E.J Oneshot- Focused
summary: you’re E.Js assistant in the medbay, and he thinks you’re getting distracted during work, so he teaches you how to stay focused
cw: 18+ content, Explicit Sexual Content, Under the Desk support, Oral Sex (F!Receiving), Teasing, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Slight orgasm denial, semi public sex
ft Toby hitting on you :3
wc: 4.3k
tags: @cryingintheclubdhmu @nymph-ette111
thanks for the ideas my peoples, all credit to you guys! :3
In your life before being a proxy, you were a med student, striving to become a doctor and heal others, but of course, life had other ideas. However, you didn’t have to quit that passion, because the medic, Jack, needed an assistant to run the medbay. You agreed, of course. You got to learn things from him, treat your fellow proxies when they sustained injuries, and investigate pathologies, infections and any other issues. Was it ideal? No, but was it as close as you’d get? Yes. Plus, your boss wasn’t exactly bad to look at.
As you entered the medbay, you saw Jack hunched over one of the examination tables, his broad, grey shoulders clad in the pristine white coat he wore as the mansion's medic. The sleeves were pushed up slightly, revealing his muscular forearms and the elongated fingers that ended in sharp, claw-like nails. He was wearing a pair of surgical gloves, the latex stretching taut over his elongated digits as he worked.
Your gaze drifted to his long, messy brown hair, which was slightly disheveled from being tucked beneath the blue expressionless mask that covered the lower half of his face. The mask was devoid of any features, not even a nose or mouth, just smooth, unblemished blue fabric. Beneath it, you knew his mouth was filled with razor-sharp teeth, and his fingers were elongated into claws capable of ripping through flesh with ease.
Despite his monstrous appearance, there was a certain level of professionalism to his demeanor as he worked. His movements were precise and calculated, the actions of a skilled surgeon focused on his task. As he turned to grab a medical textbook from the shelf, you couldn't help but admire the way his white coat hung off his slim waist and athletic build.
For a moment, you almost forgot that beneath the medical attire was a demon, a creature of darkness and hunger. But the way he moved, the way he spoke, and the way he cared for the other proxies, you couldn't help but be drawn to him. You were his assistant, and he was your boss, but there was something more to your relationship, something that you couldn't quite put your finger on. But one thing was for certain, working with Jack was never boring, and you looked forward to learning more from him each and every day.
“Good morning Jack. Do we have any patients?” You asked, approaching him and grabbing your clipboard from the desk.
Jack paused, his clawed hand hovering over the clipboard as you reached for it. He tilted his head slightly, sensing your presence beside him. After a moment of silence, he spoke in his low, almost hypnotic voice:
"Good morning. Yes, we have two patients awaiting our attention." His tone was flat and matter-of-fact, devoid of the warmth or enthusiasm one might expect from a traditional morning greeting. He handed you the clipboard, the paper crinkling softly as his gloved fingers brushed against yours.
"Nina has a possible concussion after a blow to the head. The other is Toby, who has an open wound from being impaled."
Jack stepped away from the table and began to wash his hands at the nearby sink, the sound of running water filling the temporary silence between you. As he scrubbed his fingers clean, he glanced back at you over his shoulder, his sightless gaze seeming to pierce right through you.
"I trust you're ready to assist me? I'll need your help with any suturing or assessment" It was a statement phrased as a question, his deep, resonant voice echoing slightly in the sterile, tile-floored room. He turned off the faucet and reached for a towel, his movements precise and focused.
“I’ll take the open wound, you take the head injury?” You suggested, putting on a pair of gloves.
Jack paused for a moment, the towel halting halfway to his hands. He cocked his head slightly, considering your suggestion. Then he gave a curt nod, a gesture that seemed almost imperceptible.
"Very well. I'll take Nina. Your bedside manner is better suited for soothing the more...difficult patients." His tone was tinged with a hint of sarcasm, though his expression remained as unreadable as ever beneath the mask.
He set the towel aside and approached the door leading to the patient rooms, his shoes squeaking softly against the polished linoleum. Pausing at the threshold, he turned back to you, his blank gaze still unsettlingly intense.
