#Go to your doctor or medical professional when things feel off

[sunnywalnut]

THANK YOU.

Tbh I did not expect you to actually respond and add to this post, but I am THOROUGHLY grateful you have. But I also would like to inform you(and anyone else that's uncertain about their ability to repost this)

Self diagnosis is valid.

Being officially diagnosed is a luxury.

Often one that is usually only given to those that show extreme or undeniable traits. And even then, you still could be denied.

I was 12 when I was diagnosed with autism. People have known something was "off" since I was 4.

I was able to feel the sideways curves in my spine and see that my shoulders were uneven before I got diagnosis for "mild" scoliosis at 19, after living a life complaining of back and rib pain.

I've felt my joints, all the way from my fingers to my toes, all fall out of place since I was 10, often times having to have my own mother massage my knees back into place so that I could walk, and even spraining my ankles simply going upstairs. All of which fell on deaf ears for the entire 20+ years of my life despite countless professionals, from muscular skeletal to rheumatoid specialists and even physical therapists confirming that I have hEds and possibly early signs of rheumatoid arthritis. And yet they still cannot diagnose it because they "can't treat it"

And the reason I say all of this is because I used to worry the same thing. If maybe by claiming this diagnosis as my own, that somehow I was doing something wrong. Or taking something away from someone else. However, I want to let you all in on a little secret.

If you're actively experiencing symptoms, you're not faking it.

You might label the symptoms wrong, yes, but that doesn't mean that they're not there. People get officially misdiagnosed all the time! Because a lot of medical things have a bunch of overarching symptoms that overlap! And you could have so many things going on all at once!

And sure. You're not a doctor. So you might miss something or assign too much importance to it, but that's fine! You're allowed to make mistakes!

Unless you are actively pushing a harmful narrative or making life harder for them, you are not taking anything away from those who are officially diagnosed.

Wear your headphones in public, ask your friend to lower the music, buy a shower chair and lie to the cashier telling them it's for your grandma, pick up a super fluffy stuffed animal just because the texture is calming, take a look at the cool little canes at the thrift shop, do whatever helps you.

There's enough headphones and shower chairs and weighted stuffed animals for the rest of us to enjoy. You're not wasting anything that you find useful. And also, sometimes your friends are just slightly deaf and used to feeling the bass shake their entire car. It's okay to tell them that you're not.

It's okay to ask for some help bringing your groceries out to the car.

It's okay to ask someone to repeat what they said a third time.

It's okay to ask if you can see something again to make sure that you understand.

It's okay to tell people you'd rather not be touched right now.

It's okay to tell people that you want to be touched after telling them previously not to!

It's okay! And this even goes for nondisabled people too! Please reblog this post, even if you have nothing to say or add. Because maybe then, it might find it's way to somebody else who needs it. Whether that be a friend or loved one, a beloved moot, a follower, or just some random homie who comes across it by chance.

Even if you just like the way things are said, or think that the words are nice, that's more than enough reason to throw this post on your blog.

So go for it.

Press the nice shiny button.

Be an ally.

I dare you.

Local PSA: invisible disability does NOT mean you can live your life like a "normal person" invisible disability meant that if a stranger looks at you in public they wouldn't know what's going on.

Like if a wheelchair user were to decide to run into a corner store to grab a candy bar because they know that their legs can last that long without, the cashier wouldn't know.

Or someone with "mild" scoliosis walking upright through their shoulder leans slightly to the left. Maybe they just have bad posture. The lady in the next isle thinks to herself.

The person with EDS or POTS or whatever sort of condition wearing compression gloves out and about. Perhaps it's a fashion statement?

Or what about the people with intestinal issues? They can look like "normal people" too.

You never know what someone is going through.

You never know what they might need to survive or if they're on the edge of a flare up or even if they are currently going through one just by one look.

I think both disabled and non disabled need to realize this. You're not "no longer disabled" because you can "live without" disability aids. They're there to help you. To make your life easier. If living without a cane is going to make it more likely you'll fall over and hurt yourself, use the cane.

If you need to sit down to do dishes or cut vegetables because you need to save your legs for taking out the trash, sit down.

If you need a shower chair because you don't know if you'll pass out, use the shower chair.

People are going to judge you regardless for multiple reasons out of your control.

I'd rather they judge you while you're being safe.

You don't need to struggle to be "normal."

You can just be you.

However that looks for you.

Use your disability aids.

[your-enby-antihero]

Wishing him literally the best recovery!!!!! Sam Riegel is such a fucking powerhouse this man made me laugh and cry during this video what a guy <3. Let all use this as a chance to say FUCK CANCER and remember to take care of your body and keep up with your health. Much love to Sam and his family and the cr team ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️.

[arkhavens]

i see the fandom wide "obi-wan avoids medbay like its an olympic sport", and i raise you "obi-wan goes to medbay immediately after every single mission specifically because hes been conditioned to by bant's incredible willingness to hunt him down and drag him there if he doesnt"

[flintbian]

Man, life is just depressing right now

[ronearoundblindly]

Big Pharma

Steve Rogers x doctor!Reader

Written for @stargazingfangirl18's Birthday Bonenanza--HAPPY BDAY, SIRI!--using the scenario prompt ~quick, frantic, secret sex in an almost public place + babe's hand over your mouth to keep you quiet~ and the dialogue prompt "goddamnit, will you just f***ing let me do this for you?" with free use kink for good measure. Why not?

Summary: The extreme drug cocktail you devise to save Steve Rogers has one major side effect.

Warnings for smut 🥴, sorta dub-con because it's like sex pollen, F E E L S, Steve being the most chivalrous gentleman while railing you (do it for your country, babes 🫡), completely unintentional dirty talk from Steve but 😮‍💨 we'll allow it, Tony being Tony, and--as always-- terrible puns. (There are no mentions of any medical instruments, except an IV, which is not used.) MINORS DNI. This is a mature gift work; see my Light Masterlist for all-age fanfic that is fine for minors. WC 2k

The constant photoflash burns into your retinas obnoxiously, and you’re not even the subject of the paparazzi.

Captain America is alive—all thanks to you—though he could easily have been six-feet under by now. The mysterious infection was so bad and spread so far, the drug regimen you administered constitutes one of the Avengers’ biggest Hail Marys to date, but it’s working. That’s all that matters…to the world. Behind the scenes is a different story.

As Captain Rogers turns to the next hand he must shake, his sharp blue eyes find you, twinged with a familiar fear.

This stupid event scheduled by Stark to boost morale, to show Cap is just fine and back in fighting form, has gone on too long. It’s happening again.

You worried Rogers might not make it when suddenly Stark showed up hours earlier than the initial, planned press conference—because, of course, there’s meet-and-greets, quick interviews, and these damn handshakes. He’s only gone so long between treatments for the last week.

You nod at Cap and make your way in the small crowd back to Stark. You tell him you’ll need a room, somewhere private to put in the IV, and at least thirty minutes to administer the huge dose. Rogers’s super-metabolism makes it necessary to use approximately forty times the prescription average for antibiotics and steroids. In theory, the side effects are well worth his speedy recovery.

Well, the only side effect.

Stark looks horrendously annoyed. “Can’t you just shoot him up with it and be done?” He doesn’t need your lecture repeated though. “Fine, there’s a greenroom thing over there, but you’ve got fifteen minutes at most, you hear me?”

“Twenty-five, Mr. Stark. He’s not a water balloon.”

“Twenty or he can wheel the damn thing around with him.”

You gulp in nervousness, but the problem isn’t Stark’s attitude. Rogers isn’t going to like rushing this. He feels shame enough already.

“I’ll make it work,” you assure the stubborn playboy. If he only knew…

“Good. A team player. We value that here.”

You have no fucking idea how ironic that is, you scream internally, but you follow him to a door off a back hallway, a room that shares a wall with the space all those people are gathered, and thank Stark.

“Oh good, he’s heard the dog-whistle of treat time,” Tony quips, and you swivel to see Cap trailing behind you.

He’s already made his excuses to step away, too. It must be bad.

You’re sure to pull out your props of a saline drip and tubing from your bag while Tony can still see, but you drop the act the instant the door clicks shut.

Cap take one step forward to flip the lock, immediately unzipping the fly of his iconic leather suit.

See, the only side effect of the drugs is Rogers gets hard, often, and can’t find relief from his efforts alone. Through trial-and-error, the clear solution has been help—discretely—from the only medical professional allowed around him until his condition improved.

Of course, he fought it. Of course, you wanted to preserve his dignity. Of course, you tried to keep it as perfunctory, methodical, and uninspired as possible, but the thing is, that didn’t last.

The more distant and cold the experience, the faster he became desperate and wanting again, and now you have just twenty minutes to make sure Captain America can hold out for hours.

Steve, you remind yourself. He prefers you not use respectful address when engaging is what he deems entirely disrespectful behavior. 

You need to get him off in essentially no time at all, so you’ve decided: go big or go home.

Bag tossed to the floor, you unbutton your pants and shimmy out of everything from shoes to panties, letting the longer tail of your dress shirt barely cover your modesty.

Steve looks dumbfounded. It’s bad enough he has to run to you for a handy every few hours, but this?

“Doc, no,” he breaths.

“I understand the procedure,” you say calmly, echoing his harrowing consent from that first night he needed you.

Steve’s brow furrows in strain. “We shouldn’t…”

‘We’ are way past ‘shouldn’t,’ buddy.

“Can’t ask you to…“ but he also knows time’s a wasting.

He’s already fisting himself, struggling to be the gentleman he never stopped being, which at the moment is a huge problem because both of you need to get through the day—you without losing your job and him without popping a boner on national television.

It’s your job to break him and break him right now.

“Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?”

There’s a flat smack on the door.

“Do whatever the lady wants and then get back out here,” Tony yells from the other side. “Put us all out of our misery,” he ends with a grumble.

That is by far the most helpful thing Stark has said in the last week, so you mouth “see” and begin undoing your blouse from the bottom, giving Steve his first peek of you. His hand speeds along his length, adam’s apple bobbing in concentration.

“Here, I’ll make it easy for you,” you whisper. You walk to the far corner of the room, put your hands up, shirt rising over your bare ass, and face the wall. Your voice is soothing, pleading even. “Just take what you need.”

In some ways, you feel responsible for his predicament. You are the prescribing doctor, he isn’t in a relationship where a partner could assist, and he insists no one else know. He doesn’t deserve to be poked and prodded more than necessary, and you can’t give him any other meds in combination. None of it is his fault same as none of it is yours. You only intended to heal him.

Truthfully though, none of this is just about his release anymore, much as you’d like to dismiss your feelings.

You can’t deny, however, that each time the air gets a little thicker with tension, the body language a little more intimate. Steve has kept his eyes open, clutched your free hand to his chest, rolled his hips open, and thrust up into your fist. The greater the satisfaction of his climax, the longer he retains control.

“When this is over…I swear,” he grits out, getting closer word by word until his deep voice is right by your ear.

He tugs your shirt up to dip his fingers between your legs. “Been smelling you for two days. Can’t do anything until—” Steve growls, feeling how slick you’ve become in anticipation “—you’re ready for me.” 

His concern washes away when two fingers easily breech you to the knuckle and are immediately replaced by the blunt head of his cock dragging between your folds.

You didn’t expect him to give in so fast. You didn’t expect him to have known this aroused you. The idea he might want to continue, to go further, races down your spine, following the opposite path of Steve leaning into you. His forehead presses your occipital as yours presses the wall. The heat of him makes you arch in luxurious proximity.

Steve fucking forward to enter you in one smooth motion makes you forget to be quiet, but before the whole shout of ecstasy escapes, his hand covers your mouth.

“Shhh, Doc,” he breathes at the base of your neck. “Be good for me.”

That only gets you moaning into the seam of his gloves.

His hips start a staccato rhythm, a second of loud friction for each second of silent, fulfilling pressure.

Steve slips his still wet fingers under your shirt and beneath the cup of your bra to swirl a smooth pattern over your nipple. Instead of voicing your approval, you shove yourself back into him faster.

You notice the muffled chatting of Tony and someone else outside while your eyes roll. The slap of your skin against the Cap suit becomes the loudest thing in the room, but that’s not what Steve minds.

He pulls out and spins you around, pausing to see the cream you’ve created at the base of him drip to the carpet below.

Deep sea eyes meet yours through golden lashes.

“If I can’t hear you…” Steve hoists you up to his waist, threading one arm through the bend in your knee, spreading you wide and diving in swiftly.

Your body curls forward automatically to grasp at him and smother yourself in the leather of his shoulder pad. This pace is much faster, purposeful, utterly unravelling you. The position delivers more range of motion, all of the buildup and less of the noise, with the added benefit of his tool belt nudging your clit repeatedly.

Tony pounds on the door. “‘Bout done in there, guys? Let’s go.” How apt, the unknowing jester.

Steve pants, open-mouthed, against your temple.

You smile but can’t stop your own ruin.

A groan gets buried in your disheveled hair. “Are you…close?” His hips snap brutally. “Are you—“ he sounds wrecked “—you gonna…come on my—uungh.”

You tip over the edge, clutching him tight and fluttering for him in every way. The detonation of your orgasm burns red behind your eyelids like camera flashes, a dirty snapshot for you alone.

“Mercy,” Steve begs, gripping your ass to rut into you, desperate to join. His neck tenses as he spills inside you, pulse throbbing in time with his cock. 

He leans against you and the wall, his steady weight stilling your shaky legs. Slowly, your feet are guided to the floor and Steve steps away to wipe away any evidence of his ‘therapeutic treatment.’ His breathing settles much faster than yours, and by the time he’s tucked back in with his suit righted, you’re simply sliding down the wall to catch up.

He hurries over to the small vanity and mini fridge—usually ‘guests’ for speaking (or interrogating) wait here—to bring you supplies.

A box of tissues is set by your side.

“So…” he hands you a bottle of water “…maybe…dinner tonight?” 

