@imaginechishiya - Tumblr Blog

Anatomy of Feelings

Pairing: doctor! chishiya x f!resident! reader

Summary: something begins to shift not only between you and chishiya, but more so within him. will a former acquaintance of his be able to destroy whatever is growing between the two of you?

Warnings: angst! smut! (explicit warnings under the cut), use of safewords, mentions of alcohol consumption, hospitals and emergencies. Do not read if you're under 18!

Word count: ~ 14k

This is Part 3 of Anatomy of Control and Anatomy of Desire

Explicit Warnings: oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, masturbation, overstimulation, the use of safewords!, swallowing

You wanted to talk to Chishiya about what happened with nurse Misaki, but the chance never came. He had been busy all day, performing a small surgery in the morning, then disappearing into one meeting after another. It wasn’t that he deliberately avoided you. No, you could see it in the way his eyes flicked constantly in your direction during the morning shift. He was simply glad to be busy. Busy enough to keep his sharp mind occupied, too distracted to risk being pulled into your orbit again.

When he didn’t show up for afternoon rounds, you glanced at the clock, then at the pile of charts stacked neatly on the nurses’ station counter. For a moment you hesitated. But then you took a deep breath and reached for them, tucking the files under your arm. If he wasn’t there, you would handle it.

“Doctor?” Head nurse Rinka had spotted you. Her usual strict expression softened. “Do you want me to join you?” Relief swept over you and you smiled. “Gladly. But only if you have the time.”

The older woman gave a faint hum, nodding as she stepped beside you. “You always make time for my nurses. It’s only right I return the favour.” Together, the two of you began the rounds.

The first patient was a small boy recovering from pneumonia. His colour had improved, his breathing less laboured than yesterday. You flipped through the notes, frowning slightly. “His medications have done their job, but the dosage might be too strong now that he’s stabilising. We risk stressing his system.” Nurse Rinka nodded slowly. “Good eye. What would you do?”

“Step the dosage down, monitor for forty-eight hours. If his progress continues, we can switch him to oral medication instead of IV.” The nurse smiled faintly, her wrinkles softening around her eyes. “That’s exactly what I would do.”

You moved on, file after file, patient after patient. A girl with asthma who laughed when you crouched down to her level and asked her about her favourite stuffed toy. A teenager with diabetes, nervous about needles, who relaxed when you explained step by step what was happening. A toddler with an ear infection, giggling as you pulled a silly face just to make him open his mouth for inspection.

Everywhere you went, the children seemed to brighten. Their small voices called for you, tugging at your sleeve, wanting your attention. You never rushed them, never dismissed them.

By the time you finished, the sun had dipped lower.

At that very moment, Chishiya stormed through the ward, his coat billowing behind him, long strides that seemed impatient. His hair was just slightly tousled from running his hands through it too many times during meetings, his jaw tight with irritation. He reached the nurses’ station, scanning for the charts. His eyes narrowed when he saw the counter empty. “Where-" he began, voice already filled with annoyance, but then he caught sight of you.

You and nurse Rinka stepped out of the last patient’s room, charts neatly stacked against your chest. Your hair was slightly out of place from leaning down to your patients, your cheeks flushed from the warmth of the ward. Nurse Rinka was murmuring something to you, and you smiled back at her with quiet gratitude.

Chishiya froze mid-breath. The words he had been about to spit at the nearest nurse caught in his throat. And for a fraction of a second, irritation melted into something else. Something he didn’t want to name.

You held the stack of charts firmly, offering them before he could scold anyone. “I took over the afternoon round.” Chishiya stopped in his tracks. His coat settled back around him as he crossed his arms, gaze fixed on you, waiting for you to justify yourself.

You cleared your throat. “The boy with pneumonia, his condition is improving. I lowered the medication dosage, the IV strength was becoming too much now that he’s stabilising.” His eyes narrowed, not in disapproval but in calculation. He still said nothing.

Quickly, you flipped open another chart, your voice softening with excitement. “And here, look.” You turned the paper towards him. “The girl with juvenile dermatomyositis. Her muscle enzymes are trending down, her skin rash is fading. If this continues, she can be tapered off corticosteroids soon.”

That finally earned a reaction. Chishiya uncrossed his arms and stepped closer, leaning in to read the latest blood values. His shoulder brushed yours, but instead of shifting away, he leaned further, his chest firm against you as he scanned the chart. His hair tickled against your temple as he bent slightly, and you forced yourself to keep talking.

“These were the most important changes,” you explained quickly, the words tumbling out. “I also noted a few minor things. The toddler in 212 still refuses solids, the teenager with diabetes needs another session with the dietician, but nothing urgent.”

You were still talking when the air shifted.

His voice brushed low and hot against your ear, every syllable vibrating through your chest. “I missed you today.” The words slammed into you, stealing the air from your lungs.

You turned your head slightly, clearly startled, but his face looked unimpressed. To anyone watching, he was simply scanning a chart. But to you, pressed against his chest, his voice still lingering in your ear, it was something else entirely.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you closed the chart, his words still echoing inside your head. You tried to keep your tone steady, tried to hide the way heat rushed through you. “I, uh… I promised the girl in 305 I’d be there when she gets her blood drawn,” you said, setting the pile of charts neatly on the counter. “You should go eat something, maybe sit down for a bit. You’ve been running all day.”

For a second, he didn’t move. Chishiya tilted his head, studying you with that unreadable stare of his. The corner of his mouth twitched, not amusement exactly. His hand brushed against your lower back as you passed him, subtle but deliberate, enough to set your skin alight. You could feel him lingering closer than he should as he murmured, just low enough for you to catch it, “You think you can tell me what to do?” There was no real bite in his tone, just the simmer of a promise. A warning.

You ignored the way your pulse jumped, offering him the smallest smile before slipping away towards room 305.

Inside, you knelt beside the little girl, keeping your voice light and playful, distracting her as the nurse prepared the needle. She clutched your hand, her eyes on you instead of the syringe. When it was done, she whispered a small and relieved “thank you, doctor,” and your heart warmed.

But when you stepped out into the corridor again, warmth of another kind hit you instantly.

Chishiya was still there. Arms crossed, back against the nurses’ station, gaze fixed sharply on the door as though willing you to appear. His jaw was tight, patience stretched thin. The sight of him waiting sent a shiver down your spine. He didn’t speak. He simply pushed off from the counter and nodded once, curtly, for you to follow. And then he turned, coat flaring as he strode down the corridor, every step precise and somewhat purposeful. Your stomach flipped. Whatever this was, it couldn’t wait. He wasn’t going to let it wait.

Chishiya was too controlled to ever let anyone see eagerness. But you saw it now. It was there, in the tension of his shoulders, the sharpness of his movements, the way his hand flexed once as though resisting the urge to reach for you.

He wanted you.

Right here.

Right now.

You had barely taken a breath, your thoughts tangled between Misaki’s words and how to even bring them up, when the door clicked shut behind you. "Chishiya, can I ask you some-" But he cut you off by pressing his mouth on yours.

The impact stole the air from your lungs, his kiss fierce and consuming, nothing like the careful and detached man he showed the world. His fingers tangled in your hair, tugging your head back just enough to deepen the press of his lips against yours, a hunger you hadn’t seen in him before.

Your body hit the wall, the thud muffled by the press of his chest pinning you there. Your coat slid from your shoulders, pooling at your feet before you could even think about resisting. His hand caught both your wrists, lifting them high above your head, holding them there as if daring you to fight him.

The control in his grip contrasted with the urgency of his other hand, fumbling at the fabric of your trousers impatiently, but not at all clumsy. His breath was ragged, his mouth breaking from yours just long enough for him to mutter against your skin, half curse, half confession. He hadn’t meant for it to be like this. But he had thought about your lips all day. Which was more than unusual for him. He never had been much of a kisser. Kissing was just unnecessary fluff.

The realisation seemed to startle him, if only for a fleeting second, his lips hovering above yours, his chest heaving against your own. And then the tension snapped again, fiercer than before. He needed to distract himself, before he would rip off the rest of your clothes. His desire burnt hot inside him, making his jaw clench.

Chishiya knelt in front of you, his fingers hooking into your panties and pulling them down. "What are you doing?" You asked breathlessly. Chishiya's eyes snapped to yours, "You told me to get something to eat, didn't you?" Your pulse hammered harder in your chest, realising what he was implying.

