I’ve been MIA bc of work and studying but in the meantime I’ve rewatched ginny and Georgia…. And once again max is my favorite, no surprise. So here’s a mood board bc I love her
Obsessive!Whitaker, Weird little stalker!Whitaker, overall just a weird perv, luv him tho, Fem!reader, 18+ eventual smut, multi-part series, following s2
The curtain around Bay 12 snapped shut as your new patient rolled in, a dehydrated post-op patient needing a new line before transport. It was easy enough—a week had passed since your first day—you could handle a lot…sort of. You hadn’t properly been taught too much independence in your past week, which made you lack on some things. It’s not like you didn’t want more control… it was just that Dennis—(previously, Dr. Whitaker—but he insisted you call him Dennis.)—didn’t give you much of a chance to do things yourself.
Much like right now, actually. He was standing right by you.
He stood at the head of the bed, arms crossed over his chest as he flicked between the monitor and you. “Go ahead,” he gestured, his voice encouraging. “7cm access needle, go nice and steady.”
You nodded, the patient’s skin prepped and ready while you wrapped the tourniquet tight. You started with the needle for the IV, checking for the flash of blood in the chamber for the vein—when you saw it—you slowly started. At the last second, the vein rolled, your needle slipping sideways. The sharp end punched clean through your own glove and into the meat of your thumb, deep enough that blood welled up instantly against the plastic.
“Shit—“ you hissed, pulling back from the patient.
Dennis’s eyes widened a fraction, his arms dropping as he walked over. “Did you poke yourself?” He asked, concern in his face. “Uh, yea—I’m sorry, it slipped.” You reluctantly nodded, already aware of the terrible process that was about to happen. Labs, labs, and more labs.
He shook his head. “Here, I got the line, just wait for me over there.” He vaguely gestured to the curtain. He took the needle, discarding it into the red sharps bin and replacing it with a fresh one for the patient—who, by the way, looked very annoyed. Dennis finished the new IV in seven seconds flat, taped it down, then turned back. His focus was all over you now.
You straightened your back as you stood there, gloves now discarded, holding a tissue over your thumb. “I’ll tell the attending, standard protocol, right? I can handle the report—“
“No—“ Dennis cut in quick, walking back over to you. “I’ll help you tell him, just follow me.” He guided you out of the bay, curtain falling closed behind you two. “It’s fine, really. I’m a big girl, I can tell Dr. Robby myself.” You awkwardly pointed out, a slight twinge of embarrassment creeping up—you knew Dennis liked to help you, but helping you tell your own attending your little incident felt… babying.
“W-well…” He paused, steps slowing a little in the open hall of the ER. He looked at you for a second. “Dr. Robby can be… difficult, sometimes, I just want to make sure he understands what happened and doesn’t get mad at you for a mistake.” He explained, but something felt slightly off in his tone. Dr. Robby was a grumpy guy from what you’ve seen, but he wasn’t too bad, you doubted he’d freak out on you for a little poke. Maybe Dennis was just overthinking it. (Or, just scaring you into letting him help.)
“Right, okay.” You agreed, he didn’t waste much time. He gently grabbed you by the elbow, the contact surging through your arm. You blinked owlishly at the gesture, as if you needed him to guide you. You followed, walking towards the nurses’ station where Dr. Robby had been signing charts off charts.
At the station he laid it out clean to Dr. Robby, who seemed mildly concerned yet bothered. Then, Dennis insisted on helping you.
“I’ll help handle her post-stick labs, she was with me on the case and I was supervising.”
Robby had nodded thoughtlessly, distracted by the next page of the charts, and waved it off.
You were led to a clean bay, the room now in use by… Well, you. Dennis didn’t call anyone to help, he was a doctor—he could help you himself.
You sat on the edge of the bed, legs dangling off. Dennis pulled the kit, hovering right up close on a stool he pulled close to the bed. “Hold still.” He murmured, his voice so gentle and focused. He dabbed the antiseptic on the puncture with a gauze, his fingers lingering way longer than needed. You didn’t even realize he took off his gloves after he helped the patient, he let his skin press against yours.
“Shouldn’t you be wearing gloves for this?” You pointed out, staring down at his hands.
He continued his motions, one hand wrapped loosely around your wrist to keep your palm steady—his thumb resting on the inside of your wrist. All while his other hand cleaned at your poke.
He set the gauze to the side, using his fingers to press at the edges of your puncture, checking the depth. His eyes flicked up at your face again, staring with an intensity that made the room feel smaller, like he was checking for any sign you might need him more than just for this. “It’ll be fine, m’just cleaning it.” He dismissed it, his breathing sounding heavier than usual. After a second, he pulled back just a tad. “It doesn’t look too deep, nothing to worry about.” He moved, grabbing a bandaid and gently placing it over your thumb. “I’ll do your labs.” He said with a small smile.
You nodded, beginning to draw your hand back from him. His hand tightened around yours in response, only briefly—before he realized and let go. He cleared his throat awkwardly and muttered. “Sorry, reflex. Don’t want you pulling away and making it worse.” He referred to her thumb with a little, airy chuckle.
He hovered as he did your labs, tourniquet on your arm, vial after vial, his body angled so close you could smell the faint sterile sweat on his clothes. “Source patient’s getting drawn now too. HIV, Hep panel, the works. Well get the results flagged to me first.” He mentioned.
It was all done before any free nurse could even glance in.
Eventually, you guys were done. The bay cleared, you two went out to the work stations. Dennis stood by the desk you sat at. He drummed his fingers against the wood. “While you file your report, I’ll go get you some water.” He said, giving you a little nod before walking off. Even as he went off to the staff lounge, you noticed how he kept glancing over his shoulder back at you.
“He’s weird.” A voice piped up from behind you. You turned around, only to see Joy standing there. She gave you a look. “Don’t you think so?”
You paused, your mouth awkwardly hovering open before you spoke. “Uhh—no, I mean—he seems nice to me, very helpful. Why?” You asked, turning to look back at the computer that sat open with the incident report open. Joy rolled her eyes when you looked off. “Yea, helpful.” She echoed with a half-scoff-half-laugh. “Y’know, I think he has a thing for you.” She shrugged. Your fingers paused over the keyboard, a flush rising to your cheeks. The heat in your face felt so stupid. He was just being a good guide… right? You didn’t bother looking back at her.
“Definitely not.” You shook your head. “Doesn’t he help you guys out a lot too?”
“Yeah, no. After day one he kind of just let us drift off with other residents. Samira’s cool.” She replied, voice deadpan. “You, on the other hand, always get paired with him. You ever thought about that?”
You moved your fingers, soft clacks filling your silence as you typed. You let a second pass before you answered. “Not really.” You muttered. Joy smirked. “Maybe you like it.” The tease in her voice was obvious, you tried to ignore it.
ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ♡ •┈ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ
Dennis entered the staff lounge without much thought, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a water bottle from the inside. This would be good for her, he drew so much blood earlier—she must be so drained. The fact he was the one who was able to treat her sent a thrill through him, even now—just getting her water—made him feel good. He was helping. The moment he shut the refrigerator door and turned back to leave, he was met with Santos standing there.
“Dude, where have you been? We needed you earlier on an abdominal pain in room 7.” She asked, walking over to him with a confused look. Dennis paused, mouth opening and closing as he thought of what to say. “I was… helping out a student. She poked herself with a patient’s IV.” He shrugged. Santos rolled her eyes, arms crossing. “y/n.” She replied flatly.
Dennis nodded, hand gripping the water bottle awkwardly. He felt like a dog getting caught peeing on the rug.
“Why the hell didn’t you just let y/n get help from the nurses, half of them were free. You didn’t have to babysit her, she’s a big girl.” She chuckled, looking at him in disbelief.
He sighed through his nose, annoyance creeping in. “I know that—ok? But I was supervising her on the case. It’s my responsibility.” He replied back, his voice firming up. “The nurses are usually slammed, I didn’t think y/n needed to wait around any longer feeling like some idiot who screwed up on week two. I had it handled.” He huffed, looking away from Santos.
She scoffed. “Whatever, huckleberry.” She stepped past him. “You’re so far up her ass it’s insane, don’t forget we have two other students out there.” She shrugged. Dennis’s jaw flexed in irritation, something defensive and hot burning in his chest. He pushed on and walked to the door, hand hovering over the doorknob. “I’m just looking out for her, the ER can be tough.” He stated, trying to nail it into Santos' head that it was nothing but him wanting to be a good teacher. Even if he knew that was bullshit.
He left, letting the door click behind him as he walked back into the business of the ER. Dennis found you quickly, walking straight to the desk. “Got it.” He smiled awkwardly, setting the plastic bottle onto the desk.
Your eyes flicked up to find Dennis standing there, you gave him a small smile. “Thanks.” You grabbed the bottle, twisting the cap and taking a sip of the cold water. “I’m finished with the report.” You mentioned, gesturing to the computer. Dennis nodded. “Uh, great! Good.” He paused, his hands resting on his hips uncertainly—like he didn’t know where to put them. Not like earlier, his hands felt certain on you.
“I-I was thinking, uh,” he trailed off, swallowing thickly. You curiously stared up at him from beneath your lashes, which didn’t seem to help the nervous state he was in.
He reached toward the desk, ripping off a stray sticky note and grabbing a pen. He silently jotted down something, before handing it to you. “I was thinking… it would be best if you had my number—f-for emergencies like earlier.” He said. You took the sticky note from his gently, fingers brushing against his as you did. You looked down at it, before back up at him. “Don’t we have a paging app on our phones we can talk through?” You asked curiously.
He hesitated, eyes locked down on you.
“Well… y-yea, but I think it would be better if you used my phone number. I’d get to it faster.” He shrugged, a little awkward, breathy laugh escaping him.
You nodded, putting the sticky note into the pocket of your scrubs for later. “Alright.” You hummed, giving him a polite smile. Despite the ease of it, your chest felt tight. You were sure Dennis was just being professional—friendly. Joy’s words still lingered in your head, though. What if we was into you? What if you liked it? You had to look away from him at that thought.
“Text me if your thumb starts throbbing, doesn’t matter what time it is. Sometimes things can turn septic no matter how little, Y’know?” He clumsily added, trying to sound casual.
“Understood, Dr. Whitaker.”
“Just Dennis.” He insisted.
ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ♡ •┈ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ
The day went by pretty fast after that, busy but nothing crazy, like a stake in the heart. You clocked out and grabbed your bag from your locker, swinging it over your shoulder with a heavy sigh.
“Hey.” A voice called.
You turned, it was Dr. Santos. You smiled. “Hi, are you leaving?” You asked. She nodded. “Yep, I finished those charts the second I could.” She said with a weary huff. “How’s your thumb?” She gestured towards your hand. You flushed. “S’fine, just a prick. I’ll live.” You waved a hand dismissively, she just hummed in acknowledgment.
After a few painfully quiet seconds, she spoke again. “Wanna walk out together?” She asked. A beat passed, then you answered.
“Sure.”
ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ♡ •┈ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ
A/N: hi guys…. Took me forever to write bc I got sick…. The chapter might seemed rushed bc it kind of is, I’m finishing it at like 3am… but my next chapters r gonna be genius. Taps head. Santos friendship is in order. (I’m a biased santos fan.)
Obsessive!Whitaker, Weird little stalker!Whitaker, overall just a weird perv, luv him tho, Fem!reader, 18+ eventual smut, multi-part series, following s2
Cold, sterile walls and a harmonious beeping greeted your ears with a pulsing rhythm; the groove of the hospital had been new, in the sense of the ER as a whole being new. Your previous three years as a med student were spent in private clinics and hospitals that only allowed you into the family medicine center. ER experience was pretty much a bust.
However, this was your fourth year-you needed this. How bad could the ER be? Maybe a few appendix cases, broken ankles, and headaches. You doubted you'd get anything crazy on your first day in.
After an hour, you realized you were wrong. In the middle of a session with a plastic dummy (courtesy of your new attending, Al-Hashimi), you got pulled into a real trauma case. There were two other students with you, Ogilvie and Kwon; they seemed nice...ish.
"We’ll need to do a left thoracotomy.” A doctor had ordered, people rushing supplies to their sides as the heart monitor beeped wildly for the hooked-up patient. You and the other students stood back to observe, watching the doctors move swiftly. One of the residents stood with you in the midst of it, Dr. Dennis Whitaker. He had been with the students since they got here, along with Dr. Victoria Javadi. Technically, she was a med student as well, her fourth year just like you—but she’d been in the ER a year longer. She moved around with such purpose that it was hard to see her as one of the students you were with.
“Stab wound’s on the right, why are we opening the left chest?”
Dr. Whitaker questioned, his goggled eyes looking over in our direction. The question made you pause—or more like he made you pause—he was looking directly at you. Joy and Ogilvie opened their mouths, ready to answer, but the rush to answer went through you. You needed to prove yourself today.
“Better access if it’s tamponade—and you can cross-clamp the aorta.”
You blurted, maybe a little too fast. Ogilvie gave you a look, almost an offended glance, that you stole the words straight from his lips. Dr. Whitaker nodded, the faintest twitch forming at the corner of his mouth. “Correct, good j—“ He was cut off by Dr. Robinavitch. “Javadi, Whitaker, sterile gloves.” He butted in, giving them a look that made them nod in understanding. They walked off to glove up.
Ogilvie tried to speak again, but your voice found itself quicker. “Can I glove up?” You asked, something nervous yet hopeful flickering in your eyes. Dr. Whitaker glanced at you in the middle of walking away, his hand reaching out to give it a supportive little tap. “It’s best if you watch the first one.” He said with a nod. The touch lingered a second longer before he fully walked off, his hands working to pull the plastic gloves on.
