SEISHIRO NAGI || A PATIENT AND HIS TRUSTY NURSE
Contains: Nagi halloween handjob! :D you may or may not slip a finger in his ass. omg who said that. must've been the wind.
He didn't wanna go. Even told you he'd rather kill himself slowly and painfully than waste a Friday night making small talk with dumb strangers in shitty costumes while somebody's playlist from 2017 blasts through blown-out speakers at first. He knew that he'd probably just end up bored after a while, sprawled out across somebody's tacky velvet chaise lounge while you hovered around the drinks like a thirsty vulture.
Notice how I said "at first"?
See, he felt that way right up until you sauntered into the room wearing the teeniest, tiniest nurse's dress you could ever possibly acquire off the sluttiest corner of the internet. Shiny red cross slapped over one of your tits that were pushing at that poor neckline, tight garters biting into the fat of your thighs and a pointless little cap sitting tilted on your head. You looked like a dream. A sticky, wet, dutiful one with a fake syringe in hand and the politest curl of ruby lips.
"I really don't wanna go..." he'd groaned dramatically from where he'd been lazing amongst the decorative fluffy pillows of your bed, arm flopped over his forlorn face and voice muffled by his hoodie sleeve.
"Really...? Sei, I don't wanna force you to go... but, y'know. I kinda got the costumes already, 'nd... yeah." You'd muttered quietly with a shy twirl in front of the mirror, stopping on the balls of your feet to make eye contact with your own reflection as you continued, "I mean, I guess I could just go on my own. It's not like the girls who dress up as sexy Princess Leia always bring a Han Solo with 'em."
With a long yawn, Nagi shifted on top of your comforter and slowly uncovered his face to at least look at you whilst you talked. Just in time, really. He watched you tug on the hem of that pathetic excuse for a dress as if it actually had a hem rather than just a mere suggestion of one, saw how the tight polyester tried and failed to contain your asscheeks with all its might when you bent over to slip your heels on.
Fuck. That was a sight if he'd ever seen one. Then, (not-so) suddenly, all thoughts of staying inside for the night vanished. Poof. Gone. Catapulted straight out of the window with just one innocent peek at those lacy panties.
"So, are you for real about this? It could be fun and I–"
"Mm, I'll be your Han Solo."
You raised an eyebrow at him in the mirror.
"You mean you'll be my patient."
Aaaaaaand that's how you got here. At an old friend's Halloween party, tipsy, sloshing solo cup in one hand. You're not really sure how long you've been sitting here, zoning out on this couch, but it's definitely been long enough that two idiots in your peripheral vision are now elbowing each other in a petty attempt to take over the aux, and somebody else just knocked over the fog machine and nearly set their Spider-Man onesie on fire.
Nagi's man-spreading in his cheap hospital gown beside you with his head tipped back like it got too heavy for his neck, just mindlessly chewing on a Twizzler and staring blankly at the TV someone set up to play one of the Scream movies for background ambiance and vibes. Apparently his limbs have turned to jelly and he's gotten sucked into an open-eyed coma. Hm..
"...You good?" you speak up after a while, raising your cup for a sip but just hovering it below your face instead.
"Huh." his eyes flick to yours, dark and tinted red from the twinkling string lights strewn across the walls.
"You've been, like... super quiet since we got here."
He shrugs. Groans in discomfort, squirms o the couch and lets it swallow his huge ass between the cushions with a troubled mumble. "'M in character."
He points lazily at the plastic hospital wristband he's wearing, the one that was amidst all the other accessories that came with his last minute "patient" costume. Which you definitely grabbed a size too small, 'cause the strained bow you tied at the open back is fucking screaming "SOMEONE, PLEASE! I CAN'T HOLD ON MUCH LONGER!"
"I'm your sick patient," he says with a slow blink, tipping his head to the side so he's looking at you face to face. "And you're my nurse, right?"
Your eyebrows knit slightly, lashes fluttering. "W-Well, yeah, but its just a costume–"
He nods solemnly before you can finish. "Yeah, real slutty one, too. Makin' me think you slipped boner pills into my drink."