"Since when do you care what other people suggest you to do?" You asked teasingly as you stepped out of your panties. Chishiya grabbed them and stood up, towering in front of you. "Since when did you forget your place?" He spat through gritted teeth. "Sorry, sir."

"Do you think you're capable of being quiet now?" You nodded your head, keeping your mouth shut. His hand immediately found your throbbing clit, fingers rubbing small circles. Your hips rolled against him and a desperate moan left your lips. "Obviously not." Chishiya said, shaking his head. He stuffed your panties into your mouth, your eyes widening at the sudden action. He was back down on his knees, his mouth on your cunt in an instance.

The panties in your mouth muffled whatever sounds wanted to escape. Chishiya swirled his tongue around your clit, his cock twitching inside his trousers at the taste of you. Your hips bucked against his face, when he sucked on your sensitive clit, your legs clenching around his head. He moaned softly, grabbing one of your legs to place it on his shoulder, giving him better access to your cunt.

He slid two fingers inside you, your walls immediately clenching them in desperation. You bit down on the panties in your mouth as he started fucking you with his fingers, all while his mouth continued to work wonders on your clit. Your high was approaching fast. Everything that had concerned your mind just minutes ago seemed to vanish into nothingness. There was only the sensation of him.

Your hand shot into his hair to get his attention. You couldn't speak, couldn't ask for permission to come. Chishiya's icy stare shot up to you, ready to snap at you, reminding you weren't allowed to touch him. But when your eyes found his, the ice inside them melted the slightest bit. You were looking at him with pure pleasure and desperation plastering your entire face. And he couldn't take his mouth off of you, didn't want to. So he let your hand stay, let your touch linger. He simply nodded at you, before curling his fingers deep inside you.

Your grip in his hair tightened, pressing him even harder against your cunt, riding his face as you came all over it. Chishiya guided you through it, palming himself through his trousers, giving his cock a light squeeze.

Your legs were still shaking when he already fumbled with his belt. He stood up, removing the panties from your mouth and unzipping his trousers. He didn't waste any time on shedding his clothes, retrieving a foil packet from his pockets.

"Do you just carry these around all the time?" You teased, still panting. Chishiya ripped the package open, sliding the condom over his hard cock. He grabbed your waist and spun you around, pressing your front against the wall, moving your arse further towards him.

He didn't want to look at you. Not after you touched him without permission. He should have punished you right then, denying your orgasm, making you apologise and beg for forgiveness. But he couldn't. Not after seeing that look in your eyes. So he wasn't about to make the same mistake again.

He grabbed your hair, pushing you harder against the wall, as he lined his cock at your entrance. "I've been carrying these around ever since working with you." He responded bluntly, before ramming his cock into you. Your body jolted forward, a loud moan escaping your lips. His hand smacked your arse and you knew it was his warning to stay quiet. You were still in the hospital after all.

He fucked you against the wall, mercilessly, his hand snaking around your body, slipping under your shirt and your bra. He pinched your nipple, making your walls clench around him. He kept rolling it between his fingers, electricity shooting through your body down to your cunt. It was insane how he could make you feel. No one had ever satisfied you the way he did. Not even you yourself.

Chishiya placed his hand between your shoulder blades, pushing your upper body further down. Your head was already tilted against the wall, sliding down even further, your hands pressed flat against it.

His hand was on your hip, his other moved up to your hair, grabbing a fistful of it and pulling on it to fuck you even harder. Your vision was blurry, the moans came out in uncontrollable intervals.

From this angle, his cock brushed past a certain spot with every thrust, getting you closer to your orgasm.

"Please let me come, sir." You desperately added the sir, threatening that he would deny your orgasm without it. Chishiya threw his head back when he heard the desperation in your voice. His hand moved from your hip to your clit. "Go ahead. Come around my cock." He spoke through clenched teeth, his thrusts becoming more forceful.

And it didn't take you long to do so. You bit down on your hand as the orgasm crashed over you, your walls clenching around his cock, as if wanting to milk him. His thrusts became uneven, moving his hand to your butt, squeezing the soft flesh. Your legs were shaking but you tried to keep your stance steady. "Please." You whimpered, desperate for him to find his own release. This should have caught him off guard, but instead, it threw him over the edge. Again, instead of painting your back with his semen, he stilled inside you, filling the condom to the brim, his groans sounding more like a growl.

He stayed inside you a while longer, catching his breath, coming down from his high. His mind started racing. You did everything he hated when other women had done it. You spoke out of turn, you had grabbed his hair, you were unable to follow instructions. And yet he just had one of the most intense orgasms. And yet... he started to enjoy your presence way too much.

He had to get out of here. Clear his mind. Usually, sex took his mind off things. But with you, it made him think about things. And he didn't like that.

So he quickly pulled his cock out, holding the condom in place. He slid it off and knotted it tightly, throwing it in the bin.

The room felt thick, the air clinging to your skin like a second layer. Your chest was still rising and falling too fast, heat still pulsing through you, when the sound of his zipper cut through the silence.

You looked up, expecting him to say something. But his gaze was fixed on the floor, jaw clenched, movements sharp as he straightened himself. He didn’t look at you. Not once. He couldn't. Couldn't dare to look into your eyes and having the sudden need to stay close to you resurface.

Your mouth opened, the start of a question balancing on your tongue, but before you could even find the words, he was already halfway across the room. His hand gripped the doorknob like it was his only lifeline. “See you tomorrow.” Three words. Cold. Flat. Dismissive. And then he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him, the sound loud in the suffocating quiet he left behind. You stood there, still pressed to the wall, your arms trembling as if they hadn’t realised the moment was already over.

It took a while before you moved, before your body registered the hollow ache spreading through your chest. You bent down, gathering your clothes with fingers that felt unsteady. The heat he left in you was still simmering, but it was drowned now, smothered by the sharp sting in your chest.

You told yourself not to think about it. Not to let it get to you. But the words from Misaki’s venomous mouth echoed anyway, burrowing deep. You won’t be enough for him.

And for the first time you feared she might be right.

Sleep didn't come easy. Every time you closed your eyes, you felt the ghost of his touch on your skin, the phantom burn of his lips pressed against yours. The heat of it lingered in your body, but the sharp emptiness he left behind dug deeper. You tossed, turned, and stared at the ceiling until the first cracks of dawn slid through your blinds.

By the time your alarm went off, you were already awake, eyes heavy, body aching from exhaustion. The walk to work felt longer than usual, and when you stepped into the hospital, the brightness of the fluorescent lights made you squint. Luckily, it was Friday. Just one more day to push through before two days off.

Chishiya was already scrubbed in for surgery when you arrived, his name listed on the board in neat black marker. A small, guilty part of you was relieved. You weren’t sure what you would say if you saw him right away.

So you busied yourself. Rounds kept your hands occupied, your mind sharp, even if your body begged for rest. The children smiled when you came in, their little voices calling you “sensei” in their sing-song ways. Their laughter, their trust, it grounded you. By the time you finished the last room, your chest didn’t feel quite so heavy.

You returned the charts to the nurses’ station, setting them down carefully. One of the younger nurses, her hair tied up in a messy bun and her smile soft, leaned across the counter.

“Doctor," she started, her voice hushed like a secret, “do you want to go out with us tonight? A few of us are heading to that little bar near the station. I saw you’re not on duty this weekend.” You blinked, a little caught off guard. Socialising felt like the last thing you had the energy for. Still, the warmth in her tone tugged at you.

“Thank you,” you said, managing a small smile. “I’ll think about it. Honestly, I didn’t sleep well last night.” Her expression softened instantly, understanding shining in her eyes. “Long shift yesterday?” she asked, and when you just gave a tired shrug, she nodded knowingly. “Well, we’d love to have you. But no pressure. Just… it might be nice to relax for once, you know?” You hummed in agreement, grateful for the kindness. For the reminder that there was still a world outside of Chishiya’s shadow.

Chishiya finally returned from surgery. His hair was slightly mussed, his eyes sharp as ever when they scanned the nurses’ station.

“Rounds?” he asked flatly, holding out a hand. Without a word, you passed him the charts. Normally, you would have already launched into your little recaps, explaining which child had smiled again, who was tolerating meds better, who had been brave during a blood draw. But not this time.

“What, no overly enthusiastic narration about morning rounds?” he asked, a flicker of something almost like amusement curling in his tone.

You didn’t even meet his eyes. “No, sorry, Dr. Chishiya.” Your voice was quiet, your head bowed as you busied yourself with the trays of medications you had been preparing. Gathering them carefully, you brushed past him, but his hand shot out and grabbed your arm.