So you nodded, hanging back with Ogilvie and Joy—protective gear on just in case while in the trauma bay.
“This guy’s dead anyway.” Joy said from your side. It seemed a bit harsh, but she was probably right—with the way this patient was looking right now, it didn’t seem too great for him. “Yeah, maybe.” You mumbled in quiet agreement, eyes glancing away from her and back to the doctors surrounding the gurney. Dr. Robinavitch gave orders to them, which were awkwardly interrupted by another resident’s phone. Her name was Dr. Mohan. You haven’t gotten to properly talk to her yet, but she was nice. Unfortunately, her notifications weren’t returning that kindness.
They started to open his chest, a meaty red hole that gave them access to his heart. You walked over to Dr. Whitaker’s side with the others, hovering around him as he got in position. His hand dove into his chest, and you peered closer.
“You do these one-handed, pushing up against the breastbone with four fingers.”
Dr. Whitaker stated, his head only briefly turning to look at the med students behind him. He started to move his hand in repetitive motions, a squishing, wet sound following it. After that, it got bloody pretty quick. Red spilled from the tubes it was meant to go in, splashing onto the floor. To make things worse, Dr. Mohan’s phone kept dinging. You’d laugh if it wasn’t for the dying patient on the gurney.
Dr. Robinavitch and Dr. Al-Hashimi were in this odd tense duel of who knew better, because once the patient started to really get in the red zone, they kept going back and forth on what to do. Eventually, Dr. Robinavitch suggested turning the lung, and they did, very slowly. Turns out he was right, the bleeding started to slow.
“The heart feels empty.” Dr. Whitaker said from your side, which was met by a simple ‘fill it up’ from your attending. Dr. Whitaker continued his motions while the others acted quickly. From your periphery, you could see Dr. Whitaker glance at you. You turned your head, looking up at him through the goggles on your face. For half a second, his stare held, his eyes lidded as he stared down at you all while his hands kept working. You had to break eye contact, clearing your throat quietly and focusing back on the patient.
After a few more minutes, the heart started to fill with fresh blood, but in return, it shivered. Dr. Whitaker soon delivered a quick jolt to the man’s heart, and in no time at all, it went normal.
“Stable carotid.” Dr. Mohan said.
A collective relief washed over the room. Hands started to prep the man for the OR. You could see Dr. Robinavitch and Dr. Al-Hashimi remove their protective gear. After they did, so did everyone else. You took your own off as well, removing the protective goggles from your head, along with the disposable surgical gown that was meant to protect your scrubs.
“How’d you like seeing your first clamshell?”
Dr. Whitaker’s voice came up from behind you, making you quickly glance over your shoulder. “Oh—uh, it was… interesting.” You replied, mentally cursing yourself at your awkward response. “Very bloody.” You added with a little tense chuckle. He smiled and nodded, and he removed his bloody gloves, tossing them into the trash. “Y’know most people would’ve puked or fainted, you guys held yourself nice.” He said, giving Dr. Javadi a little look, which she returned with something almost playfully annoyed.
“Have you… seen a lot of students do that?” You asked. “No, he has not.” Dr. Javadi cut in, moving out of the trauma bay after she fully finished taking off her gear. When she was gone, Dr. Whitaker smirked. He leaned in a bit close, his voice dropping to a quieter tone. “Last year she fainted during our first trauma.”
Your eyes widened slightly. “Really?”
He nodded in confirmation. “Don’t tell her I said that, it’s a sore subject… kind of.” He shrugged.
You made your way out of the bay with him and the two others, the rest of the ER greeting you back with noise. “You didn’t even flinch back there, which is good—you have the stomach for this… or you’re just good at hiding it.” He commented with a small, awkward laugh, his eyes looking you over—almost studying how you’d react to whatever he said. “Either way, I’ve got your back.” He paused. “I mean—I-I’ve got all of your backs. You guys can count on me to help.” He quickly fixed, recovering from something nobody really noticed. But he noticed, he noticed that it could possibly seem like he was playing favorites with med-students he hardly knew for an hour now.
Ogilvie and Joy were hardly paying attention. “That guy’s probably gonna re-bleed upstairs,” Joy mentioned dryly, looking at Ogilvie briefly.
Dr. Whitaker ignored it.
“So, what was your name again? I know Joy’s and Ogilvie’s, but I don’t think yours stuck yet.” He asked, a little nervous, with a polite grin on his face. He looked like a wet mouse that was constantly shaking.
“It’s y/n l/n, I’m in my fourth year of med school.”
You re-introduced yourself, earning a nod from him. “Ah, right, y/n—can’t believe I forgot your name for a second.” He spoke, your name rolling off his tongue almost as if he was testing it out in his mouth. “Fourth year isn’t that bad, I finished mine last year.” He mentioned. You smiled. “That’s gre—“
“Are we just gonna sit here and talk?” Ogilvie interrupted, giving an annoyed look. Dr. Whitaker nodded. “Right—sorry, guys, follow me.” He gestured towards the workstations.
He led the three of you to the area, and he stood in front of a standing desk and logged onto the computer. In another station, Dr. Javadi was already sitting and typing quickly. “What are we doing now?” You asked, and Dr. Whitaker looked over at you briefly. “Charting—basically, we’re just documenting our patients’ visits and our interactions with them.” He replied enthusiastically, taking a step aside for you to peer in and see what he was typing. Before you could, Ogilvie took that spot quickly, using it to stare at his computer screen. He was like a try-hard… (or something of the sort.)
Dr. Whitaker gave Ogilvie a little look, something akin to annoyance.
“Yeah, so… as you can see, it’s just writing down the visit.” He repeated, his voice awkward as Ogilvie hovered. “I’m sure the other two students would like to see as well, right?” He gestured towards you, making Ogilvie nod. “Sure.” He replied quickly before taking a few steps back. Joy shook her head. “I think I got the basis of it.” She rolled her eyes. You stepped up then, taking the spot by Dr. Whitaker. You looked at his screen, watching words fly across the screen.
“It’s not too hard, s’mainly just boring. Sometimes we’ll have to stay after our shift to get it done.” He shrugged. He looked down at you, just like he did during the surgery earlier. His stare felt weird—not exactly in a bad way, but very intense. It was hard to explain without sounding crazy, I mean, you’ve hardly known him for an hour. Maybe it’s just in your head.
“It doesn’t sound too bad.” You replied. He nodded. “It’s not.” He mumbled, eyes going back to the monitor as he typed a few more lines. After, he suddenly tilted the monitor more towards you. It made your shoulder brush his arm slightly. “Here—look at this section. In the procedure narrative, I want you to type the details for me. Let me see how you do it.” He suggested, pointing at the screen.
