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ebodebo · 5 months ago

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Hot For Teacher!

—professor!simon riley teaching anatomy… MDNI

(DISCLAIMER: in this fic, the reader is getting their master's, so reader is an adult! that said, this is still a student-professor relationship, so beware!)

"I heard he was from Germany….or somewhere."

"He's probably sooo old."

"I can't find his rate my professor anywhere!"

"I heard he only has one leg!"

Murmurs can be heard spread around the room; your fellow graduates flooded the lecture hall seats, not an empty seat out of fifty in site. They were itching with anticipation and anxiously awaiting the arrival of your new gross anatomy professor, including yourself.

You were even more nervous than when you had to present your senior thesis for your bachelor's to four of the most knowledgeable, bright minds you had ever come into contact with.

That was intimidating, but this somehow feels worse. You find yourself sinking into the squeaky plastic chair, praying that whoever walks through that door is as gracious and kind as your last professor.

Heavy steps echoed down the hallway, slowly and steadily etching closer and closer to the room you sat in. Your eyes nervously shifted up to look at the wide open front door, and you tapped your foot, restlessly, to a non-existent beat in your head.

The footsteps became louder and louder until the man finally stood in the doorway, sparing the class not even a singular glance. He steadily turned to the right and walked up to the chalkboard, back towards the class, carefully etching something onto the board with a small piece of chalk.

The murmurs around the room seized as the screeching noise of the chalk against the board bounced off the walls and went straight into everyone's eardrums.

It was a quick, illegible scribble.

He set the piece of chalk down and turned to face the class, eyes roaming around the room, allowing you to get a better look at him.

He wore a black surgical mask just below his nose, covering his lips and jaw. And, God, was he tall. He had to be at least six-two, maybe even six-four. He wore a charcoal gray button-up tight enough to display his broad shoulders and buff biceps, with kaki cargo pants that did nothing to hide his thick thighs.

Fuck, he was hot.

"Your last professor was quite lenient," his gravelly voice echoes around the room as he begins, leaning his hip on the table before him. "Don't expect that from me."

His eyes roamed some more, and the murmurs you heard about how hot he was seized as he spoke again. "If you think this class will be easy, you're sorely mistaken. Excellence is the bare minimum I expect from each of you," he sternly says. "I don't tolerate excuses. You're in the wrong place if you can't meet the deadlines."

You didn't know the first time meeting your professor would just end up with him lecturing you about his obscure conditions and rules like this was a damn military base.

You try to remember if this course was even required for your degree: it is.

"If you miss class, don't bother returning," he continues. The mood in the room had shifted entirely. There was no excitement left; it had been completely sucked out and replaced by regret and anguish. You swore you even saw some people with their computers quickly going to your university's directory, hoping they could still withdraw from a course.

"Lastly, mediocrity has no place in here. Push yourselves or find another course," he gruffed, pushing himself off the desk he leaned on and maneuvering back over to the chalkboard.

"What are the instructions on the board?" Your eyes snapped to a random girl raising her hand adjacent to you, and you were surprised by her bravery in speaking.

The professor glanced at the girl.

“Ah, yes. These are instructions on how to withdraw from this course if you so choose," he said. "Save me the headache and you, your dignity, and withdraw now if you cannot abide by my terms," he almost seemed disinterested. "Also, you will call me Dr. Riley."

He picked up the chalk, quickly etching a strand of words onto it. "These are my office hours," he says, setting the chalk back down. "Any questions?" He asked, turning to face the class.

Not a single peep can be heard. There was only a tiny squeak from one of the chairs. He crosses his arms. "Alright. Quiz tomorrow. Class dismissed," he concludes. You freeze up in your chair as everyone around you starts moving as quickly as possible to get out of there.

You're wondering what you learned today that could be material for a quiz. Instead of waiting behind to ask, you shuffle your things in a bag and speed walk out of there.

This was going to be a long semester.

It was three months in, and this class was kicking your ass.

No, that's not right. The class was outwardly blistering your entire existence. You pulled countless all-nighters to try and keep up with the material, but it was too much. There weren't enough hours in the day to study the copious amount of material.

It didn't help that Dr. Riley was a bit of a dick. He gave no leniency. Can't make the exam? Too bad. F. Didn't make class? Yikes. Get ready to recite the last lecture in front of the class when you return! Can't answer a question he asks? Well, well, it looks like we have a slacker on our hands. Have a lovely time writing an entire essay on the topic question you failed to answer!

"Can anyone explain the process of bone repair following a fracture?" Dr. Riley questions, taking his eyes off the chalkboard and turning towards the now half-full class. You snap out of your daydream, carefully looking back to your computer to continue typing what he writes.

Everyone averts their eyes from him to avoid getting called on. "No takers?" He asks once more, eyes narrowing slightly. You look over the top of your computer, eyes wondering over the messy array of notes he wrote to try and decipher them. "You," he says, flicking a finger towards you. "Give it a go."

Your eyes flick to his before widening in horror. Shit. You hadn't even gone over this week's slides because you were still working on the hundreds of slides from last week.

"Preferably today," he raises a brow, impatience written all over his face, crossing his arm over his chest. You take a deep breath, quickly scan your notes, and sublimely thank God you found what you needed.

"Well, first the bone goes through clot formation, then callus formation, then new bone tissue forms, then finally the bone remodels," you explain, issuing a polite smile after you finish, breathing out a sigh of relief as he nods.

"Uh-huh. It's a very interesting process. And do you know which of those processes has the longest duration?" He says blandly. You tilt your head a little, surprised to see he has another question.

"Well, I think that would be the bone remodeling," you affirm, shifting in your seat a little.

"And the shortest?" He quickly supplements.

"Clot formation?" You say unsurely.

"You seem unsure of your answer. Do you truly think it is clot formation?" He crosses his arms over his chest.

You were sure of it, but then again, why would he ask you if you thought it was wrong if it was right? You open your eyes wider, almost like you have just had an epiphany. "I—no. It's callus formation," you say matter-of-factly.

"Incorrect," he says, uncrossing his arms and turning his back to you. "I suggest trusting your instincts next time." You sink deeper into your chair, hoping that somehow it will shield you from his scrutiny.

"On that note, class dismissed." You quickly gather your belongings, but not before Dr. Riley pulls you aside to assign you a three-page, single-spaced essay about the formation of a bone after having a fracture due in two days.

"Also, be sure to discuss clot formation heavily," his voice carries a condescending tone. "So that when you present to the class, they understand the concept better than you did."

Your brows furrow a little. "Wait, I do understand—" You begin, though he interrupts.

"That's all," he cooly says, turning to grab his things from the desk in the front before switching the light switch off and stepping around you to leave the room. "See you and your paper Wednesday." You scowled as he turned away from you to go to his office.

This was such bullshit. You answered all his question, but God forbid you answer one incorrectly—well, not even incorrectly; he just made you feel it was wrong.

This was far from over.

"Dr. Riley. I, um, I don't understand why I have to write an essay," you found yourself saying later that day in his office, around six p.m. or so, when most of the faculty had already called it a night and left. His eyes stayed laser-focused on some papers he was going over.

"You didn't answer my question," he says, scribbling something on the paper.

You find yourself coming in, shutting the door behind you, and sitting on the chair before his desk. "Yes, I did. I answered all one hundred of them," you say matter-of-factly. The corners of his eyes crinkle as they finally flick to yours, clearly amused by your exaggeration.

"One hundred, huh?" He sets the pen down, leaning back in his chair, threading his fingers together. Your eyes wander to his arms. He had rolled up his sleeves to reveal his veiny forearms covered in tattoos.

You flick your eyes back to eyes in a panic, praying he didn't notice you essentially checking him out. "Yes, sir," you tried to keep your voice even.

"So, you want out of an essay I assigned to you?

"I—well. I was hoping…" You trail off, eyes averting his.

"No," his tone is authoritative, final. You release a small breath, sagging into the chair, feeling defeated. However, you caught your eyes wandering back to his forearms before moving up to his biceps. Fuck. They would have busted out of his button-down if they were any bigger.

He was a massive asshole. But, so fucking hot nonetheless. Had the most enormous thighs and arms you'd ever seen. Taller than anyone you'd ever met. Had a gruff, thick English accent you drooled over. Not to mention his raging ego, which did something for you.

"What is it?" Your eyes snap to his. Oh, God. Not again.

"Nothing," you said quickly. He looked puzzled. You sat back in the chair, smiling awkwardly. He followed, leaning back in his seat and spreading his legs wider to get more comfortable.

You find your eyes drifting down, observing his clothed cock in his pants. "Nothing? Huh?" The corner of his lip quirks. You stare back at him; your face is hot, and your hands are clammy.

This time, there was no denying what it was you were ogling so intently.

"Listen," he sits up a bit, placing his elbows on his desk and threading his fingers together. "I sympathize with your situation." You raise a brow because there is no way in hell he was sympathetic. His lip quips at your expression. "So, I believe I have a solution to your dilemma." That has you perking up in your seat, feeling a sense of hope.

"It's a bit...unorthodox," he mumbles, eyes boring into yours.

You squint your eyes in confusion. "Okay..." You trail off uneasily, sitting up a little straighter. "What did you have in mind?" He tilts his head up a little, carefully observing your face, before standing up and gripping the knot of the tie and carefully pulling it down so it rests lazily on his sternum.

"Tell me," he prompts, easing his way around his desk to lean against the side you sit in front of. "What is it that caught your attention earlier?" You raise a brow, not only at his new position but also at his question.

"Pardon?" You prod. He lets out a small, scruffy, breathy laugh, crossing his arms over his chest and showcasing his huge biceps again. You release a slight breath as your eyes wander back to his arms. He tilts his head back as he examines your facial expression, dragging his eyes down your line of sight. He gives a breathy laugh as he realizes you are shamelessly checking him out.

"Mhm," he hums. You snap your eyes to him in an instant, though this time you aren't embarrassed at the notion of him catching you. No. You wanted him to notice. Maybe, just maybe, then he'd finally find the courage to fuck you over his desk like you'd wanted since the first day he had arrived. "Your mind seems elsewhere," he observes.

"No, I'm—I'm just thinking," you whir, sitting in your chair.

He tilts his head back slightly. "What about?" His tone dripped with condescendence. He most definitely knew. He could read you like one of those fancy anatomy books he frequented. You lean back in your chair, legs spreading ever so slightly. His eyes glided to leer at your slightly agape legs.

God, you had on that little fucking skirt you wore every so often. The damned thing was a couple of pieces of denim fabric. Not too short, but, ya, if you opened your legs at just the right angle, you could get a nice shot of your panties underneath. How lucky for your professor, who was at the receiving end of that.

"Oh, I don't know. Just things, you know?" You spread your legs just a little wider, and you swear you hear him release a breath. "It's the first day of fall tomorrow. Did you know that?" You casually say, spreading your legs that much further so he could get a better view of the wet spot already growing in your panties at him watching you.

"I did." His voice was dry; he was surprised to get a damn word out.

"Crazy, huh? Also, I'm thinking about our lecture tomorrow. What's it going to be on anyway?" You find yourself dragging your hand up your leg to the buttons of your shirt, carefully unclasping each of them gently. He could feel his cock straining against his jeans seeing you, legs spread, fingers fiddling with your cute little button-up top with frilly sleeves.

"Sexual reproduction," he gruffs, fingers moving to undo the buttons on his shirt. You get the final button of your shirt unclasped, carefully sliding it off and onto the floor, revealing a lacy bra that matches your panties. You honestly thought you'd be more nervous, but with a guy that hot and educated staring at you like you were the sexiest thing alive, how could you be?

"Maybe I should get a head-start, no?" You proposed as he unclasped his final button, slipping his shirt entirely off. Good-God. The man was chiseled and hairy. The scars etched into his skin only made him that much sexier. He reached for his tie next. "No, no. Leave it on," you voice, getting up from your chair to stand before him.

His greedy hands instantly sought refuge on your waist, dragging his fingertips along the waistband of your panties, giving them a little pull. You release a slight whine as the elastic slaps back onto your skin.

"Like fuckin' music to my ears," he groans, pulling you flush to his body, ripping his mask off to encapsulate your lips with his hungry ones.

You yelp into his mouth at the sudden sensation, though you find yourself getting into a rough rhythm. His hand's paw at your ass as yours covetously grips his shoulders. Although you were flush against him, you sought more contact. "I need—I need," you whined in his mouth.

"Need me to what? Say it," he urged, hands slipping to thread through your hair, pulling it gently. Your mouth falls agape at the action, allowing him to slip his tongue in your mouth. You moan into his mouth once more.

"I need you to—to," you stutter, unable to speak from how out of breathe you were.

"Say it," he hissed, pulling your hair harder.

"Fuck me. Please," you finally managed to say. He wasted no time picking you up by the back of the thighs and hastily placing you on his desk, flinging the loose papers and books that dawned it on the floor.

You reached between you to undo his belt and pant button as he slipped your panties down so they dangled loosely around your ankles.

Your lips never disconnecting once.

Once you got his pants undown and he your panties, he gripped your waist, hoisting you so he could pound his cock into you. You both moan at the contact, gripping each other tighter.

"Fuck," he groans, "Feel so good." You press your lips back to his as he makes work pummeling into you, his hands digging into the flesh of your hips to get as much friction as he can.

You were sure you'd have purple and blue bruises tomorrow.

He brings his mouth to nip and kiss at the side of your neck, his teeth gently grazing against the sensitive skin. "Drivin' me fuckin' insane," he grits, teeth nipping your skin again. You whined, bringing your hands to thread through his hair.

"I drive you insane?" You breathe out, dumbfounded, his cock still sliding in and out of you at a hurried pace. His tongue brushes your neck until it reaches your lips, quickly bullying itself into the sanctity of your mouth.

"Such a good student. Aren't you?" He gruffs into your lips; your mouth hangs agape at the feeling of him in you. "Always do such good work. Don't you, sweetheart?" You moan at his words; he presses a thumb to stimulate your clit. "Fuck—you, you drive me mad," he grits, moving his thumb faster.

You let a string of incoherent words, too caught up with his cock in you and thumb on you to form any real words.

"Huh? Ya, ya. But you must know that already. Or else you wouldn't have worn this—" he signals to the matching bra and panty set you had worn, "to meet with me," he finishes. You respond with another pathetic whimper, feeling your impending climax.

The moment he whispers into the shell of your ear, "Better come quick, or I may change my mind about that paper," you're a goner. You clamp around him at record speed, gripping his shoulders impossibly tighter, as you loudly moan in his mouth. His fingers dig deeper into the fat of your hips as his orgasm chases yours.

It takes both of you a second to catch your breaths, both heaving and chests rising with much pace. After you have caught your breath, he helps ease you off his desk, deftly reaching for your panties that slipped off your ankles in a frenzy and softly putting them back on you, followed by your skirt resting on the floor nearby.

You slipped your shirt back on, buttoning it as he focused on dressing himself. It didn't feel awkward like you had thought it was going to. Sure, it was quiet, but it was comforting.

You grabbed your bookbag, giving him a slight smile as you walked over to the closed door. "I appreciate you meeting with me. See you tomorrow, Dr. Riley," you kindly say.

He nodded, pulling his tie to rest neatly on his neck. "Don't forget about the paper," he plainly said, moving to pick up some of the loose papers on the floor.

A confused expression overtook your face. "I thought—" you began.

"I don't play favorites, sweetheart," he interrupted. "Write the paper."

Okay, he was still a dick, but oh well, sure, you'd write the damn paper, maybe even put a couple of errors in it so that he could deduct some points off, and you could request to meet with him again.

Ya, that sounded like a fine plan indeed.

a/n: inspired by a lovely who commented on my poll about professor!simon <33 @aiqsa (this took me so long omg)

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

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agustdiv1ne · 2 years ago

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💨‧₊˚.° 11:58 p.m. (m) — choi yeonjun & kang taehyun

genre: smսt, threesome, doms!fratboys!taejun, sub!fem!reader, friends to ???, high sex + car sex = 😵‍💫

wc: 4.9k (someone sedate me pls)

becoming friends with frat boys was never part of your plan for college.

alas, here you are, two of them basically surgically attached to your hip. your first semester of junior year has been full of surprises thus far, your blooming friendship with yeonjun and taehyun being the most significant one; what started out as partners for a project has transformed into a close friendship with the two guys, and your new norm now consists of grabbing starbucks together before heading to class, hitting the gym with either one or both of them in tow, and — for better or for worse — attending their frat’s infamous parties every weekend.

and lucky you: you’ve just arrived at one.

as you climb the steps of tau chi tau’s gigantic house, you spot the bright blond hair of one of the pledges on door duty — your favorite pledge, actually.

“sunoo!” you greet, tackling him into a hug as soon as you reach him. he reciprocates easily, his lips curling into a small smile before he’s pulling away.

“you’re late,” he teases. “your boyfriends are already high off their asses.”

you scoff, nudging his shoulder with a closed fist. “first of all, they’re not my boyfriends. second of all, they knew i wasn’t gonna be here for a while, and i promised i’d be their d.d. tonight, so,” you shrug. he rolls his eyes playfully, but opens the door for you anyway.

“yeah, yeah, whatever. they should be in the basement,” he says, gesturing for you to go inside. “just be careful, it reeks down there.”

you laugh. “thanks, dude.”

as the front door shuts behind you, you take in the state of the house. the air is hot and humid against your skin, your shoes getting stuck on the floor that is covered with liquids you’d rather not identify. some rap song pounds in your ears, and you nod your head along to the beat as you slip between a small space between two groups, finally reaching the door that leads down to the basement. the moment you swing it open, the potent stench of weed bombards your senses. your nose scrunches up — sunoo wasn’t wrong.

in vain, you wave your hand in front of your face as you make your descent. the haze floating in the air grows a bit thicker the further that you go, your only goal now being to get them out of here before you start feeling the effects as well. you eventually have to drive, for christ’s sake, and you’re not looking to get a dui anytime soon. with one last step, you make it to the bottom of the staircase. the music is quieter down here, but the smell is far worse than upstairs. a familiar laugh pulls your attention to the couch facing away from you, two very familiar heads of hair catching your attention. as you sneak up behind them, you press your index finger against your lips, silently telling beomgyu — who sits on the couch opposite to them — to keep quiet. he simply smirks at you.

“y/n’s here,” he calls. annoyed, you flip him the bird and send him a scalding glare before leaning over the back of the couch, your scowl quickly being replaced by a grin. two pairs of red-rimmed eyes find yours, widening in tandem when they register that you are, in fact, there.

“my baby!” yeonjun cries, his hands reaching up to pull you down towards him. his lips meet your forehead, pressing an aggressive kiss there, palms squishing your cheeks to hold you in place. you struggle to pull away from his grip, ignoring his pout and insistent grabby hands once you do. you sate him by linking your fingers with his.

“you’re later than usual,” taehyun comments from next to him, a smile permanently etched on his lips, the sight a testament to his inebriated state. unlike yeonjun, he doesn’t move to touch you, perfectly content with watching.

“i literally told you earlier that i had a paper due at twelve,” you remind him, removing your hands from yeonjun’s as you round the side of the couch, aiming to sit on the arm of it. that is, until yeonjun pulls you between them so that you rest on his left thigh and taehyun’s right. yeonjun wraps an arm around your waist, while taehyun rests a hand on your upper thigh. you try your best not to squirm. they’re your friends, but you’re not fucking blind.

“you could’ve asked me for help,” taehyun murmurs close to your ear, squeezing the meat of your thigh. his warm breath tickles the side of your neck, and you gulp. directly across from you, beomgyu meets your flustered gaze, an amused eyebrow raised as he sinks further into the couch. you tear your eyes away from him to focus on your fingers twiddling in your lap.

“i-i didn’t wanna bother you,” you admit, and he emits a giggle. the hand not sitting on your thigh reaches over to pinch your cheek.

“you’re so cute,” he coos, and for some reason, the praise goes straight to your center. “i wouldn’t’ve minded.”

okay, time to go. you don’t think you can handle any more of their pda, and you’re starting to feel a bit weird after inhaling all of that smoke. if you want to get to their apartment, you need to leave right now. standing, you stretch your limbs in a poor attempt to rid them of their shakiness.

“time to go,” you voice, turning to face them. their eyes are dark and hooded as they look up at you. you falter a bit, stumbling when yeonjun rapidly leans forward and gathers you in his arms again.

“but i don’t wannaaaa!” yeonjun whines, pulling you back onto the couch and straight onto his lap, his grip around your waist tightening enough that you’re pulled against his chest. “ten more minutes!”

sighing, you wiggle in his grasp, to no avail. you look over at taehyun for help, only to find him laughing at the sight. then, an idea pops into your mind, something that you know will appeal to both of them.

you turn your head towards yeonjun. “what if i take you to mcdonald’s?”

that gets them going. after one last odd look and crude gesture from beomgyu, you guide them out of the house and into yeonjun’s car. taehyun rides shotgun, while yeonjun mumbles in the back about how that’s unfair treatment — it’s his car, after all. despite yeonjun’s initial complaints, the drive over to the closest mcdonald’s is filled with loud, off-key singing from yeonjun and hysterical giggles from taehyun. it makes your eyes roll, but a tiny grin pulls at your lips all the while.

“you’re lucky i love you guys,” you mumble, pulling into a spot in the parking lot after giving the drive-through worker the largest order that they have probably ever received, digging into your mcflurry as they silently inhale their burgers, fries, and their own mcflurrys. the pace at which they eat both impresses and terrifies you.

as soon as all three of you have finished, you begin the drive over to their place. you assume that they will let you stay over given how late it is, and it’s not as if they’ve ever minded before. after a few minutes, you realize how oddly quiet they’re being, and you look over to find taehyun staring at you, eyes unblinking and full of an emotion you can’t quite place. you whip your head back to the road — until you hear a sharp shink from the back. looking through the rearview mirror, you find yeonjun’s lighter poised to a brand new joint that rests between his plush lips, the flame bright and inching closer and closer to the paper.

“dude, you are not about to hotbox this car,” you groan. “put the fucking lighter down.”

“it’s my car. i can do whatever i want,” he mumbles in defiance, the lighter moving precariously closer again and illuminating his face in the dark backseat. you swing an arm between the two front seats in a poor attempt to grab the lighter. a hand moving to your thigh — taehyun’s hand — and squeezing nearly causes you to swerve the car before you gain control again.

you glance over at the boy next to you as his fingers trail up and down your inner thigh, panic lacing your pupils, but you are distracted once again when the flame in your peripherals returns. “yeonjun, i swear to god—”

“don’t you want some?” taehyun interrupts, his hand stilling on a patch of skin high on your thigh, dangerously close to your center. “you worked hard today, you should let loose.”

you do. you really, really do. the stress built up in your muscles has become almost overbearing, and you’d think that it would be gone after your paper was out of the way, but no. honestly, all you want to do right now is relax, and taehyun’s offer is more than tempting — but you also don’t want to crash yeonjun’s car. at the same time, you are within walking distance to their apartment, so maybe…

“fine. just— just let me park first,” you concede, pulling into the nearest empty parking lot, parking in the dark back corner and subsequently cutting the headlights. twisting in your seat, you find yeonjun already prepared with an old pill bottle full of pre-rolled joints. an insane amount of them, actually. you snatch one and place it between your lips, reaching for the lighter in yeonjun’s other hand, only for him to pull it away.

“nuh-uh,” he drawls with a lazy smirk. “c’mere.”

in curiosity, you lean forward, wondering what, exactly, his game is. he sets the bottle down, and his fingers reach up to grip your chin, fingertips lightly digging into the skin as he brings the lighter up and lights the joint for you. your stomach flips, your thighs automatically closing around taehyun’s hand. wrenching your face away, you turn towards the front again, heart racing in your chest as you take your first hit. then another. you block out the other two as you allow your high to take over. you don’t notice taehyun’s grip on you slip away.

over the course of what you think is a few minutes, your body begins to relax into the seat, head thrown back against the headrest as your brain fogs up. blurry eyes stare up at the gray ceiling. you eventually register just how hot it is, then notice the sheer amount of smoke that’s floating past your vision. a finger pokes your cheek, and you follow the hand back to taehyun. you smile subconsciously.

“such a lightweight, so cute,” he says, tapping his finger against your cheek again. you notice that he doesn’t have a joint of his own. “gimme a hit.”

“get your own,” you reply with a defiant hum, cheeks warming as you jokingly shield your joint with your body. he sighs.

“c’mon, i just wanna try something. you trust me, right?” he murmurs. blinking hard, it takes you a moment to send him a lethargic nod. he peels the joint from your fingers with ease. “come closer.”

you obey, leaning over until mere inches separate your faces. he grabs you by the collar of your t-shirt, urging you to come closer. his eyes flit to your lips before they meet your gaze again — as if the weed wasn’t enough, this whole situation is rendering you even dizzier.

silently, he pushes a thumb against your lips, pressing forward to part them. your mouth immediately accommodates the digit, and it presses against your tongue for a moment before dragging down to your bottom lip, your saliva mixing with your lipgloss. something quiet and pathetic sounds from your throat, your breath stuttering in your chest when he bites down on his own lip, his big, wide eyes far from innocent as he stares at you.

“keep it open,” he quietly orders, voice low and demanding, before he removes his thumb completely. you sit there, mouth agape like a fish out of water while he places your joint to his lips and inhales deeply. the seam of his lips closes immediately. then, he leans in, his lips mere millimeters away from yours. he holds your gaze as he opens his mouth and blows the smoke into your mouth, and you inhale it with a shaky breath. it travels down your throat and deep into your lungs, but the heat that spreads through your body isn’t from the smoke — no, it’s something overwhelmingly feverish. needy, wanton.

the moment your eyes flutter close, taehyun’s lips are on yours, the taste of him sweet from the ice cream he ate earlier. the smoke you exhale passes between your parted mouths, drifting out into the cabin of the car. he feels around for the cupholder, then for his soda, using a single hand to pop open the lid before he’s dunking the lit blunt into the liquid, the movement of his lips unwavering all the while. he wastes no time in curling his palm around the nape of your neck, pulling you closer as he devours you whole.

“holy fuck,” you vaguely hear yeonjun gasp, too far gone in the sensation of the languid, saliva-slicked kiss. it feels as if you are floating on top of a cloud, and you move to grab at his bicep to ground yourself. taehyun slips his tongue past your lips, curling the muscle around your own and immediately establishing his power over you. whining into his mouth, you attempt to pull away, only for yeonjun to cup your face and take over the kiss. taehyun’s hand slides down your neck and to one of your covered breasts, groping the soft mound of flesh over the fabric of your t-shirt. you moan into yeonjun’s mouth.

gentle hands pull you over the center console and into the back, yet yeonjun doesn’t break the kiss as he gathers you in his lap, your trembling thighs straddling his hips. you feel his cock press directly into your center when presses you down by your hips. your arms throw themselves around his neck, your lips slotting against his like a matching puzzle piece. the car rocks when taehyun slinks to the back as well, but yeonjun refuses to share you, hips angling upwards to grind his boner harder against your panty-clad core.

“quit hogging her, you asshole,” taehyun growls from next to you, flipping your skirt up in the process to reveal your lacy panties to their eyes. the man next to you caresses the swell of your ass before landing a light smack. you jolt on top of yeonjun with a pathetic squeak, and his hand comes down again. in stark contrast to his actions, his tone is kind, perhaps a bit condescending, as he addresses you, “ooh, that feels good, doesn’t it? our baby likes to be spanked?”

their baby? something warm fills your veins at that, a quiet whimper muffled by yeonjun’s mouth. with the thin fabric of your panties embarrassingly sticking to your folds, you tear your lips away from yeonjun’s to hide your face in his chest, unable to face either of them. however, the rhythm of your hips does not falter. yeonjun forces you to look at taehyun with a firm grip that squishes your cheeks together, your lip puckering involuntarily.

“answer him.” his warm breath fans over your ear as he speaks. a shiver racks your body despite the feverish heat surging through your body. knowing your voice will betray you, you opt for a shaky nod.

taehyun’s gaze burns into your own, the blunt, rounded edges sharpened by lust. his dark pupils are the only thing that you can see in full clarity, the rest a foggy blur. “use your words.”

“yes,” you mumble, eyes screwed shut and your cheeks hotter than they’ve ever felt before. the feeling has spread down to your neck, your chest, the epicenter settling in your lower stomach. it festers there and tears at your insides like a feral beast and all you can think about is them — them using you, them fucking you. your breathing grows heavier before you feel a tap to your cheek, the skin stinging at the contact.

“open your eyes, baby.”

you’re not sure who says it, but either way, you submit. eyelids fluttering open, you find both of them peering at you like two wolves stalking a soft, wide-eyed little lamb. your tongue feels like sandpaper in your mouth when they exchange scheming looks, their hands all over you as they maneuver your body as if you’re a doll. when did they plan this? how did you not notice their soft murmurs?

you end up sitting between them, legs spread wide with one leg thrown over each of their laps. taehyun aims his focus towards your breasts, shoving your t-shirt up and yanking your bra down with little care, a hand tweaking one of your tits as the other curls itself in your hair and yanking your head back against the headrest. you cry at the sensation of his lips mouthing at your neck and his fingers pulling and groping your sensitive flesh. on the other side of you, yeonjun wastes no time in attempting to divert your attention back to him. shifting your panties to the side, he caresses your folds before dipping down to your entrance and groaning.

“oh my god, you’re fucking soaked,” he groans as he gathers your wetness on his fingertips. “tae, you gotta feel her.”

said man’s hand leaves your breast, reaching down to join yeonjun’s at your center. a light brush over your clit causes your hips to twitch before he’s reaching down to swipe your entrance and—

“shit, you’re right,” taehyun breathes against your neck. “that’s so hot.”

without speaking, they begin to work in tandem as they pick you apart. a quiet, barely there voice in the back of your mind wonders if they’ve done this before, but that thought is quickly shooed away once two of yeonjun’s long fingers slide into your needy hole to the knuckle, the delicious stretch of your walls causing you to keen. your spine arches off of the seat when he begins to slide them in and out, curling up and grinding into that sensitive little spot inside you that you can never quite hit. meanwhile, taehyun ghosts a finger over your clit that aches for stimulation, his free hand digging into your thigh to keep you spread wide for them, your leg twitching in his grasp. he circles the sensitive bud as yeonjun adds a third finger to the mix, his movements growing faster as he feels your walls relax around his digits. taehyun ducks his head down to your breast, wrapping his lips around your nipple, his teeth scraping lightly against it. crying out, you plead for them to keep going.

“such a tight little pussy,” yeonjun rambles directly into your ear, and you clench around his fingers. he nibbles at your earlobe before he continues, voice deep and growly and too much. fuck, it’s too much. “you look s’sexy right now, y’know that? so fuckin’ pretty. gonna make sure you can’t think about anything but us— gonna fuck you so dumb, baby. haven't even had our cocks ‘n you’re already losing it. s’cute.”

with how wound up you are already, it doesn’t take long for the heat building in your stomach to bubble over, the overwhelming sensations all over your body coaxing you through your intense orgasm, waves a pleasure wracking your trembling body, your release coating yeonjun’s fingers while taehyun leans up to capture your lips. your whimpers are muffled by his mouth. the pleasure seems to have no beginning nor end, dizzying and causing your mind to drift somewhere far away, barely able to reciprocate the kiss. neither of them stop their ministrations until you’re pawing at their hands with a pitiful whine, your words staccato and incoherent.

you sit there, chest heaving and your clothes disheveled, barely able to comprehend the way the two boys argue over who should have you first. hands fly in front of your vision, a closed fist versus a flat hand, and though you can barely see through the smoke floating through the air and your terribly cloudy vision, you recognize that they’re playing a petty game of rock-paper-scissors. a dopey giggle shakes your body as you throw your head back against the back seat. they share a concerned glance.

“y/n? can you look at me?” taehyun carefully asks. your empty-headed grin remains on your face while you turn to face him, humming in half-baked acknowledgment. he frowns, a hand coming up to cup your face as he takes in your red-rimmed, glazed over eyes. he peers around you towards yeonjun. “i don’t know if she can take more, jun.”

the words sober you up slightly, your grin dropping. “n-no! wan’ more, wan’ your cocks,” you ramble. “need them, please.”

“you heard her. she needs us,” yeonjun muses, already reaching for your loose limbs. “‘n i won, so c’mere, baby.”

yeonjun gathers you into his lap like earlier. this time, however, you feel his tip pressing at your fluttering entrance, an arm around your waist to hold you up. he looks up at you with a smirk. “ready, baby?”

you nod, and he wastes no time to begin slowly pushing your hips down. the flared, leaky head of his cock breaches your entrance. you whine, walls fluttering around him already as he moans. the rest of him presses into you inch by inch. it seems as if you can feel him everywhere — in your stomach, in your throat, the length of his cock almost too much for you to handle. the tip curves perfectly against your, his shaft grinding against your g-spot as he gently rocks his hips, allowing you to adjust to the overwhelming stretch. your whines grow pitchier as he finds his rhythm, hands on your waist as he bounces you up and down on his cock. he curses under his breath, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise. he watches you with his tongue between his teeth, lips curled into something cruel and patronizing.

“feelin’ good, pretty?” he breathes, eyes rolling back into his skull as he begins to snap his hips to meet your own. the slap of skin grows louder, echoing throughout the car along with each of your moans and whines. your eyelids flutter, speechless, a cry tearing from your throat when he swipes a thumb over your slick clit, your walls tightening further around him. he doesn’t seem to mind your lack of response, and with a string of curses, he slams you down harder, lips clashing with yours as both of you chase your highs. desperation coats your tongues as he bites down on your bottom lip, pulling it back as you whine, clinging to him desperately, nails biting his skin and leaving deep half-moons in their wake. the slight sting of pain spurs him on, pulling away to spew filthy words into your ear.

“gonna fuckin’ cum deep inside you— ohh fuck, you seem to want that, hm? t-tightened so much around me. you need my cum, don’t you? say you need it,” he demands, holding your face close to his, dark pupils searing into your skin. a light slap to your cheek wakes you up a little. “c’mon— shit. say it or i won’t give it to you.”

“n-need it!” you unabashedly sob, feeling your high hit you. “please, jjunie, cum in me. pleasepleasepleaseplease—”

a deep groan cuts your pleas off, a warmth that floods your walls following close behind. he paints your insides white as he whimpers against your neck, hips twitching as he fucks it further into your hole. you quiver on top of him, holding him close with your arms slung around his neck, nearly in tears at how amazing it feels, sweat clinging to your skin and sticking to your shirt. it takes you much longer to come down this time, your body twitching erratically as the aftershocks continue to roll through your body.

“jesus christ,” taehyun mutters next to you, and you remove your face from yeonjun’s violet hair to look over at him. his cock lays heavy in his hand, veins bulging as he strokes up and down, pausing at the top to swipe the bead of precum at the tip and smear it over the angry head. the sight causes your mouth to water. the urge to feel him against your tongue is almost too much for you to bear. sliding off of yeonjun with a whine and sore legs, you go to lean down for a taste — before taehyun stops you with a firm hand.

“what do you think you’re doing?” he asks, jaw set as he leers over you.

“i-i just wanted to—”

“nuh-uh, baby. you don’t just get to do what you want. jun and i are in charge here,” he says, squeezing your jaw roughly. “now, get on your back. head on jun’s lap.”

silently, you do just that, finding yeonjun’s dick already rock hard again right near your face. your juices mixed with his cum gives his lengthy cock a light sheen in the low light, but your attention is soon pulled back to taehyun when he wraps his legs around his waist. towering above you, he guides his head along your slick folds, smearing the remnants of your and yeonjun’s last orgasm along himself. he taps it against your clit, chuckling when your hips jump.

“such a sensitive little thing,” he coos. taehyun doesn’t warn you as he guides his cock to your entrance and pushes his hips forward in one fluid motion, burying himself to the hilt in seconds. the feeling of his cock inside you is far different than yeonjun’s; taehyun’s is a little shorter, but much thicker, the stretch of your hole borderline painful.

“h-holy fuck, you’re tight,” he gasps, voice sharp as he tries to hold himself together, resting there for a moment as he allows you to adjust to the sudden intrusion. the moment your hips start to grind against him, his jaw ticks, rolling his hips into you as he watches your brows furrow and mouth fall open into an ‘o.’ hands grip your waist as his thrusts quickly sharpen, harder and deeper and cruel. you blink up at him, whining. smoke hangs around his head like a halo, but the cruel snap of his hips is far from holy.

diverting your gaze away, yeonjun poises his tip at your lips for you to suckle, breathing shaky as your soft tongue delivers kitten licks to the head. just as he curls a hand in your hair, you slip your tongue into the small slit at the very top as your moans vibrate against him, reveling in how he hisses at the feeling, his thighs flexing beneath your head. your dopey smile returns, eyes rolling back as taehyun continues his hard thrusts, quiet grunts falling from his lips as angles his hips upward in an attempt to get your gaze back on him. it works, your eyes widening adorably as he presses his cock right against your g-spot. his teeth graze his bottom lip, biting down hard when he feels you clench around him, a direct result of yeonjun tweaking one of your puffy nipples.

taehyun is quiet as he fucks you, only quiet curses coming from him as he uses your body to chase his orgasm. a hand slides up your stomach to wrap loosely around your throat. he barely puts any pressure, but it’s enough to send you reeling, a third high, weaker in magnitude washing over you. after the amount of teasing he put himself through earlier, taehyun isn’t far behind, fingers slightly tightening against your neck as he thrusts into you quicker, coaxing you through your orgasm as his own finally hits him. his moans are high-pitched and whiny as he spills inside you, his cum mixing with yours and yeonjun’s, sticky and hot and satisfying. yeonjun cums against your lips immediately after, forcing you to take his tip into your mouth to taste him. you greedily swallow his release, allowing him to gather the escaped liquid with his fingers and shove it against your tongue.

pulling out, taehyun watches as the thick, white liquid spills from your hole and onto yeonjun’s leather seats. he gulps, pushing it back into you with thin, lithe fingers as you barely react, brain practically rendered mush.

“that was…wow,” yeonjun mumbles, caressing your cheek as your eyelids flicker closed. taehyun hums in agreement as he fixes your clothes back into their proper place. lethargic and dumb and feeling so, so warm and full, you drift off into quiet, bleary dreams. their voices seem far away now, their tones faintly worried at your state. a cool feeling washes over your body, causing you to shiver, eyes blinking open for a moment to find the windows now rolled down, airing out the smoke. the cool air feels fresh in your lungs; you’re grateful for it. you close your eyes again, finally passing out for good.

none of you are sure where this situation will lead when you wake…but you suppose you’ll just have to cross that bridge when you get to it.

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madamechrissy · 3 months ago

Text

=͟͟͞♡ Healing Hearts =͟͟͞♡

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

=͟͟͞♡ Contents/warnings- MDNI- Warnings- overuse/incorrect use of prescription meds, angsty asf in places, scene of a medical procedure, death of a patient )at the beginning) heavy subject matter, some sexual tension. Reader, 26, Dr. Gojo 34- Grey's vibes ✨️

=͟͟͞♡ Word Count- this chap- 8k

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

♡ Reblogs and comments appreciated ♡

=͟͟͞♡<<<Part Five =͟͟͞♡ Playlist =͟͟͞♡ Masterlist =͟͟͞♡ Part Seven>>>

Part Six

Satoru has a morning routine.

Skincare? Well a splash of cold water on his face, he’s been lucky enough to have insane genetics, in his mid thirties he could pass for a college student, not a line on his perfect skin. But that was really all he did, that splash of cold water every morning, as he then starts to take his morning cocktail, after that he makes himself eat something, then brushes his teeth.

After that, he gets ready for the day, and as that Adderall mixes with his morning coffee? Fuck it’s perfection. Then when the Kolonopin hits right along with it, Satoru’s mind is blissfully open, and he’s able to focus on what he does best, saving lives. One doesn’t just become the best doctor there is, no that takes time, precision, and a lot of sacrifice.

Satoru is alone, usually. For a night he had you in here, in his bed and snuggled against him, and fuck he enjoyed it, which terrifies him. It’s been a week since he’s been able to do more than sneak hungry kisses with you in the locker room of the hospital, your schedule is longer than even his as you’re an intern, recently you worked twenty four hours straight.

Fuck he admires you, how even exhausted and dead on your feet, you manage to put a bright smile on your face, he’d love to just take care of you, but you have to go through this to truly become a great doctor. But he finds himself missing you, constantly thinking about you. You’ve become a fixation, a sort of obsession, he wants to know so much more about you.

He wants your body to fall apart under him again, wants to taste your arousal on his tongue, feel you clench around his fingers, watch as your cheeks flush and your hips raise for him. He wants you naked in his bed, but he also knows he’s just not good enough for you, for what you want and need.

But he’s selfish.

It’s almost Christmas, and the snow has piled up as he slides into his warmed up car, thinking of you and your ancient SUV, he hopes you at least have heat. His drive to the hospital is quiet, no music, as he takes another pill, this one is his Xanax, something about Klonopin and Xanax is blissful. Any stress he has gets replaced by a ton of ‘I don’t give any fucks’.

He knows you saw, you haven’t mentioned it though, and tonight he’s supposed to actually get you on this date. He wants time with just you, no other distractions, being inside of you is better than any cocktail of benzos he could dream of. If it was all his life consisted of, maybe he could go without it.

But the real world is just that.

The waiting room is packed, Satoru instantly goes into doctor mode, getting one lady in a wheelchair who’s vomiting blood, and he thanks god for that xanax, to help him through. He thanks god (or medicine rather) for the adderall making him have enough energy to run back and forth like a madman, helping everyone he can.

He helps the med students, the interns, the patients, the doctors on the floor who all come to him. ‘Dr. Gojo’ this ‘Please, Dr. Gojo- a minute’ that. Can you check this patient, can you check this scan, all while he’s got his eyes on his four interns, including the girl consuming him, the girl with exhausted eyes and shoulders that just look too narrow lately.

The girl he makes eat something because she’s been here all night helping a baby after a rough c section. He finds you in the nicu, with your hand inside the incubator, when he holds the coffee and muffin he’s brought you. But he pauses to watch you, as you mesmerize him with your pretty smile, singing something to the itty bitty baby.

“Does that actually help? I’ve heard it does.” Satoru murmurs, you jolt just a bit, looking up at him nervously.

“I think they enjoy the interaction, do you know if baby’s don’t get it they just… won’t make it?” You gulp as you speak, before continuing to hum.

“Shoko says you’ve been at it all night, why not eat a little something?” He suggests, you sigh, nodding then, taking off your gloves, going to wash your hands and pat them dry.

“You’re so sweet, thank you.” You give him a little kiss, and he exhales, setting your things down to pull you close.

“I miss you, can you hate babies already so you’re back on my floor?” You giggle breathlessly then.

“No, sorry. I miss you too.” You kiss him slowly, softly, your lips little brushes against his, in an easy rhythm that feels so natural, so perfect.

“Fine, one more day then I want you back.”

“Needy for me?” You tease, and he exhales, nodding. “I can’t wait for us to have a date, if shit doesn’t hit the fan.”

“When doesn’t it? Alright, you eat Missy.”

“Thank you Satoru.” You kiss him again, he pulls you so tight, like he can’t get you close enough, before letting you go.

After eating your breakfast/lunch/dinner - that muffin encompasses all of your overnight shift - you’re yawning when Shoko comes to you. “Emergency c section, you ready for this, intern?”

“Ready.” You’re scrubbing in now with Dr. Shoko, as the patient is prepped and sedated, falling into a slumber.

“She was a drug user, the entirety of the pregnancy.” Shoko informs you softly, as well as the others, and you pause then, looking up at her soft brown eyes behind her glasses.

“Is that why she’s so small?” You murmur, she looks maybe three months pregnant at best.

“Mmhm, it’s not the first. Four of them had fetal problems, two made it and were sent to child protective services.”

“Four!?” Shoko sighs, nodding as she starts prepping her, drawing a line with a marker over her lower abdomen.

The surgery begins, you’re trying to keep your eyes on the procedure, not the heart rate monitor of the baby you heard earlier, already so faint there’s likely no chance. You don’t need to hear the baby’s heart drop, not when you know what that means, not when it’s one of your worst fears in this job so far.