The motion made you spin, your body colliding with his. His sharp gaze finally caught your face and the air in his chest stuttered. The dark circles beneath your eyes, the subtle slump of your shoulders, the hollowness in your expression, it was all there, written across your face.

For the first time, it wasn’t your determination he saw, or your fire, or your infuriatingly stubborn will. It was exhaustion. And it twisted something deep inside him, something he didn’t recognise and didn’t want to.

He opened his mouth, but no words came. He, who always had an answer, who prided himself on never being caught off guard, stood completely speechless. You gave him a faint smile. It was too neat, too sharp at the edges. Fake. Before he could ask, before he could do anything at all, you slipped from his grasp and walked away, the medication tray balanced in your steady hands.

Chishiya just stood there, rooted to the spot, the charts limp in his fingers. His chest felt hollow, an unfamiliar ache pressing against his ribs. Yesterday flashed through his mind, the way you had tried to ask him something before he silenced you with his own desperation, the way you had looked at him afterwards as he rushed out without giving you so much as a second glance.

Guilt. He realised, with something like disgust, that this was guilt. He hated it. He hated how heavy it felt, how wrong it was to see you like this because of him. And yet, under all that sharp-edged hate, burned a need he couldn’t shake, he wanted to fix it. Right now.

You buried yourself in work, pushing through the fog of exhaustion that clung to your bones. Charts, prescriptions, medication lists, anything to keep your mind and body moving, anything to keep from collapsing.

The steady scratch of your pen on paper halted when the faint clink of porcelain touched the desk. You blinked, staring at the cup of steaming hot black tea placed neatly beside you. You knew the hand that had set it down. You knew it without needing to look.

Your eyes lifted, but by the time you did, Chishiya’s back was already retreating down the corridor, coat swaying slightly as he disappeared around the corner. No words. No acknowledgment. No chance to even whisper a thank you.

The warmth of the cup seeped into your palms as you held it. Strange, how something so small could unravel the knot in your chest just a little.

Later that afternoon, head nurse Rinka found Chishiya reviewing a patient chart near the supply room. She held a tray with sterile supplies already half-prepped. “Doctor,” she began, calm but firm as always, “do you need assistance with the next set of treatments? The boy in 212 still needs his IV fluids adjusted, and the asthmatic girl’s nebuliser requires recalibration.”

Chishiya’s mouth opened, his voice cool and clipped as ever. “Sure. Get me my resident-" Rinka cut him off smoothly, her tone almost maternal but edged with authority. “Your resident already handled the morning rounds. Alone. She deserves a little break.” She tilted her head knowingly. “We should just let her focus on the paperwork for now.”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. His gaze shifted down the hall, locking onto you where you sat hunched over a desk, your pen moving sluggishly across the paper, shoulders heavy with fatigue. His eyes lingered there longer than he intended, something sharp and unsettled flickering behind them. Rinka noticed.

Finally, Chishiya gave a small nod, his voice quieter this time. “All right. Thank you for your offer, nurse Rinka.” The older nurse’s lips curved just slightly as she turned back to her work. She didn’t press further, though her silence carried an unspoken truth: she had seen the concern etched across his face, whether he admitted it or not.

The corridor was dim and quiet. You had your bag slung over your shoulder, already halfway to the changing rooms when Chishiya appeared at the other end. His stride was purposeful, his coat flaring just slightly with each step.

He stopped in front of you, blocking your path. His eyes scanned your face, the weariness etched into it. He wanted to ask How are you feeling? The words hovered on the tip of his tongue. They felt heavy and foreign. But also... wrong, too revealing. He wasn’t the kind of man who asked about feelings. He wasn’t the kind of man who cared.

So instead, his voice came out calm, measured. “You wanted to ask me something yesterday. What was it?” Your tired gaze flicked up to his and you exhaled slowly. “This is probably not the best place for it,” you murmured, your voice hoarse with exhaustion.

“Fine.” He shifted his weight, hands sinking into the pockets of his white coat. “I’ll pick you up tonight. We can talk over dinner.”

The words slipped out smoother than he expected. It wasn’t a question, but an invitation wrapped in command. And as soon as he said it, the reality of it gnawed at him. Dinner? Really? What the hell am I doing?

You blinked, almost missing the subtle shift in him. Chishiya, the man who claimed he didn’t date, had just suggested dinner. It should have shocked you, but you were too tired to even process it.

“I’m busy tonight,” you said simply, already moving to step past him. He tilted his head, a sharp brow lifting. “Oh?”

“One of the nurses asked me to join them for a night out,” you explained, your tone casual. His jaw tightened, the muscle twitching visibly. He didn’t like that answer. Not one bit.

“Tomorrow then?” His voice was clipped. Before you could protest, he held out his hand. “Here. Let me give you my phone number. You can just text me then.”

You hesitated for only a second before placing your phone in his palm. He typed with quick precision, saving the number, then handed it back.

“Just let me know when you’re free,” he said, his gaze steady on yours. “And send me your address.”

Something about his tone left no room for argument, though you only responded with a soft, tired smile. Then, before he could read too much into it, you slipped past him and disappeared into the changing rooms.

Chishiya remained in the corridor, staring after you. His fingers twitched slightly in his coat pocket, restless, as though they still remembered the weight of your phone. He cursed under his breath and finally turned on his heel, his mask slipping back into place.

When you got home, exhaustion weighed down your limbs like lead. You didn’t even bother changing out of your clothes properly, just collapsed onto your bed, your bag abandoned on the floor. The second your head hit the pillow, sleep claimed you.

By the time you stirred awake, the room was dipped in dusky light, your body sluggish but a little lighter than before. You rubbed your eyes and reached for your phone, blinking at the faint glow. Nurse Aiko’s name blinked in your messages, reminding you of her cheerful invitation. You typed a quick reply, letting her know you would be joining later and asking for the details.

When you closed the chat, you started closing the tabs on your phone. Your contacts list popped up, the last open tab. And there it was.

Shuntarō Chishiya.

You froze, thumb hovering over his name. For a long moment, you simply stared at the screen. You shouldn’t. You wouldn’t. But your fingers betrayed you, acting on impulse. Before you could talk yourself out of it, the words were already typed.

You: Thank you for the tea earlier, by the way. – Your insufferable resident

You stared at the bubble for a second longer, then threw your phone across the bed as your courage dissolved.

You hadn’t expected a reply, of course you hadn’t. It was Chishiya after all. The man who thrived on silence and walls, who wouldn’t waste words on something as meaningless as acknowledgment. So you went about curling your hair, slipping into a casual outfit that felt a little more playful than professional.

But when your phone chimed your heart nearly leapt out of your chest. You grabbed it, pulse quickening, only to see Aiko’s name flash on the screen.

Aiko: Meet at 8. We’ll be at Kikuya on Main Street! Drinks on me for whoever shows up first!

You sighed, forcing down the flutter in your chest. Silly. It was just Aiko. Of course. Still, your eyes flicked back to Chishiya’s name, silently daring for the three dots to appear, indicating he was typing. They didn’t. Pocketing your phone, you muttered to yourself, “Get a grip,” and headed out the door.

The place Aiko had suggested wasn’t far from your apartment, so you decided to walk. The cool evening air helped shake off some of the grogginess from your nap, though the restless thoughts from earlier still tugged at the back of your mind.

The bar was warm and lively when you stepped inside, laughter already spilling from one corner where a group of familiar faces had gathered. Aiko waved both arms high, calling your name before the others joined in with cheerful greetings. You smiled, letting the noise and chatter wash over you as you weaved your way through.

At the bar, you ordered your first drink, tapping your fingers lightly against the wood while waiting. That was when your phone buzzed in your pocket. A quick glance at the screen made your eyes widen.

Shuntarō Chishiya. You almost dropped the phone.

“Bad news?” the bartender asked, setting down a glass in front of you. “Huh?” You looked up, blinking. “Oh- no! Just someone I didn’t expect to message me.” You forced a polite smile, quickly locking your screen again. The bartender raised a brow, smirking faintly. “Boyfriend to be?” You nearly choked on your own laugh. “No! Oh lord, no. I’m a resident doctor, and he’s… somewhat my superior?”

“Ah,” the bartender nodded knowingly. “Good to know.” Your cheeks warmed, though you quickly reached for your wallet. “How much?” He shook his head, sliding the glass towards you. “First one’s on the house. Perks for hospital staff.”

“Oh! Thank you,” you said, caught off guard but grateful. You didn’t think much of it, lifting the glass and heading back towards the others, weaving into their circle of stories and laughter.

And just like that, with the noise of your colleagues pulling you in, Chishiya’s name blinking on your phone slipped to the back of your mind. You set it down on the table and forgot about it entirely.

After a couple of drinks you made your way to the restroom. You sighed in annoyance when you had to wait in line, your bladder feeling fuller by the second. Trying to distract yourself, you scrolled through your camera roll, looking at the cute pictures you and the nurses had taken.

This is when you remembered. The unread message.

Shuntarō Chishiya: I hope you're feeling better. Take care of yourself tonight. – Your congenial superior

You couldn't stop the laugh that escaped your throat. You were quick to respond, faster than your mind was able to process what you were doing.

You added a selfie of you and the nurses.

You: See how all of us are capable of smiling? Ah, the perks of not having your grumpy and arrogant persona around. You prefer to make people cry.

After five minutes that seemed to stretch endlessly, you were finally able to use the lavatory. You hurried, making your way back to the others, taking a sip of your drink when your phone chimed again.

You steadied yourself against the edge of the table, your glass trembling slightly as the words on the screen seared into you.

Shuntarō Chishiya: I only enjoy making you cry when you think you can’t handle another orgasm.

The breath you dragged in was sharp and shaky, almost sending the drink down the wrong way. You coughed, covering it up with a laugh so no one noticed. Around you, the pub buzzed with chatter and clinking glasses, but all you could hear was the echo of his voice in your head, low, dripping with the same hunger he had whispered into your ear in that on-call room. Your thumb hovered over the screen, warring between outrage, a smart comeback, or something reckless enough to match him.

You: Why, thank you. You almost made me choke on my drink. It wasn't as bad as having your cock shoved down my throat, though.

You squeezed your phone tight, pressing it face down against the table, as though that could smother the way your pulse jumped.

“Everything okay?” Aiko asked beside you, raising her brows, grin mischievous. “Yeah,” you managed with a shrug, your voice thin. You lifted your glass to your lips, though you barely tasted it. “Just… work stuff.”

“Work stuff?” she echoed, leaning in, clearly not buying it. “Or maybe a certain 'stuff' from work?” Your forced laugh slipped out, but you didn’t answer. Aiko’s smirk said enough.

After almost twenty minutes, your phone vibrated again.

Shuntarō Chishiya: Outside. Now.

You blinked, staring at the words. For a moment, you thought maybe the alcohol was making you see things. But no, his name was right there, sharp against the glowing screen.

You tucked your phone into your pocket, forcing a casual smile as you excused yourself from the table. “I'm gonna get some fresh air,” you explained quickly. “Be right back.”

The cool night air hit your flushed cheeks as you stepped outside. You scanned the street, confusion prickling when you didn’t immediately spot him. You glanced at your phone again, half wondering if it had been some kind of joke.

And then strong arms seized you, dragging you around the corner. You gasped, almost ready to scream, until his mouth crushed against yours.

Chishiya.

Your hands flew up against his chest as his palms framed your face, holding you still, forcing you to take every ounce of his need in that kiss. It was harsh, desperate even, and you couldn’t help the sound that tore from your throat, a soft moan swallowed into his mouth.

That only pushed him further. He groaned against you, pressing you back against the cold brick wall, his body pinning yours, caging you in. His breath was ragged when he finally tore his lips from yours, resting his forehead against yours, words gritted out low and heavy. “The things I want to do to you. Misbehaving like that. Teasing me like that.”

You managed a soft laugh, your lips brushing his as you whispered, “My bad.” The sharp sting of his palm on your cheek made you inhale sharply, more shock than pain. His eyes darkened, his jaw tight as he pointed towards the sleek car parked a few feet away.

“Get in the back,” he almost barked, the command vibrating in the small space between you. Your heart thundered as you glanced from him to the car, heat flooding your chest, your stomach, everywhere.

For the first time that night, the alcohol haze cleared.

You quickly climbed into the back of his car and he followed suit. "Are you going to spank me again, sir?" You asked innocently. Chishiya's jaw clenched visibly. "How many drinks did you have?"

You giggled, "Enough to have the courage to text you." Chishiya exhaled deeply, resting his head against the headrest. "I'm not going to lay my hands on you. Not when you're under the influence of alcohol."

"But what if I want this?" You asked, trailing your fingertips up his leg to the very apparent bulge in his trousers. He snatched your wrist, his grip tight around it. He knew he should say no. Wait until your mind has cleared. "Do you want me to beg for it?" You looked up at him through your lashes. "If this is your way to punish me for having a few drinks on a night out, then fine, I'll never drink again." And when you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip ever so slightly, he snapped.

Chishiya grabbed your waist, pulling you onto his lap. You squeaked at the sudden action. Before he could even do anything, you crashed your lips into his. "Please, Chishiya. I've been thinking about you all night. I need you." You rolled your hips, your cunt rubbing against his erection. Chishiya groaned in frustration. Hearing you say his name with that sexual desperation in your voice... He never wanted any of the women he was with to say his name. They were to refer to him as sir, but never his name.

"Say my name like that again." He growled through gritted teeth. You grinned, your mouth moving from his to his ear. "Chishiya." You moaned softly, your hands fumbling with his belt. When you finally managed to open his trousers, you palmed his cock through his underwear. "Chishiya." You moaned again, louder this time.

"Hands behind your back." Chishiya ordered. You obeyed, too desperate to mess with him any further. He spread his legs, forcing yours to open even further. You were only wearing a skirt, your panties already soaked. You leaned against the back of the passenger's seat behind you.

Chishiya's hand cupped your cunt, noticing the wetness already spreading all over your underwear. He leaned forward, his other hand grabbing your throat, as he moved your panties aside and inserted two fingers into you, after collecting enough of your juices.

He didn't go slow, not even for a second, he started pumping his fingers in and out of you at a fast pace. You knitted your eyebrows together, moaning out. "Quiet." Chishiya ordered, his hand closing around your throat. Your eyes widened as you realised you weren't able to breathe. The lack of oxygen and the way he was fucking you relentlessly with his fingers, were enough to bring you closer to your high way too fast.

When his grip around your throat loosened, allowing you to breathe again, you grabbed his wrist. "Don't stop." This earned you a confused look from him. His cock twitched inside his underwear. He should just leave you unsatisfied and send you back inside to the others. He wanted you to suffer. But the way you were squirming under his touch, the way you had so desperately wanted this, thinking about him all night, your cunt already wet and ready for him, he couldn't just torture you like that.

So he tightened his grip around your throat again, cutting off your air supply. His fingers fucking into you at a steady pace, curling them right where you needed him to. His eyes were fixated on you, studying every inch of your face, every expression crossing it, when the orgasm hit you. You rolled your hips, riding his fingers, your legs shaking against his.

You took a deep breath, when he removed his hand from your throat. He withdrew his fingers from your cunt, putting your panties back in place, before pushing his digits into your mouth. You sucked them clean, swirling your tongue around them. Chishiya watched you with parted lips. When he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, he replaced them with his tongue, savouring the taste of you.

"You should go back to the others now." He said, pulling away from you. "What? But-" He was quick to cut off your protest, "No buts. Back inside you go! I've already crossed a line by touching you while you are under the influence of alcohol. I'm not moving this any further."

You blinked at him, surprised by the sudden wall slamming down between you. A small giggle bubbled up before you could stop it. “You seem to enjoy crossing this stupid line you keep talking about.”

You straightened your clothes, still smiling faintly, even as your chest fluttered with a warmth you weren’t sure how to name. “Well, thank you then,” you whispered, fingers brushing the door handle before you slipped out of the car.

The night air was cool against your heated skin as you walked back towards the pub, legs unsteady but not from the alcohol.

Inside the car, Chishiya didn’t move. His head tipped back against the headrest, eyes squeezed shut. The crotch of his pants ached, the fabric stretched too tight, and for once in his life, he hated his own self-control. Or the lack of it? Punishment would come later. He would make sure of it.

Surprisingly, you woke the next morning without the dreaded pounding in your skull. The water you had downed after your drinks had done its job. No headache, no nausea, just a faint memory of laughter, teasing conversations, and the searing press of Chishiya’s mouth on yours outside the pub.

You kept yourself busy through the day. Laundry folded into neat piles, groceries tucked into the cupboards, dust brushed away from corners you had been ignoring for weeks. For once, there was no pager, no alarms, no little voices calling for “Doctor.” Just the soft quiet of your apartment.

In the afternoon, the chime of your phone cut through the stillness.

Shuntarō Chishiya: Feeling well enough for dinner tonight?

Your heart skipped. You hadn’t expected him to follow through so quickly, not with the way he had left you simmering in the backseat of his car. Still, your fingers typed out a steady reply.

You: Yes.

Another message arrived almost instantly.

Shuntarō Chishiya: I’ll pick you up at 7. Send me your address.

You hesitated for a beat, biting your lip before tapping the screen. Your thumb hovered as though second-guessing itself, but then you hit send.

The rest of the day passed in fragments, though you barely remembered what you read in the book you picked up. By the time the clock neared six, your thoughts had narrowed to a single track. Misaki.

You still hadn’t had the chance to ask him about what she said, the way she called him Master and hinted at some tangled past. The memory of her smug expression still crawled under your skin. You had to bring it up tonight.

As you got dressed, your hand lingered over the lace in your drawer. Practical cotton or… something else? You laughed softly to yourself, shaking your head at your own foolishness. And yet, when you finally pulled the straps of your fanciest lingerie over your shoulders, it felt like a secret armour, hidden beneath the casual jeans and jumper you layered over it. Casual on the outside. Dangerous underneath. And maybe you would make him regret ever rushing out of that on-call room and leaving you to doubt yourself.

Chishiya picked you up at seven sharp. He was punctual as always, surgical precision, you thought, only tonight he looked almost devastating in a black dress shirt, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. It was simple, but on him, it was lethal.

You smiled faintly as you slipped into the passenger seat, yesterday’s memories flickering back: his message, his command, his mouth on yours outside the pub. The silence between you stretched, heavy and expectant, until you finally broke it.

“How did you even know which pub I was in yesterday?” you asked, curiosity lacing your voice as much as an attempt to break the awkward quiet.

His steady gaze stayed on the road. “The picture you sent me. The name of the pub was in the background.”

“Oh.” You blinked, impressed and… unsettled. “Good. For a second, I thought you might’ve been some kind of stalker.” The corners of your lips curved, but he didn’t so much as twitch. No spark of amusement, no sarcastic jab back at you. Just silence.

When the car finally slowed to a stop, you turned your head and your jaw almost dropped. The soft glow of warm lights spilled from tall windows, and the faint sound of live piano music drifted into the street. “That’s not your apartment,” you said, eyes narrowing.

Chishiya cut the engine, glanced at you briefly, and replied evenly, “No. This is dinner.” Without another word, he pushed his door open and stepped out.

You scrambled to follow, nearly gasping as you stood beside him. “Wait, hold on. I thought you meant dinner at your place.”

“Cooking,” he said flatly, as if it were an insult. “Is not really a skill of mine.”

“Okay… but like, takeaway? Casual stuff?”

"Because that worked out so well the last time?" You gasped at his words, then gestured at yourself, at the jeans and jumper you had picked without a second thought. “Chishiya, I cannot go into a restaurant looking like this!”

His lips curved, just the faintest flicker, but it was there. “Come on.” His hand pressed gently against the small of your back, firm enough to guide, warm enough to scatter your thoughts, as he ushered you inside.

The waiter at the entrance lit up the second he saw him. “Chishiya, nice to see you! Table in the back?”

Chishiya gave only the smallest nod, and the two of you were led into a space that felt almost secluded, tucked in the far back, far from the clusters of other guests, just the two of you and the low hum of the piano.

Still in disbelief, you sat down across from him. Your eyes flicked to him, then to the waiter, then back again. “You know that waiter?” He picked up the menu without hesitation. “A friend of mine.”

You stared at him, still trying to adjust to the idea. But the more you looked at him, the calm way he read the menu, the way he almost seemed to sink into this environment as if he belonged here, the more your shock grew. Finally, he set the menu down, raising a brow at your expression. “What is it?”

“I don’t know what I’m more shocked about,” you said, shaking your head slowly. “This ridiculously fancy place…” Your lips curved into a smirk. “Or the fact that you actually have friends.”

And that was what almost did it. The corners of his mouth twitched, his eyes flickering down to the table as if to conceal it. For a split second, his usual mask faltered, the barest hint of laughter threatening to break through. Almost. But then he looked back at you, his composure sliding into place again, though a tiny spark lingered in his eyes.

You let your eyes wander over the menu, though truthfully, the words blurred together every time you looked up to steal a glance at him. He sat across from you, posture elegant, every movement deliberate, turning a page, adjusting the menu slightly.

Without even looking up, his voice cut through the quiet. “Focus on the menu. Find something you’d like to have for dinner.” You blinked, caught. A grin tugged at the corner of your mouth, and you bit your lip to hold it back. “I am looking at it.”

The second the words left your mouth, his jaw flexed. He almost slammed the menu down onto the table, the sound sharp against the low hum of piano music. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, hands intertwining just below his lips. His gaze was focused, unblinking, and the tension in his jaw was impossible to miss.

“See,” he said lowly, “this is why we can’t have a nice, cosy dinner at my place.”

You mirrored him, closing your own menu and leaning forward, your voice dropping even though no one could possibly overhear at this distance. “Too bad you can’t just punish me here, isn’t it?”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. His brow lifted slowly and you saw it then, the subtle shift in his eyes, the kind that made heat rush to your cheeks and settle heavy in your chest. He didn’t move closer, but the weight of his gaze was enough to pin you in your chair.

“You’re playing with fire,” he warned, his tone deceptively calm. But you noticed how his shoulders tightened, how the air between you seemed to thrum with unspoken threat and promise alike.

The waiter returned, shattering the taut silence like a pebble hitting glass. You both leaned back as though nothing had just passed between you. The waiter smiled politely, taking your orders, oblivious to the heavy undercurrent running just beneath the surface of the table. You forced yourself to speak evenly, handing the menu back, while Chishiya only murmured his choice, eyes barely leaving your face.

When the waiter finally left, the heat remained. It sat there, simmering, coiled tight in your chest and in the clench of his jaw, both of you balancing precariously between restraint and indulgence.

Chishiya took a slow sip of the water the waiter had left for you both. He set the glass back down, the sound soft against the white tablecloth, and then leaned forward again, elbows on the table.

“So,” he said, his voice quiet but cutting. “What is it you wanted to ask me?”

You glanced around automatically, making sure no one could overhear. The restaurant wasn’t crowded and your table was tucked far into the back, but still you lowered your voice.

“Well… nurse Misaki approached me the other day.”

One of his brows lifted, but his expression didn’t flicker beyond that small movement. It was still and, as always, utterly unreadable. “She mentioned a few things…” you continued.

“What’s your question?” Chishiya asked, impatient now. You hesitated, feeling the heat crawl up your neck. “Is it true that you and her have a… deeper connection?”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward, more a flash of sharpness than amusement. “Is this your way of asking whether or not we hooked up?”

Your stomach dropped. Blood rushed to your face, and you managed only a small nod.

Chishiya crossed his arms over his chest, his posture a lazy contrast to the tension now coiling between you. “It’s true. I wouldn’t call it a ‘deeper connection,’ though. It was very brief and it was years ago. Back when she didn’t work at our hospital.” His voice was calm, matter-of-fact, like he was reciting a list. “She was into things that went way deeper than I was comfortable with, so this was basically over before it even began.”

You tried to process that, your thoughts darting like startled fish. “So what, she still can’t accept that? Or why can’t she just leave you alone?”

His eyes flickered, something almost like irritation crossing his face, but it was gone in a second. “I haven’t been in contact with her after. That is until she started working at the hospital.” You stared at him. “Do you think she started working there to be close to you?”

For the first time, his expression shifted. Not much, just the faintest pause, the faintest narrowing of his eyes as if the thought had never fully landed before. But then he shook his head dismissively.

“Well, thank you for clarifying,” you said simply, lifting your water glass and taking a small sip to ground yourself.

Chishiya’s gaze stayed fixed on you. Then, with a small tilt of his head, he asked, “Were you jealous?”

The smug curl to his lips made you almost roll your eyes. “No,” you said, sharper than you intended. “I just wanted to make sure you don’t fuck your way through the hospital staff, already planning who’s next.”

That landed differently than you expected. His expression hardened, not in annoyance, but in something tighter. Something almost like pain. His arms stayed crossed, but his shoulders straightened, the smugness draining out of his features as a thought screamed loud in his head:

I don’t want anyone else.

I don’t even want to think about anyone else.

I can’t.

He looked at you across the table, your cheeks still flushed from embarrassment, your eyes lowered as you sipped your water. The words he wanted to say pressed against his teeth, fighting to get out, but he forced them back down.

He only leaned back in his chair, silent for a long moment, his jaw tight enough to ache.

The silence stretched. The clinking of glasses and soft piano music filled the space, but between you and Chishiya it was heavy and suffocating. You shifted slightly in your chair, unsure whether you had pushed him too far.

Finally, he reached for his glass of water again, taking a slow sip as if he could drown the tightness in his chest. When he set it back down, his voice was calm, eerily so. “Do you always make such bold assumptions about your superiors?”

You met his gaze, forcing your voice to sound casual. “Only the ones who keep me guessing.”

His lips twitched again, but it wasn’t a smile. It was restraint. You could almost see the battle raging behind his eyes, his instinct to shut you down colliding with the fact that he wanted more. Wanted you.

The waiter arrived with your dishes, mercifully breaking the tension. You both sat in silence while the plates were set down. The smells of seared meat and spices curled into the air, grounding the moment.

You picked up your fork, trying to act normal, but every nerve in your body was hyper-aware of him sitting across from you. Chishiya didn’t immediately touch his food. He just studied you, the faintest furrow in his brow.

When you finally looked up at him again, he was still watching you. “You should eat,” you said softly.

“You should sleep more,” he countered without missing a beat. The words caught you off guard. You blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“You looked exhausted yesterday,” he said, finally picking up his fork but still not looking at the plate. “Dark circles. Slow reflexes. That smile you gave me wasn’t real.” His tone was flat, but his eyes betrayed something deeper. “I don’t like seeing you like that.”

Your heart thudded against your ribs, louder than the restaurant noise, louder than the music.

“You don’t… like it?” you asked, voice quieter now. Chishiya shook his head once, finally dropping his gaze to the food in front of him. He pierced a piece of meat with his fork, his jaw tightening. “I prefer you sharp. Quick. Smiling for real. Not drained because of me.”

The food on your own plate blurred for a second as your throat tightened. You swallowed, forcing your voice to remain steady. “I just... had a bad night. That's all, Chishiya.”

He finally looked up again, but remained quiet. But even as he ate in silence, his thoughts weren’t on the food. They were stuck on you. On the way you had said already planning who’s next, like he could ever stomach the thought of anyone but you.

It unsettled him more than he would admit.

The drive back to your place was suffocating in its silence. You could feel the weight of his thoughts, even if he never voiced them. The streetlights washed his face in pale golds and shadows, highlighting the clench in his jaw, the way his knuckles flexed faintly against the steering wheel.

When he finally pulled up outside your apartment, you turned to him, searching for a flicker of softness in his profile. “Would you like to come up for some tea then?” you asked quietly, testing him, giving him an out if he wanted it.

For a second, you were sure he would refuse. His jaw tightened further, his head turned towards you like he was about to cut you off with his coldest dismissal. But then he looked at you. And just like that, the sharp edges of his restraint splintered.

Images flashed in his mind, your breathless laugh in his car yesterday, your lips parted beneath his, the heat of you pressing against him. His want drowned out reason in a single, sweeping tide. “I’d rather have your cunt around my cock, if that’s okay, too.”

The bluntness of it nearly stole your breath. Your lips parted, eyes wide, a shiver running through you at the raw honesty in his tone. He wasn’t smirking, wasn’t teasing, he meant it. Every word.

You swallowed hard, forcing your voice steady, though your pulse betrayed you. “…Fine by me.”

Chishiya’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he killed the engine. He followed you up without hesitation. And when you unlocked your door and let him step into your space, it already felt too small to hold both the two of you and the tension burning between.

The door clicked shut behind you, muffling the world outside. For a second, you both just stood there, the quiet of your apartment wrapping around you like fragile glass.

Then Chishiya moved. His coat was off before you could even take off yours, tossed carelessly over the arm of your couch. He stepped into your space, pinning you back against the door you had just closed, one hand braced above your head, the other sliding along your jaw. His lips crashed into yours, fierce and hungry, leaving you gasping at the sudden force of it. It was him unraveling.

You clutched at the front of his black shirt, pulling him closer, answering his kiss with the same desperation that had been gnawing at you since the car ride. He growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as his hand tangled into your hair, tugging your face harder into his.

Your legs brushed his, your chest pressed tight to his. Every movement of his mouth against yours was edged with frustration, like he was punishing you and himself at the same time for the tension that had been building for hours.

When you broke away to catch your breath, your forehead still resting against his, you whispered between gasps, “I guess tea… doesn’t seem to be happening anymore.” Chishiya huffed a laugh, sharp and breathless, his mouth brushing your cheek as he muttered, “Didn’t come here for tea.”

And then his lips were back on yours, deeper this time, slower but no less consuming.

"Bedroom?" He whispered against your lips. You pointed at the door to your left and Chishiya ushered you in, his mouth never leaving yours.

You turned on the bedside lamp, lightening the room. Chishiya couldn't help himself but have a quick look around.

"Undress yourself." He said, his eyes still wandering across the room. He walked towards your bed, inspecting the wooden headrest, smirking when he saw the gaps. He then continued his way to your desk, all while you were still getting rid of your clothes. He grabbed the scarf that was thrown over your desk chair, feeling the soft fabric. "You don't mind, do you?" He asked as he turned back around, holding the scarf up. You looked at him in confusion, but allowed him to take it anyway.

"Lay down." He commanded, his eyes scanning all over your body. You obeyed, resting your head against the soft pillow. Chishiya grabbed your legs, pulling you down. "Arms up." He used your scarf to tie your wrists together, then tying it to the headrest.

"Do you have any condoms stored somewhere?" He asked casually. You knitted your eyebrows, "No, why would I?"

"Casual male encounters." He replied, but the confused expression on your face stayed the same. This was when it hit him. This wasn't you. You wouldn't just have condoms stored in your apartment. You would never invite anyone up here. You did romance, dates, everything he wasn't able to give you.

He walked out of your bedroom, towards the coat he had thrown over the couch and retrieved a foil packet from his pocket. He hesitated shortly before he walked back into your bedroom, scanning the pictures on your wall. He quickly shook off whatever interest suddenly overcame him. This was about sex, nothing else. And if he couldn't give you romance, then you at least deserved as many orgasms as you could handle.

He was already unbuttoning his shirt as he made his way back into your bedroom. You lifted your head to look at him from your position. He looked absolutely ravishing with his hair loose and his black shirt unbuttoned. You licked your lips, pressing your thighs together.

"Eyes on the ceiling." His voice was cold, but the coldness couldn't stop the heat spreading through your body. With Chishiya striding across your room, it was hard to keep your eyes on the ceiling. You were way too intrigued to find out what he was doing. He stood beside you, freeing one of your hands with skilled fingers, while the other remained tied to the bed.

Then you heard your desk chair move. He carried it across the room, setting it down at the foot of your bed, before sitting down. It was silent for a long while. "Touch yourself." He finally said.

Your head shot up, looking at him. He lifted one brow, his gaze stern. "I-" you started, blood rushing to your face. "You heard me. Now move your eyes back to the ceiling before I have to blindfold you. And then touch yourself." You bit your lip, forcing your gaze away from him.

You moved your hand between your legs, slowly starting to rub soft circles on your clit. "Open your legs. I want to see you." You felt embarrassed, but opened your legs for him. "Just touch yourself the way you would if I wasn't here."

And you did. Starting with moving your fingers along your slit to collect your juices, spreading them all the way up to your clit, before rubbing it. You moaned softly, trying not to get distracted as you heard the clang of metal as he undid his belt, the sound of his zipper following.

When you moaned his name, his cock twitched inside his underwear and he couldn't help himself but free it, starting to stroke it as he watched you.

Your hand tried to grip the scarf it was tied to, steadying yourself, as you inserted a finger inside you. And slowly, the embarrassment started to vanish. You no longer focused on how exposed you were, you no longer felt his burning gaze on you. You were caught up in the moment. The mere imagination of him sitting there, stroking his cock at the sight of you made the knot tighten in your lower belly. You moved your fingers exactly how you liked it, curling them, rubbing your clit ever so often. And Chishiya studied every movement.

