. His thrusts were tender and precise, each slap of your ass against his hips made him grumble out a groan.

"Johan! Ooh! F-fuuck." You groaned. His cock pumped into your walls, each hit making you leak out sloppily. Your wetness squleched and squleched deep into the night air, the smell of your needy sexes filling the closed room.

The tantalizing strokes numbed your mind, your breath heaving, your saliva building on your parched tongue. You arched your head down deep into the sheets, overstimulating and tickling your pussy wickedly. Your cries were loud, rough, and painfully uneven as the pleasure choked up air in your throat.

Johan's bitter cock twitched and seized under your tight, suffocating walls. Sweat beaded onto his forehead as his body begged for another release. His senses dulled, the sound of your sweet noises and the taste of your lovely pussy around his dick was sinfully extraordinary. His forehead leaned against the fruit of your shoulder, perching himself into the moment as his thrusts grew rapid. He mewled out, bullying nails digging into your hips as he slammed you.

His sounds were lewder than you could ever imagine, his loud moans impregnating your sorry ears. His sounds were growing higher and rasper just like before, and you clenched around him in anticipation.

"Cum inside!" You managed out from between his defilement of you.

He groaned wild and long, shutting his eyes tight. His balls heaved, his teeth clenching shut.

Your pussy sucked and pulled at his sweet cock, delicious wetness scorching his senses with mind fucking pleasure. His thrusts grew sloppy and erratic, his moans weighted. "Komme!" He cried as leaned his head upwards, bucking his hips and delivering his load deep into the breath of your cervix.

His hot cum shot deep inside you, as you mewled out and came all over his angelic cock. Johan panted weakly, slapping his hands down on either side of your head, arching his hips deep down. His shoulders dropped in satisfaction, jaw slacked with a shiver trailing down his body.

Meekly, he slid out of you, his cock whining for the hotness of your insides once more. The mess that spilled out of you was disgusting, as barrels of mixed white cum and slick drooped out of your whorish hole and waterfalls down your folds.

You moaned with a stammer, gripping chunks of the bedsheets.

"Flithy, dirty, doktor." He sighed in content.

And every part of you was satisfied too.

[calaisreno]

Nobody

663 Words / Prompt: Hero

No one ever calls John Watson amazing. As far as he can recall, no one has ever said he was extraordinary. 

His father laughed when he said he wanted to be a doctor. His mother said nothing. 

His sister came out when she was thirteen. John was ten that year, and learned from her experience that it’s better not to stand out. While Harry was being dramatic, having angry confrontations with their parents, making everyone love and hate her, John flew under the radar. 

At school, he stayed in the upper third. He worked hard, took part-time jobs to help with the bills, got regular haircuts, and never even considered a tattoo. 

Harry was a full-blown alcoholic by the time John started uni. He also drank, but kept his family history in mind and focused on what he was there for. 

His father was a gambler who always had a new plan; his mother poured her energy into charity and church. Harry seemed determined to fuck up in every way imaginable, as if she had a sacred destiny to be the black sheep. Blood was not destiny. John was the responsible one.

His army buddies gave him the nickname Three Continents. As a child, he’d spent a few years in Australia (one of his father’s schemes to get rich), but that didn’t really count. He’d grown up in Britain, travelled to the continent one summer. His luck with European women was nothing to write home about. When he left for Afghanistan, he didn’t have much hope for that continent, either, since most of the women there were Muslim. The nickname was ironic, not iconic.

In the army, he was commissioned as a captain. He took his office seriously, gave orders with confidence, not out of a sense of ego or pride, but because he was responsible. When you’re responsible for lives, you don’t let people down.

In essence, he was a humble man. 

When he returned home, he was a surgeon who could no longer do surgery, thanks to a shoulder wound that left him with nerve damage. He was a doctor with PTSD who couldn’t make it through the night without waking up in a sweat, hyperventilating. He had a limp. Women looked at him with pity, not interest.

And he began to suspect that dates with women weren’t what he wanted. His buddies might still call him Three Continents Watson, but there wasn’t any reputation to uphold. He often protested, I’m not gay, but his eyes tended to follow men rather than women.

That’s why, when he met Sherlock Holmes and agreed to share a flat with him, he felt fortunate to escape his tiny bedsit and move in with this odd man, who had somehow decided that John must accompany him at any hour of the day or night, usually to look at dead bodies. A man of eccentric habits, John seemed to have become one of them.  

It didn’t hurt that his flatmate was good-looking. Sherlock Holmes had high cheekbones, dark curly hair, and a lanky grace that was enhanced by the tailored trousers and jackets he wore. He spoke in a silky baritone. To John, at least, it didn’t matter that he was arrogant or even insulting. He was extraordinary. 

So when Sally Donovan frowned at John Watson and said, “Who are you?” he didn’t hesitate to say, “I’m nobody.”

But that same night, he carried his gun out into the night, chasing after a man, a murderer. He saw Sherlock about to accept the challenge, and his hand did not shake when he sent a bullet through two panes of glass, into the man’s chest.

John will never call himself a hero. They might exist, but he’s not one. 

He’s just an ordinary man who lost his limp when he began following Sherlock Holmes. 

And in that moment his only thought was that Sherlock Holmes had saved his life, and John wasn’t going to let him die.