"Let me know if you require any... specialized tools for the wound. I have a set put aside for such occasions." With that cryptic remark, he pushed open the door and disappeared into the room, leaving you to attend to Toby alone.
So you entered room two, where the man sat on the bed, sleeve rolled up and arm covered in blood.
“Hi Toby, I’ll be taking care of you today.” You spoke, approaching him. The man looked at you questioningly, like he didn’t believe you could be his doctor.
“W-where’s EJ?” He asked, his neck jerking in a tic as he spoke. The man’s voice wasn’t in any pain, which you found interesting. You flipped through his chart, and then saw the CIPA diagnosis, and hummed to yourself.
“He’s with another patient, but don’t worry, I’m just as qualified.” You responded, pulling the sleeve up a bit more to get the full wound open to air.
“You’re puh-pretty for a doctor…” He spoke, a flirtatious smirk on his face. You ignored the comment, and focused on the wound.
“You’re going to need around 8 stitches, and since you don’t feel pain, I'm assuming I can go without numbing?”
Toby shrugged, the tic in his neck twitching more noticeably at your question. "Nah, I don't need no numbing. I can handle it, doc." He smirked wider, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he watched you prepare the stitching supplies. "Just try not to mess up my pretty boy looks, yeah?" He chuckled, clearly amused by his own joke.
“I can assure you, it’ll just leave a scar. Nothing too noticeable.” You responded, standing up to grab the materials. You could feel his gaze on you as you walked out of the room to grab everything.
Toby watched as you exited the room, his eyes roaming appreciatively over your form. He leaned back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows, and let out a low whistle. "Damn, she's a real looker," he muttered to himself, a grin spreading across his face. "Maybe getting stabbed ain't so bad, if it means she's gonna be the one patchin' me up."
He turned his head to glance out the window, the sunlight streaming in and casting a soft glow across the room. The silence stretched on for a few moments before you returned, arms laden with the necessary medical supplies. Toby sat up straighter, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the sight of the various tools laid out before him.
"Alright doc, let's see what you're made of," he said with a challenging smirk, extending his injured arm towards you. The wound was nasty, a jagged gash that ran several inches long, still oozing blood steadily. Toby seemed completely unfazed by the sight, his gaze locked onto your face as he waited for you to begin.
“Sit still.” You spoke softly as you rested his arm on a sterile surface, threading the black thread through the needle. “So, tell me about your CIPA, I'm unfamiliar with the condition, it’s quite rare. You don’t feel pain, correct?”
Toby settled back against the table, his posture relaxing slightly at your command. "Yeah, that's right, doc. Congenital Insensitivity to Pain with Anhidrosis. Means I can't feel pain, and I don't sweat either." He shrugged, watching you intently as you prepped the needle. "Born this way. Makes life interesting, let me tell ya." A wry, humorless chuckle escaped his lips.
He flexed his fingers slightly, the movement causing a fresh bead of blood to well up from the wound and drip down his forearm. Toby paid it no mind, his focus solely on you as you positioned the needle above his skin. "So, how'd a pretty thing like you end up workin' here, huh? Slumming it with the likes of us?" His tone was light, teasing, but there was an undercurrent of genuine curiosity in his question. He seemed genuinely interested in your response, his head tilting slightly to the side as he studied your face.
“Well, I got recruited the same way you guys did, I was a reject who did some bad things, and your boss found me, thought I’d be more useful in the medbay than in combat like you, so here I am.” You explained while you sewed up his skin, closing the wound slowly and carefully.
Toby watched intently as you worked, his eyes following the curve of the needle as it pierced his flesh and drew the thread through. He felt no pain, only the sensation of skin being pulled taut and then released. "Huh, so the boss has a soft spot for lost causes, eh?" he mused, a hint of admiration in his voice.
As you continued to sew, Toby's gaze drifted over your face, taking in the concentration in your eyes and the slight furrow of your brows. "Makes sense. I ain't seen too many pretty girls with that look of focus. It's kinda...cute." He flashed a grin at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "So, what kinda bad things did a cute little thing like you do to end up here, huh?"
His tone was playful, almost flirtatious, but there was an undercurrent of genuine curiosity. Toby seemed to have a knack for reading people, for seeing the depths beneath the surface. And right now, he was intrigued by the enigma of his young, attractive doctor - the one tasked with patching up the broken and battered.