He knew when you were getting closer to your high, noticing how your body started to react. "Please, Chishiya." You moaned desperately.

"Please, what?" His voice was deep, slightly panting. "I want to look at you."

A breathy sound escaped his throat, half moan, half laugh. "Do you want to see how I'm stroking my cock for you? How fucking hard you make me?" Your legs clenched at his words. "Look at me." Your head shot up, seeing him leaning back in your chair, his shirt still open, his hard cock in his hand, stroking it, his eyes fixated on you. This view alone was almost enough to send you over the edge. And he saw it in the expression of your face. "And now come for me."

You threw your head back as your orgasm crashed over you. You moaned his name as your legs started to shake. Chishiya's grip around his cock tightened, his jaw clenching. He shot up from the chair as soon as you came down from your high, moving your arm back up, your hand in its previous position tied neatly into your scarf before his mouth was on your cunt in an instance.

You were still way too sensitive, even the softness of his tongue felt way too harsh against you. But when he licked up all your juices, moaning softly before his mouth settled on your clit, you wrapped your legs around him, caging him in, needing more.

The way he ate you out was more intense than anything you have ever experienced. You rocked your hips against his face. He wrapped his arms around your legs, pressing you harder against him. You cursed loudly as you felt your second orgasm approach, but Chishiya didn't stop. He couldn't. Not when you had been so eager to wrap your legs around him, rubbing your cunt up and down his face. And soon after, you came all over it, scared you would crush his skull with your thighs.

"Fuck." Chishiya cursed. He was way too caught up, his pupils blown and dark. He straightened, kneeling between your legs as he pushed two fingers inside you. Your legs were still shaking, your mind still clouded with your second orgasm. The sensation of his fingers inside you was overwhelming. You shook your head, a few tears streaming down your face. But seeing you like this only encouraged him, his hips bucking against empty air, desperate for friction. His fingers pumped in and out of you, curling deep inside, stroking your walls. "Chishiya, I can't-"

He smacked your cheek, the sting lingering on your skin. "Yes, you can." You tried to move, to get away from his touch. He used his free hand to grab your hips, putting some of his weight on it, pinning you down.

The room was filled with the wet sounds of his fingers fucking your dripping pussy. And you had absolutely no control over your own body as the next orgasm hit you. You were crying out, trying to get your hands free, anything to get away from the overstimulation.

But Chishiya didn't stop. His fingers kept fucking you. "Chishiya-" You moaned. He didn't even look at you, focusing only on the way your body reacted to his touch. It was as if he was caught up in his own world, where pleasure outweighed everything else.

"Chishiya!" You tried to get his attention, but his fingers pumped into you still, his thumb brushing over your clit ever so often. "Yellow!"

This immediately brought him back to earth. His eyes shot up, finding yours. The movements of his fingers slowed, until he retrieved them completely. You were finally able to take a deep breath, "Sorry. This was becoming too much."

Chishiya leaned forward, his face inches from yours. "Don't ever apologise for using any of these words." He said before his lips crashed against yours. He kissed you as if he wanted to apologise, his tongue slid inside and you could taste yourself on it. His hand moved up, undoing the scarf that tied you to the headrest. "Do you need a break?" He asked in between kisses.

"No. I'm okay." You assured him. Chishiya grinned, his weight leaving yours as he got up, finally taking off his trousers before he sat back in the chair at the end of the bed. "Good. Suck my cock." His voice was back to its commanding sound.

You blinked at him a few times, your mind still trying to comprehend everything that was happening. You got up, walking over to him on wobbly legs and kneeling down in between his legs. You licked your lips to moisturise them, eyes focused on his erection in front of you.

Chishiya spoke your name in that low voice of his, tone somewhat a warning. Before he could say another word, you leaned forward, dragging your tongue along the shaft before taking him into your mouth. The tip tasted salty, pre-cum already leaking.

"Tap your hand against my leg three times if you want me to stop." He whispered softly before using both his hands to grab your hair, pushing your head down until your nose met his pelvis. You tried to breathe as his cock was buried deep down your throat. Chishiya held your head in place for quite a while until you were choking around his cock. Only then did he force your head back up by pulling your hair. You took a deep breath, before he pushed your head back down. He guided you, forcing you to take his cock exactly the way he wanted you to. He tried to suppress his moans but they came out anyway.

He had been way too desperate for this. Ever since the car incident, he was barely able to focus on anything else. Touching himself hadn't been enough. He needed you.

He held your head in place, his hips snapping up, fucking your mouth. He wanted you on top of him, riding him, your tits bouncing in front of his face as you rode him. But you had asked him to slow down, used the word, and he knew he had already overstimulated you. So he refrained from lifting you onto him and burying his cock inside your sensitive cunt.

He threw his head back at the thought of it. Your mouth was warm and wet around his cock. That, plus your moans and your choking sounds ever so often, would suffice. He could have you on top of him any other day.

His eyes were back on you, watching his cock disappear into your mouth. He should have praised you for how well you were handling him, but he couldn't dare to have you look up at him. He would just come on the spot if your eyes met his.

Instead, he kept fucking your mouth, pushing your head down on him with force. When you started doing that thing with your tongue, swirling it around the sensitive tip, he almost lost it. And you noticed, satisfied with yourself. You looked up at him through your lashes, your eyes mirroring all your want and desire. Chishiya already knew he couldn't hold back any longer. He loosened the grip on your hair, groaning your name. "I'm gonna come." He warned you, but you ignored him. You kept bobbing your head up and down his cock, your hand shooting up to fist what couldn't fit. Chishiya wanted to yank your head away, wanted to scold you for touching him. But it was too late. His orgasm crashed over him, before his body could react. He shot his load down your throat and you swallowed every last drop of it.

Chishiya stared at you in disbelief, trying to ignore the feeling in his chest as he watched you swallow his cum. He leaned forward, grabbing your face, forcing you to look up at him.

His eyes searched yours. He was fine with granting you a short break, but later tonight, he knew he needed to be inside you. He had to. "You can relax for a little. But I'm not done with you for tonight." He said more to himself than to you.

He was sprawled in your desk chair, the picture of careless composure, shirt open, chest rising and falling with steady breaths. His voice, still a little rough, cut through the quiet. “So, about that tea?”

You blinked, then almost laughed at the absurd timing. Straightening yourself, you brushed your hair out of your face. “Right. I’ll be back.”

He watched as you threw on some clothes, his hand twitching against the armrest as though he might stop you. But he didn’t. He knew if he tried, he would have you on top of him in seconds, and for once, he wanted to let the moment breathe. His gaze followed you until you disappeared into the kitchen.

With a sigh, he put his trousers on, but left his shirt hanging loose. Wandering out of your bedroom, he moved through the short corridor, eyes inevitably once again catching on the framed pictures lining the wall.

“You do horse riding?” he asked, voice casual but curious, pausing before a photo of a younger version of you on a tall chestnut horse. You glanced over your shoulder, kettle already in hand as you filled it with water. “Oh, I used to. When I was younger.”

He leaned against the kitchen doorframe, one arm braced above him, smirk tugging at his lips as his eyes flicked between you and the photo. “Good to know.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you set the kettle back down, not sure if you even wanted to ask what he meant by that.

You rolled your eyes at him, focusing on arranging two mugs on the counter instead of giving him the satisfaction of a reply. “Don’t read too much into that,” you muttered, flicking the switch on the kettle.

Chishiya tilted his head, the faintest glint of amusement in his gaze as he stayed in the doorway, arms crossed over his open shirt. “Why not? It tells me you’re disciplined. Competitive. You like control, but you also know how to give it up.” His tone was cool, analytical, like he was dissecting you right there in your kitchen. You paused mid-motion, hand hovering over the tea box. “You got all that from a childhood hobby?”

“I get a lot from very little,” he replied, stepping inside finally. The faint smirk tugging at his lips was infuriatingly smug. “It’s what makes me good at what I do.”

The kettle clicked off, saving you from replying too quickly. You poured the steaming water into the mugs, your back turned to him so he wouldn’t see the flush creeping onto your cheeks. Still, his presence pressed against your skin, the weight of his eyes never leaving you.

“Here's your tea,” you said softly, sliding one mug towards him when he leaned casually against the counter, close enough that his arm brushed yours when he reached for it.

His fingers lingered a second longer than necessary on the ceramic. “Hm. Not bad,” he said after the first sip, though his eyes weren’t on the tea, they were on you.