You nodded without thinking, reaching for the mouse. His hand was close, his skin brushing against yours. You couldn’t tell if he didn’t notice it, because he didn’t pull it back. Instead, you did, awkwardly moving the mouse an inch further away from his hand so it wouldn’t be so close. You clicked on the text box, right before starting to use the keyboard.
‘Clamshell incision, internal cardiac massage with return of spontaneous circulation after 50J internal defibrillation, myocardium pinked up within thirty seconds.’
You typed, quick clicks following your keystrokes. After you were done, you took your hands off the keyboard. “Does that look good?” You asked. He looked over your words before nodding. “Well, you listed the details of the procedure instead of just typing ‘ED thoracotomy performed.’ So that’s pretty good in my opinion.” He said with an airy chuckle. “Hopefully, this gets you thinking like a real resident instead of a spectator. Next case, I’ll help you out with more hands-on training.” He said with a small smile.
After a few quiet moments, Ogilvie spoke up from his spot in front of the digital board of cases.
“What case do I want…” he thought out loud. Dr. Javadi spoke up. “None, the morning rush is about to kick in.”
“Morning rush?” Ogilvie questioned.
“Oh, every morning around this time, the assisted living people go around doing bed checks.” Dr. Whitaker added.
“Huh… looks pretty quiet to me.” Ogilvie hummed.
Dr. Whitaker looked around, slightly confused now that he thought about how quiet it was. It was quickly resolved when a voice called out. “Incoming!”
A knowing, “oh,” left Dr. Whitaker. He moved away from the computer, walking off to the source. He glanced behind him. “Come on.” He said gently, eyes finding you again—even if he was talking to the group.
An old man was wheeled in, and Dr. Whitaker started reading off a clipboard handed to him. Nobody could resuscitate him if needed. Still, we had to treat him. You walked with the old man being wheeled to his room, Joy muttering something in Korean. When you arrived, the check-up went as the procedure called. Simple things, checking vitals, his body, stuff that could be done in your sleep. After it was done, Dr. Whitaker leaned a hand against the bed rail.
“Can anyone tell me about reversible causes of confusion in the elderly?” He asked, eyes once again darting to you.
You opened your mouth, but this time Ogilvie answered.
“Uh, hypo or hypernatremia, infection, but he’s afebrile, good O2 sats, and urine dip is negative.”
Your mouth snapped shut, a flicker of annoyance stirring in your chest. Apparently, to Ogilvie, this was a race to see who could say things the quickest. (Or maybe you just wanted to show off in front of Whitaker.)
Dr. Whitaker paused. “…yeah, great.” He shook his head. “(Y/N), Joy, anything to add?” He then asked, looking between you and Joy—his eyes lingering on you. Were you imagining that stare? It’s like every time he asked something, his eyes were just stuck on you, or maybe it was a side effect of his big eyes. Who knows.
“Nah.” Joy answered.
You also shook your head. This made Dr. Whitaker give a weird, disappointed look.
Suddenly, the monitor started beeping, and Ogilvie jumped in. “V-tach—can I?” Dr Whitaker nodded. Ogilvie leaned in, gloved hands going to check for a pulse. “No pulse, should we call for code blue?” Dr. Whitaker shook his head. “No pulse, no CPR, we respect his wishes.”
Joy paused. “Soo… where does that leave us?”
“Making sure he’s comfortable.”
After a few moments, Ogilvie started to go on about the elderly patient's mental state; again, he was just showing off. Joy rolled her eyes, and Ogilvie paused. “Am… am I missing something?” A beat. “Social skills?” Joy said. Dr. Whitaker gave an awkward laugh. You stood there observing, watching how the older man started to flatline, making Dr. Whitaker go over to him to check his pulse one final time. When he passed, Ogilvie and Joy wasted no time turning to leave.
Dr. Whitaker spoke. “Y-Y’know, one of the things we like to do here, when we have the time, is to take a moment of silence when we lose a patient, to respect their humanity.” He paused, walking over to where you stood, inching a step closer. “He was someone’s son, perhaps a father himself. A brother or friend. Someone who mattered… just like you matter out here.”
He looked around at the group, those same eyes always falling back to you. His hand twitched at his side.
He then spoke up again. “Just… just make sure to keep your phone on silent.” He added, making the two others check their phones. “Good good good…” he mumbled awkwardly.
After that case, you walked back out of the room with the small group. Ogilvie and Joy gravitated towards the nurses' station with the board lit up with patient names. You waited for a bit, watching Dr. Whitaker mess with something on a tablet—probably full of patient information. A second passed, and he looked up, giving you a small smile. “You’re the only one who didn’t check your phone to see if it was silent.” He pointed out.
“Oh—sorry, let me just—“ You fished your phone out of your pocket, hitting the button on the side for silent mode. He nodded, eyes staring down at your hands as you put it back in your pocket. He glanced back at your face. “Sorry, it’s best if it is, okay? For moments like this, with me.” He said. You furrowed your eyebrows briefly. “With you?” You echoed in confusion, not sure what he meant.
His eyes widened a bit at the realization. “I mean–with the team.” He chuckled with that same tense energy he always had. “Take Dr. Mohan’s phone in that trauma earlier as an example.” He shook his head, almost amused at the earlier thought.
You nodded. “Right, sorry.” You smiled. Dr. Whitaker kept his gaze on you for a bit longer, eyes capturing every detail of your face.
“You’re a good student. I’m sorry Ogilvie keeps butting in.” He then said, making you blink twice in surprise. “N-no, it’s okay. I don’t mind. We’re all learning under your wing together anyway, right?” You laughed awkwardly. Dr. Whitaker shrugged. “Yeah… but, I’d like to hear what you have to say sometimes,” all the time, he meant. But he wasn’t going to say that to someone he had just met today and simply found interesting so far.
You flushed. “I’ll try to speak up quicker than Ogilvie over there, then.” You replied, something almost playful in your tone. “Please do, so far you’re my favorite trainee—you remind me of myself last year.” Dr. Whitaker said, giving you a nudge on your shoulder gently with his degloved hand. You smiled. “Favorite?” You repeated back to him, and he just nodded. “Yep, can’t wait to see you in action.” He patted your shoulder, right before gesturing for you to follow. “C’mon, back to the workstation we go.” You nodded.
ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ♡ •┈ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ
Charting was the main thing being done; you didn’t realize how much time it took up until now. So. Boring. All that could be heard was the sound of Dr. Whitaker’s typing and his occasional comments.
“New case—split knee.” Joy’s voice filled the area. Ogilvie rolled his eyes. “Anything better?” He sighed. Dr. Whitaker looked at them both. “If you two don’t want to do it, then you’re more than welcome to sit and wait some more while I chart.”