“Nothing of your concern. Just know that I’m here for a reason.” You spoke, being ambiguous about your reasons. Your story didn’t matter, especially to a patient. You had to keep it professional.
“All done.” You wiped the blood from around the wound with an antiseptic, irrigating it with saline, then wrapping it up with gauze. “I want to see you back in a few weeks to remove those stitches, but come back if it starts to show signs of infection…any redness, hot to the touch, pain, well I guess you wouldn’t know…” You chuckled at your forgetfulness. “If it starts secreting fluid, or if you develop any physical symptoms like fever or chills, okay?” You explained, putting your supplies on the rolling tray.
Toby watched you work, a smirk playing on his lips as he listened to your instructions. "Got it, doc. No pain, so no worries there," he said, flexing his hand experimentally. The stitches held firm, the knot you'd tied at the end of the thread pulling taut before relaxing as he moved. "Fever and chills, huh? I'll keep an eye out for those too," he said, a hint of teasing in his voice.
As you finished bandaging his arm, Toby leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, doc, you don't gotta be so mysterious. Everyone's got a story, even a cutie like you." His eyes flicked up to meet your gaze, a glint of challenge in their depths. "But hey, if you don't wanna share, that's cool. I can respect that."
With that, he sat back, the smirk fading into a more natural, if still roguish, grin. "Thanks for the patch-up job, doc. I gotta say, I don't usually get such...personal service." The way he said it left no question about the double meaning behind his words. Toby was a flirt, plain and simple. And despite your best efforts to maintain a professional distance, he seemed determined to chip away at the walls you'd erected around yourself.
“Well, you’re all done. Take care.” You nodded, standing up and taking your supplies with you as you left the room. You disposed of the needle and wipes, and stored the rest. Meanwhile Jack was at the desk, writing his report.
As you entered the main room of the medbay, you found Jack seated at the desk, his head bent over a clipboard as he scribbled out the details of Nina's examination. The pen scratched against the paper, the sound grating in the relative quiet of the sterile room. Jack's posture was rigid, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he focused on his task. Every so often, he would pause, his gloved hand stilling over the paper as if considering his next words carefully.
He must have sensed your presence, for he glanced up, his sightless gaze swinging towards you. "Toby is taken care of?" His voice was low, a slight rasp to the usually smooth baritone. He set the pen down, leaning back in the chair slightly as he waited for your response. The chair creaked under his weight, a sound that seemed almost too fragile to bear the burden of his muscular frame.
“Yep. He was real chatty, and wouldn’t stop hitting on me.” You chuckled, unbothered. It wasn’t the first time a patient hit on you, but he was persistent. You checked his name off of the patient list, and wrote up your report on your clipboard. “But I took care of it, no worries.”
Jack listened to your report, his expression unreadable behind the mask. After a moment, he gave a curt nod, the motion almost imperceptible. "Good. Persistence can be...tiresome. But ultimately harmless." His tone was dry, tinged with a hint of disdain. It was clear that he was not impressed by Toby's antics.
He stood abruptly, the chair screeching loudly as it scraped against the floor. Jack stepped around the desk, his tall frame looming over you. He paused, his head cocked slightly to the side as if considering something. "I trust there were no...complications with the procedure?" His tone was casual, but there was an undercurrent of something else in his voice - a note of jealousy, perhaps, or maybe just a simple desire to ensure that his assistant was faring well in their shared workspace.
“Nope. He doesn’t feel pain, so I didn’t need to use anesthetic.” You explained. “I see we have a break for now? No patients lined up.” You checked the patient list, seeing a list of empty boxes.
Jack nodded slowly, a gesture that seemed to hold a hint of approval. "That is correct. We have a brief respite before the next round of injuries and ailments." His tone was matter-of-fact, almost clinical. He took a step closer to you, the heat of his body radiating against your skin, despite the coolness of the room.
"I trust you will take advantage of this time to...recharge. I know the work here can be...taxing." The last word was laced with a strange inflection, as if it held a deeper meaning. His head tilted slightly, the mask tilting with it, casting a shadow across the lower half of his face. "Perhaps we could...discuss your methods. Ensure we are both...aligned in our approach." It was phrased as a question, but there was a note of command in his voice, a suggestion that he expected you to comply.