You swallowed, feigning nonchalance, but your heart was already drumming harder again. “Glad I could meet your standards, Doctor.” That earned you a soft, short chuckle. “You might be the only one who does.”

Chishiya smirked faintly, lifting the cup without comment, but the simple act of drinking tea in your kitchen felt strangely intimate. Too domestic for the walls he so carefully built. He let his gaze wander over the clutter on your counter, the faint hum of your fridge, the way your socks didn’t match. All of it so ordinary, and yet it had him more unsettled than a surgical complication.

“You’re staring,” you teased, sipping your tea. “Just observing my… resident’s natural habitat,” he drawled, though his eyes were softer than his tone. You chuckled, shaking your head. “Right. Make it sound like I’m some kind of zoo exhibit.”

“Insufferable, even outside the hospital,” he muttered, but there was no bite to it. Only the faintest curl of amusement in his voice.

For a moment, it almost felt normal. Easy. Like this was something he could get used to if he let himself.

Then his pager went off, sharp and demanding against the quiet of your apartment. He sighed, setting down the mug and checking it, his expression souring. “Emergency.”

You straightened, concern flickering across your face. “Should I come with you?” He shook his head immediately, already buttoning his shirt with quick, precise fingers. “You’re not on duty. Enjoy your last day off while you can.” You watched him, lips pressed together, before nodding. “See you on Monday then.”

He slid his arms into his coat, glancing at you from the doorway. “I certainly hope I’ll see you earlier than that.”

Your breath caught a little at the way his gaze lingered, too long, too heavy, on your lips. For a moment, it seemed like he would leave, like he would pull that cold mask back into place. But something cracked.

He stepped back towards you, one hand cupping your face as he kissed you slowly, nothing like the heat of before. It was out of character, unbearably so, and it made your chest tighten with something dangerously close to longing.

Before you could say a word, he pulled back, muttered a low “stay out of trouble,” and slipped out the door. And just like that, he was gone.

The hospital swallowed him whole the moment he left your apartment. The emergency bled into another, and then another, until the hours blurred. His hands never faltered in the OR, but his thoughts did. Again and again, his mind dragged back to you, the taste of you, the way you had looked at him before he kissed you. That kiss. Stupid. Reckless. He hated himself for it.

And yet he still craved more. He still wanted you.

The ten-hour surgery pushed his body past the edge of exhaustion. By Sunday midday, when he stepped out of the OR, dark circles sat under his eyes, his jaw tense with fatigue. But even then, between the ringing pagers and the weight of scalpel and suture, his body ached for you. He hated it. He hated how badly he wanted to be with you instead of here.

By the time the afternoon came, he had no filter left. Sitting at a desk, fingers stained with ink and fatigue, he pulled out his phone. Without thinking, he typed:

Shuntarō Chishiya: I’m sorry the hospital has been keeping me busy non-stop. I’d rather be with you. Still craving to be inside you.

He hit send before his conscience could catch up. No hesitation. No regret. Only the raw truth. Then he shoved his phone back into his coat and forced himself to keep moving.

The nurse’s station was crowded when he sat down again, flipping through charts, his pen scratching mechanically across the paper. The exhaustion was a constant weight pressing on his spine. He barely registered the footsteps before a hand slid onto his shoulder.

His body reacted instantly. He turned sharply, fingers clamping around a wrist that didn’t belong there. His voice snapped before his restraint could.

“Don’t touch me.”

Nurse Misaki blinked at him, her lips curving into a smile far too coy for the venom in his tone. “You seem so tense. I can help you relax.”

His grip tightened, warning in every line of his body. But then her head tilted, her voice lowering as she whispered, “Master Chishiya.” She bowed her head slightly, an air of submission that churned his stomach, though not for the reasons she hoped.

And in the heavy silence that followed, the air thickened dangerously.

Your phone had lit up with his message on Sunday, and your heart had stuttered. You had read it once, twice, then again, feeling your pulse quicken with every word. You couldn’t stop the smile that curled on your lips, the heat spreading through your chest. Still craving to be inside you.

Excitement bubbled in your stomach, but guilt twisted right alongside it. The hospital had been merciless on him, his words proof of just how nonstop his day had been. You wanted to text him back something sweet, something cheeky, anything, but you held yourself back. He didn’t need distractions right now. He needed rest.

You didn’t hear from him again that night. And you told yourself it was fine. He was probably too tired, stumbling home to crash without a second thought.

By Monday morning, you walked into the hospital feeling more settled. At least until you saw his name still up on the OR board, that hasn't been updated yet. A surgery that long… no wonder he hadn’t texted again. The thought made you soften inside, protective, even as you hurried towards the nurse’s station.

“Morning,” you greeted, going straight for the stack of charts, fingers flipping through them with practiced precision. If he was still resting, you could handle rounds. It wasn’t a problem.

That was when Misaki’s voice cut through your concentration. “Sorry your little party got interrupted Saturday night.” You froze, your brows furrowing as you slowly turned toward her. “…What?”

Her smirk widened. “I’ve never seen him so on edge. It took me quite some time to get him to relax.” She even winked, her voice dripping with suggestion.

Something cold curled in your gut, sharp enough to steal your breath. You tried to shake it off, to shove her words away, but they burrowed too deep. She tilted her head, her tone syrupy. “He’s in on-call room five, by the way.”

Your knuckles whitened on the chart, but you didn’t reply. You forced your focus back to the task at hand, plastering on a smile as you moved through morning rounds, greeting your little patients, asking them about their weekends, letting their innocent chatter keep you grounded.

But by the time rounds were done, your pulse was an uneven drum in your ears. You had to know.

So you made your way to the on-call rooms, each step heavier than the last. You knocked softly on the door to room five, only to feel it swing open under your knuckles. It hadn’t been closed all the way.

And what you saw stole every last breath from your lungs. Misaki. On her knees. Chishiya standing in front of her. His expression cold, his body stiff, his foot already shifting as if he had just taken a step back. At least he was fully clothed.

But the sight was enough. Enough to make terror crawl icy fingers up your spine. Enough to make your stomach lurch.

A sharp scoff tore from your throat before you even realised it. You spun on your heel. “Wait.” His voice snapped after you loudly. His footsteps quick behind yours.

“Don’t.” Your voice shook as you stormed down the hall, your pace quickening. He called your name, catching your wrist, yanking you into the nearest empty room, shutting the door behind him.

“Stop it!” Your voice cracked, louder than intended, your chest heaving.

“Just let me expla-"

“I don’t want an explanation, Chishiya. Just leave me alone.”

He said your name again, his voice was desperate this time, more than you’d ever heard. Your hand gripped the door handle, ready to pull it open, when his words tumbled out faster, harsher.

“Stop it right now. I know what your mind is making up, but it’s not-"

“What?!” You snapped, cutting him off. Your voice shook with anger, with hurt. “It’s not as it seems? Save it, Dr. Chishiya.” The title left your lips like venom, bitter and final.

His hand reached for you again, but you turned on him, your eyes locking on his with an intensity that made him still.

“Red.”

The word fell like a blade between you. His chest clenched, his throat tightening around words that never made it out. And before he could say another thing, before his mask could even crack, you wrenched the door open and walked away. Finally, in peace.

For a single, searing second, anger flared hot in his chest. How dare you shut him down like that? How dare you not even give him the chance to explain? He could feel the sharp edge of his pride, the instinct to snap back, to tear the ground out from under you the way he did with everyone else.

But then something else crept in. Something foreign. Something heavier. It coiled in his chest, crushing, suffocating. A dull ache at first, then a piercing, unbearable pressure. Fear.

The kind of fear he couldn’t outsmart or mask away. The fear of you walking out that door and never looking back. The fear of your eyes never softening towards him again. The fear that he had just lost you and it was his fault.

He stood frozen in the empty room, his hands trembling in a way he despised, listening to your footsteps grow fainter, each one stabbing harder into his chest.

And for the first time in his life, Shuntarō Chishiya understood what it felt like to be terrified of losing someone.

Continue to: Anatomy of Breaking

A/N: I'm sorry it took me so long to update this fic! (It is 14k words after all), but I hope it was worth the wait! Part 4 anyone?🤭

Taglist (18+ and all those who wanted to be tagged in this fic): @mypsychoticlove @rurujm @butterishjam @stilltrynafuckingtumble @badbishsblog @annismotherr-deactivated2025100 @ronjantz @aliendustpee @yayafenyru @lazcylies @cerisefait @mad-die45 @lady-lai @iamferalfordilfs

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