You tensed at the thought of standing around while he typed; you needed to move—your feet would bleed if you had to stand in place a second longer. “I’ll take it, I want to practice my sutures anyway.” You volunteered. Dr. Whitaker smiled. “Perfect, you three follow me then—you two can observe.” You gestured towards Ogilvie and Joy. He moved from the computer, walking away towards the case room. On the bed was an older man waiting there with a laceration on his knee.
“Mr. Robert’s, this is student doctor y/n l/n, she’ll be taking care of you today.” Dr. Whitaker introduced you. You gave the patient a small smile, walking over to his bedside to check his knee. It was pretty cut and dry; he split it open by falling against something sharp. You checked for debris, cleaned it, and got the suture kit ready. You pulled a stool out, sitting on it to be somewhat level with his knee.
Forceps in one hand, needle driver in the other. Simple, easy sutures, you’ve done these before. You just hadn’t done them here. You started to focus, getting to work with ease. The quiet focus lasted about a minute before you heard someone’s voice.
“Your spacing’s off.”
Dr. Whitaker said from behind you, low enough that it didn't carry outside the two of you. He was hovering big time. You stiffened slightly before glancing over your shoulder. “Oh—sorry, I was just—“
“No, no, it’s okay.” He shook his head quickly, leaning in closer beside you. “You’re not doing it wrong, just…” He reached forward, hand hovering over yours. “Here.” He mumbled. His fingers closed lightly around your wrist. “Try angling the needle more like this.” He guided your hand forward, adjusting the tilt a few degrees for you. You doubted the touching was necessary, mainly because it felt humiliating to be shown like this in front of your fellow student doctors. As if you were some sort of dumb baby who needed help with this basic instruction.
“See?” He murmured as he assisted you. “Less tension in the skin.” Your eyes flicked down to where his hand held yours. You continued with the sutures awkwardly, trying to ignore his close presence. He leaned in a little closer, which made your skin prickle. He watched you pull the suture through. “Good,” he said quietly. “You’re very steady.”
You swallowed, focusing a little too hard on the thread between your fingers. “Thanks.” You muttered.
You pulled another stitch, his hand shifted, not leaving though—but adjusting with yours as if he needed it to still be there. From the corner of your eye, you could see him watching your hands. You let out a small breath. “I mean, I just don’t want to mess up.” You replied.
“You won’t.” He said certainly and quickly. “I’ll take care of you.” His breath hitched a bit when he heard his own words. “As in—I’ll make sure your cases go correctly.” He added, trying to recover from his awkward slip of… whatever he’s on.
Suddenly, footsteps got closer. “Are we almost done here?” Ogilvie butted in, looking at the man currently being sewn up. Dr. Whitaker finally pulled his hand back, clearing his throat under his breath. “Y-yea, almost done.” He replied, nodding. He looked back at your suture. “Uh—just keep going like that.” He said, a little faster now.
You nodded, resetting your grip on the needle. He didn’t leave, watching as you finished up the man’s stitches. When you were done, you pulled back, giving the patient a small smile. “All done.” You said, glancing up over to Dr. Whitaker. He straightened. “Perfect.” He nodded. He looked at the man. “We’ll be able to discharge you here soon. We just need to give you some antibiotics and fill out your papers—then you’ll be on your way.” He smiled at the patient.
Dr. Whitaker jerked his head in the direction of the curtain. You followed and exited the room.
“So, discharge him now?” Joy asked. Dr. Whitaker smirked. “Uh, yeah.” He shrugged. “Don’t look so bored, I’m sure we’ll get a good case eventually.” He gestured to the board, as if it were somehow comforting. He got to work after that, tending to what the patient needed for his discharge before being able to let him go. Rinse and repeat. Afterwards, he walked over to the workstation.
“Getting our charting done when we can is important; it can make us stay late if we don't have it complete,” Dr. Whitaker stated as he clicked the mouse on the computer. “You can end up like Santos.” He muttered, looking over at a dark-haired woman at a desk. “She has to stay late?” You asked. He shrugged. “Probably. I know our new attending has been on her about it.” He replied vaguely, clicking at the mouse, his gaze stuck on the screen. “Speaking of that, this is probably a good time to show you guys how to properly chart.”
Once his chart was pulled up, he glanced over at you. “Okay, let’s document that last patient.”
Ogilvie stepped forward immediately, leaning in toward the screen like he’d been waiting for it. Which—he probably had been. Dr. Whitaker didn’t move out of the way.
“Basic structure—like last time.” He said, eyes flicking briefly to the monitor. “Chief complaint, exam, procedure… what matters most is how you write it.” His gaze shifted back to you. “What would you put for the procedure note?”
Ogilvie opened his mouth, of course he did. “Well the patient came in with a—“ Dr. Whitaker cut him off. “Yeah, that’s fine.” He absentmindedly replied to Ogilvie’s attempt at speaking, dismissing whatever he had to say. Then he spoke clearer. “Y/n?” He gestured at you, pulling you right back into the center of his focus.
You stepped forward, sliding into the space by the keyboard. Dr. Whitaker tilted the monitor toward you, same as before—but instead of stepping aside, he shifted closer, like it was the only way to make room. Your shoulder brushed his, you adjusted slightly. Dr. Whitaker followed it without thinking, closing the gap again.
“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing to the screen.
You clicked into the note, fingers hovering over the keys for a moment before typing.
‘Right knee laceration approximately 4 cm in length. Wound irrigated with normal saline. No foreign bodies visualized. Local anesthesia achieved with 1% lidocaine. Simple interrupted sutures placed with good approximation. The patient tolerated the procedure well without complications.’
You leaned back a fraction, eyes focused on the screen. Dr. Whitaker read it once, then a second time—but under his breath—as if double checking. “It’s good.” He said finally, then paused. “Uh, try rewriting this part.” He spoke softer, he pointed lightly at the screen, just a few lines in—nothing actually wrong. You gave him a confused look. “What should I change?”
“Just—be more specific.” He suggested, leaning in again as you moved the cursor back. “Think about what you’d want to know if you weren’t there.” His hand came up, hovering near yours again, not quite touching this time.
You started typing again.
‘Wound irrigated thoroughly with normal saline under pressure. No debris or foreign bodies noted. Hemostasis achieved prior to closure. Four simple interrupted sutures placed with adequate edge eversion and approximation.’
"Why'd you add that?” Dr. Whitaker asked quietly.
You glanced at him. “The hemostasis part?”
He nodded, eyes not leaving your hands and they way they flexed near the keys.
“It makes it clearer the bleeding was controlled before closure.” You answered.
“Yeah, it does.” He smiled, “you really do think ahead.” He nudged you a little, something playful in it. It didn’t feel like this interaction was really about the chart anymore.
From the side, Ogilvie shifted, trying to look at the screen again. Dr. Whitaker moved—barely—just enough to block the angle. “Give her a second.” He said, tone still surface level politeness, but he didn’t look at Ogilvie.
Joy glanced between the two of you, something unreadable passing over her face before she looked away again. Dr. Whitaker straightened slightly, like he remembered the rest of them existed and he also had to teach them. “Ogilvie, Joy—you guys can check the board, see what’s coming in.” He redirected them casually.
Joy had shrugged and stepped off without much thought. Ogilvie lingered for half a second, clearly annoyed before following.
The space between you and Dr. Whitaker quieted, he turned back to you almost immediately. “I just want to go over one more thing.” He mentioned. You nodded, turning your attention back to the screen. He leaned in again, closer this time, one hand resting near the keyboard as he read over your rewrite.
“This is really good.” He praised in a quiet tone. As if what you wrote was some amazing talent rather than a basic chart you did quickly. “You’re already writing charts better than most students I’ve worked with.” The constant compliments felt almost suffocating, a bit too focused and directed. You swallowed thickly before shaking your head. “O-oh, I’m just trying to keep up.” You flushed, dismissing his comment.
“You are.” He replied quickly.
For a second, neither of you moved—you couldn’t even bring yourself to look back at him. You knew his eyes were on you, you could practically feel them laser into your head.
“I want you to get this right,” he added. A quick beat passed. “…all of you.” He corrected, a little too late. He cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing back to the monitor like it reset the moment. He reached past you then, adjusting something on the keyboard that didn’t need adjusting. His arm brushed yours, lingering just a second longer than necessary before pulling back.
“Just keep writing like that,” he said, watching intently over your shoulder.
In the distance, Joy and Ogilvie stood at the glowing board of patients. “Is there anything else up here besides old people falling?” Ogilvie sighed, arms crossed over his chest. Joy rolled her eyes. “At least it’s easy.” She replied, half-interested in whatever he said. Past the board, her eyes caught you and Dr. Whitaker.
“I didn’t realize we had to deal with favoritism when training.” She remarked. Ogilvie huffed a small laugh. “I don’t think y/n realize either.” He glanced over to where you and Whitaker stood. “He’s kind of…” Ogilvie trailed off. Joy looked at him. “Weird?” She finished.
“Who’s weird?” A voice behind them spoke up.
When they looked behind themselves, Santos stood there.
Joy shook her head. “Nobody, we were just—“ Santos caught the look Ogilvie gave Whitaker, before laughing a little. “Ohh…” she interrupted Joy. “Huckleberry’s weird.” She hummed in realization. “Yeah, you’d be right. Especially around pretty girls.” She joked, looking over at where he stood helping you with the chart that certainly didn’t need that much help. Ogilvie rolled his eyes.
Santos walked over to you and Whitaker, clipboard held loosely in her hand. “Care to introduce me to your new girlfriend, huckleberry?” She greeted with a sly smirk on her face.
“Santos—no, she’s a student.” The words came out without much thinking on his part, his tone clipped and short. “She’s with me, I’m supervising.”
Santos’s eyes widened a fraction, a half-scoff-half-laugh leaving her. “Jesus, learn to take a joke.” She remarked. “You also have two others you need to be supervising.”
Blood rushed to Whitaker’s cheeks. He shook his head. “S-sorry, I just meant that she came in with Ogilvie and Joy, y-you saw her this morning.” He added, his voice more soft.
You stood there by Dr. Whitaker, more composed than he was at the moment. The tease didn’t bother you as much as it did him… probably because it was meant for Dr. Whitaker.
“I’m y/n l/n.” You introduced yourself properly, holding out your hand. Santos smirked. “S’nice to meet you, y/n.” She didn’t take your hand, just gave you that same look. You awkwardly put your hand down, letting it fall to your side.
“We should get back to work.” Dr. Whitaker cut in, slightly stepping in front of you. Santos simply nodded. “Yea, you should. Your other two students over there are getting jealous.” She joked dryly, before rounding you and Whitaker to leave the station. “See you later, huckleberry.”
“Huckleberry?” You asked. He shrugged, but it was obvious he was still tense. “It’s a nickname—like the novel.” He explained, his tone tight from the interaction with Santos. “Oh, cute.” You nodded in acknowledgment.
He smiled. “You think so?” Before you could say anything else, it was like Whitaker remembered where he was. He looked over at Joy and Ogilvie. “We should get going.” He said.
He pushed away, walking in their direction.
“Come on.”
ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ♡ •┈ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ
A/N hi guys!!! First chapter of my weirdo Whitaker idea is done!!! It’s kind of rushed near the end but… shh. Anyway! Not much is going on in the fic rn, but that’s only bc they just met!! I promise!!! It’ll kick off more soon :>, bc now they actually know each other. Phew! Also if u notice any errors in this it’s definitely bc I get my fics done at 3am and I don’t feel like proofreading…
Victoria gave an apologetic smile to the older, disgruntled man lying on the hospital cot. Daniel Marks, a fifty-two year old man who had sliced open his knee at a backyard barbecue. She finished his sutures and carefully wrapped a fresh bandage around the wound.
“Everything good in here?” A familiar voice drawled, Dr. McKay’s.
The man huffed, rolling his eyes. “Your *assistant* is trying to rip my leg open even wider.” He grouched. Dr. McKay smirked. “You mean Dr. Javadi is treating your laceration.” She corrected with humor, walking over to Victoria—patient chart in hand. “You’ll be good to go soon, just gonna give you some antibiotics and you’ll be on your way.” McKay stated, looking at the older as she hovered behind the stool Victoria sat on while the younger woman focused on the patient’s knee.
Victoria could feel the proximity of McKay behind her, it made her tense slightly. Now, it wouldn’t have felt unusual if this was an important case that required the closeness… however this was her finishing up on a guys knee. Last time she checked, it didn’t require supervision from not even a foot away.
This wasn’t the first case either, McKay had been micro-managing and up her ass frequently lately. Victoria chalked it up to her not trusting her, even if it didn’t make sense. It had only been a few months since her first day—since the Pittfest incident—she thought McKay surely saw her potential after that. However, all of this… hovering… made her think otherwise.
“Make sure you keep off your leg, refrain from doing anymore strenuous activities. We don’t want your stitches to pop.”
Victoria said with a tiny, polite smile. She rose from the stool she’d been using to get level with the man’s leg while stitching, pushing it to the side after. McKay, who had been behind her watching, felt the sleeve of Victoria’s jacket brush her briefly—making her give the girl a small look. McKay then moved, helping Victoria with the discharge for the guy—last patient before lunch—thank god.
After, Victoria left the small room, the curtain falling shut naturally behind her. McKay followed suit, footsteps trailing her like a lost dog. “Dealing with these guys comes as easy as breathing now, huh?” McKay started, giving her a lazy smile. Victoria glanced up at her, a half-huff-half-laugh leaving her. “Oh—yea, I guess.” Her tone was a bit awkward, as per usual, but it had been driven by something else too. Was McKay mocking her somehow? All this hovering, monitoring, was it her testing?