“How do you mean?” You asked, folding your arms as you leaned on the desk.
Jack was silent for a moment, considering your question. He stepped closer, looming over you, his tall frame casting a shadow across your smaller one. "I mean, your bedside manner. It is...unorthodox. But effective, from what I've observed." His voice was a low rumble, the words carefully measured. "I merely wish to understand your methods. To ensure consistency in our care for the proxies." He paused, a beat of silence stretching between you. "Unless, of course, you have...other reasons for your approach?" The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. Jack's gaze bored into you, a weight that you could feel even without the ability to see.
“What are you trying to imply, Jack?” You spoke, keeping your cool, but no doubt picking up on the subtleties he was putting down.
Jack was silent for a long moment, the air between you growing thick with tension. When he spoke again, his voice was low and measured, each word chosen with deliberate care. "I am merely observing that your interactions with the patients are...different. More casual. More familiar." He paused, as if considering his next words. "I am not accustomed to such informality from my subordinates. It is...unexpected."
“Does it bother you? Because I ignored Toby and all his advances…and you know i’d never go anywhere beyond a Doctor-Patient relationship.” You retaliated, bothered by his accusations. “I don’t belong to you, Jack. Nor to anyone.” But you saw as his posture changed, seeming more frustrated.
“You cannot be getting distracted. I saw how Toby was distracting you, and you need to learn how to ignore it. Perhaps I must teach you how to focus.” His voice deepened, his tone becoming soft and almost sensual.
“What do you mean…?”
Jack's posture shifted, a subtle tension entering his broad shoulders as he leaned in closer. "I am not...bothered, per se. But I am aware that distractions can cloud judgment. As a team, we must remain focused on our primary objective: keeping the proxies functional and battle-ready." His voice was a low murmur, the words rolling off his tongue like velvet, yet edged with steel. "I have seen the way some of the proxies look at you. The way Toby was...inappropriate. It would be remiss of me not to address it."
He paused, his gloved hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. The touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine despite the coolness of the latex. "I merely wish to ensure that you are equipped to handle any...situation. To teach you to focus, when the temptation to stray from your duties presents itself." His tone was soft, almost sensual, yet there was a warning woven beneath the silk of his words.
“And how do you plan to do that?” You spoke, your breath hitching slightly at the touch.
Jack's hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. His voice dropped to a low, intimate murmur. "I have...methods." His other hand came to rest on the desk beside you, caging you in subtly. "They involve focus. Discipline. And a firm hand." The last two words were spoken with a hint of something dark and thrilling. "If you are willing to learn, I can show you how to block out distractions. How to keep your mind...purely on your work." His face was inches from yours now, the mask a stark contrast to the softness of his voice. The air between you was charged, heavy with a tension that was not entirely unpleasant.
But then he turned away, grabbing something from the cabinets. He grabbed one of the practice fake skins you used to practice suturing and placed it on the desk. He then grabbed needle and thread, placing it next to the skin.
“I see the way you look at me, the way you get aroused when you see me work…I can smell it on you.” He murmured, kissing a spot under your ear. “And now, I'm giving you what you want, as well as teaching you a valuable lesson.” He purred.
“W-what…?” You stammered, trying to deny it. You didn’t think he’d noticed. You thought you were slick with your glances, and that he wouldn’t know the numerous times you had soaked your panties watching him. But it was futile, he sank to his knees under the desk, spreading your legs and his hands climbing up your skirt.
Jack's hands slid up your thighs, his gloved fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as he pushed your skirt up. He paused at the hem, his thumbs brushing teasingly along the sensitive skin where your legs met your core. "Deny it all you want, but your body does not lie," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "I can smell your arousal, feel the heat radiating from your core. You want this, don't you? You want me to taste you, to take you, right here, right now."
To punctuate his words, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the damp fabric of your panties, his lips lingering, savoring the evidence of your desire. He could feel the shape of you, the way your folds parted eagerly for his touch, even through the thin barrier of cloth. His tongues flicked out, tracing the outline of your slit, the damp spot growing larger with each pass.