You set the water down in favor of cleaning yourself, glancing up to offer a reassuring dismissal. “This morning was your last dose,” you remind him. “It should be over soon.”

Steve may not need this anymore, may never need you again, but he doesn’t miss a single beat.

“I’d like—I want to take you some place nice, but…” He chugs his whole water then quickly unclasps the glove on his left hand, rolling up his sleeve, veins jumping over a thick forearm.

“I don’t know what food you enjoy.”

Arguably, he knows a few other things that you enjoy.

There’s another impatient bang at the door.

“I—“ Your heart soars with the soft sincerity of his face, no trace of fear left behind, no hesitation. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

Steve stands, smoothing a hand over his hair. “I’ll lock it behind me…and, um, thank you, Doc.”

It’s the first time he hasn’t apologized this whole week.

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Steve flashes you a dopey smile and shakes his head. “See you out there,” he chuckles.

You can’t be seen when the door opens just enough for Steve to step out, but he makes a show of rolling the suit’s sleeve back down like he really did have an IV infusion, selling the lie like a pro. He keeps Tony talking while shutting you back into your debauched bubble.

Through the wall, you still hear “could you have gone any slower?” followed by a curt, “yes,” and have to stifle a laugh.

“What’d you do, blow a vein?”

You’re picturing an incredibly ironic look on Captain Rogers’ face.

“Just be grateful she puts up with us, Tony…” and their voices disappear down the hall.

His treatment may be finished, but Steve wants you to stick around. He wants you.

Would having dinner with that man really be so terrible? No. Not at all. Even the ‘worst’ of this situation has been a great fucking experience. You don’t want to give that up yet.

It seems you’re both addicted now.

[Main Masterlist; Steve Rogers One-Shots; Ko-Fi]

[randombush3]

que te quiero

alexia putellas x reader

prologue

summary: you wake up but you're not sure where

words: 3217

content warnings: just you fucking wait

notes: i slaved away to get this out asap lol

They list your injuries in an awkwardly ascending order: best to worst. You suppose the doctor’s callousness is more professional than malicious – and maybe it’s a good thing he isn’t panicking at the sight of such long, uninteresting words – but he makes it sound clinical (his job) and it’s hard to remember not everyone feels the excruciating pain you are slowly growing accustomed to. 

You wince at your thoughts’ poor choice of words. 

Apparently, you don’t remember much. In the week that you’ve been awake, you’ve been subject to every test, question, and assessment possible, all answers coming out with the same result. 

You know your name and when you were born. You know that you have a degree in Literature, but that you’re now a lawyer with an extensive library instead. You can speak all the languages you’ve ever learnt (that’s a different part of your brain, says the doctor when you ask how). They ask about your parents, your brothers, and names easily roll off your tongue, the childhood fear of hospitals still present (god, there is something that you wish had been forgotten). 

Still, the nurses approach you with sympathetic smiles, replicating the expression when they converse quietly with the worried-looking woman who visits you every day. She’s called Alexia, she tells you, staring at the gap between you as though she is a stranger to being so far apart. 

Although it was blurry when you first woke up, once Alexia reveals her name, you’re certain you recognise her.

“I’ve seen her somewhere,” you tell your favourite nurse, chipper that you’ve worked it out. In an attempt to jog your memory, you’ve kept the small TV in the corner of your section of the ward on all afternoon, sort of missing the noise your committed visitor brings with her. “And she’s not here today, Isa, because she’s there.” You point at a figure running around on a football pitch. “Alexia Putellas. She’s famous!” It explains the secrecy and the inexplicable absences. You suppose a slightly different structure of her job allows her to visit at unconventional times, too. 

“Mm,” Isa hums, not quite committed to this conversation. “Let’s save the discoveries for your chat with the doctor, yeah? He should be here any minute now.” 

On cue, the pot-bellied man appears, clipboard in hand, bottom lip between his teeth. His perception leads his gaze to the TV, which, in turn, causes him to watch your reaction to the match. Growing insecure of his scrutiny, you press a button and watch the screen go black. 

“Good afternoon,” comes his greeting, clipped and determined to not waste time. You try to find comfort in that: maybe you aren't in the worst shape in this hospital. “How are your ribs feeling?” 

“Battered.” 

He writes that down. “You’re on the highest dosage of pain medication. We’ll need to start weaning you off soon, too. Especially due to a family history of addiction.” Your eyebrows furrow, and his pen scratches at the paper once again. “Okay, Y/n. Can I have a seat? Are you comfortable?” 

You take a moment to acknowledge the ache in your abdomen and head. He assumes your silence is a ‘yes’ and Isa is dismissed. “You shouldn’t be looking at any screens,” he says calmly, with the faintest hint of disappointment. “It will not aid your recovery.” 

“How am I supposed to remember anything if I can’t use… sources to help me?” you protest. 

“That is exactly what I have come here to discuss. We’ll start bit by bit. The more open you are to this, the quicker you will be released from hospital.” He smirks. “And I know that you are desperate to leave.” 

…

The stands of the stadium echo with jubilation as the final whistle blows. Alexia barely hears it due to the noise, still reeling from her penalty, proud to have scored in front of such a special guest. She’d made an ‘A’ with her fingers as she had celebrated. 

Despite her teammates’ dallying on the pitch, never in a rush after a win like this, Alexia is jumping the barrier and barreling through the crowd to get to the seats she’s been keeping an eye on for the whole match. Her mother is barely offered a ‘hello’ before Alexia is wrapped in a tight embrace. She won’t admit that the force of the impact winds her a little. 

“You played so well!” squeals Amaia, voice muffled in the sweat-soaked jersey. She seems almost giddy, which is a hefty improvement considering your current situation. 

Alexia laughs, bending down to Amaia’s level, her hands resting on the girl’s shoulders. Tears prick at her eyes but she hopes it isn’t that obvious. “You saw my penalty, right?” 

She’s met with enthusiastic nodding, Amaia’s eyes widening with excitement. “Vaig veure la A! It was for me, right?” 

“For you,” Alexia confirms, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Amaia’s head. Despite her efforts, the softness of the girl’s hair – the way she clings once more to Alexia’s body – is disarming. And Amaia speaking Catalan always gets her emotional. 

She wipes her tears when Amaia pulls away. 

This is difficult. Alexia is trying her hardest, but nothing is the same without you. She finds herself looking at the seat beside Amaia, expecting to see it filled by you, but it’s not; it’s empty. You are still at the hospital. You don’t even remember who Alexia is. 

You don’t remember the past eleven years, they think. Which means no Amaia, no Alexia, no Barcelona. 

It has broken Alexia’s heart. 

Her mother places a hand on her shoulder. “Go and get changed,” she instructs gently, in the same way she has been since the accident. Eli has become an engine, a guide. “Alba said she’d meet us at the restaurant.” 

Alexia swallows, embracing her mother. In her ear, she whispers, “I think it’s time for Amaia to see her.” Her mother’s touch remains firm, grounding her. She breathes out, and it is only now that her lungs ache that she feels like she can no longer hold it together. But Alexia is determined, and she will not crumble. 

Not in front of your daughter. 

“It’s your decision, Ale,” Eli murmurs back, her tone steady and calm. She’s seen how tirelessly Alexia has navigated these past weeks, juggling her team, her grief, her hope – all while trying to keep Amaia’s life as normal as possible. “You have done everything you can. If you think she’s ready, she’ll be ready.”

Alexia pulls back and nods, a quiet determination settling over her face. The thought of bringing Amaia to the hospital without the stability of a coma to predict her reaction has been weighing on her ever since you woke up. But, even though this step is more of a stumble, it seems to be in the right direction. 

"Now, go and get out of this kit. Amaia and I can only pretend you don’t smell for so long," Eli jokes, hand guiding her toward the locker rooms. Amaia is practically bouncing at Alexia’s side as they make their way down the tunnel, still buzzing with excitement over the game and ten goals scored. 

Not everyone is so plagued by misfortune in their personal lives – a reminder which is stark as Alexia passes the conga line of her teammates, all thrilled with their (superfluous) scoreline and exploiting the night off that Pere has allowed right from the get-go. A few of the girls wave at their captain as she walks past, but most feel uncomfortable shoving their elation in her face, aware of the shitstorm she is going through. 

The girls do keep plaguing her about what you had thought of their ‘Get Well Soon’ card, though. Not that Alexia has found an appropriate time to give it to you yet.

“Will she be awake?” Amaia suddenly asks, her voice breaking Alexia’s thoughts. Her expression is open, hopeful. Her eyes have the same shine as yours do in this light. 

Alexia glances down, her lips forming a soft, bittersweet smile. "We’ll see, Amaia," she says, brushing a stray lock of hair from the girl’s face. "We’ll visit, and we’ll see."

Inside the locker room, Alexia changes quickly, her mind already racing ahead to the visit. She imagines you there, perhaps looking out the window or glancing at her with that blank confusion that still cuts her deeper than she’d expected. The nurses have told her that you’re growing more restless with each day, becoming harder to occupy. You sound like a pain in their arses, which is comforting, because at least you are still you. And your questions! Alexia is unsurprised that the doctors rock-paper-scissor for ward duty. 

When she emerges, mood lifted by the thought of you continuing to be a nightmare, Eli and Amaia are waiting by the door, Amaia now clutching a small bouquet of flowers that must have been retrieved from Eli’s car while Alexia was changing. She’s holding them proudly, as if they might be a magic cure, as if a burst of colour is exactly what’s needed to bring you back.

“Ready to go?” Amaia asks, instinctively high-fiving Mapi as she walks out with Alexia. 

“Exciting plans, Capi?” her friend questions. Alexia’s look says it all. Mapi lowers her voice, allowing only Alexia to hear her; “you are strong. You will be strong.” 

“Let’s go,” prompts Amaia. Her impatience was very much inherited. 

After shooting an unconvincing look of confidence to her friend, Alexia nods, holding out her hand for Amaia to take. “Okay, okay. Say goodbye to Eli.” 

Kisses are exchanged. Alexia promises to come for dinner, even if she will be late. 

Amaia plays Taylor Swift in the car. The whiny music gives Alexia a bit of a headache, but at least it’s loud enough to dull the absolute din of her screaming thoughts. And when they arrive, it’s all too familiar for Alexia’s liking. 

She has her route to you memorised. It’s magnetic and intrinsic, and a desperate part of her is clawing at the hope that, somehow, you will have regained everything that has been lost in the day she hasn’t seen you. Before entering the ward, she tries to prepare Amaia, but the girl is as unstoppable as you can be and there is no intervening before she is at your bedside, greeting you like you remember who she is. 

…

A lot of what the doctor tells you are things you struggle to believe. Like, last year, you were made junior partner of the law firm you work at. They’re based in London. You used to live there – you moved after you’d finished your degree, bored of Bilbao and of home and of knowing every person in your world. Another confusing one: your brothers actually visit you, as though you are forgiven. 

Which sparks an aged memory. Two lines in the bathroom at the university. 

“Am I pregnant?” you ask, feeling the colour drain from your face at the idea that you might have lost the baby in the accident. 

The doctor waits patiently for you to remind yourself that eleven years have passed. 

“I was pregnant.” Nothing comes back to you, though this would be an appropriate moment for it to. The rest of the story hangs loosely at the back of your throat, unable to be spoken. You look at the doctor for help. “Did I keep it? I’m not – I wasn’t planning to.” 

“She’s called Amaia.” 

“Amaia…” you repeat. A painful realisation settles in you. How did you feel about becoming a mother? Why did you? When did they forgive you, and was it because of her? 

“Your mother’s name, I believe,” continues the doctor, “although you can remember that.” 

“I barely knew my mother.” She had died when you were very young. She didn’t feel like yours to grieve. To you, it was just time off school, hospital visits, and watching the rest of your world fall apart. You find yourself swallowed up in guilt – anger. How did you let this happen? How could you forget what must have mattered the most? “I want to see her,” you resolve, attempting to sit upright and pretend the movement doesn’t send a searing pain through your chest. “My… I want to know what she looks like.” 

Your patience need not extend for too long, as Alexia and Amaia arrive only two hours after the doctor departs. 

The sterility of the ward is no match for the warmth they exude, and you can almost sense them coming. It’s both comforting and unsettling. You refrain from telling Alexia that you know who she is. 

You have no time to, really, because there is a girl, average height with a bouquet in-hand, barreling towards you the moment you lay your eyes on your visitors. She’s loud enough to make you wince, which, in turn, earns her a sharp warning from Alexia, even further away than usual. She is watching you closely, awaiting your reaction. Her arms are folded across her chest, hair scraped into a damp ponytail, and she is withholding the emotion she wants to express because Alexia, you’ve learnt, isn’t really that kind of person. You often find yourself wondering how she first opened up to you. How long did it take? 

You want to ask, but Amaia – Amaia – begins to speak. Her voice is unfamiliar, her accent failing to reflect any time in Bilbao she might have spent with you. She speaks at first in Spanish. You hardly hear what she is saying, too focused on examining her features. 

She does look like you. Or, rather, pictures of you from years ago. Your father’s eyes, your nose. A smile that you can’t help but reciprocate. You try to remember what her father looked like, but nothing comes to mind and Amaia seems to have been unresponsive to his genes.

“Amaia,” you interrupt, not to cut her off but to test her name on your tongue. It’s foreign to you, but it suits her. She beams. 

“Do you remember me?” 

And what the actual fuck do you say to that? 

Your hesitation is telling. Alexia stiffens from where she had relaxed on the fringes on the section. 

“It’s okay if you don’t.” You look up at her, unaware that you had bowed your head in the first place. She has kind eyes, you think. And she must be clever, because it is not what she says, but that she says it in Euskera. 

“I missed you,” you say. It slips out, but you mean it. Well, you assume you missed her, and therefore it is a logical thing to come out with. And, also, you are aching inside from seeing the life that you have created standing right in front of you. A life you were not going to pursue. 

Amaia does not cry, but she delicately unfurls your clenched palms and shapes her hands to link with yours. You want her touch to bring it all back. It feels like jumping off a skyscraper when you are met with nothing, still. Instead of the flood of recollection you long for, there is a faint, ungraspable feeling of something you cannot name. 

After a silent pause, a movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention. Alexia steps forwards, her arms still crossed, her expression unsure and more than a little guarded. There is a sudden swell of gratitude in your chest, more for her presence than anything specific, and, without thinking, you smile at her. 

“Congratulations,” you say, voice just above a whisper as though Amaia will be unable to hear. “I saw you on the TV. You scored, didn’t you?” 

Alexia’s eyes widen a fraction as she glances at Amaia, who is proudly informing you, “ez behin, baizik eta bitan”. Alexia manages a small, almost bashful smile, her hand coming up to rub the back of her neck. For a woman so publicly celebrated, she seems to struggle to handle your praise. 

“Thanks,” she says awkwardly, eyes not quite meeting yours. “It… wasn’t a huge match but,” she grimaces at the sound of her voice, “I wanted to play my best for, well, for you guys. Amaia was there, and you… Well, I suppose you were watching it on TV.” She doesn’t feel inclined to show you the band of pre-wrap around her wrist with your name written on it, hiding it under the sleeve of her hoodie, or tell you that you were there with her, like you always are. 

Something tugs at your heart. It’s obvious that she is desperately holding back emotions, likely for Amaia’s sake. She looks away for a moment, regaining her composure, then turns back to you with a steadier expression. Amaia glances between you both, unnervingly perceptive for a girl so young. She squeezes your hands a little tighter. 

In the silence that follows, Alexia finally speaks up again. “I… didn’t want to crowd you, but,” her tone drops into something more serious, “I’ll be back again tomorrow, and, actually… Your doctor and I have been discussing the idea of you coming home soon.” 

The word hits you like a bullet from too close a range; it’s almost too fast to register before the damage is done. 

You don’t even know where you live. In your mind, you have never been to Barcelona, let alone have a home here. And yet there is an inexplicable warmth in Alexia’s voice that makes the idea feel… less absurd. 

She clears her throat. “In three days, if you’re ready,” she softly adds, eyes glimmering with hope in a fearful way. 

Later, Alexia stands just outside the ward, talking quietly with your doctor as Amaia sits nearby, focused on the little bouquet of flowers she brought for you, picking at a petal here and there. Alexia watches your daughter for a moment, the girl��s calm focus oddly grounding. 

“She’ll need a lot of rest and minimal stress,” the doctor says, drawing Alexia’s attention back to him. “But it’s promising. Her physical recovery is progressing, and though her memory may take longer, familiar environments could help.”

Alexia nods, though the doctor’s words bring only partial relief. “I can make things as calm as possible for her at home,” she says, trying to avoid sounding like a child begging for a present she knows she will not receive. “We have spare rooms, and lots of pictures to look over. And she hates hospitals. You’re lucky to have her disorientated, else she’d be kicking up a big fuss.”

The doctor lets out a tired laugh, but makes no attempt to agree that you haven’t made his life slightly more difficult than it needed to be already. “It will be an adjustment for everyone, but it is important that you are looking after yourself too.” 

Alexia’s gaze drifts back to the door of your room, and she swallows hard, steeling herself. The doctor’s words linger but they do nothing to curb her determination. She would do anything for you, and if you fell for her once, you can fall for her again. 

After another quiet moment, the doctor pats her arm lightly. “Three days, then. We’ll make sure she’s as prepared as she can be.”

[honeydewandcake]

TW — Asylum/Hospital setting, mental disorders, medical malpractice

Inspired by Fran Bow, Sparklecare, Pure Trance, and other such things; I had an idea for a Dandy’s World AU that centers around a hospital setting

I feel like a lot of people don’t like asylum or hospital AUs because they are full of exaggerated or misinformed ideas of what mental illness is. I tried not to do that, though I’m not a professional so I still might be wrong about some things. I don’t want to take this idea too far in fear that it might be distasteful, but I do want to share this idea to see if others like it too.

Dandy’s Care is a separate world where, instead of a museum, Dandy and his friends were meant to be for a children’s hospital to treat the sick and ill. They were meant to be comfort characters to patients and were meant to support them during their stay. Like in Dandy’s World, the hospital shut down due to unspecified sanitation issues. Dandy, also known as Dr. Dandicus Dancifer, slowly became more and more starved for activity. He started targeting his friends, making the hospital into an asylum for them. He changed their characters, changing his friends into patients. The toons have no memory of their former self, only knowing their diseased and ill present self.

The staff is made up of the main toons. All of them are nurses and Dandy is the main doctor. They all act like their former selves, though they have no memory. I didn’t want to draw all of them so just imagine Astro and Vee in these uniforms.

Read more to see other toons (not all of them drawn or thought of yet, don’t attack me ;-;) ↓

Razzle and Dazzle, the only ones that I thought of completely because I already drew them before. They’re the reason why I made this entire thing anyway.

They are just experiments by Dandy, who wanted to see if the two could live together if they were attached. They used to love each other, now they don’t. Razzle is no longer looking for comedy, Dazzle is no longer looking for hope. Both are only set on the idea of revenge against Dandy for making them this way.

Life is hard when you can only feel the sensations on one half on your body, they can barely walk and can only stand or sit. They take many painkillers as their wounds take a long time to health properly. They wish they could escape this place and just die already, but they’re stuck and forced to live for as long as Dandy wants.

Razzle is a lot more violent now. He is prone to biting and scratching the staff. He hates doing all the lab tests and medical procedures, he hates being near Dazzle, he hates being stuck in this living hell. Razzle is the reason why they’re not allowed near sharp or blunt objects.

Dazzle became paranoid, scared of any noise that happens. He’s terrified of Razzle because of how violent he can get, he hates him too. Dazzle cries a lot, he cries until he can’t everyday. Dazzle wishes he could just die already, he thinks everything is scary and out to get him.

Shrimpo is thought to be a patient that had anger issues and aggressive tendencies. According to Dandy, he was admitted for being violent in public, although this is only part of the fake story that Dandy gave him. Shrimpo was forced to get a lobotomy, unethical but who cares. Dandy sure didn’t.

He’s still in the recovery phase, so he might be a bit loopy. Once those bandages are off, he’ll be as right as rain. Shrimpo is a wanderer around the hospital as he’s no longer a threat. He’s allowed to leave his room and go out in the play yard but only if a nurse is with him.

Shrimpo doesn’t really have much going for him. His thoughts are scrambled and he only cares for things in front of him. Although the lobotomy made him more passive, it doesn’t mean he’s any better in terms of motivation. Shrimpo certainly has no drive for anything anymore, he doesn’t mind but it gets in the way of his health as well. The staff needs to remind him to go to the dining room to eat or to go take a shower, because otherwise he’ll forget.

Boxten was made to believe that he has had problems with insomnia ever since he was little, of course it’s not true. He takes sleeping pills and melatonin, but it only seems to worsen his nightmares. This makes him skip his doses to avoid sleeping, repeating the cycle over and over.

Boxten is afraid of imaginary things that might get him. He thinks they’ve already in his head, eating away at his brain and giving him nightmares. Of course the only thing the nurses can see is his music box. Boxten has lost all trust in the staff since they couldn’t see or feel the things he can.

In my original notes, it said that Boxten might have psychosis.

Well that’s all the once I’ve drawn, I don’t really have the motivation to make every single toon. I have a couple of ideas though

— Goob somehow survived a terrible accident, but both his arms needed to be amputated making him armless. He suffers from brain damage and internal bleeding. He doesn’t seem to have any change in his personality, still as joyful as ever. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism

— Tisha has severe OCD which damages her mental health. She’s constantly worried about everything that happens around her, making her super aware of her surroundings. She could be a danger to herself and others as she sometimes has very aggressive thoughts but can’t control her actions. She unintentionally hurts herself because of her OCD, such as washing her hands so many times that they start to bleed.

Not for a toon, but I did have an idea for an added addition to the hospital. Maybe there’s a twisted reform center where the staff try and heal twisteds back to their normal self. They would clean the ichor from them but since the ichor is also inside of them their personalities don’t change as much. Twisteds such as Finn and R&D might be too far gone though, they would have to be disabled for life. I might draw this idea because I think it’s kind of cool, I definitely will if people also think this is interesting.

[thetxtdevil]

ehem... gynecologist Yeonjun?! a totally professional setting and uh- well, I guess he needs to take a closer look at you 🤷‍♀️

- xoxo, liv MWAH

Gyno!YJ x Patient!Reader

nsfw/mdni: professional nipple play, professional fingering until it's not

---

"Kai don't you have a friend that is a Gynecologist?" you ask your best friend.

"Yeah that’s Yeonjun, why?"

"Well,,, can you send me his office number so I can see him?"

"O-oh yeah ok" Kai blushes not wanting to think of what problems you were having.

The problems you were having was sex. You just weren't getting wet enough, it hurt when your hookups weren't experienced enough to realize. So much so you had to start investing in lube and had to stop everything to explain that you need it. Nothing wrong with that but you think its hotter when you're so aroused that a man can just slip in.

So there you were sitting in the waiting room of gynecology. The natural light from the windows casted over making the cream color wallpaper comforting. A bowl of candy sat next to a bowl of pads and tampons next to a bowl of condoms, which was super convenient. Maybe I should start going here for my pap smear? you thought to yourself.

Your name was called and you followed the nurse to a private room equally as warm and comforting as the waiting room. The nurse asks you questions of history, medications, and why you're here. You're embarrassed and a little irritated knowing that the doctor will come in asking the same damn questions.

"Alright, are you ok with taking your clothes off and putting this gown on?" the nurse asks showing the white paper thats supposedly cover you.

The nurse leaves letting you know that the doctor will be in soon. You shiver as you undress, slightly rushing just incase the doctor is somehow on time. You sit back on the table and wait.

knock knock

You jump at the alarming sound, "Come in!"

Shit, the doctor was none-other Dr. Yeonjun. You knew you were going to his office but you thought he'd be too busy to be the one to see you. You had a crush on him, always excited to see him every time he met up with Kai. "Hey y/n, how are you?" Yeonjun asks with his sweet smile that could make everyone melt.

You two do your greetings and he gets up, "can I do a breast exam," you nod opening your gown. You shiver as his hands grope your breasts. Eyeing his face, Yeonjun is simply focused but you couldn't help but blush at his darkened serious face. You swallow hard when his nibble fingers brush against your nipples. "Heard you're having a hard time getting aroused, have you used lube?"

"Yes its a fine supplement, but I was concerned that it could be from something else."

"Well its a good thing you came in" his eyes scrunch up as he does that beautiful smile of his, "can you put your feet up for me?" You comply and raise your legs to rest on the high rise feet stools. You squirm in your spot feeling uncomfortable with how exposed you are.

"Honey,,," you shiver at his low voice, "you seems to be aroused enough right now." Your eyes widen, lifting your head to look, of course not being able to see anything other than Yeonjun putting on gloves. His eyes were glued to your pussy, a gloved finger drags down your pussy lips spreading them to get a better view of your cunt.

You were dripping and you didn't realize. Yeonjun moves his finger up to inspect your clit pressing light circles, "you look very healthy to me." You nod knowing that he won't notice, his finger slides your wetness all over, then down to your weeping hole. "Let me take a deeper look," he probes a finger in you making a small whimper come out of your lips.

Finally, this is what you've been wanting to feel like for so long. Your body wants to grind against his finger but you try so hard not to because this is supposed to be a health check up.

"Do you mind if I move faster?"

A slight gasp fills the room when you feel the Yeonjun's warm breath so close to you, "n-no not at all." Wet lewd noises began to fill the room letting the doctor know just how well you are. Soon he adds another finger in your cunt having you moaning. All embarrassment gone, all your humility was out the window when you feel his other gloved hand play with your swollen clit. Yeonjun bites his lip, focused on your arousal, happy he has Kai's pretty friend like this, and at work? so much better.

One loud drawn out moan empties out of your throat when Yeonjun skillfully abuses your g-spot. You cum on his fingers, turning the blue gloves a lustful white. Yeonjun slows down his movements helping you with your high. Removing his hands from you, he pushes himself on his rolling chair to grab paper napkins next to the sink. Then grabbing a towel to clean you up nicely. "Well it looks like you're doing just fine dear, maybe you just needed someone like me to help you out."

Glad you don't have a problem, worried that you might have a different sickness, you're obsessed with the doctor. You look over at Dr. Yeonjun, first watching him get rid of the ruined gloves, then your eyes drift down to the obvious tent in his pants. "Yeonjun, you're hard."

He looks down then at you, "I sure am, but I did schedule a lunch break after your appointment," your eyes light up, "how about we do another assessment?"

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling

[luvvyouforever]

headcanons : med student!abby anderson x liberal arts student!reader ᥫ᭡

content: wlw relationship. modern college au. ramblings of fluff, maybe a touch of angst but nothing heavy. enjoy <3

a/n: my authority for writing this you ask? i'm an english major who gets asked regularly what i am going to do with my degree! also this is my first time writing about abby i just had to get this idea out of my head and on to the screen.

-abby decided at a young age to follow in her father's footsteps and become a doctor as well. she committed herself to studying science and math as a kid and occasionally disregarded her other studies like music, art, and english. she did enough to keep a 4.0 GPA but her heart was in science tournaments, young medical professional groups, and ap bio.

-she got into one of the best schools in the states for medicine and was a stellar student in organic chemistry, anatomy, and neurology. she knew she was going to do great on her MCAT, but unfortunately, she wasn't doing so great in some of her gen ed classes and it was impacting her gpa.

-that was how she found herself in a tutoring center in one of the older buildings on campus that was shockingly different from the science buildings she spent all of her time in. she had an appointment with you, but was so nervous to go and admit that she was having trouble in something as simple as art history or literature or communication.

-when she sat down to have her appointment with you, you immediately calmed her nerves and assured her that there was nothing wrong with needing some help in classes she wasn't comfortable in. you helped her ace her quiz and then she just kept coming in to see you. over and over. until she eventually passed the class with an A and no longer needed your assistance.

-and then, as luck would have it, abby got her own job as a tutor for science courses and who happened to walk in but you! the tutor who helped her pass her own difficult course.

-it was history from there.

-despite abby's commitment to her education, she was always able to carve time out of her schedule to be with you. she loves studying with you and filling up a room in the library with your stuff to prepare for exams together. she takes a whiteboard and writes all of her notes on it while you're rereading historical texts or revising your final paper about a painting abby doesn't really quite understand.

-she never makes you feel less than for not studying something "more difficult" as people have before. she loves hearing about your passions for history or writing stories or creating art. she'll come with you to art galleries and try to input her own thoughts from time to time about what she thinks certain pieces mean.

-she understands that graduate school applications are just as important to you as medical school applications are for her. you'll do practice interviews with each other and try on outfits for each other.

-abby will not stand for someone making fun of you for your choice of studies. you two once went to a family gathering on abby's side and when some of her family members began interrogating you on how you're going to get a job and even imply that you'll be living off of abby for your whole life, she gets all up in their face and comforts you later! you will not be sending birthday wishes to those family members anymore and she can guarantee that.

-if you guys get accepted in to schools that are long-distance from each other, you'll absolutely make it work. abby is so methodical that she'll never forget to text you and plans out times that either of you can visit.

-if you ever dedicate a piece that you've created in school to her, she'll positively swoon. like if you wrote a poem about her, she would print it out and pin it up on the fridge. if you painted her, she would hang it up on the wall. and she's the best model for those things too

-i imagine that dinners with your colleagues or friends are very random. abby has but a few friends in her residency and they're each as professional as her. you, however, come with a group of lively people who are discussing philosophical ideas or debating about a piece of art history and how its influenced modern culture. it would be an interesting combination to say the least.

-abby would just be so interested in anything you have to do and would never be critical of your choices. she sees the passion you have for things that lie far outside her field and appreciates it. your future apartment that you build years after meeting when you are each established in your dream careers is a mesh of medical textbooks and flashcards and models but also messy journals and thrifted antiques and poems written on sticky notes for her to find.

[twisted-king]

*skurries into the ask box again,* hi hi! I’m honor of my stupidness, I want to know what your take on how Housewardens would react to mc/their s/o breaking their foot! :)

Oh hey a HC RQ! Yeah I can do that!!!

Riddle Rosehearts

~Riddle’s mom is a highly successful doctor, so I assume he’s picked up a few things during childhood. ~He’s also not the best at being honest with himself and his feelings, so he’s a bit more “hands on” rather than emotionally supportive .

So, when he first got news of your injured foot he started panicking, he kept asking if you needed anything along with various “suggestions” insisting on taking you to go to the hospital. But, like a good boyfriend, Riddle stays by your side as much as possible with his busy schedule on top of house warden duty. He brings you various soothing teas for you to try, each one accompanied by a little treat. He tries his best to keep you on top of your studies, he brings his notes from class to go over with you. Unfortunately every time you move he gets a little anxious..

he really wants you to be ok :(

Leona Kingscholar

~Bro sees OPPORTUNITY

~kind of… throws money at the problem…

it’s not that he doesn’t care!!! In fact, quite the opposite! He likes being able to take care of you, but does NOT like that you’re hurt about it. So he’s with you in a very—Leona—kind of way. When he hears about your broken foot he immediately kind of milks it. He start skipping class to be with you rather than nap. Well, he’s still napping just with you! He kind of hopes if you sleep enough you’ll feel a little better. When he notices any discomfort, he takes it upon himself to get the best medical professionals around to take care of the problem. He carries you to his magishift practices so you can watch him play. Leona doesn’t want you to get bored after all.

he cares, he’s just really bad at this!

Azul Ashengrotto

~WHAT??? HUH??? HOPITAL?

~Zuzu here is trying SO HARD to be normal about this

Azul seems calm about your broken foot at first, he gracefully brings you some Monstro Lounge menu items in a little doggy bag ASAP. Although by his heavier breathing he definitely ran to ramshackle… He has the Tweels soon follow after with study materials, pain meds, and some extra pillows for you. He kind of tries to play it off by joking that his services don’t come for free, but they do for you… just this once! He’s really worried about you though… he’s finding it so hard to focus on the Monstro Lounge. He’s all alone in his office, you’re not around like usual… So he gets the bright idea to visit you everyday with a meal for you and his documents. While not the most romantic he feels way more at ease knowing you’re okay because you’re in his sights!

He’s so worried ur on his mind like 24/7

Kalim Al-Asim

~NHVSCR,JHBDVDJHBDDC ARE YOU OKAY????

~What do you call a friendly kidnapping??

You call Kalim and two seconds later, Jamil is at ur door taking you to Scarabia by carpet. When you arrive at Scarabia (with a GROUCHY Grim in tow) you find Kalim worriedly constructing the world’s most elaborate pillow fort. He wants you to be comfortable while you’re healing!!! He showers you in hugs and kisses when you arrive, guiding you towards the comfortable fortress as he does. Is,,. Is he crying??? He makes sure you’re surrounded by food and plushies at all times. Yeah unfortunately this means Jamil is working overtime… HOWEVER Kalim does makes sure your foot is always elevated, and that you take your meds on time! He misses dancing with you <3

Vil Schoenheit

~First of all: How.

~Second of all: He gets it was somehow Crowley’s fault (he is NOT over the state if Ramshakle)

He found out before you called him, Rook knows some shit…. Vil’s priority is making sure you heal safe and comfortable. So he prepared some potions to ease the recovery and dull the pain. He has a busy schedule so he can’t spend as much time with you as he’d like… however, when he is by your side he helps you through your skincare routine and some light movement you can do while semi-immobile. You two have some really comfortable stay in dates, doing one other’s makeup, watching old films. He always departs with a kiss on the forehead for you, and a reminder to take care of yourself. Occasionally, when his schedule is too packed, Epel or Rook will show up to keep you company. And sometimes,,. Very rarely, you’ll get a cute photo of him holding up a finger heart.

I don’t have biases wdym….. Best boyfriend ever

Idia Shroud

~On god???

~Do…Do you want to stay in Ignihyde…? No, no,.. never mind…

He’s already kind of distant, he sometimes can’t believe he got an S/O in the first place…. So when he gets word that your foot is broken he’s pretty anxious. Idia sometimes comes over with a ton of snack and anime to binge with you. He’s not really sure what to do but he’s doing his best I promise! If you ask for some affection he’ll give you a little peck on the cheek or a hand to your head. He offers to build you a hover boot kind of thing so it’s easier to keep elevated. Other than that, you’re speeding a LOT of time with Ortho…

he tried..?

Malleus Draconia

~Child of man you are so fragile this is why you should stay with me forev—

~The world almost ended (jk he did get really scared tho)

Malleus hears of your broken foot and immediately offers to heal it using magic. He is potentially the most powerful mate he can do it— you don’t want that?? That’s ok, he will stay with you until you feel better! He spends a lot of time showing you how roaring drago is doing, and pictures of the different gargoyles around the campus. He’s not sure how humans function properly so he does go off for indeterminate amounts of time to ask Lilia what to do. He usually comes back with more comfort items and little snacks you like. Every time you feel any pain his heart breaks a little…

he is just a little GUYYYY

[beatrixstonehill2]

"That's right," Dr. Klein said to Carolina. "You have to sign off on your next script since it's what's known as a life-altering or debilitating medical decision."

"Oh wow..... um, I'm not so sure I understand? Sorry, I'm so horny these days I can't think straight. All these different things you keep prescribing me! I can hardly keep up." She giggled, jiggling her hefty breasts.

"I know, you're not as sharp as you used to be. But that's OK, do you even remember being that skinny, flatchested aspiring lawyer who walked through my door last year?"

"Ummmm, I don't know?" She giggled. "Why did I want to be a lawyer?"

"Sweetheart, I'm not the one who would know."

"Oh! But you know everything! I feel so much better after coming to see you. Men are obsessed with my new curves. I have soooo much sex it's crazy. I let guys pump me full of their cum whenever they want!"

"That's wonderful to hear darling. See? And you were so skeptical about taking what I was recommending you..."

"I must've been soooo dumb back then!" She furrowed her brows. "Ummm, how do I spell my name? I think it starts with a C then an A? Can you help me....? I'm not a very good speller these days!"

"That's because you're down to an IQ of 46, from 172! Isn't that great news? My prescriptions are working wonders."

"Wow, is a forty-six really good?"

"It sure is, sweetie. Now let me help you." The doctor guided her hand, making her sign.

"Oh thank you so much! You made it look soooo easy! Mmmmm, I should thank you for being so nice...." She suddenly leaned in and started kissing him on the lips, but he pulled away.

"That's quite all right, Carol. Just be a good girl and take this new script to the pharmacy and take two a day."

"What's it for???"

"Well, you know how your breasts have gotten really big and bouncy?"

"Yep!" She jiggled them for the doctor.

"They're going to get much, much bigger. So big they'll fill your whole lap and be much too big for clothes of any kind...."

"Oh my! That sounds..... really hot! How will I carry them?"

"You might need a push cart, or someone might have to escort you in a wheelchair. You could easily lose the ability to walk...."

"Just from how big my boobs are? Mmmmm, guys are going to love that! I'll be so helpless, it'll be so fun, getting set out on a blanket or something at the park on a nice day.... My boobs exposed, too heavy for me to lift. I have to ask men to help me..... God I'm going to get fucked so good! If men find my body irresistible now...." She leaned back, patting her round pregnant belly. "Already five months along with batch two! Is it true when we met I said I had no interest in having kids?"

"Correct, but we fixed that little problem. Looks like you're going to stay pregnant from now on, huh?"

She giggled, shrugging. "What choice do I have? I'm always getting filled with cum everywhere I go...."

"Good girl. Just remember to keep taking these pills no matter how big your breasts get, OK? I'll see you in three months."

"Just in time to see me ready to pop with all these kids..... you're so naughty...."

"And I better not see you wearing any clothes up top, those things should be too big for them by then....."

"I'll stop wearing tops asap!" She removed hers, tossing it behind her. "Whatever you say, Dr. Klein! You're the professional!"

He patted her head. "I'm glad you finally agree."

[moonstruckme]

Love, OMG?? the doctor!rem fix killed me 😭 do you think you might do part 2 where shes bedridden and he's taking care of her?? currently sick too 😭

Thanks for requesting!

part 1 | part 2

Doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 962 words

Remus has got you all doped up. You didn’t even bother asking him what the pills he handed you a few hours ago were, but now you’re feeling tired and teary. 

“Rem.” Your voice is hoarse, barely there. You try again. “Remus.” 

A head of fluffy brown hair pops out of the kitchen. “You calling me, sweetheart?” 

You swallow. “Yeah.” 

“Oh, honey,” Remus eyebrows pinch together as he comes down the hallway to you. “You sound awful, I could barely hear you.” 

“Sorry,” you croak, the sympathy in his voice only serving to tighten your throat. “Did you roofie me?” 

His eyebrows raise as he sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing your leg through the sheets. “Think they’d have my license for that one, dove. Why do you ask?” 

“I’m really sleepy.” 

Remus nods. “That’s alright. You took the nighttime ones, remember? It’s a good idea to rest right now.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t remembered. Remus frowns like he can tell. 

“Wait one second, dove.” He disappears back down the hall, returning a few moments later with a steaming cup of tea. “I put honey in it, so it should help with your throat for a little while.” He passes it to you carefully, keeping a hand on it as you raise it to your lips just in case you drop it. “Careful, there you go. Alright if I take your temp again?”

You nod, blowing gently on your tea while Remus puts the thermometer in your ear. You relish the feel of the steam on your face, and your first sip is so saccharine you wonder how much of the tea is actually tea and how much is just honey. It’s good like this, though. You lean forward until your forehead rests on Remus’ shoulder. You would’ve assumed that doctors would be so desensitized to illness that they’d have no bedside manner left for when they’re off the clock, but Remus is being so extra sweet to you. He’s made you drink probably four gallons of water, sure, but it’s all “sweetheart” this and “dovey” that, and you don’t think you’ve ever received a more soothing back rub than the one he gave you this morning. You don’t actually mind being sick all that much while he’s here to take care of you.

You’re so caught up in your maudlin reverie that you’ve forgotten the device in your ear by the time it beeps, and you jump. 

“Sorry,” Remus laughs, surprised by your reaction. He puts a hand behind your neck, helping you ease yourself back down onto the pillow. “You start to drift off there, lovely?”

“A little,” you admit, pulling the covers up over your shoulders as a shiver takes you.

He hums, the sound half amusement and half concern. “Well, your fever’s gone down a bit at least, so the medicine seems to be doing its work. How’re you feeling?” 

“I feel like I’m dying,” you reply, picking your phone up off your pillow to wave it about, “and I checked, the internet agrees with me.”

“Oh, really?” Remus smiles as he brushes a few wayward strands of hair from your forehead. “I suppose it’s a good thing you have the internet to tell you that, since there’s not, say, a fully qualified medical professional at your disposal.” 

“What is it you’re always saying?” you ask him, and the tea really is making your throat feel better; the warm honey coats your mistreated esophagus like a balm. “It never hurts to get a second opinion? Anyway, you never said the flu would make my legs hurt like this.” 

Remus blinks. “Your legs?”

“Mhm.” You flex your feet, bringing to life the ache that’s plagued you for the last several hours as if to prove it to him. “They hurt.” 

Remus frowns as he feels for your leg through the covers. “What part hurts, honey?”

“All up and down them.”

Remus cuts an odd look your way before his hand finds your calf. He squeezes, and you hiss.

“Ouch!” you say. “Fuck, yeah, it’s there.” 

Remus laughs. Actually laughs, and ever harder when you look at him with betrayal in your eyes. “Sweetheart,” he says. “Honey, my darling, do you remember how we went ice skating yesterday?” 

You feel your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Yeah?”

“And do you see how that would work out muscles you don’t usually use all that much?”

Your frown worsens. “Sure. Why?”

The smile Remus gives you is kind, but you can still see the amusement twinkling in his eyes. “You’re sore, dovey. It’s got nothing to do with the flu, you just worked the muscles in your legs a bit harder than they’re used to. I’m feeling it in my calves, too.” 

“Oh.” You nestle into the covers until they reach halfway up your face, retreating in embarrassment. Remus laughs again, pushing the sheets down under your chin and kissing your face. His nose is cold where it mushes into your feverish skin. 

“Sorry, I’m not making fun of you,” he promises, though he’s snickering. “I mean, I will, but not when you’re so unwell. You’re still my poor girl for now.” 

“I like poor girl privilege,” you decide, turning your cheek so he’ll kiss it again. He does, smiling against your skin. 

“You know what other privileges you get?” Remus asks you. “Other than tea and a hiatus from teasing?” You hum contentedly. “I’ll tell you something I never tell my other patients.” 

“What’s that?” you ask him, unsure if your sudden dizziness is from the fever or just the effect his affection has on you. 

Remus climbs over you, slipping beneath the covers and pulling you up against him. “Cuddles are the best cure for the flu.”

[mysticheathenn]

Messages of Self-Care

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is all about what kind of self-care you need right now in your life, etc.

This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help. Tarot should be used as entertainment and not a for sure answer to your problems but as a guide, a sense of hope, and amusement.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

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Next Up: What's Your Fairytale Love Story? (Patreon, This Week)

Pile l:

What Kind of Self-Care Do You Need Right Now? Tarot: 2 of Wands, 5 of Pentacles, 3 of Pentacles (reversed), 4 of Swords, 6 of Pentacles

Balance & Courage. Right now in your life, you are lacking balance. This could be in any area of your life but for most of you, there is a misalignment with your finances as you have 3 pentacle cards establishing that this reading is specifically finance-focused. There is a mix in this pile as some of you may possibly have issues with spending money because the way you spend money is a coping mechanism of a way that you can remain in control of your life or feel better when things are going wrong. Others of you finances are tight because of your job not paying enough for you to survive but there are some of you that are being paid enough you just suck at budgeting. The remainder of you are giving away your money to others way too much when they are in need without holding people accountable in paying you back because you don't want "drama." Either way, you are looking for a break financially so you can rest and not stress every second of the day about not having enough money to pay for things you need in order to survive or have a roof over your head. This message of self-care is your cue for most of you who have ideas of plans to do better than what you are doing to chase after those ideas and goals. Now is a better time than never. I am hearing if you start now in implementing your ideas/goals withing 6-8 months you should see some sort of return that will look like the 10 of Cups/Pentacles. Last message for this group has to deal with your mentality around money. I may suggest looking into LOA (law of attraction), Neville Goddard, and other teachings in dealing with your mentality around money if you are a part of the spiritual community (Tumblr has a lot of resources). Others who are religious...pray to your spirit team and god to help move you in the direction or remove things not needed in order to bring in your financial break.

Extra Messages: Similar to how you choose a card. Close your eyes, take a deep breathe, open them, and whatever word stands out to you meditate on that word for a message to come through for you. Too many messages for me to type out.

Freedom, Beauty, Commitment, & Forgiveness

Pile ll:

What Kind of Self-Care Do You Need Right Now? Tarot: The Star (reversed), 8 of Wands, The Moon, 5 of Cups, Knight of Pentacles (reversed)

Release. Healing. Self -Love. There are many messages for you here pile ll. Some of you are dealing with depression, grief, or some sort of emotional loss because you are either have to let go of something or someone who isn't good for you or you are not happy with your current life right now. Others of you are lacking between self-love and self-care. You are not taking care of yourselves but this is more so in a self-love kind of way. You are talking down to yourself and hiding in the shadows not wanting people to see you. I was about to continue that sentence but then I caught myself and realized I was about to list the signs of depression (not a doctor only going off from experience and what I was medically diagnosed). Those who resonate with being unhappy with your life you are unhappy because you are not taking the steps that you are needing to take in order to get to where you want to be. Some of you want your manifestations, wants, and desires to land in your lap and that's not going to happen. You need to put in some sort of work. The wild thing is you know what you need to do and for some of you the thing is simple but you are overthinking it. For others of you the thing is scary and you hate the unknown and fear failure. For those who are dealing with self-esteem issues and insecurities, you is kind. You is beautiful/handsome/a cutie/etc. You is amazing. You need to be your own hype man. Find something that you like and hype yourself up from there and don't tell me you don't have one thing you like about yourself. It can be something as small as you like your left toe. Start there and build yourself up. If you are still stubborn and refuse to see one good thing about yourself ask someone you trust what is one thing they like about you. Don't demean it or cast it assign take the compliment and build off of that.

Extra Messages: Similar to how you choose a card. Close your eyes, take a deep breathe, open them, and whatever word stands out to you meditate on that word for a message to come through for you. Too many messages for me to type out.

Passion, Dreams, Protection, Transformation.

Pile lll:

What Kind of Self-Care Do You Need Right Now? Tarot: 3 of Wands (reversed), The Empress, 8 of Swords, 6 of Swords (reversed)

Stuck Energy. Some of you may have kind of been drawn to pile ll but not fully as this message kind of relates to some of that message but not fully. What I am saying is this pile's cards are straight forward when they tell me that you are dimming your light and also not wanting to let go of the old you for the new you because of XYZ reason. Some of you are holding yourself hostage in the same place mentally because either the people around you continuously keep triggering the old you or because you don't want to let go of those around you so you refuse to grow. Overall you are dimming your light to let other people shine and to hold yourself complacent and that's not ...that's not it my love. You are meant to shine bright in the light not hold yourself prisoner to the same song over and over again as if this is looney tunes hell. For those who have seen the original SpaceJam remember when Micahel Jordan agreed to stay stuck in the cartoon world if he lost and he would do the same thing over and over again (lose to basketball, sign autographs, do humiliating things, etc) that is your current energy right now. Break from the prison chains and see yourself for who you are. Step into your most authentic self and be dammed who doesn't like it. Be dammed with who all you lose. Remember that whatever you lose you gain back 10x forward. You lose your friends okay so what better friends who will align more with you are on the way. Don't be too uncomfortable with the idea of shining that you hold yourself so far back that you miss out on life. Not just life but YOUR MOST ABUNDANT LIFE. Sorry for the all caps I just need that for dramatics and to emphasize how much you need to shine your inner light to the world. Someone needs your inner light and now. Maybe it's me. Maybe it's that one family member you thought hated you but doesn't. Who knows either way shine baby shine.

Extra Messages: Similar to how you choose a card. Close your eyes, take a deep breathe, open them, and whatever word stands out to you meditate on that word for a message to come through for you. Too many messages for me to type out.

WillPower, Talent, Good Luck, Clarity, Happiness, Peace, Answers.

Pile lV:

What Kind of Self-Care Do You Need Right Now? Tarot: Ace of Swords, 4 of Pentacles, Ace of Cups, 2 of Swords, 9 of Wands (reversed)

Pile lV you remind me of the meme where people make fun of moms and wives when they ask for help and it's not fast enough for you so you do it yourself then complain about having to do everything yourself even though help is right there. I'm getting the sense you don't ask for anything, but for some strange reason end up shocked when you get exactly that.....all for what?? To not be a bother, to be a "cool/easy girl/boy/person". I had a friend like you once...she would complain about something in her life and when I or a solution would come about she would be blind to the shit and get nothing done, just complain because it's easier than doing the work. It's easier than bothering someone. Some of you just like to have a struggle story because you think life hands out I struggled and concurred trophies. Why is that pile lv? Why do you refuse help? Why do you pride yourself in struggling when all you want is peace? Make it make sense...please. I'm not going to lie though for some of you I fall into this trap also of not allowing help because I know I will get it right the first time instead of leaving it up to the possibility of someone messing things up. But even so, there comes a time in your life when you need to ease up and let in help. Let in ease. Let in Peace. Let in this emotional and even mental fulfillment you are seeking. You can't bring that when you are constantly controlling things. I'm getting a specific message for a few of you asking god/universe/etc for help and when you get the help you go.."no not that kind of help" Beggars can't be choosers, my love. You have to give some type of way in order to achieve what your end goal is in life. Whatever that is for you..there are to many of you with different messages so take what resonates and leave what does not.

Extra Messages: Similar to how you choose a card. Close your eyes, take a deep breathe, open them, and whatever word stands out to you meditate on that word for a message to come through for you. Too many messages for me to type out.

Manifestation, Protection, Commitment, Lighten Your Load, Freedom, Good Luck, Financial Health.

Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon.

Stay safe and be blessed

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝓣𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓮. [Running Free (Final)]

Decisions have to be made- you can't just run away from them.

Tags/Warnings: Hospital/Medical AU, Doctor!Jungkook, slightly aged up!Jungkook, Hybrid!Reader, Dog Hybrid!Reader, comfort, romance??, Fluff, happy end I guess, we finished another one yay

Length: 5k words

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

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You’re being released from the hospital this week.

He’s not too sure how he feels about it, but he knows it’s for the best. The longer you stay in, the more you gain the risk of catching an infection that’ll be resistant to most medication due to the natural environment of a hospital- and you also deserve to go home, wherever that might end up being.

He’ll miss the daily visits, and he will most of all miss the hospital- but he’s made his choice, long term wish of finally having his own office as a hybrid specialist in the city soon to be coming true. The building is currently being renovated from the core, to soon become a place where hybrids can finally be treated without having to have their owners or partners drag them hours away to another location. This had been his dream ever since he’s started med school-

And it looks like if everything goes smooth from now on, it’ll finally come true.

You on the other hand, clearly can’t wait to get outside.

After multiple sessions with a professional, you’ve slowly come to learn that most of the things you’ve been taught weren’t actually true at all. While it’s correct that certain hybrids can’t be outside alone, for most hybrids it’s just a general suggestion- there’s no law against going out alone. So now that you know that you can actually go outside, you constantly ask him if he’ll take you-

And he’d love to, but he just doesn’t have the time.

So instead you’ve gone out with Jimin a few times, while Jungkook would eagerly listen to all the fun stories the nurse would get to experience with you. If he was up for it, you’d probably be really happy with him- but Jungkook knows that Jimin has his reasons for not even thinking about taking you in.

“She’s scratching her ear a lot.” Jimin mentions at lunch, and Jungkook instantly focuses. “I think she might’ve either developed an ear infection or it’s something that’s been brewing for a while.”

“Well, her ears fold over quite a bit so it wouldn’t be surprising.” Jungkook hums as he eats his food. “And since she’s not been outside much her immune system probably isn’t the strongest. I’ll take a look at it later, see if it needs anything prescribed.” He offers, as Jimin falls quiet for a moment, watching the doctor. “what?”

“You have to let her get discharged-“ He starts, but Jungkook instantly shakes his head.

“I will, I will, I’d never do that.!” He argues. “I just want to make sure everything’s alright before she leaves.” He says quietly into his food.

“You could just take her home.” Jimin chuckles. “you’d get to make sure all the time then.” He teases, and Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Its not that simple. I told you.” He reminds his older coworker, who nods.

“I know, sorry.” He brushes the topic off, before Jungkook’s name is being called out, making Jimin sigh with sympathy for his friend. “I’ll have them wrap it so you can heat it up later?” He asks, and Jungkook nods as he wipes his mouth already standing up.

“Thanks.”

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“hm, yeah, it all looks like it.” Jungkook hums as he inspects your ear, before taking out some cotton swabs and a cleaning solution. “But it’s not bad. Most likely just your immune system being a little over-protective.” He reassures you as he moves to put some of the cleaning solution on the ball of cotton.

“is that bad?” You wonder. “when will I be normal?”

“You’re already normal, don’t worry about that.” The doctor tells you before he holds up your ear to both clean and disinfect it- something you slightly move away from, as it’s uncomfortable. “no no, stay here, yeah?” He tells you, but it’s hard. “you’re doing great..” he mumbles the praise as he makes sure to do a good job while not taking longer than necessary. “Jimin said you saw ducks today?” He tries to distract you, and it seems to work.

“they were in a.. pond, nearby. But there was a fence so I couldn’t get close.” You explain, making Jungkook chuckle. It’s probably for the best you couldn’t- you could’ve fallen into the ice cold waters or gotten lost otherwise. You’re not used to being outside, and Jimin doesn’t have a good sense of what you’re capable of doing and where you should be more supervised than someone else.

You’re holding onto the pink and white little plushy, and he’s again reminded of his choice.

Did he make the right call? Hopefully, because he honestly doesn’t really think that a situation like this will ever truly reoccur like this again. But he had sat down yesterday to go through everything, just to come to a clearer answer for himself. This isn’t something to take lightly, and again, sometimes letting go is the best option to take.

For the rest of the day, you don’t see Jungkook anymore- and neither do you see him the day after, as you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, shoes on your feet and bag packed. Jimin had shed a few tears at seeing you go- but you told him you might visit without needing actual help for once.

The care worker looks nice. He’s wearing a jacket with an official emblem on it for hybrid social work- and he seems really friendly. “You ready?” He asks, and you nod-

There’s no use in waiting for something that won’t happen, after all.

In the small van, you watch all the people and cars pass you by, while the car radio plays slight music on low volume. “if you don’t like the place I’ll bring you, you can always call the number in the phone, okay?” the care worker says, and you nod. The phone you got has a very simplified, easy to understand user interface installed, so it didn’t take you too long to understand how it works. It’s still however quite odd to hold it in your hands.

Everything you thought you knew had been a lie.

“Don’t be afraid to speak up. We’re always just a call away.” He offers, before he parks in front of a tall apartment complex, fancy, high security. He’s being asked twice about where he wants to go and what his name is, as he walks around with you, elevator chiming happily before it opens.

Everything is so.. big. Fancy. Expensive. You shudder, as you remember the last time you’ve been to a place like this.

Will it be the same again? Someone rich and famous buying you just to lock you up and feed you lies? You worry. You really want to go back to the hospital.

When you walk out the elevator and wait in front of another door, you become anxious. But just for a moment, because you start to.. smell something.

And when the door opens, you finally know where you actually are-

As you stand right in front of doctor Jeon, who’s smiling kindly right at you and your wagging tail.

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Jungkook’s apartment is big, very high up in the tall building, and smells like him.

There’s a room just for you, and he’s also got many windows- from the regular balcony and smaller windows in your room, to large one’s going all the way from the floor to the ceiling, showing the tiny city below in the living room. You’re currently sitting on the floor right in front of them, as Jungkook approaches you, sitting down next to you. “You like the view?” He asks, and you nod.

“Do you think I can be an ant now, too?” you ask, and he looks at you a bit confused. “the people.. they look like ants.” You say, pointing to the people all the way down on the ground walking around despite the late hour.

“would you like to be one of them?” He wonders, having brought you a pillow to sit on now- one you happily take.

You nod. “they.. get to have phones. And they meet friends. Or eat at restaurants and drink. Or they buy large stuffed toys.” You explain, and Jungkook realizes that this must’ve been your standard.. or rather only form of entertainment up until now.

Instead of experiencing life, you only got to watch it in silence, secretly.

“Well, you already have a phone. And if you want, we can go eat at restaurants and cafes too- though I might not get you coffee.” He chuckles, watching you look at him now with drooping ears. “it’s bitter.” He explains, and you nod at that.

“Hm.. then maybe something else?” You ask. “but not chocolate. That makes me feel bad.” You tell him, and he internally cringes. Of course it makes you feel bad- you’re a hybrid, and therefore sensitive to it.

“we can check if a Café has hybrid alternatives. I’m sure there’s one.” He tells you, and you smile, tail swishing around a bit as you yawn. “now come on, let’s go to bed.” He says before he gets up, and you look up at him.

“Can I sleep here?” You ask, and much to your surprise, Jungkook nods easily.

“sure. I’ll put your mattress here then.” He offers as he disappears into your room to fetch just that and some bedding to make you comfortable.

This really is quite different from your old home.

You watch how he carefully creates a good bed for you on the floor in front of the window, not just slap everything down there and have you do it yourself. No, this is caring- he even brings out your pink and white plushy that you’ve been given back at the hospital, before he smiles at you who moves to crawl beneath the blankets. “if you need another blanket, there’s one on the couch. And if you end up not liking it here just wake me up and I’ll help you set up your bed in your room again-“ he explains, when your tail just starts wagging wildly beneath the thick bedding.

“Thank you “ You say, and he smiles gently, before he leaves you be.

Even long after he’s switched off his own lights as well, you’re still awake, watching the people down below go about their late night activities. From groups of friends drunkenly stumbling home to couples holding hands, office workers waving for a cab home and policemen patrolling to make sure everything’s alright.

You feel like right now, you’re just one of them as well. Just another being, existing in the same world and same universe as them, experiencing your own life.

And with Jungkook at your side, you already feel like this is going to be the best life ever.

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When you wake up the next morning, it’s slow. Steady. A smooth transition from dreaming to becoming conscious.

Your eyes are still closed while you realize someone’s touching you- but with no ill intentions. Instead, the hands simply adjust the blanket over your body, tucking it back into place so you won’t get cold. He makes no efforts to wake you up at all, instead, Jungkook simply rests a hand on you shoulder for a moment, before he leaves you be.

You can hear him do something in the open kitchen nearby. Your ears tilt towards him, a reaction out of your control.

When he sits down wit his coffee in hand on the couch nearby to watch TV, he catches your now opened eyes- and he smiles. “Good morning.” He offers, and your tail can’t help but react to it as it begins to wag beneath the covers. “slept well?” He asks, and you nod.

You look around for a clock.

“It’s a little past one PM.” He tells you, and you sit up straight at that, shocked. “don’t worry- if I’d wanted you to wake up earlier, I wouldn’t have let you sleep this long.” He reassures you, setting his mug down on the coffee table in front of him. “But it looked like you needed some proper rest, so I let you.”

“I'm sorry.” You mumble, looking to the other side to see the windows show almost nothing from the world outside, fog thick and heavy in the air.

“No need to be.” Jungkook promises. “if you want we can go out later- but the weather isn’t too nice, so we could also very much just stay in today.” He says.

“Don’t you have to work?” You ask, wondering how this will work out in the future as well. Will you have to stay home alone often? Will he at least let you look out of the windows in that case?

“I took my vacation and I’m also finally working on getting rid of all the overtime I’ve collected this year.” He chuckles. “Mostly to help you get used to things, and to.. You know, have you get to know me better.” Jungkook explains, and you nod.

“So... when you go to work again, I’ll stay at home?” You wonder, now relaxing again as a yawn interrupts your words a little, before you stretch your limbs, falling back down onto your makeshift bed.

“We’ll see. I might have someone check in on you once during the day, or I’ll take you to work with me. I’m not too sure about that yet- but we’ll figure it out along the way.” He reassures you. “Right now I believe you should get up and wake up properly, huh?” He laughs, as you nod, slowly standing up to roll up your bedding, struggling a bit to hold it all at once, before you walk into what he showed you is technically your room.

Jungkook smiles. Of course, you don’t have to do this- you could very much just leave it right there and he wouldn’t be bothered, but if this is something you want to do willingly, he will let you. It’ll be very helpful to get you into a comfortable routine as quickly as possible, so he can figure out if he can leave you by yourself, and if so, for how long.

He knows you’re a lot more independent and intelligent than your past owner thought you were- but you still haven’t ever had to live completely on your own, so no one, not even you yourself, knows how you’d handle that. If something was to happen, lets say you drop something in the kitchen and it breaks, it could very much send you into a panic and cause you to get hurt unintentionally. And with him not being home, this could become a problem.

But thats only something in his mind for now. He’ll figure this out somehow.

He has to.

When you come back out the bathroom after getting ready for the day, Jungkook can’t help but laugh a little, waving you closer to where he’s sitting on the sofa. “Turn around for me.” He chuckles, properly pulling your tail out through the designated opening in the back of your shorts. “There we go.” He says, and you sit down next to him now, looking at the windows.

“Why can’t I see the city anymore?” You ask him, and he sets down his coffee, cup now empty.

“Because the clouds are too thick.” He explains. “We’re basically in the middle of them, so that’s why you can’t see.”

“We’re in the clouds?” You ask, mesmerized, and he nods.

“We are.” He agrees.

“So if I went on the balcony, I could touch them?” You wonder, and he laughs.

“I mean, technically? But they’re not soft or anything, so you might be disappointed.” He warns you.

“But you’d let me on the balcony?” You ask, and he nods.

“Clouds are just wet though. You’ll just get a shower, basically.” He laughs under his breath, though he does walk into your room with you, to unlock the glass door to the balcony with a key. “Careful though. Can I hold your hand?” He asks, and you nod, though you clearly look confused. “Just so I feel a bit calmer.”

“Why you?” You ask, not really sure why he’d feel any better holding your hand. “Are you scared of the balcony?” You question him, but he shakes his head with a smile.

“No, but I’m scared of you falling.” He reveals.

“Oh.” You simply answer, taking his hand at that, before you step out into the cloudy outdoors-

But just for a moment, because you quickly realize that Jungkook was right-

Clouds aren’t all that fluffy at all.

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You’re out for the first time with Jungkook, and he has to admit, you’re nothing like he thought you’d be like.

You’re so incredibly great at controlling yourself and your reactions to things, always almost instinctively reaching for him if something becomes too much or if something makes you unsure. It makes him feel incredibly proud- because you clearly already have accepted him as your safety person, always relying on him if you feel like you can’t handle something. You always trust that he will do it for you- and he does, even if he only notices doing it in hindsight.

You sometimes seem to get a bit overwhelmed with eye contact from other hybrids and even humans, and he also notices the way you visibly shrink away from anybody trying to talk to you directly. Its most likely a trained response, taught to you with simple conditioning, and he feels a bit upset about it. But its not all that bad as he thought it might be- overall, you’re handling this day out very well.

You’re currently sitting in a hybrid friendly cafe, your eyes wide as you look at the delicately decorated milk foam on top of your hot chocolate that’s specifically made so that you won’t end up with a stomachache. Jungkook can’t help his smile as he watches you enjoy your little treat- the slice of cake you’re eating clearly being enjoyed to its maximum as you savor every bite.

“Did you know you can actually order all by yourself here?” Jungkook tells you, and your ears instantly tilt towards him at that, as you lick your lips clean of the milk foam from your cup.

“Really?” You wonder. “Me too?” You ask him, knowing very well that technically, hybrids of your category aren’t usually allowed to make any purchases by themselves.

But Jungkook nods. “They have a program here.” He explains. “Basically, I’ll pay upfront, and they’ll take your photo and ID so you can get food or something to drink here anytime you’d like, all on your own.” He informs you, and you nod, amazed.

He noticed that things like that make you feel good. Giving you any form of independence, even if it’s just a somewhat illusion, boosts your confidence. And he loves seeing that.

“But I always want to come here with you though.” You say.

“We can.” He nods happily.

“But I can order?” You ask, making him grin.

“Of course.” The doctor agrees. “I can get you an independence card too, once we both got more comfortable with each other.” He tells you.

“Why’re you doing all that?” You ask, a bit confused as you cut another piece of your slice of cake. “Like.. I always thought guys like it when their hybrids are all.. Dependent and stuff.” You shrug.

“Hm. Maybe because I like seeing you happy. And offering you these things makes you happy.” He explains his intentions.

“Would you ever like me as a girlfriend?” You bluntly ask, and Jungkook stutters in his movements a bit, caught entirely off guard. He’s never really ever thought about that at all, and he’s not sure if he really could- but he can’t deny that he does like you, a lot, already. Not to that degree, but he has to admit-

That could change.

“I’m.. Not sure yet.” He admits. “I can’t tell you a full on answer yet. Why do you ask?” He wonders, and you shrug.

“Just asking.” You tell him. “I’ve been told that hybrids can’t be real girlfriends.” You just say, and he fills in the blanks inside his head by deciding that this narrative must’ve been fed to you by your past owner. It’s a common thing a lot of people who’ve never met any hybrid personally say- because they believe that hybrids are nothing but abominations, or forever unable to really decide anything for themselves, when in reality, this isn’t true at all. Just like regular people, hybrids are all different- some will always have to rely on people, while others don’t need any help at all. There’s even hybrids who have full work permits, live on their own, have families and normal average lifes. It’s more common than one might think.

“That’s not true.” Jungkook denies.

“But like, could a hybrid and a normal person even have children?” You ask, and Jungkook nods.

“There’s evidence that hybrid-human pregnancies are generally safe and usually progress normally. The children inherit some hybrid traits depending on gender of the parent and child themselves, but it’s a lot less and therefore especially the visual traits are typically a lot less prominent.” He rants, taking a sip of his iced coffee before he continues. “It’s actually really interesting, because the children usually end up a lot more resilient to common infections like the flu or the common cold- but it’s not very clear as to why. I personally think it might be because viruses that infect humans behave differently in hybrids- so maybe because of that they’re less vulnerable to these things. They do however show up with problems more common in hybrids though, like eye problems or psychological issues.” He continues, and only after a moment or two does he notice you’ve stopped eating, now just watching him with a smile on your face. “...sorry. I was kind of getting lost there..” He apologizes, but you just laugh, tail wagging wildly.

“No, no, go on!” You cheer him on. “I love that face you make when you talk about stuff you like.” You say.

“The face I make?” He chuckles. “What face do I make?”

“I don’t know- your eyes sparkle, and they get all round. And you gesture with your hands.” You explain. “I didn’t understand most of it, but I’ll still listen.”

And Jungkook smiles.

Because honestly-

That's all he could ever ask for.

⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅

Jungkook has definitely changed his mind on you now, almost a month after living together with you.

You’re very open with your affection towards him, a whole lot better at sensing someone’s attraction than a normal human would be, since you don’t really care about what he could be implying with his words- you only take into account what you know how to interpret. And that’s other cues, like body language, scent, and actions.

You don’t try and read between the lines- you just see things for what they are. And apparently, he’s not very good at hiding any of his growing feelings towards you at all.

And with your confidence rising under his care, you’ve become a real threat to his sanity he feels like- because you’re actively flirting with him, finding way after way to make him flustered left and right, always catching you off guard. And the worst part is that he slowly leans into it, accepting it, and also has begun to initiate such contact as well.

Well, its not really a ‘worst’ part. If anything, it feels like he finally found what he’s subconsciously always been looking for.

You’ve been sneaking your way into his bed at night- and somehow, that evolved into you permanently sleeping next to him in his bed, something that you both just quietly agreed on. This is however, right now, the first time you’re both actively cuddling- slowly testing the water so to speak as you quietly take new steps towards each other. Nothing has to be said in this moment- there's no words needed to really communicate with each other.

He’s never seen you this close, and neither have you.

His hand slowly moves to hold yours, before you place your palm on his, comparing your hand sizes before you giggle still a little sleepy. He doesn’t know why, but somehow, he just feels like its the right thing to do in this moment, as he pulls your hand closer to kiss the back of it, eye contact he holds with you visibly sending out the message he wants to with success as your eyes widen, before you smile a bit shy.

He already has plans on how to incorporate you into his work in the future, so he can always have you somewhat at his side, while also giving you a genuine task you can manage.

You suddenly move closer to him, as he lays on his back now, you hugging him closely so you’re almost halfway on top of him, basking in the physical contact you have with him. You’re both only dressed in comfortable sleeping clothes, nothing but underwear and lazy shirts, and you love this. It’s like you’re currently living in a vacuum, time having no meaning, outside world simply waiting for you both to be ready to continue at any time.

But for now, you just want to stay like this. Close to him.

And its also very clear that he doesn’t mind this situation either- not one bit, as he initiates contact as well, hand running over the length of your arm as he leans his head close to yours. “We have to get up soon.” He tells you, and your ears instantly move towards the sound of his voice, though you whine in protest, clinging to him now. “We can’t stay in bed all day.”

“Why not?” You wonder, leaning your chin on his shoulder. “I like being in bed with you.” You say, wagging tail making it clear that you’re very aware of how this sentence could also be interpreted.

“Do you?” He answers, not backing down anymore as he usually would. “we’re just being lazy. That’s boring, no?” He asks, and you laugh a little, before turning onto your back next to him.

“Well, yeah. But it doesn’t have to be.” You propose, and at that he moves now, leaning over you ad he looks at you beneath him.

“You’re right.” He agrees, voice low because with you being this close, there’s no need for much volume in his words. “I could think of a few things we could do.” He purrs down at you, and you grin, comfortable and even excited. You know exactly what this could mean, and you’re actively seeking this out- you know he likes you in a more personal manner than just hybrid and caretaker. This is so much more than that already.

He just needs to give you a sign- and this might be it.

“Such as?” You ask him, clearly expecting something from him. And he knows what it is.

Wordlessly leaning in to kiss you-

An action that’s instantly returned, in a silent confession of love.

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“this is such a genius idea.” Jimin says, watching you effortlessly keep the young hybrids occupied in the waiting area, while Jungkook goes through patient after patient. “They’re so calm like this. No wonder you’ve become the most sought after doctor for young hybrids.” He tells the younger doctor, who smiles at the scene in the waiting room- all the usually very fidgety hybrids of different kinds listening to you telling them a story, visualized by some stuffed animals you’re holding.

“I couldn’t do it without her.” Jungkook simply says.

“Well, I’ll have to go start my shift in the ER, or Yoongi will rip my head off.” Jimin laughs, before he waves at you, and then Jungkook. “take care!” He says as he leaves-

And Jungkook smiles, as he waves his friend and former coworker goodbye.

"Take care.”

[railingsofsorrow]

summary: you fail in an altercation with an unsub and people die.

pairing: s.reid x gn!reader

warnings: mentions of blood, injuries and violence; aversion to touch; angst with fluff at the ending.

A/N: a little drabble probably filled with grammar mistakes. I know the summary SUCKS.

navi

masterpost

━━━━━━━━━━━━

“let go, just— just let go of me!” you yelled at the paramedics poking your body. yanking your arm out of their reach wasn't enough to push them away, they kept on pestering you to no end. but you couldn't breath and the back of the ambulance was closing in and people just crawled out of nowhere to touch and block your vision and touch—

“let go of her.” spencer finally succeeded in getting past the police when he noticed what the first responders were doing. their job. yes. but the only thing he could focus now was your shaky frame and antsy gaze. your requests for some space masked your desperation for annoyance. “no,” he said shortly, a scowl at one of the EMTs that gripped your arm, trying to check your injuries. “hey, let go,” the professional sighed and stepped back, along with the other two who were trying to hold you down. you didn't need holding down. you needed people to stay away. you needed to breath.

“sweetheart,” spencer's voice rang through your ears in a faraway tone. almost as if you were underwater. “hey, it's me. can you hear me?” he really wanted to get you off the floor of the ambulance, but this would have to do now. he crouched down to your curled up position, maintaining a safe distance. “it's spencer, sweetheart.”

he waited patiently as you adjusted to the sound of his voice, surveying your whole body in search for injuries — more than the ones he was already seeing. you had a trail of dried blood on your temple, a busted lip, and by the way you were holding your wrist it must've been fractured too. god, he wanted to kill that bastard. a maximum security prison wasn't enough, he needed to get a taste of his own medicine. or worse, definitely worse.

you looked up. and there it was. the dam broke and your sobs started. spencer felt helpless. he knew he couldn't touch you because that would make everything worse, but how could he comfort you without immediate wrapping you in his arms? how could be made sure you felt safe with his mere words?

“i couldn't— I couldn't get to them in time.” you said between sobs, covering your mouth in a foolish attempt to stop those awful sounds. you couldn't control your emotions. but it suddenly felt as if you could breath again. “spencer, I couldn't—”

he cut you off, “it wasn't your fault. look at me, hey.” he forced his hands to retract as he almost cupped your cheeks. oh, his heart ached at your reaction. “it was not your fault, sweetheart. none of us could've gotten there in time. including you.”

but that's not what your mind said. that's not the truth it implied.

“i should've done something.”

“you did. everything you could have done, you did.” he said with a certainty that caused doubt in the guilt gripping your mind. you forgot every bit of aversion to touch to let him examine your wrist after he asked for permission. spencer didn't made you feel helpless. he wasn't a stranger. spencer was safety. he was the breath of fresh air you craved at that moment.

he grimaced at the marks on your wrist, tilting your head to investigate the origin of the dried blood. his conclusion was that you most certainly had a concussion and you needed professional care on the superficial cuts on your arm and lip. he may be a doctor but he wasn't a medical doctor.

“baby,” he mellowed, tone like honey, when he decided you had calmed down enough. “can I get them back in? you need to disinfect these and probably plaster your wrist.”

you let out a sigh as his fingers softly work to dry your tears. “will you stay?” you ask rather pathetically. you never needed spencer more than you needed at that second. you just needed him.

“where else would I be?” he pressed a kiss against your forehead, careful to not touch any of the bruises. “okay, are you ready?”

you groan softly, relaxing against the ambulance walls. “will they take me to the hospital?” spencer gave you a look. “i'm fine.”

“sure.” spencer nodded, pretending he agreed. you knew he didn't. “i'll be right back, okay? don't move.” when you shifted to a position that your head was resting back and your eyes shut. he made a sound of protest, startling you. “no. no sleeping. you have a concussion.”

“i'm not gonna die, spence.”

“no sleeping.” he pointed at you sternly. hotch-gaze-stern — well, he tried.

you positioned your cheek on your good hand, rolling your eyes. even that hurt, but you didn't let it show. your boyfriend was back before you noticed his absence. he did ride all the way to the hospital with you, not leaving your side for a single minute. just like you needed.

[specialgradefckr]

Heatwave: Day 3

tw: explicit content, dubcon. 4k+ words. No curses AU. Kenjaku/reader (Kenkaju looks like Geto here). female!omega!reader, beta!Kenjaku, ftm!Kenjaku, we support both good and evil trans people on this blog. It is implied that Kenjaku is also a trans alpha.

Examination kink, praise kink, Kenjaku is an OBGYN, honestly he's not even trying to pretend he's normal, BIG medical malpractice, reader is Feeling Very Weird Things but is Into It, reader can tell Kenjaku is being Not Very Professional but gaslights the shit out of herself bc he’s hot, you go queen.

Prompt: An omega goes for a regular health checkup that leaves them weeping from all holes.

Kenjaku Itadori – formerly Kaori Itadori, you had heard – is a unique individual in his own right. You’d seen the pictures of him before and after transitioning, proudly displayed on his profile, and you can tell why.

It was quite the transformation. A pretty housewife with a bob and a strained smile, to a handsome gentleman who exuded confidence. His hair is actually longer now that he’s presenting as a man, his face broad but still possessed of a delicate nose and lips, a well-defined jawline.

There’s a scar going across his forehead dotted with what look like stitches; it looks like it’s been tattooed over to resemble a chain of stars. What kind of surgery left him with that? A cursory google reveals nothing, but it’s not a big deal anyways.

And those sharp, hooded eyes that always seemed to be smiling at you, in a way that would probably be a bit disturbing if he weren’t so handsome.

He's also an OBGYN, to whom your insurance had directed you. It’s a bit awkward; he may be a beta, but he’s obviously a man as soon as you lay eyes on him, and your heat is… somewhat close.

A low voice says your name, “It looks like this is your first time here, hm? Getting your yearly exam done?”

His tone is easy and conversational, smiling eyes half-lidded at you in a way that’s probably supposed to be reassuring.

You swallow. “Yes. Dr. Itadori, right?”

There’s a silence, but the doctor fills it quickly, “Kenjaku, if you don’t mind.”

You’re not really one to be familiar with people you’ve just met, but he’s transitioned, so it might be that he enjoys hearing his first name. It’s not like it matters either way.

“Nice to meet you, Kenjaku. So uh,” Your eyes glance all around the room, “What first?”

“How about the easy stuff first?” The smile he makes feels a touch too wide, but with kind eyes that nearly close when he grins, it still manages to be disarming.

“I’ll check your scent glands. If you’re uncomfortable, I can call for a female nurse.”

The self-awareness makes you self-conscious. You’d been overthinking this.

He’s just a doctor, a professional. There was nothing weird here.

When his eyes open up some more, it does look a touch… predatory. But his voice is nothing but warm, cooing, almost, in a way that sets you right at ease.

“Please, have no fear. I’m told I have very gentle hands.”

His smile softens as he lifts them up, fingers long and elegant, like a pianist.

You take a tiny sniff of the air again; he’s a beta. Of course he’s a beta. It was much simpler to transition as a beta than any other secondary gender, so that made sense. The tinge of sandalwood in the air was probably a cologne.

Maybe you should ask him what he uses.

With a nod, you slip off your jacket, pulling down the collar of your shirt. It’s a bit chilly in here; gooseflesh prickles over your exposed skin.

When he walks up to you, you’re warmed a little, and the heat of his nearby body radiates through the air.

He reaches his hands out to your neck. Ungloved.

You can’t help your heart racing as he traces over your throat. The swell of skin where your scent was strongest, right beneath his fingertips. It’s hard not to shiver at least a little.

“It’s kinda cold,” You murmur, quietly, just to fill the silence.

Dr. Kenjaku leans in. He’s got a wide frame – strong, broad. So warm you find yourself leaning back, just a little.

“Sorry about that,” His voice is deep, closer to you now. “It does get a bit drafty in here, doesn’t it?”

It’s hard to answer with your heart in your throat.

Stickiness makes itself known on your neck, a layer of secretions from the very gland he traces over. As soon as you realize how wet his fingertips have become your face flushes red.

Before you can open your mouth, he says, “Perfect, perfect, very good.” Something lurches in your chest at the praise, “Your glands are reacting to stimulus appropriately. Nothing wrong, there.”

Ah. Yes. Nothing wrong, he was just checking. Of course you would start leaking – your glands would start leaking, if he touched them like that. It was very rare to touch another person’s neck in daily life, much less the part where scenting glands were.

That’s why it was – it made you a bit antsy. But it’s fine, just an awkward examination. Something to get through.

“Nervous?” You give him a noncommittal hum and he sets a wide, reassuring palm over your shoulder.

“Doctor Kenjaku – ”

“Just Kenjaku, remember?” He squeezes your shoulder, and although the gesture is alarmingly familiar, you feel a little bit of the tension seep out of you, “Don’t worry, what you’re feeling isn’t unusual at all.”

He tilts his face to the side, painfully handsome with his bangs drifting lightly in front of his face.

“Just focus on relaxing for me. Can you do that?”

You take in a deep breath – louder than you would have liked – and let it go. Then you nod at him.

“Oh, we can do better than that. Let me help you.” Another hand on your other shoulder.

Pressing tightly to release the knotted muscle there, he clasps your shoulders with both hands. It’s close to your neck, thumbs edging underneath your scent glands, a tickle that unwinds something heavy in your chest.

Your heartbeat slows to a steady thrum, but there’s a pulse there that doesn’t entirely go away. A delicate throb that ebbs with the tension his hands are working out of you.

Kenjaku keeps going for a moment, humming as his fingertips press into a particularly rigid muscle, working closer into your neck and a bit into your back.

“There you go, very good…” His voice is soft – but that’s just because he’s close, so he doesn’t need to speak so loudly. Kenjaku leans in, “Feel it getting looser?”

It is – your shoulders are. But what was it he was asking about, again? Distantly, you think there’s something weird about this, it shouldn’t really be going like this, but – he’d been otherwise normal, right? Your eyes flick between his hands and his face.

“Just imagine that feeling dripping down your shoulders,” He guides you, hands massaging with his words.

You feel your body following suit. Easy, liquid relaxation pooling as the muscles in your shoulder melt into his touch, starting from your neck, flowing downward over the rest of you. You think for a moment you smell a warm, comforting sandalwood in the air.

Just when it’s about to go on so long you start to really wonder, Kenjaku pulls away.

“Excellent, just perfect.” He’s a bit too satisfied, but you’re too nervous to think more about it until he fetches something from the table.

A scent bursts into the air, artificial and sweet. He holds out something red – a hard candy.

His smile still seems a bit too wide. “A treat for being so good for me. Something to suck on to help you relax.”

The way he says it –

No. No, you’re imagining things. There’s a little slickness you feel gathering between your legs, but that’s just from being – being touched so much. Your glands. That’s why.

You reach out to grab it from him, but Kenjaku moves faster. Long, cool fingers delicately press the candy to your lips. It smells delectable.

Opening up to receive it, his fingers draw into your mouth, pressing down onto your tongue with the candy pinched between them.

As your heart picks up, Kenjaku chuckles, “Say ahhh~. Thought I’d get this part over with real quick.”

It’s sour, so your whole mouth is watering. Sweet, too. Cherry flavored, with a heavy scent. At his gentle prompting, you open wider, even as you swallow away your drool.

He stares intently for a moment at the back of your throat, like there’s anything interesting back there, and pulls his fingers out. They’re sticky, dripping with your saliva, and you flush. Looking away in shame, even though he was the one who put them in there.

Why had he done that again? You’re not stupid, you know this is weird, but you just… for some reason it doesn’t seem like such a big deal. You don’t know. It’s weird.

You’re relaxed now, sure, but you can still feel a pulse in your neck where his hands had brushed against you. There’s a soft, distant throbbing lower down, which you’re trying not to think about.

Even without looking you can feel his cat-like eyes are boring into you, curved like they’re laughing.

But his hands are as gentle as he said they would be. His voice is even sweeter than the candy that’s still tingling on your tongue. You want to believe him. You want him to be… not bad.

“Everything looks good.” His hands are clean, but you didn’t see him wash them. “Are you sexually active?” Kenjaku asks.

“Sometimes,” You say, and then stop yourself from providing any more details.

Do his lips look a bit… wet?

No, no, you’ve got to stop being weird about this. Your thinking this is weird is what’s making this weird. Nothing hurt about the examination, nothing felt bad or uncomfortable or weird. He gave you candy!

The logic sounds a bit childish in your head but you can’t bring yourself to refute it.

And really, is it that important? Is it such a big deal, when you weren’t even that bothered by it? You just need to keep going with the examination. Kenjaku wouldn’t do anything bad.

“I see, I’ll do some extra examinations just to check everything’s okay.” There’s a smile you’d been expecting, a reassuring, comforting tone, no alpha male jealousy or anything, just professional care and consideration.

This was fine. Everything was fine.

He tells you to undress, and you do. Putting on the gown that opened from the front while he sat next to you patiently.

When you get your shirt off, he reaches out and you hand it to him without thinking. He folds it nicely and sets it on his lap, along with the rest of the clothes you hand him. There’s a little plastic bag he puts them in, zipping it up and setting it on the counter as you put on that gown that opens from the front.

You like watching him fold them. He’s so meticulous and graceful, utter domesticity in a lab coat. Handsome face utterly peaceful as he concentrates on his task.

With each article of clothing he passes it by his face as if to examine it before setting it down. You think you see him take a breath, but you’re not sure. It’s not a big deal, anyways.

While you turn in the chair, Kenjaku moves, reaching to help position your legs into the stirrups.

You knew this was coming, of course. You’d felt weird about shaving. On one hand, fuck shaving, no matter how new the blade or how many fancy products you used, you always seemed to get micro-cuts that stung when you washed everything off.

On the other hand, the thought of someone sifting through hair to part your pussy was pretty damn unbearable. The price of looking at any explicit content online was that most of the pussies you’d ever seen, in art or porn, were completely waxed.

Eugh. Maybe you should have gotten waxed. But for a medical exam? That would just be weird.

It’s you. This is all your nerves, you’re the one psyching yourself out. Kenjaku is being so helpful, so friendly, and you’re reading into everything he does. Sure, it’s a little inappropriate seeming in places, but it’s not like you’d protested. And he didn’t hurt you!

If there’s a light in his black eyes as his gaze settled between your legs, that’s probably just…

A normal reaction. You swallow again around the hard candy in your mouth, sourness still buzzing against your tongue. He’s a man, too, right? Any man could be expected to have a reaction. It’s not like you want him to have a reaction, though. Do you?

It occurs to you, as he spreads the lips of your cunt and the bare air meets it, that you are leaking slick.

Fire creeps up your neck, crackling across muscles that had been so carefully relaxed, and you stay still but it adds to the feeling of exposure. Skin wet and naked before his eyes.

Drip. Drip. You are painfully aware of the fact that you’re dripping.

Kenjaku hums, and it’s a pleased sound. This should relieve you, and maybe in some way it does, but you find yourself sucking extra hard against the candy, tempted to crush it between your teeth, as you feel another glob of lubrication slip from your entrance.

“Excellent,” He says lowly, “You’re doing so well, so relaxed for me.”

You don’t know what to say to that. It makes you feel better, you think, but you can’t tell, all your attention focused between your legs.

“Your slick response is really quite extraordinary… I assume you must be near your heat?”

“Yes,” You say.

“Omegas, such fascinating creatures. Your heats must be very productive. Your whole body preparing itself to be bred, in every conceivable way.”

He must hear you whimper, because he follows it with a chuckle, “Oh, don’t fuss. This is a perfectly natural reaction, you know. You’re healthy.”

Dark eyes meet yours. A smile stretching wide across his lips.

“It’s a good thing, don’t you agree? You want to be healthy, yes?”

Yes. Yes, of course you do. He makes another satisfied noise when you tell him so, but this isn’t quite a hum, it’s darker, more rumbly. Almost like a growl. Betas don’t do that, though.

The sandalwood is all gone, so it must have just been his perfume. All you can smell is artificial cherry, and you swallow again, flavored saliva like syrup down your throat.

 You hear him move some things around, glancing over at the table beside him. It’s hidden by your legs, a bit.

“I’m putting it in, now,” Kenjaku says.

The – the speculum. The instrument. That’s what he’s talking about. You know because it’s cool against you, metal sliding against your walls as he pushes it in. It’s not too uncomfortable, just… pressure.

“Now, relax for me, will you?” The way he says it, eyes meeting yours, smiling languidly, you feel your body loosen up at his words. You loosen, quivering under his gaze, “Very good.”

A little bit of extra slick drips out of you. You can feel it, but hopefully, he doesn’t notice. It’s so awkward. You’d never been turned on by these things.

Faintly you’re aware that he’s been too familiar with you this whole time, why should it be so strange for you to be aroused? He kept telling you how all this is perfectly natural, and it was.

Kenjaku is just trying to make you feel comfortable. This whole time he’s been nothing but good to you. He smiles at you even now, one large hand spread over your upper thigh, moving over it with soothing strokes.

“This will feel a little tight. Let me know if it feels like it’s pinching on anything. I’m going to spread you open now so I can see inside you.” There’s a heat in his voice, and eagerness, one that doesn’t help with your current situation.

You have to fight the urge to wiggle, and one of your legs actually does twitch in the stirrup – you’re so embarrassed. Somehow you feel like maybe you’re annoying him, getting in his way, making the exam more difficult for Kenjaku with all your apprehension and twitchiness.

He doesn’t deserve that. His handsome face is still smiling at you. It wriggles uncomfortably in your chest, just like your legs in the stirrups, the thought that you’re making things harder for this beautiful, caring man who just wants to help you.

Why are you so concerned with pleasing him? The question leaves your head as soon as he smiles that beautiful smile and opens his pretty mouth again.

“Oh, it must be difficult, staying still, hm?”

“Yes.” You don’t know why you whimper your answer. Omega instincts. Must be, must be…

“Never fear, my dear, I’ve a solution for that.” His eyes turn to crescents as his smile widens. “You don’t have to worry about anything.”

Somewhere there’s straps, ones he uses to tie your feet into place in the stirrups, and even further up, your thighs. That’s – easier, you think, now. You don’t have to worry about if you’re squirming too much or not.

His hand makes its way back to your thigh, draped over it like another one of the straps. Holding you secure so he can do what he needs. All normal. Everything is normal.

“All ready?” You nod, “Of course you are, what a perfect little patient you’ve been for me. Let’s get you opened nice and wide for me, hm?”

You take a low, shuddering breath. Kenjaku is beaming, so you must be doing really good for him. He’s so happy with you.

His hand is drifting closer to the base of your thigh, where it joins to your torso, just by your abdomen.

Heart racing in your chest, you faintly pick up on your lower half, a throbbing that never really went away. Tensing, trying to close, your legs strain against the straps. Good thing he strapped you in.

It only gets worse when he starts to dilate you, when you feel a pinch against your walls stretching you open, just like he’d said.

“Just like that, yes. You’re doing so well.”

That doesn’t help your racing heart, and in fact it makes it worse. Your entire face is burning as arousal, electric and coursing, races through you.

His eyes are focused on your sex, completely engrossed in his work. Kenjaku’s other hand drifts closer to help spread open your labia.

“There. Let me just take a look, hm? I’ll take a sample of your slick, too, for testing.”

His thumb settles at the crest of your labia, just by your clit. It starts to move, just a bit while his fingers adjust your folds, and then some more, slow, little circles that have your thighs trembling.

You’re leaking, you’re still leaking, so much, and your cunt is gaping between your legs, straining against the metal keeping it spread.

He’s looking at you, inside you, taking it all in, this part of yourself you’ve never seen before. There’s a thrill at the thought, something strange and exciting.

It’s hard not to clench against the speculum, but Kenjaku doesn’t say anything so it must be fine. Natural. His thumb rubs more against your clit, sparks of pleasure shooting up into you.

“Mmm, you’re leaking so well, now. What a good little omega you are. Time to check inside.”

You can feel his fingers drive into your gaping hole, just the warmth of them. They don’t stretch you. You’re already wide open, exposed and vulnerable to his touch, to his gaze, all bared for him to see and do with as he pleases.

“Very good, very good, so good for me. All wide open and letting me in, all dripping in welcome. Don’t fight it, now, there’s no point. My perfect little patient deserves to feel good.”

Helpless to the sensation rushing into your core from the friction rising at your clit. Heavy, lapping at you, pleasure awash –

With a whine and a careless jerk, you cum, cunt squeezing fruitlessly around the instrument as the aftershocks rumble through you.

There’s heat, finally, replacing the sting of humiliation as the bliss radiates through your entire form, letting you finally go lax.

A pressure, distant but firm, nurses at your clit, sending little shivers through you in waves. All you can do is stare at the ceiling, unable to even think of glancing at the doctor.  

But even then, the horror starts to creep in. Shame. The feeling of wetness bursting between your legs, like your brain melted and just dripped out with all your slick.

Did you really just cum? “I- I’m sorr-”

“Oh?” His tone is one of feigned interest, “Really, you should stop your fussing.” Shame trickles through you at his words. Like you’re upset about disappointing him. “I told you, these reactions are perfectly natural, you know.”

“I – uh. Okay, doctor – ” You can hear him correct you before he does, “I mean, okay, Kenjaku.”

It feels so strange to say, while the whole of your body is floating on air.

“Good. Let’s continue the exam, then, shall we? There’s just a little bit left.”

You try not to feel disappointed. You try not to listen to your heart pounding at continue.

“Do you ever engage in anal sex?” He gives you a reassuring smile at your awkward, stunned frown, “I only ask because certain activities expose you to different risks. Ideally, I could also examine you for any tearing.”

“Yes,” You say, even though you only tried it once, years ago.

It almost feels like you’re not saying these things at all, like you’re barely inside your own body. You just happen to be an observer from within.

“Here,” Kenjaku stands, undoing the straps on your legs, “This would be more comfortable on your stomach.”

Your heart, you think, is beating out of your chest.

Something primal within you trills at being put on your belly, having your legs strapped back in. Ass up, presented to another for their examination. Ready to be bred.

“I’ll just examine the entrance here, it’s unlikely you’d have any injuries further in without any external signs.”

The lubricant he uses is surprisingly warm and gooey, coating your hole with complete ease. The same thumb that rubbed over your clit spreads at the edge of your rim, pressing it outwards.

“There we go. You were producing so much slick, it would have been a shame to waste it, don’t you think?” He doesn’t pause for you to answer, “Really, you’re leaking now, too. Your heat may start as early as tomorrow.”

You can feel his eyes on you. Feel the stretch in your asshole as he works it open.

“You must be practicing very safely. I don’t see any signs of injury at all.” His finger traces around your rim, pressing, pressing, “So tight. Although, it’s a myth that these orifices can be stretched out. They’re muscles, you know, they can tense and relax.”

It occurs to you that Kenjaku really likes to hear himself talk. Then it occurs to you – much more startlingly – that you like to hear him talk, too. That you’re dripping the more you hear his voice.

“Let me feel inside, just a bit. I’ll squeeze more of this in so it isn't uncomfortable."

More of it? How much had he collected? But that thought fades out of focus quickly.

You whine as you feel your own slick gush into you like jelly, followed by a prodding fingertip. You can’t help but squeeze around him, and he just laughs.

“There, you see? So easy to flex.”

Then he takes the finger out. You blink.

“All done. Now, wasn’t that easy?” You can feel him undoing the straps around your legs as you lie there limply.

It was – it wasn’t – it was – it was – words fail you when you try to think –

Over? It’s over?

You can still feel everything down there, painfully wet, swollen, and throbbing.

“You may feel some discomfort, of course, but that’s only to be expected with your pre-heat. The important thing is that you’re totally healthy – in perfect breeding condition, really.”

Shivering, you sit up in the chair. Kenjaku hands you your clothes, one by one. After a moment of watching you, dazed, trying to put them on, he takes you by the hand and pulls you to standing.

He helps you dress, and you let him, stretching your arms out, holding still idly while he maneuvered you and slid on your clothes.

You step into your panties and he pulls them up for you, right against your still painfully wet cunt.

Hands on your shoulders, rubbing fondly when you shiver. “Excellent job, today. I’m so glad you came. Your health is very important to me.”

You believe him without even thinking about it.

Kenjaku guides you to the door with a hand on your waist, slipping your purse over your shoulder, steadying you. So attentive.

“Careful now,” His voice is low and steady and rumbles through you.

“You’re a beta, right, Doctor – Kenjaku?” You hear your voice ask.

“Well, I never said that,” Kenjaku gives you a wide, cryptic smile. “Alphas and omegas look just like betas until they present, male or female. There are many biological mechanisms connected to secondary sex development that are useful for gender affirmation therapies.”

“Oh,” You say, catching very little of his response.

A hand darts up to wipe some drool from the corner of your mouth. You can still taste the cherry.

You leave like that. Dripping from every hole.

Two days later when you’re just about to enter your heat, you get a call. Somehow, you’re right on the cusp of it, just barely coherent and able to converse.

“Hello there, my favorite patient. Your heat was so close, I was worried about you as your doctor. Do you have a partner for your heat, or do you need me to oversee your care?”

The answer leaves your lips before you know it –

“Please.”