“N-not that I’m getting cocky.” She added, shaking her head. Victoria scoffed in amusement. “Oh, please. You deserve to be cocky. Only twenty and you’ve been nailing it.” The praise left her mouth so easy. Victoria felt something warm settle behind her cheeks. The compliment made things more confusing; if McKay truly thought she was nailing it, why the hovering?
“Thanks… y’know I was wonde—“
Victoria’s voice was cut off, her train of thought interrupted by a male voice. “Dr. J!” Matteo came into view, waving over at Victoria. She swallowed thickly, her footsteps lagging by the nurses station. She gave him a small wave back, watching as he started to make his way over. “Matteo—hey!” She greeted, her voice taking on a friendlier pitch. “I thought you were switching to nights?” She asked, eyebrows furrowing slightly in confusion.
Matteo shrugged. “I’m coming in a little early today.” He paused. “You sound shocked, Is my presence bothering you?” He teased. Victoria shook her head quickly. “What? N-no. That’s not…” She flushed. “I didn’t mean it like that, I was just… confused.” Her heart was racing. She thought her stupid proximity crush on Matteo would’ve worn off by now, especially with him on nights… but it only seemed to stay in tact. She hated it.
McKay watched the interaction happen, leaning against a nearby counter at the nurses station. A prickle of something pricked at her chest: irritation maybe? annoyance? Either way, It was ridiculous. She had an idea of what it was, or maybe an understanding. She had some weird thing for Javadi.
It’s not like she wanted it! At first it was… maternal(?) perhaps. At least that’s what it felt like, but overtime it twisted. Victoria was so sweet, so smart, so… awfully her.
She was also so young. Which was a problem.
Fourty-two years old, she couldn’t be acting like this! Especially not towards Victoria. She felt like a perverted old dog, the thought alone was enough to make her want to hide in embarrassment.
What was even worse was that she was watching Matteo do some weird flirty bit with her. The jealously she felt was so immature she could hardly believe it, but that was her little doctor, not his!
“Y’know hopefully we can hang out together again soon—others included of course.” Matteo kept going with Victoria, a smirk on his face. Victoria had seemed so flustered, a little dorky smile on her face. “Yea! Totally. I-I think I’d like that.” She rushed to agree, before pausing. “Others included.” She added, glancing over at McKay briefly before back at Matteo.
McKay shook her head, interrupting the two. “I’m sorry, Matteo, but we really have to head to lunch. Strict schedule around here.” She cut in, giving the boy a tight-lipped smile. Matteo laughed a little, nodding. “No, yea—sure. You ladies have a good lunch.” He excused them, giving Victoria a little wave after. Which, she returned of course.
The two started to walk, Victoria naturally falling into a pace with McKay. They neared the break room, but before they could reach it—McKay grabbed Victoria’s wrist. “Let’s take a detour.” She said. Victoria’s eyes widened a bit in surprise. “Detour? The break rooms right there.” She protested in confusion, yet still followed McKay anyways, feeling the warmth of her hand around her wrist.
They walked for a bit in weird silence that Victoria was having trouble understanding.
Suddenly, McKay rounded another corner, opening a supply closet door in a hall. She pulled Victoria inside, the door falling shut behind them. It was dark in it, but despite the lighting, it was obviously a linen closet. There were racks against the wall filled with fresh pillows, pillow cases, linen bags, and sheets.
“Dr. McKay what are we—“ cut off, again. “Shh.” McKay cut in, getting close to Victoria. Her eyes lowered, staring at the shorter girl—who had been awkwardly standing there in the closet with her. “Y’know fraternization is highly unprofessional.” She spoke, her voice low. Victoria blinked owlishly up at her, mouth opening and shutting in clear confusion. “I-I don’t follow.” She shook her head.
“You and Matteo.”
Victoria’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head at that. “W-what? No! It’s nothing like that, he doesn’t like me—I-I don’t like him. Just friends.” She stumbled over her words, cheeks burning with embarrassment from the accusation. It was a lie sort of… she did have a schoolgirl crush on Matteo, but he already made it clear he didn’t date anyone at work. She could feel her heart fluttering hard in her chest. She didn’t want McKay to report anything false, that was the main thing… but for some reason Victoria also didn’t want McKay thinking she liked Matteo at all. It just felt off.
“Are you sure?” McKay pressed, inching closer. Victoria could feel the older woman’s body heat radiate off of her. She nodded. “I’m sure.”
A few long, painfully tense seconds passed after that.
“Can I kiss you?”
The words hit Victoria’s ears like a car crash, at first she thought she didn’t hear them right at all. “E-Excuse me? I don’t… I don’t think I heard you right?” She nervously replied, staring up at McKay in confusion. “Can I kiss you?” McKay repeated, something anxious flickering across her features for a brief second. Victoria’s mouth hung open slightly, eyes wide. “Dr. McKay I don’t think we—“
“Just say Cassie.” McKay interrupted. Victoria froze, before nodding slowly. “Okay… C-Cassie I don’t think it’s…” she trailed off, doe-eyes staring up at McKay’s face. The older doctor almost looked pleading. Dark eyes staring down at her, lips slightly parted, eyebrows furrowed a tad. Victoria felt her resolve falter, replaced by a heat spreading in her chest. “O-okay… you can kiss me.” She murmured, the agreement burning in her face.
McKay wasted no time, before Victoria could blink those big eyes, Cassie was on her. Her mouth hit hers, lips locking sloppily. She knew she was being too desperate, like some overly hormonal teenager—but god, when was the last time she had any sort of action—especially with someone she liked!
Victoria’s lips felt so soft against hers, she could hardly believe it. Her hands started to move, one resting on the back of Victoria’s neck, the other grabbing her waist and spreading over the surface.
Victoria was dying. Mentally, spiritually, maybe psychically. The heat from McKay was a lot—too much. Her lips were a constant, attacking her mouth over and over. She felt a hard squeeze on her waist, McKay’s touchy hand resting there—kneading the softness beneath her clothes. Victoria couldn’t believe it—this hypocrite—scares her for Matteo just to kiss her a second later. If she wasn’t so busy, maybe she would’ve said something smart. (Unlikely.)
“So soft.” McKay mumbled breathily against Victoria’s lips, something whiny in it.
Her tongue forced itself into Victoria’s mouth, deepening their kiss. She could feel the wet heat of Victoria’s tongue on her own, sending a jolt of want through her body. An ache formed between her thighs beneath the scrubs she wore, it only got worse when a small sound left Victoria because of the kiss.
“Let me touch you, Javadi.” She broke the kiss with a huff, backing Victoria up against the wall fully in two easy steps. The hand at her waist slid to the front of Victoria’s pants, her fingers trailing down carefully until it reached the center of her thighs. Victoria’s breath caught in her throat. “M-McKay—“ She choked.
“Say Cassie.”
“Cassie—“
Victoria corrected herself with a tiny whine, eyebrows furrowing as her eyes stayed locked onto McKay’s wandering hand. “W-what if someone walks by—“ She hated how easy she was letting this happen. It was breaking all sorts of rules. McKay shrugged. “Just be quiet, okay?” She muttered against Victoria’s lips quietly, her forehead pressing against the girl’s.
Her palm pressed right against Victoria’s clothed pussy, feeling the warmth of her mound beneath her clothes. She started to move her fingers across there, rubbing her dryly through the fabric. “You wanna feel good, sweetheart?” McKay murmured, staring down at Victoria through heavy lidded eyes. Victoria nodded quietly, words catching in her throat. “A-ah—yes.” She stammered, eyes darting everywhere except McKay’s face.
“Say it, say you want Cassie to touch you.”
“I-I…” Victoria braced herself at what she was going to say. “I… I want Cassie to touch me.” Her voice shook a little. “Cassie, p-please touch me.”
That was enough for McKay to practically shove her hand down Victoria’s pants.
Her fingers pushed inside of the waistband of her scrubs, before also slipping past her panties band. Her fingers found her pussy quickly, the warmth of it made McKay let out a pleased sigh. She could feel wetness already coming from Victoria, making McKay’s own clit throb hard. “Fuck.” She breathed under her breath.
Her thumb found Victoria’s swollen clit, pressing down on it. Victoria jolted, her hands finding purchase on McKay’s shoulders. “Be careful—“ she urged, McKay just nodded silently. Her thumb started to rub at her clit, circling it slowly. Victoria’s breathing became labored quick, the slick friction of McKay’s thumb against her clit already made her weak.
McKay noticed. “Feel good already, doctor?” She teased quietly. Victoria nodded with a whimper. McKay tilted her head, placing kisses along the girl’s jaw. “Such a pretty girl.” She mumbled against her skin, trailing the kisses down to her throat. Victoria instinctively tilted her head to give her more access, her heart racing. “C-Cassie—“ she breathed.
McKay circled with more pressure, earning a twitch from Victoria’s hips. She smirked against her throat. “Oo, you liked that, huh?” She spoke into her throat, delivering open-mouthed kisses on the skin there. Victoria nodded. “Y-yea—keep doing that.” She replied, soft pants leaving her. McKay kept up that pace with her thumb, feeling how Victoria’s body reacted to it.
It wasn’t long until McKay brushed the tip of her pointer finger against Victoria’s entrance, which made the girl tense. “Bet you need me to fill that tiny pussy up with my fingers, right Victoria?” McKay spoke lowly into her neck, Victoria’s face burned hot. “D-don’t talk like that!” She blurted, the vulgarity of her words making her body buzz. Her pussy ached and leaked even more despite the shock.
McKay chuckled, placing a few pecks on her neck. “Aww, c’mon. I think you like it.”
Victoria avoided looking at McKay, trying to also remain silent.
McKay took it as a sign to go further, pushing her pointer finger inside of Victoria. It was tight and hot, her walls tried to resist—but she pushed anyway. Victoria squirmed, heavier pants leaving her. “C-cass—it—it’s—“ she stuttered, head flying back against the wall. McKay gave her exactly a second before she started to pump her finger, all while circling her clit at the same time with her thumb.
Victoria nearly doubled over. “Fuck!” Pleasure exploded in her lower belly. McKay shushed her sharply. “Quiet.” She picked her head up from her throat, gesturing towards the door, before smirking. Her free hand moved, finding itself at home right over Victoria’s mouth to silence her. Victoria let out a defeated whimper against her palm, the sound muffling.
“That’s a good girl.” McKay murmured.
Her finger pumped nonstop, matching the rhythm of her thumb that rubbed her clit. “Cum for me, Javadi.” She let her forehead rest against her own again, lips brushing hers. Javadi felt her hips uncontrollably buck up to meet McKay’s hand, chasing the pleasure she gave. McKay let her keep up at it until she decided to push in her middle finger, stretching her out with another finger.
Victoria moaned inside of her palm, eyes rolling back at McKay’s two fingers now pumping inside of her. It felt so good—so wrong but so amazing at the same time. Her superior, her older mentor, her *doctor*, was currently finger-fucking her in a linen supply closet. The sounds that left Victoria now were desperate, high-pitched whiny sounds that she couldn’t turn off.
“Yea? That feel good?” McKay cooed, quickening the pace of her fingers. Nasty wet sounds could be heard, which made McKay’s pussy painfully horny. “Your pussy gets so wet for your doctor doesn’t it, Victoria?” She mocked quietly, feeling Victoria’s pussy clench hard in response. “That’s it…” She hummed. “It just feels so good.” She cooed in a mocking tone again.
Victoria could feel a knot build in her lower belly, a scary signal she was about to cum soon. The pleasure started to grow, every pump made her more sensitive. She squirmed against the wall and McKay, chest heaving as her back arched. “M—ca-Cassie—gonna cum—“ she whined into her palm, which pressed harder against her mouth at that alert.
After a few more pumps, a sudden, hot rush of pleasure washed over Victoria. Spasms filled her body, hips twitching wildly as her stomach clenched hard. She could feel something wet leak from her hotly and around McKay’s fingers. She really did just cum all over her superiors hand. Wow.
McKay helped her ride through her orgasm, lips finding hers again to kiss her slow—yet still ever so deeply.
It took a bit before Victoria fully calmed down, her body was a twitchy, buzzy mess.
Soon, McKay pulled her fingers free from Victoria’s pants. Slick coated her hand, especially her two fingers. “You okay?” McKay asked, something more tender in her voice now. Victoria nodded after a few seconds. “Y-yea… you?”
“Of course.”
Silence fell over the small space.
“Y’know we never clocked out for lunch.” Victoria mentioned.
“Fuck.”
A/N: full disclosure, this sucks I’m aware. It was 4am when I started writing this with zero sleep… I finished at like 7am bc I kept passing out mid typing. So excuse that guys!! Anyway yea, sleep deprivation aside, I needed to get this down!
i started watching the Pitt and found out on TikTok ppl hate her ?? Omg!! I STAND WITH MY CANCELLED WIFE !!! She’s just a baby. I love complex ‘asshole’ characters
5am fanfic idea….. pining Jerome valeska and Jeremiah valeska x reader ……but the it’s actually a secret angsty yuri slow burn between Ecco and the reader ………..my mind is exploding …. I need to take a breather…. Do Gotham fans even still exist….. ……. Podnering
OMG NEW IDEA FOR THIS, but maybe reader and Ecco have a very rocky/rival type of relationship because of Jeremiah …. Like reader is friends with pre-spray Jeremiah ofc and like Ecco is very jealous in a way…. Idk my mind is exploding rn I need to write this down…. Angsty yuri come to me… angsty yuri save me….
romaincrisis
jacobvanloon
theartofmadeline
yousharknotpass