“Ah-what do you want me to do?” you moaned softly.
“Practice your suturing…and you can’t stop until you complete the task…while I sit here eating this delicious pussy of yours. No stopping, ignore the distractions.” He explained, removing the mask he wore. And for a moment, you saw his face. Rugged, but handsome.
Jack smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes as he gazed up at you. "That's it, focus on your task. Ignore everything else." He purred, before leaning in and dragging his tongue along your clothed slit, feeling your wetness through the fabric. He could taste your arousal, feel it soaking through the thin material. He groaned softly, the vibrations sending a jolt of pleasure through you.
"Keep going. Don't let me distract you." He murmured, nuzzling your clothed mound as he spoke. His fingers crept up to hook into the waistband of your panties, slowly tugging them down your legs. The cool air hits your heated skin, making you shiver. But then his mouth was on you, hot and hungry, his tongues delving between your folds to lap at your dripping center.
“Fuck-ngh-jack…” You moaned softly, resisting the urge to tug on his hair and push his head deeper, but instead, you continued your task, suturing the open skin closed with a surgeon’s precision, even when your boss was eating you out so amazingly.
Jack groaned against your skin as he felt you tremble, your moans music to his ears. He could taste your arousal, feel it dripping down his chin as he buried his face between your thighs. His tongue delved deep, stroking along your slit, circling your clit with a maddening rhythm. All the while, his hands gripped your hips, holding you in place, keeping you from grinding against his mouth as much as you clearly wanted to.
He could see you out of the corner of his eye, your fingers moving with a surgeon's precision, stitching the practice skin closed even as he worked your pussy with a hunger that bordered on feral. He was determined to make you hold that focus, to prove to himself that you could withstand any distraction, any temptation.
His lips closed around your clit, sucking hard, his tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive bud as he pushed two fingers deep into your tight heat. He could feel you clenching around him, your walls fluttering, trying to pull him deeper. But he held back, setting a steady, relentless pace as he fingered and sucked, intent on making you come undone.
“Fuck-it’s like you want me to fail…” You mumbled, continuing the sutures even though your body screamed at you to ride his face.
Jack chuckled darkly against your sex, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. He released your clit for a moment, his voice a low rumble as he spoke. "On the contrary, Rina. I want to prove that you can succeed, no matter the distraction." He punctuated his words with a hard suck to your clit, his fingers pumping faster, driving deeper. "Prove to me that you're as focused as you are...delectable." He purred, nipping lightly at your sensitive flesh.
You whimpered slightly, coming on your 8th stitch, but your orgasm chased you as well. “I’m almost done…please let me cum…” You begged, the feeling too good to end. Jack could feel your body tensing, hear the desperation in your voice. He knew you were close. He doubled his efforts, sucking hard on your clit, his fingers curling inside you, stroking that spot that made your toes curl. He could feel your walls fluttering, gripping his fingers like a vice.
"Not yet," he commanded, his voice a dark rumble against your sex. "You don't get to come until I say you can. Focus on your task. Complete it, and then I'll give you the release you crave." He nipped at your thigh, soothing the sting with a long, slow lick. His eyes flicked up to watch you, gauging your progress, waiting for you to prove your discipline. So you continued the stitching, only having to do two more before he’d let you cum, so you did them as quickly, yet neatly as possible.
Jack could feel your body trembling, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The scent of your arousal was thick in the air, your need palpable. But he held back, waiting for you to complete your task, to prove your focus and control.
With a final, deft movement, you tied off the last stitch, your fingers moving with a surgeon's precision and a desperate urgency. As the last knot tightened, Jack pulled back, his fingers slipping from your dripping sex. He gazed up at you, his eyes dark and intense, a wicked grin spreading across his ruggedly handsome face.
"Good girl," he purred, his voice a low, approving rumble. "You've done well. You've proven your focus, your discipline. Now, I believe you've earned your reward."
With that, he dove back in, sucking your clit with a fervent hunger as he brought his fingers back to your entrance, plunging them deep, curling them just right. He could feel your body tensing, your walls clenching, your breath catching. And with a final, hard suck, he sent you hurtling over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave.