#wearing scrubs

[darkenedroses-world]

Vital Tension — Grizzy x Reader

f!reader, med assistant, sneaky, fingering

The sound of steady beeping monitors and the faint scent of antiseptic filled the small examination room where you worked, just as it did every day. You were a medical assistant—technically still under supervision, but granted enough autonomy to handle basic patient care solo. The crispness of your scrubs and the ID badge clipped to your collar were a constant reminder of your professionalism. Today, though, that professionalism was about to be tested in a way you never saw coming. You’d been running around all morning, handling patient intake, cleaning instruments, and reviewing charts for your supervising physician. The morning rush was finally slowing, and you were looking forward to a few moments of quiet when the door swung open. Your head shot up—and there stood Grizzy. You felt the spark instantly, a now-familiar heat crawling up your neck. You and Grizzy weren’t officially anything—no labels, no defined relationship. But you’d been circling each other for weeks, sharing private jokes and lingering glances that stretched seconds into something electric. You’d slept together more than once, more than twice, each time more charged than the last. It was unofficial, experimental—a delicious secret neither of you seemed eager to define or deny. And here he was, stepping into your sterile world, a slow grin pulling at his full lips.

Your heart thumped in your chest. Something was off. He wore an exaggerated grimace, one hand cradling his shoulder, brows drawn together as if in pain. “I… might’ve hurt myself,” he said, voice low and just a touch too dramatic. Immediately, your medical instincts kicked in, though you suspected his theatrics. It wasn’t that you doubted he could’ve strained something, but the way his eyes gleamed told you he had other intentions. Still, you didn’t question him. Instead, you patted the exam table with a professional smile. “Sit down,” you said, adopting your calm, clinical tone, “Let me take a look.” He hopped up onto the padded surface, wincing a bit too convincingly. Standing between his parted knees, you began a methodical inspection of his shoulder, pressing gently around the joint. His muscle was tense, warm under your gloved fingertips. “Where does it hurt?” you asked, leaning closer, your hair falling forward slightly. “Right… there,” he murmured, his voice dropping as he guided your hand just a fraction higher. You detected no real injury—no flinch of genuine pain, no swelling. Instead, Grizzy’s gaze slid lower, roaming over the neckline of your scrubs, lingering on the curve of your collarbone. The air crackled with unspoken desire. You tried to swallow back a grin, leveling him with a knowing look.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” He chuckled, dropping the act instantly. “Not even a little,” he admitted, voice low. “Just wanted to see you.” There was no apology in his eyes, just mischief. “Missed you,” he added softly, as if that explained everything. Your cheeks heated, and your heart fluttered at his words. Before you could respond, he slid his hands along your hips, pulling you closer until you were standing snug between his thighs. You opened your mouth—maybe to scold him, to remind him that you were at work, that anyone could walk in—but he pressed a finger to your lips, shaking his head slowly. “It’s quiet out there,” he said, tone soothing, as if this were perfectly normal. “You got a few minutes before your next patient, right?” You should have protested, but the feel of his warm hands skimming up your torso, gently pushing at the fabric of your scrub top, dissolved any argument. You knew this was dangerous. Yet, you also knew how good his touch felt, how he could ignite your nerves with the smallest gesture. As if reading your thoughts, Grizzy’s fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your scrub pants, hooking them just enough to slide his hand inside, finding the soft cotton of your underwear. Your breath caught. He looked up at you, eyes hooded, and whispered, “Let me take care of you… I know how much you’ve been working.”

Your knees felt weak. He was so close that his breath brushed your throat. With slow, deliberate patience, he pressed his hand firmly against you through the thin fabric of your panties. You bit your lip, instinctively leaning closer, chasing the pressure. Grizzy smirked, leaning in to kiss just under your jaw, a slow brush of his lips that sent a shiver down your spine. With another gentle tug, he slipped his hand inside your underwear, his fingers sliding through your growing wetness. You clamped a hand around his shoulder—so much for the fake injury—to steady yourself, biting back a soft moan. “Careful,” he breathed, his voice barely more than a rumble, “You gotta stay quiet, baby. Don’t want anyone barging in.” You nodded, swallowing hard, the rational part of your brain screaming at how risky this was. But the rest of you—your body, your need for him—was screaming louder. You parted your legs as much as you dared, letting his fingers glide against your entrance, circling your clit with slow, teasing motions. Your breath stuttered, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as sparks of pleasure danced across your nerves. “Look at me,” Grizzy said softly. You forced your eyes open. His were filled with hunger and affection. He loved seeing you like this—helpless with want, struggling to maintain composure. He pressed a fingertip inside you, shallow at first, testing your response.