"Seishiro." you warn him with a smack to the arm.
He doesn't flinch, instead his features droop and he frowns at you like that smack was just so unbelievably outrageous! "Ow," he grumbles along with an offended huff. "You're not supposed to hit sick people..."
"Could be. Haven't even gotten my fundamental check-up yet, so how could you know, slutty nurse."
"Puh-lease, you don't even know what the hell "fundamental" means..."
"...And? Still goes, so."
You stare. He takes another bite of Twizzler, chewing it with the pace of a man who has nowhere to be and not an iota of shame.
You're about to say something else, "oh, I'll show you sick" probably, when you catch his hand coming to rest heavily on your thigh. Inching upwards beyond your dress, not stopping. Then, his knuckles are just barely brushing the edge of your lace panties like he's wondering how much he can get away with in this dim, obnoxiously red lighting.
You fight back the urge to take in a deep breath and decide to keep your eyes on the tapping shoes of drunken black cats and Beetlejuices in front of you, head lowered.
It only serves to make him lean closer and dip down so he can see your expression, broad and warm chest smushed up against your arm as he speaks.
"Think I'm dying, miss nurse..." he whispers near your cheek, voice soft as anything.
You don't look at him, not directly.
Your back damn near straightens like a fucking ruler. Hands come up to rub your face as if you're struggling to pull the plug on someone's grandma. There's people right there. You're amongst society. You can hear a group behind you arguing loudly over the trash music about which anime character they'd let raw. You're hardly even tipsy and yet your face feels so hot. Can't begin to imagine what's going on under that stupid hospital gown of his if he's already acting this... audacious. You look down at his lap. Hard as diamonds, course he is. Sigh... okay, fine. Fine, Seishiro Nagi.
"...Fuck it. Where's my gloves."
"No wayyyy. Prostate exam?"
"Whatever my patient needs." you deadpan.
Out of nowhere, he has the energy to sit upright along with you. But not without a faint glower... and an eager twinkle in his glossy eyes. "You say that too casually, c'mon, make a fuss of meeeee."
"Seriously gonna castrate you." you mutter under your breath as you stand.
He sighs. Largely. "My nurse's bein' mean to me. And I can't even stand up anymore..."
"What, 'cause your dick is in the way?" you scoff whilst roughly grabbing him by the arm, tugging and grunting with your efforts to manoeuvre what is essentially just one big brick of lethargy and testosterone. "What the hell, Sei, just get up...!"
"Hnnnnghhh... need a stretcherrrrr."
Less than five minutes later and an enthusiastic whoop of "NURSE ROLEPLAY?!?!?!!?" from some arrogant asshole leaning against the wall upstairs, you're both locked in the bathroom. Latex gloves making that sharp snap noise as you adjust them, Nagi's briefs pooled around his ankles on the floor. You've never seen his cock stand so straight whilst he's also standing straight. It's trying to poke out of his thin gown like it's got something to prove, jumping and swaying with the even the smallest movements. The fabric draped over the head is wet, a damp patch visible from where he's been leaking uncontrollably at the sight of you in hot nurse get-up.
"Dude, I can feel my heartbeat in my dick..." he groans breathily as if to imply it hurts, just standing there with a messy head of hair resting back on the plaster and his Adam's apple bobbing, exposed and sharp under the brighter lighting.
You snort at that, bunching his gown and forcing the fabric into his tensed hands before sinking to your knees, allowing you to get a nice, long look at what you're dealing with. With how that one prominently bulging vein is almost darkening into the purple shades, and pre-cum is literally drooling from the slit like he's too backed up to keep it in? You believe him. Wholeheartedly.
"Didn't exactly need my stethoscope to figure that out, huh." you mutter, almost to yourself, much too fascinated by the obscenity of his heavy, musky balls squeezing themselves in a fruitless attempt to empty their unbearable load.
"Mn. Are you gonna check my blood pressure, too? Feelin' kinda dizzy." Your patient winces dramatically, those hazy eyes sparkling and taking in the sight of your little nurse's cap that's now level with his big thighs. "And super sick." he adds that part on as a persuasion tactic.
Guess you can play along and make shit up if that's what's going to sate him. A small hum leaves you, and you glance up at him with a polite nod. "Uh-huh. Got to, it's imperative to gauge blood pressure before following through with the exam."
After hearing his barely interested "oh", you reach for the small bottle of lube in the chest pocket of your dress. You'd brought it along as a joke for when (you hoped) someone would ask for a cheeky check-up. You didn't think you'd actually be using it, let alone giving your boyfriend a check-up in the first place. Crazy convenient, right?
"Handy nurse..." his mouth downturns and he juts his bottom lip out in approval, lazily watching the clear liquid land in your palm with a splurt upon teal latex.
You roll your eyes but take your gloved hand to his glistening, attention-seeking cock anyway, wrapping your fingers around him precisely and carefully tugging the hood down. Thick. Hot to the touch. There's weight to it. You can sense the blood thrumming in quick laps from base to tip over and over, and swear it swells even further in your grasp. There's already a pearlescent droplet of pre in the space between your thumb and index finger, connected by a pretty string attached to his exposed, burgundy-tinted head. He's needy needy, huh...
Nagi exhales like he's been holding it in all night. "Fuck me... ah."
"Very high. Who would've thought? We'd best do somethin' about this, shouldn't we." you give your diagnosis lowly over the thump of a distant bassline with intrigue, a giddiness to your voice that you're too turned-on to conceal.
You start to pump the engorged tip slowly, deliberately, thumb circling the leaking slit while your other hand keeps the hood held back. Latex squeaks faintly as you move; it’s obscene in such a homely little bathroom. His hips jerk once, then twice, then shiver with an aimless attempt to still. He bangs the back of his head against the wall.
"Miss Nurse, it's hurting me... please, we've gotta hurry before my symptoms kill me..."
You never knew he could be this much of a fucking drama queen.
With a sharp huff blowing from your lips and a slightly offended frown tugging at your features, you stretch out your hands to work the entire length of him, up and down with a much tighter grip and a faster tempo, as if you're on a mission to wring the cum out of him as soon as possible. He's moaning and groaning all helpless-like, slumped back, fidgeting, bowing his twitchy eyebrows when oh my god he's getting sicker.
"Fffffuuuhhh, s'not enough, slutty nurse. O-oh, oh, 'm gonna flatline-..."
"Hey. It's my job, genius. I know what I'm doing. It's vital to lower your blood pre–
"Nnngh, s'fucking lowered enough already. I'm the patient here, I could file a negligence lawsuit and die..."
You force a peeved grin at this big baby's rude interruption and squeeze around the base far harder than necessary for any normal check-up, eye twitching when he practically whimpers. A negligence lawsuit? You were confident that the only 'important' information stored in that squishy brain of his was how to handle a soccer ball and craft a mine cart with a hopper. The fuck does this guy know about suing people? You're not even a real nurse! Why is this getting to you?!
And so... you slide one hand down from his poor, tortured and throbbing cock to drag your slippery fingertips over the taut curve of his full sack, teasing them lightly to evoke a shaky noise you've never heard from his mouth in your life before venturing down and behind them. You massage the pad of your gloved middle finger against his sensitive perineum, applying just the right amount of pressure to have him squirming-
"Still. Please, I'm about to carry out your exam." you warn him snappily whilst gathering enough lube on the same digit to suffice, glaring up at him like he's making your job harder than it needs to be.
Yeahhhh, like hell you are.
Without wasting another second (purely because you're sure you might "accidentally" give him a liiiiittle too much anaesthetic on purpose if he keeps up the act), you push your slick finger firmer against his taint until it has no choice but to slip slowly and sink into that tight ring of spasming muscle.
"Hah... hhhhholy shit." Nagi whines and instinctively raises an arm, covering his open mouth with the inside of his elbow. His heavy breaths are muffled and hot, the jerking-fingering combo sending his eyes rolling back into his skull. "Oh oh, oh, s'in my ass–"
"Fuck a negligence lawsuit, I'm gonna get fired for gross misconduct if you keep talking like that..." you sigh quietly, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth to keep yourself from moaning along with him.
The latex makes everything that much slicker and warm as you move both of your hands to the beat of whatever song is playing downstairs, catching your troubled patient white-knuckling the edge of the bathroom sink in the corner of your vision once you begin to differ between stroking his jolting, fat dick and fondling a handful of his swollen balls.
"Gonna cum so hard, literally gonna fucking cum so fucking hard, Miss Nurse, 'n' it's not even been like three minutes yet fuck–"
"You think you can hold off just a tiny bit longer for meeee...?" you coo softly with a mocking pout and a 'sympathetic' twist of your face, peering up at him all worried for his health. "Need to be certain there's no abnormalities."
"Hnnnoh, I dunno Miss Nurse... might be too much," he moans through gritted teeth and pushes his hair back with a twitchy hand, the veins in his flushed neck bulging every time he clenches his jaw at the overwhelmingly stimulating sensations.
"Don't panic, you're bound to feel a little overwhelmed. All part of the process. You won't cum just yet, nobody's that quick." Reassurance. A fucking lie, obviously, judging by how his lips are pursed and his body is so taut you're convinced a singular poke in the wrong place could crack him like dry ice. Maybe you just wanna humble him after he insulted your suitability for this occupation.
Another un(characteristically) pathetic noise escapes him when you gently let your finger sink further inside, and you see his rosy face scrunch up in sheer pleasure once you're knuckle-deep and wriggling. Just barely reaching his prostate and curling upwards. Anyone would assume he's about to cry with how a sharp, sobby exhale rips through him when you swiftly swirl and caress your thumb around the circumference of such a furious-coloured cockhead. Shit, that's just about all he can take at once.
"Nn- no no no, Nurse you don't understand, I can't do that I can't hold it in, my dick doesn't like holding it back–"
He's already blowing his load. Whilst talking. Whilst blaming it on his needy cock. Fluid, dramatic spurts of cum shoot from the slit with force and the sound of this faintest little splat, hurtling up through the air, descending fast and already soaking into the white fabric of your dress before you know it, a stray rope lashed upon the red cross on your chest.
Of course he couldn't hold it in, you know him. Go ahead, Seishiro Nagi, pin the blame on your bodily functions. But you already know he's never had the self control it takes to abstain from a dopamine rush. The dude's never voluntarily edged in his life. If he feels like something's going to feel good, he's not going to wait for it. Selfish. A true egoist.
Quick and sudden enough to drag a longing moan out from his chest, you snatch your gloved hand and finger from him with a disgusted gasp like you didn't know what was coming.
"Wha- fuck you, Seishiro, my dress!" you bark up at him in disapproval with your arms thrown out to your sides like "what the fuck!?", scowling harder as he lowers his head and the blissed out expression on his face comes into view. Smug bastard. Standing there with his boxers around his shoes. Uncaring.
"Oho my god... that was like... a lobotomy, but in my balls..." he exhales all shaky and the most content with life he's ever been in some random person's bathroom at a Halloween party at exactlyyyy...
Nagi leans down and reaches a jelly-feeling hand into one of your pockets, fishing out your phone and tapping the screen.
...02:26 AM. Ah, okay good, just checking if he can still read after that life-altering exam. Exam. Oh, right.
"Hold on. What'd you say my diagnosis was again...?" he sniffs casually after a hard swallow, still catching his breath after what he'd call a lovingly thorough inspection, dark irises gleaming as if he's found the secret to everything.
You shove your tongue against the inside of your cheek in a display of mild annoyance, narrowing your eyes at him. Covered in lazy boy cum, peeling off your lubed up gloves with a quiet "eurgh" and standing on aching legs to slam them into the bin before answering reluctantly.
"...Wait, what's that mean."
"Annoying Gross Boyfriend Syndrome."