You know all lives are important, but something about a sweet, precious baby not making it makes you question anything and everything, kids in general, it’s so much to handle so much. You know you can’t let it get you, you have to do what you do with all patients, focus.

Satoru wants you to dislike babies, to know better, but where he’s wrong is working with Shoko has you more in love with them. But you could do without, without having children, even if it’s heartbreaking to think of, if it meant having Satoru’s love. You could put that aside and respect him, but right now all you can think of is how badly you hope this baby has a chance.

“Scalpel.” You watch as Shoko makes the incision, a perfect line, and you’re trying to keep your breath even as you watch her pull back the skin, the muscle, the fat, until she’s finally cutting toward the uterus.

You both are resting pieces of this woman’s small body on her nearly flat, open stomach, one of the oddest parts of the procedure. “Not much blood, that’s good.”

“Yes, here.” Then you see it, the uterus as Shoko hands you the scalpel. “You can do this.”

You take it with sure hands, a sense of dread filling you, one you’ve felt before, but you shove it down, as you delicately cut to reveal the baby, so tiny and blue, and not moving whatsoever. You swallow down the bile in your throat, taking a deep breath behind your mask as you start to suction its nose and mouth, it’s little limbs twitching slightly for just a moment.

“Come on, come on little one, breathe, please.” You whisper, your voice hoarse as you try to get it to breathe, taking the little boy to the little table as Shoko stitches the mom back up.

You’re intubating the baby that’s not crying, you’re giving it oxygen, you’re doing the little compressions, and you can’t hold back the tears that fall as you realize there’s no chance. This baby is maybe five months gestation at best, but even for that it’s unreasonably tiny, it’s just a helpless little doll on your table, one that you keep trying, as Shoko comes, listening for breathing, looking for any sign of life.

You hate that you're crying right here, that you can barely hold yourself together. Just what sort of doctor even are you!? You hate that you’re not stronger than this, but you’re just so tired, and you hate that you can’t save everyone, especially this little boy. Did he even have a chance, as his mother did all of that?

Even so, you hate that you couldn’t save him. You hate that Satoru isn’t here to hold you, to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, to distract you from this depression, Shoko’s murmuring in your ear, but you can’t even hear her truly. You keep repeating to yourself- ‘you’re a doctor, you’re a doctor, you’re a doctor’.

You have to keep going, even when it’s hard, right? You keep going even when it’s all just too much. You are shaking however, when Shoko gently pulls you away from the lifeless little body, shaking her head then.

“Long gone, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” You shake your head, you have to be pried off the little lifeless baby.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Shh, it’s okay. Step outside, I’ll be there.”

You realize from the talk amongst the nurses and others that the mother didn’t even care, she had meant to have an abortion but was too preoccupied, and thought drugs would ‘deal with it’. You can’t stop your anger, your fury, despite needing to remain ‘detached’.. You’re sobbing silently, sitting in one of the waiting room seats when Shoko and Satoru come to you.

“Think you need to take a break, go with Satoru for a bit, hmm?” You nod a bit, Shoko holds you for a moment, kissing your head, and you fall into Satoru’s arms, wrapped up so tightly, inhaling his scent, that cologne of his, feeling his heart against your cheek.

“Oh, baby… I’m so sorry.” He whispers huskily. “Come on, let’s go have some privacy?”

Soon you’re in his office, and you can’t hold it back anymore, not when it’s just the two of you, you break down completely, until you’re a mess.

“Shh, shh.” Satoru’s rubbing your back as you break into sobs, unable to breathe now, getting lightheaded as your breaths come in sharp little pants. “Hey, you need to take a deep breath.”

“C-can’t… how can I… be a doc- if I…” You’re all flushed and red when he pulls back and looks at you, cupping your face between his big hands.

“Breathe. In. Out.”

“C-can’t, can’t… fucking it all up… I…” You back away then, hand on your chest, struggling as your hands are going numb, and you feel yourself getting dizzy. “The baby is just… he’s just gone and I… I can’t take it.”

Satoru sighs, holding you closely. “You have to though, this is what being a doctor is, sweetheart.”

You sniffle, feeling your blood pressure rising more and more, the crushing weight and your exhaustion hitting. “Then I can’t, I can’t-”

“Yes. You can.” Satoru shakes you then, grabbing you by your shoulders. “You can do this, you did what you could with the baby. Plenty of others you’ve saved, and their moms. You can’t fix everything.”

“I… I…” You collapse against him, sobbing again, as the door knocks, Satoru shushes you gently.

“Yeah?”

“Dr. Gojo…” You hear Miwa’s voice then, you quickly swipe at the streams of tears on your sticky cheeks.

“I’m busy right now, what is it?” You’re turning away, trying to get yourself together now.

“I am prepping OR 3 for surgery.”

“Yes, thanks.” Satoru’s hand is on your back now, comforting in its touch, but then his words make you tense. “Do you see now?”

“See what exactly?” You turn to him, eyes swimming with tears that are burning as you struggle to focus.

Satoru sighs, swiping a hand through his silky white locks, before putting his hands in the lab coat pockets, tilting his head. “How awful it’d be, to have kids. Especially this line of work, how could you keep it all together?”

You glare then, jaw setting, hands clenched into fists by your sides, fury taking over every part of you. “What!?”

“I don’t mean to be insensitive, but maybe this is a learning lesson, a reality check of what you’ll handle here.”

Your jaw clenches so tightly it hurts, breaths quicker and quicker. “You know what? I have not said shit about the cocktail of pills in your bathroom. I have not said shit about the fact that you seem to hate kids or something. I have not said one word about you, about your lifestyle, your fear of commitment, I haven’t tried to change you or pry.”

Satoru falters then, hitting him in waves how furious you are, realizing now what he’s done, his lips parting. “Shit, I’m sorry, I-”

“No, you’ll let me finish, Dr. Gojo.” At your formal tone he’s breaking, he sees it then, you’re trembling, barely able to keep it together, he feels your anger and even worse, your disappointment. “I haven’t said a damn thing, because we just got together, and we don’t even know each other yet.”

“You act like this connection is normal?” His hands go to your waist, but you shove them off.

“No, it’s not, but what is also not normal is pushing someone to want what you want. You’re trying so hard to make me change my mind, for what? So I can be a perfect little girlfriend for you? So easy, let you do what you want and have no fucking opinions?”

“That’s not what I want. I want you.” He tries again, but his hands freeze an inch above your skin when you glare up at him through tears.

“I don’t pry, I don’t judge, I just accept you. But you can’t accept anything that doesn’t fit into your world, can you?”

“I can accept it, I just know you’re not thinking rationally, you’re young and still inexperienced.”

You laugh then, a humorless laugh at him. “That’s insane talk from you, truly Dr. Gojo. Your whole MO is thinking outside the norms, is letting feelings in. But only if it benefits you. And my age? I’m no baby, you’re not even that much older.”

“It’s life experience, is all.”

“Hah, you don’t even know my life.”

“Just… I’ll drop it. I swear.” You shake your head at him, and he panics then, sensing you falling back from him. “I will drop it, come here, you’re upset.”

“Yes, I’m upset! What I just had to see, what I just had to… and you’re what, rubbing it in my face!?”

Satoru’s blood pressure rises as he realizes he’s losing you, his hands trembling, sure hands that never falter. “I’ll stop, just don’t… don’t do it.”

“Don’t do what?” You whisper, he cups your face and you can’t push him away, not when he slams his lips down on yours, and you’re kissing him back for just a moment, before thinking better of it, freezing your lips, pressing them in a terse line. He’s a breath away, leaning over you, taking over you completely.

But you can’t.

“Don’t you leave me. Please. You’re important to me.” He needs you, he needs you so badly, but he feels you slipping through his fingers, knowing he’s pushed you too far. “I’ll drop this. I’ll respect what you want.”

“Oh now you will? Instead of comforting me after watching that little baby…” You can’t even say it, you can’t even think of it, the images in your head making you devastated. “You know I’m emotional, you knew that and you said it was a good thing for a doctor, but because it’s not what you want in this situation you use it as what. A lesson? It’s no lesson, it was a baby!”

Satoru sighs now, shaking his head, covering his face, temples pounding as the blood rushes to his brain. “It was fucked up of me.”

“Yeah, it was.” You take a shaky breath, shaking your numb hands, pacing now, and Satoru watches you with his heart in his throat. “I can’t.”

“Don’t do this. I see what I did.”

“This isn’t good, any of it, me and you. What do we have? We had insane sex, I have feelings…”

Satoru blinks snowy lashes, droplets just nearing the tips of them, as his lower lip trembles, damn near ending your resolve. “You have-”

“Feelings that are too much. It’s too much, I can’t even focus on this internship, you consume me.” Satoru yanks you against his chest, his breath sweeping over your swollen lips, bitten to death from the stress of the day.

“You think you don’t consume me?” He whispers hoarsely, and you shake your head, earning his humorless laugh. “You’re wrong, so wrong, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that. Don’t look at me that way, those eyes of yours, eyes that make me stupid.” You shove at his chest as those blue eyes take you over, snowy lashes lowered, a beautiful face that makes you ache.

“Don’t leave me. Please.” His voice breaks, and you feel it, his vulnerability, it makes your stomach flip, makes you almost sick.

“Why can’t you accept me, when I accept you?”

“Because I don’t want to disappoint you, I thought it’d be better if you want…”

“What you want.”

Satoru gulps now. “I’m selfish, I want you and only you, I wouldn’t want something else in our lives.”

“Our lives?” You laugh then. “There’s never an ‘our’. Not when you just want to fix everything you deem wrong with me.”

“I don’t want to ‘fix’ you. I’ll stop it. Just kiss me.”

“No.” He pauses a centimeter from your lips, exhaling. “I won’t kiss you anymore, I won’t let you say insane things in my ear while you fuck me, ‘only me ever’ what are you trying to do to me!?”

“I meant it.”

“No, let me go.” His hands drop, as he blinks back tears, and you’re a mess in front of him. “Satoru… I could have gotten over it for you. Wanting marriage, wanting serious shit, wanting kids. Don’t you know I’d give it all up for you, for a chance to be with you? But you trying to change me? That’s where I draw the line.”

You hate seeing him in tears, your beepers both go off then, and you step away, heading towards the door. Satoru’s hand stops you, over your little one, his voice desperate as he leans over you. “I was wrong, will you just forgive me?”

“You made me work with Shoko to hate babies. Then when it backfires, you say something like that?”

“I know. I know.” He hugs you from behind, burying his head against your neck, and you love the embrace, you love him.

But you also love yourself, and you can’t handle it anymore, the cold, cruel way he goes about things. The careless way he dismisses you and all of your feelings, the way he thinks only his way is right, that everyone should think as he does. You shake in his hold, everything pulling you to him.

“Do you hate me?” He whispers brokenly, and you shake your head, looking up at him now, his blue eyes glittering with tears.

“I could never. Far from it.”

“Then give me a chance to fix it.” His thumb brushes over your jaw, your precious face destroyed, your beeper goes off again and you take a breath.

“Let me go. We’ll talk later.”

You walk out, leaving him sobbing against the door, his head against it, fist landing on it, struggling to pull himself together. You’ve in just a couple months become the most important thing in the world to him, but you’re just… leaving him. And he can’t blame you, he’s confused you, he’s turned your life upside down, and he instead of comforting you…

He threw shit in your face.

Why couldn’t he just let you want kids? Well, because he can’t be a parent, and he can’t give you it, and he wants you, no he needs you. He needs you with him, only him, to feel your lips on his, your body against him. To see your little smile, to hear your moans and cries, to comfort you when you’re exhausted.

He should have comforted you, why did he need to do it like that? Why did he fuck everything up? The thoughts swarm in his head as he leans back in his chair now, covering his face with a hand, before he yanks open his drawer. He takes out the xanax and crushes it right on his desk, lining them up with a credit card he yanks now from his wallet.

He rolls up a hundred dollar bill and snorts it right up his nostril, it burns like a bitch, makes his eyes water, but he knows it will hit soon, he won’t give as many fucks, right? But after twenty minutes he’s taking another, and another, until he sees his shift is done, and he’s weakly walking towards the locker rooms, seeing you there changing, looking at your gorgeous frame.

Your eyes catch his then, you quickly look away, your eyes are puffy from the crying he’s made you do, when he slips off his shirt, head fuzzy. He stumbles just a bit, catching your concerned gaze. Which infuriates him then, he steadies himself and glares at you, slipping off his own shirt, noticing your gaze just grows more worried when he slips his top on.

“Satoru, what’s… are you okay?” You care about him? Why?

“Just peachy, sweets.” He gives you a fake smile, and your heart races, as you look up at eyes almost black, so dilated.

“Satoru are you-”

“Don’t ask shit about my life. You’re done, right?” His unexpectedly cruel words pierce your heart, you turn away, body shaking. “That’s what I thought.”

“Are you okay?” You ask again, turning back around, watching his lids lower just a bit as he leans over you, pressing you against the cool metal of the lockers.

“No, m’not okay. Girl of my fuckin’ dreams hates me.” You hear it, the slut of his words, as he takes a hand and cups your face. “Why do you gotta be so beautiful?”

“You’re fucked up.” You manage to breathe out, and he smirks then.

“Me? Nah. Maybe fucked up over you, intern. Haunt my every dream, now you’re gonna just leave?”

“Satoru…”

“You should know what you’re missing.” He kisses you again, desperate and messy, brutal and hungry, hands pulling you against his hard body. You whimper, hating your body’s reaction to him, how it lights up. “You want me, huh?”

“Of course I do. It’s you who can’t accept me.”

“I can… I can…” He kisses you again, one hand cupping you between your thighs over your leggings. “Always so hot f’me.”

“We won’t do it. I deserve better.”

“You do.” He presses a finger along your clit, moaning then. “Better, better… you do… lemme just take care of you, hmm?”

“Stop it, Toru. You’re not yourself right now.”

“This is me.” He kisses you again, as you press on his chest. “It’s all me, this is really me. Gonna run the other fuckin direction when you learn.”

“Ahem.” Suguru’s clearing of his throat does nothing to Satoru, who’s in a haze of lust, depression and xanax. “Satoru, back off.”

“She’s leaving me, Sugu, who doesn’t?”

“It’s not like that!” You hiss through your teeth.

“Satoru…”

“What?” He sways just a bit, Suguru’s frowning now as he looks at him.

“Really, Satoru?”

“What? Really what? I’m tired of everyone so fucking judgy.”

“Suguru take him home.” You whisper, and he nods then, but Satoru glares over at you.

“Why should he?” He demands. “I’m fine. I take more than I did for fucking breakfast.”

“You can’t have someone see you like this.” Your first worry is someone walking in, Satoru losing his career, every other hurt or worry is thrown into a back seat.

“M’perfect, baby. Should I show you?” He kisses you again, as you shove at him, glaring.

“You’re not perfect, maybe something’s hitting harder? You’re not okay.” He shakes his head, laughing now, eyes glinting.

“No I’m not okay, how can I be? When you’re leaving me.”

“I’m not, I just… I’m mad and I’m upset. Okay? Let me be. It doesn’t mean you have to… hurt yourself-”

“You hurt me existing.” He whispers, cupping your face again.

“Satoru, enough.” Suguru’s words resonate in Satoru’s brain, thank god. “Get your goddamn jacket and shoes on.” Satoru huffs and Suguru brushes your hair back as he finally lets you breathe, ever so gently, dark violet eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay, love?”

You nod quickly. “We just… have different views and he was hurtful, but I’m worried more than anything.” You whisper, looking at Satoru now, you’ve never, ever seen him like this. Your heart hurts for him.

“He’ll be fine, I’ve got it. You get home and get some sleep.”

“Thank you, Suguru.” He nods, and you shut your locker, when Satoru looks at you with devastated eyes, shattering your heart.

“I’m so sorry for what I did. Okay?” He whispers, taking your hands then, and you sigh, shutting your eyes for a moment.

“Satoru I never put myself first, with my toxic exes. I let them run all over me. I have to take care of my heart this time.It’s not that I don’t feel it, I feel it. Just please, I have to put myself as a priority.” You touch his chest over his soft sweater, and he has two trails of tears falling from his cerulean eyes.

“Do you need time?”

“I need a minute to breathe, to think. We’ll talk more when you’re…”

“What, sober? Sweetheart I never am.” He whispers, right against your lips, Suguru puts a hand on his shoulder now.

“She’ll talk to you tomorrow. Right?”

“I will.” Satoru kisses your forehead, and you have to hold in every bit of you that wants to take him home yourself, that part screaming forgive him.

But even for Satoru Gojo, the man that’s taken over your heart, you have to protect yourself.

“Good night, then intern.” He murmurs, running the backs of his cool fingers across your overheated cheek.

“Good night Satoru, Suguru.” He gives you the smallest smile, when you leave Suguru exhales, covering his face.

“I fucked it all up, Sugu.” His voice is broken, and Suguru puts an arm around him now.

“How much did you take?”

“Four bars. Not OD level.”

“Thank god. Just… Come on, let’s get you out of here.” Soon you see Satoru and Suguru, as you climb up in your car, and you rest your head on the steering wheel, bawling your eyes out.

It feels so wrong not to be in his arms, not to kiss him, something that just started became so precious to you, so special. But what he did was nasty and hurtful, what he keeps doing, trying to make you change like this, you know you’ve done the right thing. But you also know you’re in love with him, with a beautiful, brilliant and broken man, and you won’t be able to let him go fully.

*****

The next morning Satoru is there bright and early, sipping on coffee in the cafeteria as you walk in, faltering. Remembering so vividly being pressed against those lockers, those eyes that were black almost are now a calm storm of blue, as he looks at you over his hot cup, steam fogging up around his face. You just stand there, because you’re exhausted, you’re hurt.

You want to be with him more than anything, you wanted to go on that damn date with him, wanted to fall asleep in his arms. You want to just forgive him so easily, to fall into the abyss that is Satoru Gojo, to feel those plush lips on yours, to have those eyes devour you. Feel those long fingers that are currently curling around that styrofoam cup, touching your cheek.

You both stand there, until you clear your throat, smiling just a little, a sad smile that makes Satoru feel like shit. He knows how bad he’s hurt you, he’s had all morning to think about it, about how fragile you were, so vulnerable, coming to him to feel better, and what did he do instead? Make you leave him, devastate you, and all he can think of is how to put a real smile on your face again.

“Morning, Dr. Gojo.” You say softly, eyes lowering, lashes casting shadows over your cheeks.

“Good morning, intern.” He says, his voice isn’t the bright and goofy one you’re used to, or the husky sultry one for you, or even the flirtatious one. It’s a soft voice, unsure, just like you.

You grab your coffee now, your shoulder brushing his, just that contact alone makes you ache, the pain in your heart so brutal you feel emotions starting to come in waves. There is so much left unsaid as you both walk out past the packed waiting room, heading over to the elevator, Satoru presses the button, and you stand next to him, feeling the pull, it’s just stronger today.

“I’m…” Satoru clears his throat, looking down at you now, your breath catches. “I’m really sorry that I pushed it. I understand we’re over, but I need to tell you.”

You look up at, swallowing nervously, the backs of his hand brushing against yours, and yours gently brushes back, sending shivers down his spine. “I forgive you, I do. It’s just… we’re too different.”

Satoru turns toward you, leaning down low, free hand cupping your face. “Too different?”

You nod, feeling the tears burning your eyes. “We are, Satoru, so different, and that’s okay. But I think we both know it won’t work.”

“Yeah, you think so?” His words are hoarse, his gaze tearing through your every barrier, a sad, lost gaze.

“I do. Maybe you were happier before, a Hojo and all.” You smile sadly, looking down at his perfect lips. “I hope we can be friends, when you go back to collecting those infinity stones.”

Satoru presses the stop on the elevator then, making you gasp, pulling you by your waist against him, so close you taste that sweet mocha on his breath. “You can leave me, I get it, but don’t think for one minute you’re not all I want. Don’t think I’m giving up on this.”

You can’t speak, not when he’s so close, not when the words he’s saying are ruining you, that you’re melting for him, as your own free hand slides up his chest. “You’re not?”

“How could I? It’s you.” Satoru exhales against you, almost brushing his lips on yours, before pulling back, starting the elevator. “Want that goddamn date with you. I’ll do anything I can to earn it.”

“Satoru…” He walks off when the elevator opens, leaving you to lean against the rail, head pressed against the wall, you’re not sure what floor you’re going to, you just know he’s got you too far gone to leave just now.

He’s not giving up on you, and you don’t want him to give up, either. But with so much between you left unsaid, you have no clue what any of it means. When you’re finally where you need to be, after several elevator rides of pulling yourself together, Satoru checks his rolex, peering at you.

“You’re late, intern.” His voice is calm, professional.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You manage hoarself, as Toge, Yuuta and Maki look at you, concern in their gazes, as they of all people truly knew what a mess you were last night after you got home.

“Don’t let it be a habit.” Gojo says, trying to be stern but it’s failing, it’s just a soft little order, one you nod at. “Wanna work with Shoko or do the pit with me?”

You’re surprised then, blinking a bit. “The pit, if I can please.”

He gives just the smallest little smile. “Then you’re on it. Maki, your week with Shoko.”

“Babies, yuck.” She shivers and Satoru smiles just a bit bigger, as Yuuta snorts in laughter.

Satoru surely feels the same as Maki, but you?

Satoru knows you are yourself, uniquely so. He now knows you were going to sacrifice it all for him, and he didn’t deserve you, not one bit, you deserve more, everything. But he’s so selfish, he wants you back, and he knows he’ll do anything for it, to have you back in his embrace, which feels so empty.

When you’re both alone in his office later, while going over a patient, he keeps his distance as much as he can. Satoru wants to respect this, your wishes, but his hands long to touch you, even those casual teasing brushes you all shared had meant so much to him.

“Present your case, intern.” He says then, leaning on his desk, you feel this distance he is keeping, and it breaks you, but you pull it together, this is your decision right?

“We had a patient with hours of stomach pain last night, ultrasound found gallstones, which should be what occurred, and ordered an EKG to rule out any potential signs of heart attack.”

“Perfect.”

“Patient is in his late fifties, mild drinker, smoker, but otherwise healthy, a little overweight. He likes tacos, he said.” You smile just a bit at it.

“Well who doesn’t? And EKG results?”

“Everything came back normal.”

“So what’s the best course of action?”

“The stones are small, but there are a few. I would suggest a laparoscopic cholecystectomy first, aside from gallbladder removal. That, and a lower fat diet, along with no alcohol should have him just right.” Satoru smiles at you, fuck you make him proud, holding yourself high.

“Exactly right, do you want to assist?”

You blink in surprise, you weren’t sure after everything, but Satoru is clearly not holding any of this against you. “If you would let me, of course, Sir.”

Sir.

Should be calling him that in the bedroom, he thinks, how pretty you’d be on your knees, begging for his cock in your mouth. The images are so lewd and it takes him everything to keep it together. He smiles though, sitting down and taking one of his klonopin right in front of you. You look away nervously, biting your lip.

“You should know all of me. You should know you were smart to leave.” He takes one and chews it up, feeling the sweetness hit his tongue.

“I don’t want to leave you.” You whisper, coming to him then, he pulls you between his thighs now, and you cup his face. “I didn’t judge you.”

“I know you didn’t, I know.” His eyes shut, he turns and kisses your palm so sweetly. “I won’t have anyone else, it’s just you.”

“Satoru it’s insane to say it, when you…”

“I know. I know it is.” He pulls you down, to where you’re leaned over him, one leg over his chair, your hands gripping the arms of his seat. His hands slip over your waist, right over your scrubs. “I’ll do anything to make it right.”

“You think I don’t want to kiss you, fuck you? Suck you right here?” Satoru moans, hand pulling at your hair at the nape of your neck, little networks of goosebumps pricking up, your body reacting in every way, nipples pressed against your bra, desiring his touches.

“Think I don’t want you wrapped on this cock?” His seductive whisper has your hips shifting, a movement he notices avidly.

“You can have anyone, Satoru.”

“I only want you. I’ll have to show you. But will you let me try?” He asks, emotional now as the overwhelming feelings hit.

“I don’t want to be changed for you, I don’t want to give up who I am.” He sighs now, nodding, sad look on his beautiful face.

“I won’t change you. But sweetheart, you are changing me.”

“Bad or good, Satoru?” Your whisper damn near ends him, is it bad or good, this obsession with you? You’re good, but is he?

“I want it to be good. I don’t want to make you cry again, break you down, terrify you.”

You ease in his hold, a hold you never want to leave, but you try to think rationally, despite the overwhelming pull of him, despite the ache to press yourself fully against him, to let him take your pain away. “Then let’s… take time.”

He nods, brushing a thumb on your lower lip, just a little glossy from your chapstick, he can almost taste it, vanilla sugar. He’s caressing your face ever so softly. “I’m so goddamn sorry.”

“Thank you.” You kiss his cheek, before pulling yourself off him, sighing.

“Time, huh?” Any time without you in his arms makes him sick, but when you nod he kisses your forehead, so sweetly you want to fall against him, fall into him. “I’l give it, don’t even deserve this right now.”

“I still feel it all for you.” You say, before you pull away, making his heart race. “Don’t hurt yourself over this, please. It’s not… I still…”

“Don’t worry about me, sweets. I’m fine.” His sad smile doesn’t reassure you anymore than he’s pretending it to be true. “Now, go get ready to put him on the board, yeah?”

“Yes Dr. Gojo.” You give him another worried little smile, leaving Satoru to cover his face in his hands.

No amount of a benzodiazepine lessens the need for you.

Your back is against the door, breaths coming quickly, leaning your head back and just longing to be with the man inside, the broken man that has your heart. You know it will never heal without him, no it needed him to heal, you want to stand so firm but your heart and soul know you belong to him, even if for now, you both don’t know it’s true.

You put on a brave smile, and set about your day. You could do this, right? Be without him? You were fine your whole life before you even knew Satoru. Surely… but then why then every time you formally speak to him, do you wish your lips could crash on his?

The day is hectic, even more hectic than usual, you’re running on nothing again, and when you’re finally done, and you’re heading to your car, you can hardly hold your eyes open. Satoru’s next to you suddenly, hands on your shoulders, you yawn as he looks down at you, you’re so curious how he got here.

“You’re too tired to drive, intern.”

You look at him, squinting just a bit in the dark night, the wind softly blowing back your sweater and making his snowy hair sway. “Are you fucked up?”

He sighs, shaking his head. “Normal meds. I wouldn’t hurt you. Intentionally, aside from being an ass. I’ll take you home, Maki can bring you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, thank you Satoru.” Soon you’re driving in his car, his hand keeps wanting to rest on your thigh, but he stops himself. He’s running on nothing himself at this point, he’s exhausted, and all he can think of is what it’d be like to hold you against him tonight.

The longing for you, for any of you destroys him, the only sound is his car gently moving through the snow, the windshield wipers going as you keep stealing glances at him, so tired your eyes are heavy. All you can think of is holding him, falling into that bliss, god imagine, snuggling with him again, waking up with his kisses.

But you don’t know him, truly, and how will you, when you’re running from him? Even if it is the best thing for you, it doesn’t make it easier, not when you study his perfect profile in the night. Not when he glances your way for just a moment, that hand hovering right next to your thigh, like he’s fighting it too.

Soon you’re home, the heat of his car mixed with how tired you are makes it almost impossible to leave. Satoru leans over, unseatbelted you, and himself, a hand finally gently over your thigh. It burns through your warm, plush leggings, like a brand on your skin, his other hand brushing your hair back ever so softly, as he opens his mouth, then closes it.

It’s quiet in the car, your breaths and the low purr of the car filling the air, along with the wind outside and the gently falling flakes. “I will do everything I can to get you back, I won’t give up. I’m too fucking selfish.”

You smile, so sleepy, caressing his perfect face. “Satoru, you’re amazing, brilliant, great at so much, but you have to learn, you can’t just fix people, you have to accept them.”

“I didn’t mean to. I just…” He swallows, resting his head on yours, and you’re dying to kiss him, to feel his mouth take you over, he is your drug.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. What I did, it was not okay. I talked to Sugu a long time last night, blitzed the fuck out. What I did was horrible, you needed me to comfort you, and I made it all worse.”

“Yeah. You did.” He exhales, smirking just a bit.

“You’re brutally honest.”

“You like that, I think.” You lean your chin up, noses brushing, lips just that bit apart, killing you both.

“I love it, I love that you have your convictions, your emotions, I love so fucking much about you. I know I didn’t show that.”

“No, you didn’t. But… Thank you for that.” You pull back a bit, taking a breath. “I don’t trust myself around you, I’ll falter, I’ll give in. And Satoru I have to…”

“You have to be a priority.”

“That, I’ve never been.” Your phone starts going off again, you check it and frown, making Satoru curious, but he knows he shouldn’t pry. “Case in point, my other stupid ex.”

He glares at your phone, then looks up at you, softer, concern in his gaze, mixed with self loathing. “You have bad taste.”

“Satoru, not you. There’s so much good here.” You put a gentle brush of your lips on his now, easing back as his eyelids lower, as his grip slips higher. “I want to fall into this, into you. You’re my own Xanax.”

“I’m that good?” He smirks, and you laugh softly. “You still haven’t even asked, why I’m on it all.”

You bite your lip, shaking your head, enjoying the heat of his hard body against yours too much. “It’s not my place right now. I should go.”

“Yeah…” Please don’t go, please.

Something pauses you, and you hug him then, he hugs you back tightly, and you kiss him once more, exhaling against his lips. “Don’t give up on it.”

“I sure fucking won’t. I win at everything you know.” You snort at that, a smile brightening your beautiful face, making him melt for you.

“We’ll see about it. Take care, Satoru, please drive safely in this?”

“I will. You get some sleep.” He wishes he could come inside, in your warm, cozy home, and hold you, but he knows he can’t.

Yet.

Satoru won’t give up.

You wave at him before you get inside, the overwhelming, exhausting past week eating you alive, and you’re stumbling when Toge sees you. He walks up quickly, concern clear in his violet eyes, hands on your shoulders. “Okay?”

You break then, shaking your head and sniffling. “No, m’not, Toge.”

Toge holds you then, as you sob against him, and soon Maki and Yuuta are out there too, all rubbing your back, your hair, as you can’t stop crying. It’s too much, not being with him, the hurt he caused, the fears you have. The past days, losing that little baby, losing so many, losing your fucking mind.

“I’m so tired, you guys, of all of it.” You barely speak, barely hold it together, as they all gently speak.

“No, you got this baby, I swear. If it’s not Gojo. if he’s not the one for you, guess what? You’ll be okay, we’re here for you, either way.” Maki says softly, and you nod, sniffling now.

“You have to do what’s best for you, don’t feel guilty.” Yuuta says, and Toge’s giving you the saddest look of all.

“Hurting.” You nod quickly, hugging him again.

“Don’t you run from me, please.” You say softly, as he strokes your back. “I need you all.”

“Not running.” He assures you, with a sweet smile, and you feel so at home with them, but something’s missing.

Satoru is missing.

How has he become everything so quickly?

But soon Maki is getting you a glass of wine, and Toge has cookies for everyone, Yuuta is putting on your favorite movie. And as you’re cuddled with your best friends on your old couch, so comfy and worn in, it almost feels perfect. You’re blessed to have them, warm with the fire going, while the snow falls outside. But you can’t help but look out the window.

“I love him, fuck.” You whisper softly.

“We know.” Maki says, you snuggle back up to her, curling up and letting her rub your hair.

“I love you three so much. Don’t leave me, even if I’m a mess.”

“We’re not going anywhere. Shh, just relax.”

Sleep doesn’t hit for Satoru that night, not when he stares at your number over and over with your picture in his phone, not when he thinks of the date he had ready on that fairy boat for you, not when he thinks of you in his home. He stares at that damn piano, remembering kissing you on that bench.

But he was selfish, he was pushy, he ruined such a beautiful thing before it began.

Satoru knows now, he needs you, like he needs to breathe, and he knows by looking in your eyes, you feel it, though you’re now terrified. He was so afraid of pushing you away, that he did just that. As he sips down a whiskey and pops a seroquel, he hopes it will take him to sleep soon, blissful dreamless sleep where he won’t have to feel this pain.

Satoru looks out the window, watching the snowfall and wondering if you’re okay, before the sleeping meds take him out. But it doesn’t prevent those dreams, it only makes them more vivid, and he wakes up in the middle of the night, sweating, panicking. He calls you, knowing you won’t answer, but he hears it.

A sleepy ‘hmm?’

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry.”

“Shh. Satoru… s’okay… shhh…”

He lets tears fall as he sets the phone on speaker. “Will you… let me hear you breathe? So I can sleep?”

“Hmm, you’re weird Doc.” He snorts through his tears, and you sleepily wonder if this is a dream on your end. “But mkay.”

He soon hears your steady breathing, and he finally can sleep, mind whirling with ways he can earn you, while you listen to his little sigh, hand gripping the phone, picturing him in your mind’s eyes. “Night, beautiful.”

“Night S’toru.”

Two hearts are alone but still connected, as both wonder what the exhaustion of tomorrow would hold, and beyond the doubt, they hope.

I know this was an angsty/darker chapter, but it will get more lighthearted and will have a happy ending, but we gotta go through some rough stuff to get there (Satoru won't be a Hojo again dw lol)

Taglist: @lostfracturess @unfortunately-tia @allofffmypeaches @chiyokoemilia @makingtimemine @antisocialinlw @meg3mis @miizuzu @nanasukii28 @zoeyflower @wstaley2 @bunheadusa @blue-musingss @ameliariddle @moncher-ire @jkslaugh97 @shadeowz @gojo1228 @nanasukii28 @jaeminaur @httpstoyosi @angel1of-death @seeing-stars-alt @bol0-de-morang0 @jjknanamin @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @trishiepo0 @inthedarkshadows000 @gina239 @san-it-is-i-guess @pelicanpizza @gojo1228 @ducky1232 @inthedarkshadows000 @eclecticmentalitypersona @burguhndy @levislug @addehehe @sluttyofgojo @msniks @xixflower @n1vi Perma tags: @alt--er--love @cuntphoric @loafteaw @indiewritesxoxo @harutahake @jinjen

#doctor satoru #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jujustu kaisen #satoru x reader #doctor gojo #jjk gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk x you

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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 months ago

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How to have cancer

THIS WEEKEND (November 8-10), I'll be in TUCSON, AZ: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

I've got cancer but it's probably (almost certainly, really) okay. Within a very short period I will no longer have cancer (at least for now). This is the best kind of cancer to have – the kind that is caught early and treated easily – but I've learned a few things on the way that I want to share with you.

Last spring, my wife put her arm around my waist and said, "Hey, what's this on your rib?" She's a lot more observant than I am, and honestly, when was the last time you palpated your back over your left floating rib? Sure enough, there was a lump there, a kind of squishy, fatty raised thing, half a centimeter wide and about four centimeters long.

I'm a 53 year old man with a family history of cancer. My father was diagnosed with lymphatic cancer at 55. So I called my doctor and asked for an appointment to have the lump checked over.

I'm signed up with Southern California Kaiser Permanente, which is as close as you come to the Canadian medicare system I grew up under and the NHS system I lived under for more than a decade. Broadly speaking, I really like KP. Its app – while terrible – isn't as terrible as the other apps, and they've taken very good care of me for both routine things like vaccinations and checkups, and serious stuff, like a double hip replacement.

Around the time of The Lump, I'd been assigned a new primary care physician – my old one retired – and so this was my first appointment with her. I used the KP app to book it, and I was offered appointments six weeks in the future. My new doc was busy! I booked the first slot.

This was my first mistake. I didn't need to wait to see my PCP to get my lump checked over. There was really only two things that my doc was gonna do, either prod it and say, "This is an extremely common whatchamacallit and you don't need to worry" or "You should go get this scanned by a radiologist." I didn't need a specific doctor to do this. I could have ridden my bike down to the KP-affiliated Urgent Care at our local Target store and gotten an immediate referral to radiology.

Six weeks go by, and my doc kind of rolls the weird lump between her fingers and says, "You'd better go see a radiologist." I called the Kaiser appointment line and booked it that day, and a couple weeks later I had a scan.

The next day, the app notified me that radiology report was available in my electronic heath record. It's mostly technical jargon ("Echogenic areas within mass suggest fatty component but atypical for a lipoma") but certain phrases leapt out at me: "malignant masses cannot be excluded. Follow up advised."

That I understood. I immediately left my doctor a note saying that I needed a biopsy referral and set back to wait. Two days went by. I left her a voice message. Another two days went by. I sent another email. Nothing, then a weekend, then more nothing.

I called Kaiser and asked to be switched to another Primary Care Physician. It was a totally painless and quick procedure and within an hour my new doc's intake staff had reviewed my chart, called me up, and referred me for a biopsy.

This was my second mistake. When my doctor didn't get back to me within a day, I should have called up KP and raised hell, demanding an immediate surgical referral.

What I did do was call Kaiser Member Services and file a grievance. I made it very clear that when I visited my doctor, I had been very happy with the care I received, but that she and her staff were clearly totally overloaded and needed some kind of administrative intervention so that their patients didn't end up in limbo.

This is a privilege. I'm a native English speaker, and although I was worried about a serious illness, I didn't have any serious symptoms. I had the ability and the stamina to force action in the system, and my doing so meant that other patients, not so well situated as I was, would not be stuck where I had been, with fewer resources to get un-stuck.

The surgeon who did the biopsy was great. He removed my mass. It was a gross lump of yellowy-red gunk in formaldehyde. He even let me photograph it before it went to pathology (warning, gross):

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/54038418981/

They told me that the pathology would take 2-5 days. I reloaded the "test results" tab in the KP website religiously after 48 hours. Nothing was updated. After five days, I called the surgical department (I had been given a direct number to reach them in case of postsurgical infections, and made a careful note of it).

It turned out that the pathology report had been in hand for three days at that point, but it was "preliminary" pending some DNA testing. Still, it was enough that the surgeon referred me to an oncologist.

This was my third mistake: I should have called after 48 hours and asked whether the pathology report was in hand, and if not, whether they could check with pathology. However, I did something very right this time: I got a phone number to reach the specialist directly, rather than going through the Kaiser main number.

My oncologist appointment was very reassuring. The oncologist explained the kind of cancer I had ("follicular lymphoma"), the initial prognosis (very positive, though it was weird that it manifested on my rib, so far from a lymph node) and what needed to happen next (a CT/PET scan). He also walked me through the best, worst and medium-cases for treatment, based on different scan outcomes. This was really good, as it helped me think through how I would manage upcoming events – book tours, a book deadline, work travel, our family Christmas vacation plans – based on these possibilities.

The oncologist gave me a number for Kaiser Nuclear Medicine. I called them from the parking lot before leaving the Kaiser hospital and left a message for the scheduler to call me back. Then I drove home.

This was my fourth mistake. The Kaiser hospital in LA is the main hub for Kaiser Southern California, and the Nuclear Medicine department was right there. I could have walked over and made an appointment in person.

Instead, I left messages daily for the next five days, waited a weekend, then called up my oncologist's staff and asked them to intervene. I also called Kaiser Member Services and filed an "urgent grievance" (just what it sounds like) and followed up by filing a complaint with the California Patient Advocate:

https://www.dmhc.ca.gov/

In both the complaint and the grievance, I made sure to note that the outgoing message at Nuclear Medicine scheduling was giving out false information (it said, "Sorry, all lines are busy," even at 2am!). Again, I was really careful to say that the action I was hoping for was both a prompt appointment for me (my oncologist had been very insistent upon this) but also that this was a very broken system that would be letting down every patient, not me, and it should be fixed.

Within a couple hours, I had a call back from KP grievances department, and an hour after that, I had an appointment for my scan. Unfortunately, that was three weeks away (so much for my oncologist's "immediate" order).

I had the scan last week, on Hallowe'en. It was really cool. The gadget was awesome, and the rad-techs were really experienced and glad to geek out with me about the way the scanner and the radioactive glucose they infused in me interacted. They even let me take pictures of the scan visualizations:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/54108481109/

The radiology report was incredibly efficient. Within a matter of hours, I was poring over it. I had an appointment to see the doc on November 5, but I had been reading up on the scans and I was pretty sure the news was good ("No enlarged or FDG avid lymph nodes are noted within the neck, chest, abdomen, or pelvis. No findings of FDG avid splenic or bone marrow involvement").

There was just one area of concern: "Moderate FDG uptake associated with a round 1.3 cm left inguinal lymph node." The radiologist advised the oncologist to "consider correlation with tissue sampling."

Today was my oncology appointment. For entirely separate reasons, I was unable to travel to the hospital today: I wrenched my back over the weekend and yesterday morning, it was so bad that I couldn't even scratch my nose without triggering unbearable spams. After spending all day yesterday in the ER (after being lifted out of my house on a stretcher), getting MRIs and pain meds, I'm much better off, though still unable to get out of bed for more than a few minutes at a time.

So this morning at 8:30 sharp, I started calling the oncology department and appointment services to get that appointment changed over to a virtual visit. While I spent an hour trying various non-working phone numbers and unsuccessfully trying to get Kaiser appointment services to reach my oncologist, I tried to message him through the KP app. It turns out that because he is a visiting fellow and not staff, this wasn't possible.

I eventually got through to the oncology department and had the appointment switched over. The oncology nurse told me that they've been trying for months to get KP to fix the bug where fellows can't be messaged by patients. So as soon as I got off the phone with her, I called member services and filed another grievance. Why bother, if I'd gotten what I needed? Same logic as before: if you have the stamina and skills to demand a fix to a broken system, you have a duty to use them.

I got off the phone with my oncologist about an hour ago. It went fine. I'm going to get a needle biopsy on that one suss node. If it comes back positive, I'll get a few very local, very low-powered radiation therapy interventions, whose worst side effect will be "a mild sunburn over a very small area." If it's negative, we're done, but I'll get quarterly CT/PET scans to be on the safe side.

Before I got off the phone, I made sure to get the name of the department where the needle biopsy would be performed and a phone number. The order for the biopsy just posted to my health record, and now I'm redialing the department to book in that appointment (I'm not waiting around for them to call me).

While I redial, a few more lessons from my experience. First, who do you tell? I told my wife and my parents, because I didn't want to go through a multi-week period of serious anxiety all on my own. Here, too, I made a mistake: I neglected to ask them not to tell anyone else. The word spread a little before I put a lid on things. I wanted to keep the circle of people who knew this was going on small, until I knew what was what. There's no point in worrying other people, of course, and my own worry wasn't going to be helped by having to repeat, "Well, it looks pretty good, but we won't know until I've had a scan/my appointment/etc."

Next, how to manage the process: this is a complex, multi-stage process. It began with a physician appointment, then a radiologist, then a pathology report, then surgery, then another pathology report, then an oncologist, then a scan, then another radiologist, and finally, the oncologist again.

That's a lot of path-dependent, interdepartmental stuff, with a lot of ways that things can fall off the rails (when my dad had cancer at my age, there was a big gap in care when one hospital lost a fax from another hospital department and my folks assumed that if they hadn't heard back, everything was fine).

So I have been making extensive use of a suspense file, where I record what I'm waiting for, who is supposed to provide it, and when it is due. Though I had several places where my care continuity crumbled some, there would have been far more if I hadn't done this:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/26/one-weird-trick/#todo

The title of this piece is "how to have cancer," but what it really boils down to is, "things I learned from my own cancer." As I've noted, I'm playing this one on the easiest setting: I have no symptoms, I speak and write English fluently, I am computer literate and reasonably capable of parsing medical/technical jargon. I have excellent insurance.

If any of these advantages hadn't been there, things would have been a lot harder. I'd have needed these lessons even more.

To recap them:

See a frontline care worker as soon as possible: don't wait for an appointment with a specific MD. Practically any health worker can prod a lump and refer you for further testing;

Get a direct phone number for every specialist you are referred to (add this to your phone book); call them immediately after the referral to get scheduled (better yet, walk over to their offices and schedule the appointment in person);

Get a timeframe as to when your results are due and when you can expect to get a follow-up; call the direct number as soon as the due-date comes (use calendar reminders for this);

If you can't get a call back, an appointment, or a test result in a reasonable amount of time (use a suspense file to track this), lodge a formal complaint with your insurer/facility, and consider filing with the state regulator;

Think hard about who you're going to tell, and when, and talk over your own wishes about who they can tell, and when.

As you might imagine, I've spent some time talking to my parents today as these welcome results have come in. My mother is (mostly) retired now, and she's doing a lot of volunteer work on end-of-life care. She recommends a book called Hope for the Best, Plan for the Rest: 7 Keys for Navigating a Life-Changing Diagnosis:

https://pagetwo.com/book/hope-for-the-best-plan-for-the-rest/

I haven't read it, but it looks like it's got excellent advice, especially for people who lack the self-advocacy capabilities and circumstances I'm privileged with. According to my mom, who uses it in workshops, there's a lot of emphasis on the role that families and friends can play in helping someone whose physical, mental and/or emotional health are compromised.

So, that's it. I've got cancer. No cancer is good. This cancer is better than most. I am almost certainly fine. Every medical professional I've dealt with, and all the administrative support staff at Kaiser, have been excellent. Even the doc who dropped the ball on my biopsy was really good to deal with – she was just clearly drowning in work. The problems I had are with the system, not the people. I'm profoundly grateful to all of them for the help they gave me, the interest and compassion they showed, and the clarity and respect they demonstrated in my dealings with them.

I'm also very grateful to my wife, my parents, and my boss at EFF, all of whom got the news early and demonstrated patience, love, and support that helped in my own dark hours over the past couple of months.

I hope you're well. But you know, everyone gets something, eventually. When you find yourself mired in a broken system full of good people, work the system – for yourself and for the people who come behind you. Take records. Make calls.

Look after yourself.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/05/carcinoma-angels/#squeaky-nail

#cancer #medicare for all #m4a #health #socialism or barbarism #oncology #kaiser #kaiser permanente #kp

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just-some-user-hunny · 6 months ago

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Nikto headcanons...

Here are some of my nikto headcanons!

Dividers credits=

@rookthornesartistry

@anitalenia

@adornedwithlight

Images are not mine <3

Nikto man is covered in scars and burns- they're gnarly and rough and biting.

They cover the expanse of his chest and back, deep scar tissue running along his left side- the skin rough and almost scaly to the touch. He's hardened from the biting cold. Hardened from cruelty. An impenetrable vault of gnawed steel.

Prominent thick veins run up his hands and arms and v-line, and the expanse of his palms are rough and gritty and run hot. There's discolouration on his body, especially his left side, where you can tell there have been skin grafts and surgical procedures done to attempt to replace missing skin and muscle tissue, along with burnt skin. There are ripping and tearing scars in his shoulders and neck, which seems like canine bite marks- possibly having been mauled by dogs. It appears he had tattoos once- now left as scraps of skin and blotted messy ink, most of it burnt away or torn off. The skin grafts over his right shoulder, the wide expanse of his chest, and right side of his body almost seemed pieced together like a jigsaw of flesh. Incomplete tattoos, discolouration, scars. Like Frankenstein's monster.

He's built like a brute. Thick shoulders and arms, muscled hips and thighs, and a strong torso. Over winter he puts on fat- a pillowy layer of fat covering his thighs and stomach and chest. His build is strong- but not overly toned like a bodybuilder. Dark hair decorating the expanse of his chest and forearms.

His eyes are blue. Not the bright, blinding light blue you're imagining. They're like rain- grey and cool and icy, piecing and pinpointing. Intense and searching. Like Gunmetal and black ice.

The first time he takes his mask off, it's safe to say he's never been this terrified in his life. You've captured glimpses of his lower jaw and mouth whenever he peeled it up to eat or drink down his black cherry tea, and even then he seemed timid. Timid like a fighting pit dog whose wounds are fresh and exposed. You can see there is damage- how much, you cannot speculate exactly, but by the sight of a few more teeth than usual peeking through torn flesh, you can tell his wounds were heavy. Both physically, and emotionally. His lips are rough and torn, an attempt at a grin sliced into the flesh of the corner of his mouth- stretching out across his lower cheek in a violent snarling tear. He always seems a little embarrassed whenever he drinks around you- it's subtle, he's trying to be subtle, but you can tell by the way he makes himself eerily scarce in the moment that he's trying to disappear. His eyes avert, he struggles for a moment to swallow, and then he's timidly looking back at you. Like he's returned to his body, to the moment where he's sitting in the kitchen with you.

He lets you do it.

You take it off for him.

You're not sure you've heard him right. But he's as serious as ever, glacial blue eyes pinpoint with your own- like he was peering into your very soul.

You're settled between his legs, standing as he's slumped fidgety on your couch. His hands are squeezing at your hips anxiously; grounding himself as his chest rises and falls quicker than usual.

Your fingertips ghost over his lips, tracing the rough scarred tissue and the plumpness of his lower lip. He gazes up at you like you are the moon, like you placed the stars in the sky.

You do it slowly- noting his grip tightening on your hips as you peel away at the mask. His fingertips almost bruising, but he's shaking too.

You peel it away from his skin, revealing more and more of him to you. There are things you've never seen before- like the few light freckles that lay upon his cheek, wispy like constellations. His nose is prominent and crooked, a slavic nose. Strong. Nikto's eyes are still on you as you take him in and his knee is bouncing now. Like he wants to get up and run. But he stays put- like his straggling trust in you is stronger than the fear.

It's off quicker than expected. A head of dark mahogany hair, dark brows, and stressed lines in his forehead- all revealed like naked flesh. It's a little shocking- but in a good, refreshing way. You've never seen his face like this- all the glimpses of features you've had now laid out in front of you like a completed puzzle. He's beautiful.

A familiar stranger.

The damage you've glimpsed whenever he tucked that thick fabric up over his mouth is clear to see now, and you can see just how much it takes room on his face. The left side of his face is scarred and discoloured- acid burns? Fire? A part of his brow at the end is missing, where hair doesn't grow anymore.

Nikto feels naked. More naked than ever, and it leaves him angsty. Your eyes are drinking him in, gentle fingertips tracing his skin and nose- and it feels nice. But his whole existence is a bare festering wound, and he can't decide if he wants to flinch away from you and snarl- or ease into you like you're the balm that'll finally ease the sting.

"Andre".

You utter his name like it's a happy prayer. Like it's sunlight and warm tea that soothes your cold hands and soul. Something good. Something you want.

He's something you want.

Something in him crumbles, and before he knows it, you're lightly wiping your fingers under his eyes to dry the tears in his waterline. A deep harrowing choke catches in his throat, and he's embracing you close like a life raft. Pressing his face hard into your stomach, as you scratch at the nape of his neck and pull at his short hair a little. You understand him.

That little sting grounds him, keeps him tethered to the earth and you.

Keep him grounded. Please.

#cod nikto x reader #nikto #mwii nikto #call of duty nikto #nikto x reader #cod nikto #nikto x you

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beecroft · 1 year ago

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Orthopedic veterinary surgeons in Singapore specializing in fracture repair, TPLO surgery, spinal surgery, hip replacement, and orthopedic procedures for dogs and cats.

Web Page: https://beecroft.com.sg/beecroftsg/project-two-3amwl

#cancer operations dogs and cats #interventional radiology subs and stenting #orthopedic surgical procedures for dogs and cats #fracture repair Alexandra #fracture repair vet Singapore #TPLO surgery vet Singapore #Surgery tumor removal #Surgery tumour removal #Ear surgery Singapore #Spinal surgery dog Singapore #Hip replacement surgery dog Singapore

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orangetintedglasses · 10 months ago

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@forgivenpunishment // one taser might not do it, but what about...?

Holding off a wave of people was no small effort.

Keeping an army off the back of another person while throwing yourself in harm's way, regardless of your strength, was something noble. Something that deserved praise, recognition; the undertaker's efforts would not go unnoticed.

... unfortunately for him, though, it wasn't Vash that they wanted. It wasn't Vash that would be swarmed by fully-amped stun batons and tasers and more bodies trickling in, crowding the hall to prevent escape, or even basic movement that might've allowed him to get the upper hand as some old, croaking voice shrieked don't kill him! We need him alive, he's useless to us dead...!

That had been nearly an hour ago, now, though. Trivial. Shouts and crackles of electricity had been replaced by the din of machines; the hum of glaringly bright surgical lights; the slow, steady blip of a heart monitor keeping track of vitals as six men bustled around the surgical table that they'd strapped him to. They'd cut him out of his clothes to save time, as well; naked save for the various nodes and monitors they'd fastened to him, and a clean, white sheet over his hips that went down to mid-thigh.

Was that sparing his dignity, or theirs? It didn't really matter, did it. No, no, what mattered now was how the subject was feeling whenever he came to again--

#curtains up ✧〗( ic )#unmade ✧〗( main verse )#plotted ✧〗conrad's cast-offs ( w/ forgivenpunishment )#he might get burned but he's in the game ✧〗mothwood ( forgivenpunishment )#( and now we torment poor mw for a little while )#( feel free to add whatever flickers of fight memory or npc movement you want! you can puppet doctors too~ )#( i don't *currently* have any specific ideas so I will follow your lead )#( (and if I think of something particularly stabby I will hit u up >:3) )#forgivenpunishment thr 05

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villain-crown · 1 year ago

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needle | @jegulus-microfic | words: 786

critical care, part 2 | (part 1, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9)

a Jegulus nurse!AU

“Prongs!”

Sirius strolled onto the medical-surgical intensive care unit with a coffee in one hand and an exasperated Remus Lupin in the other. James had to hand it to them—ever since his friends started sucking faces and Remus had flatly refused to let Sirius sabotage his 15 minutes early arrival policy, Sirius was never late to work anymore.

“Hey, mate,” James replied over his shoulder, examining the patient assignments that he’d just outlined.

“Are we in charge?” Sirius demanded into his Starbucks when he’d come close enough to read the board.

“Yeah, I'm charge nurse for the medical patients, you can have the surgical ones. Looks like your brother’s floating up here today.”

Sirius hurried to gulp down the sip he’d already taken. “Reggie? Yesss! Put him on my team! I want to boss him around.”

“How is that different from any other day of the week?” Remus asked.

It was on the tip of James’s tongue to ask—why would Marlene warn me not to stare at your brother?—when the two-toned wail of the code blue alarm blared through the hallway, automatically pulling their focus towards the far side of the ICU.

Sirius sucked up the last of his coffee, attempting to simultaneously shrug off his jacket and stagger towards the action. “Fucking hell, okay, OKAY!”

James was already taking long strides towards the other end of his unit, his eyes flicking to the blue light over room twelve’s door and the controlled chaos unfolding within it. Three people were already present: his two Gryffindor nurses, Lily and Mary, along with a very slender man in dark green Slytherin scrubs performing chest compressions.

“We started compressions about fifteen seconds ago,” Mary supplied from her position performing rescue breaths via bag mask at the head of the patient’s bed.

“Do you need a step stool?” James asked without thinking.

Stranger.

Slytherin scrubs.

This must be Regulus!

As the petite nurse looked up to spare him a glare while continuing to stand on his toes to maintain his rhythm, James realized exactly why he’d been warned not to stare.

He’d seen it all in the course of his career: severed fingers, gaping wounds, and infested flesh. When Marlene had warned him to keep his eyes to himself, he’d figured it was because there was something physically off about Sirius’s little brother; a scar or imperfection of some kind.

He was wrong.

Regulus Black wasn’t some deformed hobbit.

He was fucking gorgeous.

Truly, James couldn’t imagine anything he’d like to do more than stare into those stunning silver eyes set in that lovely face. His eyes had barely swept down to register the man’s slender body and neat little waist when fingers clicked sharply in his face.

“Watch your fucking eyes, Potter!” Sirius snapped, having finally caught up, pushing roughly past him to join his brother at the patient’s side. “Hold compressions, Reggie.”

Regulus paused his movements, backing off slightly to come down off his toes as everyone in the room observed the meaningless squiggles on the cardiac monitor fade from the reading. A wavy, trembling line replaced the previously jerky chaos.

“V. Fib,” Regulus concluded, correctly identifying the lethal heart rhythm.

He was much smaller than James, which was exactly what James liked. It would make pinning him up against a wall by the hips as they fucked a lot easier.

“Yeah. Take over compressions, Lily. Reggie, can you give a round of epinephrine? Where’s Dr. McGonagall?”

“In a budget meeting, according to the intern answering her phone,” Regulus answered, drawing up the medication with a needle.

Fuck, even his voice was just incredibly lovely. James imagined how it might sound in a much dirtier context than they were in now.

“Ah. Pour one out for McGonagall,” Sirius instructed Remus, who obediently emptied a syringe of sterile saline into the garbage.

Regulus paused his own movements, watched this action incredulously. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“It’s good luck. What, you guys don’t do that in Slytherin?”

“We don’t need luck in Slytherin.”

James rolled his eyes. “See, this is why people hate you guys. Okay, one milligram of epi is in.”

“Hello, everyone!”

James looked up and scowled upon seeing Barty Crouch Jr., one of the resident physicians on loan to them from Slytherin, swanning into the room like it was a lovely day. He seemed distinctly unconcerned by his late arrival and more interested in sidling over to Regulus and throwing an arm around his shoulder, making James frown.

“Hey Reg! Wow, they’ve really got you slumming it with these surgical idiots, huh?”

“Are you here to help or hit on my baby brother?” Sirius snapped over his shoulder from where he was recording the code events with a dry erase marker on one of the windows.

Crouch frowned. “Where’s McGonagall?”

“Budget meeting,” came from three different directions.

“Oh. Hey, Lupin, pour one out for—“

“We already did that! Now fucking give us orders, you cretin!”

“Oh. Alright, pause compressions, let’s check a pulse…”

#regulus black #james potter #jegulus #sirius black #starchaser #sirius and regulus #marauders nurse!au #marauders fandom #jegulus microfic

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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 7 months ago

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My dear lgbt+ kids,

Did you know the practice of meditation can have side effects? Some people experience adverse reactions to meditation, such as heightened anxiety or depression or even delusions and hallucinations.

What does that have to do with being lgbt? Well, nothing - but meditation is often seen as one of those “healthy things everyone should do”, something that just has so many benefits and doesn’t require you to take anything or undergo any kind of surgery, something that it’s widely recommended and accepted as healing… and even THAT super great thing has some people who will regret doing it.

Not a perfect comparison, nothing ever is, but you see the analogy coming: Transition (social or hormonal or surgical) is super beneficial to many people. And there are also some people who will regret it.

Any kind of health decision - and really any decision at all - can end with you regretting it. That’s a part of life.

“Protecting people from making a decision they might regret” sounds like such a noble goal. We want to live in a world where people can make informed decisions. Education, including on risks and side effects, is something to strive for. But it’s important to remember that we can not live in a world where nobody ever regrets anything.

People can regret getting their ears pierced. People can regret buying a car. People can regret going to university. People can regret having sex with someone. People can regret marriage. People can regret moving to a different state. People can regret coming out as gay. People can regret hip replacement surgery. And yes, people can also regret transitioning.

If we seriously wanted to protect people from ever regretting anything, we would need to just take any deciding power away (and then who would we give it to? Whoever makes our decisions for us then, they could also make a decision they end up regretting!).

Another reason why this analogy works: I told you meditation has side effects and people regret it - but I pretty conveniently left out that it’s pretty rare for that to happen. Meditation is generally very safe and has a really low regret rate. Plus, people who regret it may not regret that they choose to meditate all together but rather report that they regret a specific experience (such as choosing silent meditation over guided meditation or going on a meditation retreat that lasted multiple days).

Similar to that, transition also has a low regret rate (statistically much lower than tattoos or hip replacement surgery for example!) - and people who regret it may not actually be a case of “I regret it because I realized I’m not transgender”, even if that’s what transphobes tell you. Some people still identify as transgender but regret their surgery because they experienced complications (as they can arise from any kind of medical procedure). Some people regret it because they lost friends or family or job opportunities after coming out. And so on.

The topic of regret is much more complicated than “meditation is actually bad” or “they woke up one day and realized they were brainwashed into believing they were trans”. And it’s unfair to not only the ones who will never regret it but also to the ones who do regret it to reduce their stories to a cautionary tale meant to stop people from making a decision over their own body.

“We need to protect people from making decisions they might regret” just isn’t a good argument.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

#lgbt #lgbt+

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sedateandslice · 3 months ago

Text

The Hips That Launched 1000 Orgasms: A Medical Fetish Fiction

Content warning: this is a medical and surgical fetish fiction in which characters derive sexual pleasure from a surgical patient undergoing bilateral hip replacement and experiencing a difficult post-operative period. Those characters have sex, the patient is never involved or aware they are being fetishized. There is no useful medical information about hip replacement here. This is 18+ fetish fiction, minors DNI, otherwise read at your own risk.

Author’s note: I have a sudden huge thing for hip replacement surgery now? I don’t know. This is 3000 words of my latest hyperfixation, which is evidently women screaming about the pain in their broken hips. Truly dead dove territory here.

***

My grandfather's wife needed double hip replacement surgery and he asked me to help him get her to the hospital, wait while she was in surgery, and be there to see her with him when she got out.

I didn't really want to do it, frankly, because I have a raging medical and surgical fetish and, when he asked me to do it, I got off the phone, got hard when I immediately imagined the look on her face when she woke up and felt the pain of what had just been done to her, and then got soft real fast when I felt like a creep for sexualizing my step-grandma's surgical pain. Even though he's only been with the woman for a few years -- she's wife number six, we don't get attached -- and we've met a grand total of two times. It still felt...icky...to do what they would consider a kind favor if I wasn't going to be able to keep my dick down. Considering how many times I got hard thinking of that look on her face when my brain wandered toward the request, I wasn't going to be able to.

But it was icy the morning of the surgery, he's 78, and she's suffering so badly from the arthritis that's necessitating the hip replacements that he was going to have to transfer her from her wheelchair into their van in the ice. So, I'm not a total asshole....I said I'd come pick them up and gave my dick a talking to for the whole half hour drive to their house, insisting that we were not, under any circumstances, going to sexualize any part of my step-grandma's surgery experience.

We got there, they said a lovey, dovey goodbye -- they're disgustingly into PDA for septuagenarians -- then she was wheeled in for surgery, already a little loopy from the drugs they came her to keep her calm before the procedure. My dick did so well, only a teeny tiny jump, when they placed her central line and told her she'd really want that to deliver her pain medication once the nerve block placed during surgery wore off.

The surgery took about six hours, a little long for a bilateral hip replacement, and I tried valiantly not to look at the clock and imagine what they were doing to her at that point during the surgery. Were they prying her lips open to place the endotracheal tube? Using the saw to remove the arthritic joint? Or hammering the second new one in? Maybe there had been an unexpectedly tragic complication and right that very moment a surgeon was breaking her ribs as she coded on the table. It was a long six hours and Grandpa thought I had a weak bladder I had to go to the bathroom so many times to talk down my erection.

The doctor who came out to tell us the surgery had been a little difficult but she would recover normally told us a nurse would come back shortly and let us come see her in the post-anesthesia care unit once she was a little more awake. I had to excuse myself to the restroom again to have another talk with my dick because it was already getting traitorous at the thought of seeing her in the PACU, when her pain was most likely to be uncontrolled.

We didn't get to see her in the PACU, though. They came, said she was stable but needed a little more time. I figured she was either really groggy, really nauseous, or she was in so much pain it would freak us out and they were trying to control it before we saw her.

Unfortunately for me, my traitorous dick, and step granny, it was the latter. Two hours later they told us to meet her in her regular room because she was being wheeled down to be settled for the night, and to prepare ourselves because they were "struggling to keep her comfortable." We started hearing her pitiful groans when she was still halfway down the hall.

The semi I sprung the second I heard her keening cry after being jostled as the bed hit the door making the turn into the room turned into a rock hard erection when I saw her for the first time. She was lying flat on the bed, her head thrown back in agony, with her legs strapped around a blue triangular hip abductor pillow at her knees and mid-calf. The top of the triangle ended about one inch under her vagina, a hint of which I could see in the form of coarse gray hair partially obscuring a yellow catheter tube that snaked down to a half full bag of light yellow fluid hanging on the side of the bed.

Her face was beet red, streaked with tears, and her eyes were glassy and unfocused. She was crying so hard she seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilating and the involuntary spasms of her struggle for breath and the heaving sobs were jerking her aching hips, sending slices of agony through her entire pelvis and down the bloody bandage covered incisions down the sides of her legs, which only made her struggle harder.

The cute, muscled twink nurse who introduced himself as Marco, her night nurse, said her nerve block was wearing off and he would give her another dose of pain meds once he plugged in the monitors. He was making quick work of getting her settled when grandpa and I approached her bed.

I was so fucking hard I could barely move for fear my erection, which was twitching enough in my boxers to make me tremble, would hit the thick, dark denim of the jeans I wore specifically so I could hide this problem if it, um, popped up. I was in such a state that any friction would absolutely have been game over for me.

[If you've gotten this far and are fucking horrified by me, well, I was fucking horrified with myself to be leaking pre-cum at an old lady's obvious agony. Trust me, I get it. I didn't want my fetish to turn me on in a real life hospital. But holy shit she was lying there, screaming "my hips, my hips!" while strapped down immobile to that pillow like she was out of central casting in a surgical fetish fiction film and there were no number of thoughts of hellfire and damnation that could talk my penis down at that point. Why did it have to be hips?! I've had a hard on for this particular surgery since I was like 10 and I saw an old lady on Rescue 911 with a badly dislocated hip beg the paramedics to let her die rather than taking her to the hospital to have hip replacement for the second time because she didn't think she could endure the pain of waking up from that surgery again. I must have had 3000 orgasms since then watching the exact part of the video where she woke up from anesthesia and screamed, "my hip, oh God, why, I can't take the pain in my hip!" So, actually. I was doing insanely fucking well for what this was doing to me, thank you very much.]

Step granny saw grandpa and let out a wail. She tried to reach for him and groaned when it shot white sharp sparks through her surgical wounds again. She was visibly struggling to put words together through the haze of pain and the drugs in her system but she looked at him plaintively and began to beg, her voice raspy from the trach tube.

"Please, make the pain stop, I feel like I'm gonna die I'm in so much pain! It feels like someone's drilling into my hips! This was a mistake, I didn't know it would hurt this much, I don't want to die in this much pain!"

I had to turn around at that to pinch the base of my cock to keep myself from busting. I grunted when I was just barely successful but couldn't rein in a few involuntary thrusts of my own hips into the air that I hoped, if anyone was paying attention, would look like me trying to hold in my vomit of horror at seeing step granny in this condition.

But I turned around and it didn't seem like anyone was paying attention because Marco was putting a bolus of morphine into step granny's IV and she was pleading for him to hurry because it felt like a grenade had gone off in her pelvis.

I almost moaned at the pressure in the base of my cock as heard that and then had to push so fucking hard on my base again I almost squealed as I watched it take effect in less than a minute. Her eyes practically crossed before going wide with what looked like surprise. Her mouth dropped open and her tongue lolled around her lips as the drugs hit her.

She made a few noises that sent shivers through my erection before her whole body seemed to deflate with a long, breathy sigh. Her head fell to the side, her eyes and mouth locked open in a rictus of what could have been agony, bliss, or was more likely some combination of the two.

I don't know how I didn't bust right then. It was like she'd been written as a character in a kink fic to hit all my surgical fetish buttons. She was just splayed there, drugged out of her gourd, with a dumb look of utter shock on her face, like she never could have imagined having her arthritic hip joints sawed off and metal balls hammered into their place would hurt this bad.

She lay there like that for five minutes, emitting weak groans but otherwise completely catatonic. I didn't even know if she was conscious but grandpa stroked her cheek, rubbing a knuckle near her slack mouth.

"How are those hips feeling, honey?"

It didn't look like she was able to hear us for about 30 seconds but then her eyes went to half lidded, then rolled back in her head, and then she let out a long throaty moan that could only be described as pornographic.

"Ooooooooooh they feel so good, oh God it feels so good."

She let out another long moan and it looked like she was going to go catatonic again but this time with her eyes rolled back in her head and a mask of pure bliss on her pale features.

My grandpa turned to me and shot me an unexpectedly dirty smile for the situation.

"That's what she said last night. And that was the look she had on her face when she said it too."

My cock jumped in my pants so hard I was sure my grandpa had to see it. It was only that thought -- explaining to my grandpa why I was cumming all over his wife's hospital bed -- that kept me from nutting because...holy shit. I never ever thought I'd find my grandpa having sex with his wife hot but the idea of him pounding her mangled hips hours before they sliced them out just about sent me over the edge after everything else I'd endured over the last few hours.

I was thanking fuck I managed to hold it together when step granny emitted a strained chuckle and commanded her drugged features into what might pass as a smile. She let out another one of those long moans and I almost joined her as it sent a bolt of heat to my length.

"Give me a few hours and my hips can take you," she slurred. "They feel so good I'll take all of it, the whole thing, just give me a few hours."

It was a drugged old lady thing to say and, I can attest, would become a family favorite story of step granny's hip replacement tale once she was far enough from it for anything about it to be funny.

It was also the last fucking straw for my poor, aching cock. I didn't even have a chance to stop it. I was cumming, untouched, for the first time in my life, in the middle of relative's hospital room. And I wasn't cumming delicately or demurely, I was cumming like a fucking freight train, moaning, bucking into the air, and practically having a seizure as every fucking hot thing about the fucking hottest day of my life - which had basically been 10 hours of edging to a 15 year-old fantasy -- spilled over into the best and most embarrassing orgasm I had ever had, coating my boxers with a measure of cum I didn't know was possible to shoot out of me or anyone.

I was still jerking from the aftershocks when Marco, the nurse who I’d barely noticed before, put his shoulder under mine and held me up as I bucked involuntarily, spilling the last of my load. I had no idea what I was going to say to anyone but, for whatever reason, he was leading me out of the room, telling my bewildered grandpa I might be in shock from seeing step granny in so much pain.

Just as we were about to leave the room Marco looked at me knowingly, flashed a sick smile, and called back into the room, "now take it easy now, you two love birds. Wouldn't want to take those new hips out for a spin too soon!"

I groan as my poor, throbbing cock perks back up at the general implications of that and he grins like the cat that got the canary, clearly confirming to himself that I'm getting sexual pleasure out of this, as if cumming myself stupid in the middle of her hospital room didn't give enough of a clue.

He directed me into a nearby closet and I am about to open my mouth to explain why I'm not the worst person in the world for getting off to my grandmother's agonizing surgery recovery when Marco whipped his cock out and gave it a few fast, desperate strokes before pulling a face of relief that almost reminded me of step granny when she got the morphine.

"I'm sorry," he said, continuing to rut his massive cock desperately into his hand, "it's just she's so fucking hot, she's like a god damn fetish porno, and I've been hard as a fucking rock since she woke up and screamed "my hips, oh my god, someone put a gun up my vagina and exploded my hips!"

I heard that and for the second time in my life, and that day, I nutted my brains out without so much as stroke to my cock. He kept tugging on me through the aftershocks as he told about what she was like to recover.

He said it was like she could feel everything from the moment she was brought around on the table and that she started screaming for pain meds the instant she was extubated, while they were still suctioning out of her throat even. Marco started bucking into his own hand, his voice becoming uneven with arousal, as he told me the doctor kept insisting she had a nerve block and she was just being dramatic or was maybe even med seeking while she was laying in the bed, trembling, on the verge of going into shock from the pain.

His voice became uneven as he stroked himself harder and began to imitate step granny as she lay there screaming, groggy and deeply confused from the effects of the anesthesia.

“I feel where they broke my hip!”

“Why is this happening to me? Please make it stop”

“Am I dying? I’m in so much pain I feel like I’m dying!”

By this point Marco had jerked himself into a frenzy reliving how she looked and sounded in the depths of her agony but he blew his load when he relayed the look on her face when she was moved from the operating table to the bed. She was evidently a little more aware than she should have been and, well, he was cumming too hard to tell me exactly what happened but it must have been brutal because he came screaming “my hips are shattering, my hips are shattering.”

It was remarkably chill between me and Marco after we both came down from fucking ourselves silly to our medfet dreams made real life. He was asking me about my favorite surgeries, how I realized medical stuff turned me on, if my granny was always so dramatic. I was telling him I knew her about as well as he did when he got a text that made his jaw drop.

“Holy shit. Fuck dude. She wasn’t being dramatic. They just caught her anesthesiologist high in the parking lot. He was diverting during her fucking surgery.”

I look at him with a blank look. “What does that mean?”

He winced. “It means instead of giving her the drugs he took them himself. Everything she was supposed to get after and, holy shit from the way she was when she woke up, maybe from during the surgery too. Holy shit. I hope she had enough during the surgery. She did keep saying she felt everything.”

I felt my heart start to race as I thought I understood what he was saying but I asked him to clarify just to make sure I was understanding.

“No wonder we were nutting over how hot she was being. She didn’t have any pain meds after the surgery and she may not have even had enough during the surgery. She wasn’t being dramatic, she was raw dogging a double hip replacement.”

For the third time in my life, and that day, I busted absolutely untouched in my pants. That was the single fucking hottest thing I'd ever heard up until that moment.

That is until three days later when I held Marco's cock and step granny's hand as she strained on a bedpan to take the dreaded first post-surgery shit.

"Oh God, I need an enema, I feel like it's breaking my hips!"

I quit counting how many times I came, untouched and otherwise, during her recovery as Marco and I got to know each other.

There's a reason we still refer to step granny's now long healed, ballroom dancing hips as "the hips that launched 1000 orgasms."

#medfet #surgery fet #anesthesia #hospital #surgery #medical kink #dark medfet

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