Your nails dug into his shoulder through his t-shirt, and you had to bite your bottom lip to muffle a gasp. He grinned—quiet triumph—and eased another finger in, pumping slowly. The wet sound of his fingers working you over threatened to undo your last thread of professionalism. You choked back a moan and, as if rewarding your restraint, he curled his fingers just right, pressing against that sweet spot that made your thighs tremble. “Nelson,” you mouthed silently, your voice failing you. His forearm flexed as he picked up the rhythm, thrusting his fingers in a smooth, steady pace. Every nerve ending seemed to focus on that delicious friction, every brush of his thumb over your clit making you pulse around him. Your vision blurred as the pleasure built, like a wave cresting inside you. He watched you intently, clearly enjoying how unravelled you’d become, right here in your workplace, your scrubs still mostly intact, your professional façade in tatters. “C’mon,” he coaxed quietly, “Just let go. I got you.” His voice was warm, steady, a stark contrast to the adrenaline racing through your veins. You pressed your face into his neck, muffling a whimper against his skin. He groaned softly, probably feeling the warmth of your breath, the gentle scrape of your teeth as you fought to stay silent. His fingers pumped faster, more insistent, and the tight coil of pleasure within you began to unwind.

Your legs shook, your free hand gripping the edge of the exam table for dear life. In that tiny room, behind a closed door, with every reason not to give in, you climaxed around his fingers, your body clenching, your breath stuttering. He didn’t let up right away, prolonging your pleasure with a few extra strokes until you trembled, your head spinning. You stayed like that for a few moments, heart hammering, his fingers still inside you, his other hand stroking your back soothingly. When you finally pulled away, you were flushed, and he wore a smile that was equal parts satisfied and affectionate. With a gentle withdrawal of his fingers, he straightened your underwear and scrub pants, smoothing the wrinkles as if nothing had happened. He even dared to lift his fingers to his own lips, tasting you with a slow, decadent lick. Your jaw dropped at his boldness, and he winked. You swallowed, managing a shaky whisper, “You’re insane. We could’ve been caught.” He just laughed softly, leaning in to steal another quick kiss. “Worth it.” His voice was low, rumbling, sending a pleasant aftershock through your body. “Guess we’re still… testing these waters, huh?” “Yeah,” you said, smiling despite yourself, “I guess we are.” And as he stood and adjusted his shirt, ready to slip out as if nothing unusual had happened, you knew that this wouldn’t be the last time.

The tension, the risk, the undeniable chemistry—none of it was going anywhere. You’d just have to get better at staying quiet.

[genericpuff]

am i the only one who's been bothered by mr. beast since day one because in every overly edited thumbnail and promotional picture he looks like bad taxidermy

or is it really just me who gets visceral reactions of unnerved fear which i imagine can only be leftover from my stone age ancestors who saw bared teeth and unblinking stares as a sign of aggression

[doctorsiren]

Got around to finishing up some more AA/MP100 character swaps that I sketched out a while ago and then forgot about!

We have Mogami swapped with Kristoph (since Apollo is Mob and Phoenix is Reigen). I gave him a moth bolo tie and I love it. Next we have Suzuki swapped with von Karma (since Miles is Serizawa and Franziska is Shou). After that we have Shimazaki swapped with Godot (the blind guys…also Shimazaki looks like Phoenix so I thought it was silly too). Then we have Sakurai swapped with Gregory Edgeworth and the way to tell the difference between the two is one has a scar! (/silly). I gave Gregory the Jugan because oopsie gun! After that we have Tsuchiya swapped with Mia (one: their names rhyme. two: cool women). With them we have Mukai swapped with Pearl since y’know little child teehee

I have some ideas for a few more but I’ll do those later.

You can find the other two posts here! AA as MP100 and MP100 as AA

[sadasspisces]

in the car having my pre work mental breakdown, happy monday 🩵

[all-pacas]

Hey, you want to go get some – No.

(chase's terrible outfits in every episode: occam's razor)

[shiftythrifting]

- a jumpscare when turning the corner at the thrift shop. I think it’s a grappling dummy dressed as a vintage prisoner??

-Crayola Designer kit that I almost bought. All the stuff was in there and it looks dope as hell, but I left it in hopes that a kid can have it.

~Admin BT, Boise area, Idaho

[rockethorse]

The basegame wedding dress has a pregnancy morph??

[idontmindifuforgetme]

Was studying at a cafe yesterday and this group of ladies who looked maybe in their late 20s came in and I could tell they were all in healthcare bc of their scrubs . And they all sat down and chatted and giggled for like two hours straight and it seemed so fun like they lit up the whole place tbh. I was like omg that’s my future bc med school girl group when

[taesnix]

BACK from the void to present to you: Nico, who wears the most absolutely ridiculous socks ever because no one can see them.

Gods, he has so many.

Most of them are thick and warm for maximum comfort, and they go up to just under his knees with the stupidest little things and patterns on them. For summer, he has an equally impressive collection of crew socks that are still thick enough to not get easily worn out, but don't make him sweat buckets trudging under the sun.

Nico knows that he'll forever be a collector at heart but it's not like he wanted to choose socks of all things as his next prized possessions. He didn't wake up one day and decide "man, these things are pretty great, let's go amass an army's worth of SOCKS!" It just happened. He had no control over that. They just feel nice, okay. And perhaps the colour combos and sheer variety of everything makes him happy.

Is it kind of embarrassing? Yeah. Would he cease to exist if anyone found out? Holy shit, maybe. But it's not like anyone has been able to tell underneath his daily go-to of heavy jeans and combat boots, so he's been in the clear so far.

Until he gets distracted for a split second while sparring with Percy and riptide cuts a huge slash across his leg.

Nico's fast, so he's able to jump back just enough so that the sword barely catches any flesh, but his jeans unfortunately don't come out unscathed.

"Keep your head in the game, Neeks!" Percy teases with a grin. He's got an annoying glint in his eye to match and Nico just knows he's about to say something worse. "No matter who walks in."

And—shit. Nico feels his face flush scarlet despite him screaming internally at his body to not react. He pointedly does not look at the new blob of neon scrubs sitting next to Kayla in the stands. "Shut up, Jackson. Like you're any better when Annabeth so much as blinks at you."

Percy shrugs. "Hey man, at least I acknowledge it."

And—fine, he does. Nico will give him that. Jackson was peak levels of embarrassing about his girlfriend on a good day.

"I think you should go get that patched up," Percy smirks. He then makes a big show of squinting at the stands, pulling a similar face that Jason makes trying to read highway signs without his glasses. Basically, he looks really fucking stupid. "Impeccable timing, too! Whaddya know? There seems to be a free medic right there."

One day, Nico will kill him. It'll fix almost all of his problems, and gods know he'll always have too many at any given point in time. But he'll do it. Maybe Annabeth will even take pity and give him a pass.

Before Nico can even open his mouth and retort with something snarky, Percy raises his hands and hollers. "Hey, Will! The King here is in need of some dire medical attention!"

"No, I'm not!" Nico shouts when Will's eyes grow wider. "Nothing happened, I'm fine."

Percy snorts and claps him on the shoulder. "As if that's worked before. Good luck, little man. Same time tomorrow?"

And he doesn't wait for a response, just gives a one-handed salute and begins to make his way to the stands. Percy says something to Will as they pass by each other and Will's brows furrow.

One day.

"What happened?" Will asks as he jogs over. His blond curls rise and fall with every step and if you zeroed in on only them, the loose coils look like they're in zero gravity. Bouncing with an impossible grace as they get closer and closer.

Not that Nico was looking. Or that he'd even noticed at all. Man, is it getting hotter here? He should definitely drink some water soon.

"Nico?" Will waves a slow hand in front of his face. "You alright? Percy said his sword mostly caught your jeans, but you never know."

"Huh?" Nico chokes. Right, this is the dire medical attention part.

Will gives him a wobbly smile, like he's trying not to laugh but failing miserably. "Okaaay then. Can I check your leg?"

"Um, sure."

He's still so out of it that he doesn't hear his subconscious screaming at him why Will kneeling down to lift the denim is a terrible, horrible idea.

Nico feels the lithe fingers carefully cut down the fabric with scissors that have seemingly appeared from nowhere. He feels them gently peel back his jeans with a confident precision, minimizing the disturbance to the wound. He hears the faintest of gasps and he feels the other boy go completely still.

He tilts his head down to see what the issue is—surely Percy hadn't slashed him that bad—and then, like a statue, he freezes in place too.

In the most obnoxious shade of yellow possible, rows of mischievous rubber ducks beam back at both of them. He says mischievous because they've got annoying smirks and eyebrows strong enough to rival the Stoll brothers on the first of April. Which is quite a concerning amount. The smallest flecks of red from his cut take the whole "sinister menaces" thing to an unholy level.

Neither of them breathe for the next 30 seconds. Or maybe it's 30 years. Hell, if Nico knows now, his damn heart stopped working properly ages ago.

Then, either his saving grace or the final nail in his coffin, Will sucks in another shaky mouthful of air and clears his throat.

"You know," he starts, scarily neutral. Not a single waver in his voice. "I'm beginning to think Kayla's got a point."

Kayla talks a lot, running through an average 5 conversation topics in a record of 7 minutes with Nico himself, so that narrows it down by exactly nothing. "Uh, about what?"

Will doesn't reply, simply carrying on with cleaning and dressing his injury like he hadn't said anything. It drives Nico crazy, but he knows Will's priorities, so he holds his tongue. Will had drilled them into Nico's brain during his first infirmary stay; treat first, talk second.

So he waits. He lets Will dab the tiniest bit of nectar across the cut and wipe away blood. After a minute or two, his leg is wrapped neatly with a bandage, and suddenly, there's no more treating to be done.

"We're matching," Will finally says.

Nico blinks. Because—what.

"I mean, it's a slightly different shade, but eh, close enough to count."

Nico breaks out of his stupor when Will traces one of the ducks with his nail. Soft but accurate, light but impossible to ignore, like everything else he does.

"Yellow?" Nico whispers. He can't seem to muster up his voice to be louder than that.

Will looks up at him with a particular glint in his eye, and Nico's heart stops a second time.

"Mhm," he grins, dusting his knees as he stands up. He winks and it has no right to kickstart the thumping in Nico's chest. "Same wavelength."

"You're ridiculous," Nico lightly shoves at Will's shoulder and prays that his face isn't burning red.

Will just laughs and catches his hand, holding it in place. "Sure, but I'm also right."

"Are not."

"Are too."

"Are n—"

"Okay," Will interrupts, "I hate to break it to you, Neeks, but we're both wearing obnoxious shades of yellow. You've got the added bonus of sly rubber duckies, and my scrubs glow in the dark. Ergo, we're both ridiculous and both on the same wavelength."

Gods, who the hell says, "ergo". Why is Nico so enamoured with such an idiot.

"And how, exactly, does Kayla have a point here?" Nico sighs, ignoring that his hand is still on Will's shoulder and that Will is still holding it there. He'll take his silent wins as they come.

Now, Will's cheeks become a rosy red. It makes Nico want to trace a finger around his freckles to check if his skin has become warmer, too.

"Well..." He trails off. He glances down to Nico's leg again, where some of the damn ducks are peeking out behind his jeans.

With a grounding deep breath, Will shuts his eyes for a moment. When they open, he meets Nico's gaze head on, calm yet confident once more.

He's beautiful like this, like he always is.

Against his own will, Nico smiles. Will shines underneath the sun and his stupid blond curls are golden.

"She said we're soulmates. And I think she's right about that."

And Nico thinks she's right about that, too.

[whatudottu]

Wouldn't it be funny for the hot doctor Knock Out to not actually be that big a fan of sex. Still tho- it doesn't stop him from tormenting his husband with horny thoughts <3

Hah, instead of leaving him cold and sleaveless in just scrubs alone, I gave dear KO a puffy racer jacket (you know damn well it's ruby red), and to give himself an excuse to wear it in the medbay and on the field, he's got the Decepticon medical symbol patched on his arms :)

hmm does the implied impregnation mean i need to tag this as something?

[jpriest85-blog]

I redrew another Kilmt painting as a potriat of Dr. Roxane Godwin Blackwell, my vampire MC from @barbwritesstuff Thicker Than IF.

I despicted her as a newly turned fledgling still in her blood spattered medical scrubs, holding a medical clip board, and her son's stuffed rabbit. As well as depicting little shadows in the backround of the hospital sillouted with crime scene tape, and the Werewolves chasing down her murderer/maker Lawerence Blackwell.

I suppose it's a bit ironic to name a vampire Roxane, since her name means bright, or dawn. 🤔 Although considering Roxane despises the Night Court and will probably try to destroy them for all the harm they caused, to her self and others. Seems fitting.

[xbasement-baitx]

Can we see your ootd

[apostate-in-an-alcove]

As a chronically ill person, I don't trust nor do I like doctors and medical professionals as a whole and if that makes me an unreasonable asshole then so be it.

[sadasspisces]

my assignment ends tomorrow, ready to go home 💜

[ssecond-hand-faith]

Some folks at a party were comparing fictional boyfriends and I didn’t have any drawings of mine to show off, how emBARRASSING! So here’s my favourite pizza rat 🥰

[hunnicute]

how has it taken me this long to realize bj doesn’t wear his wedding ring