Samira Mohan is the best girlfriend you've ever had
there's just one problem....
Samira mewls underneath you, thrusting her cunt against your hand. You have her dress hiked up against over her hips. Your fingers have been teasing her clit through the fabric of her lace panties, kissing her neck.
Her leg wraps fall open for you, one leg wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to her. You scrape your teeth along her neck, smirking against her skin when you pull and utterly desperate moan from her.
"C'mon, I'm ready," she whines, mouth agape and panting."
"Yeah?" you ask, a little breathless, "I'll make you cum and then you can get the strap?"
Samira freezes underneath you, "Why would I get-get it? Don't you have one."
You would think her shyness towards the word was endearing, if the meaning behind her words didn't have potentially catastrophic outcomes.
"Why would I have one? I thought you were gonna top?"
"Why would I top?" her brows furrow, "I thought that's why we were meeting here tonight? So you didn't have to bring it with you to the restaurant."
"I've never topped in my life?"
"You were just fingering me!"
"Yeah I wanted to get you off so you'd feel good and then fuck me through the mattress," your head falls back a groan.
The straps of her dress have fallen down her shoulders, exposing the deep bronze of her skin glining in the warm light of your bedroom. Her curls splay out around her face on the pillows, framing her slight pout. You can't resist, dipping your head down to nip at her bottom lip before kissing her again. She sighs contently against you.
"I still wanna have sex with you," you say, letting your forehead rest against hers, "If you still want me."
"Of course I do," she responds, tipping her head up to press her lips yto yours once more, "But what are we supposed to do now?"
"I didn't think you were so heteronormative, Samira."
Moments later you're both naked. Samira's legs are tangled together with yours, difficult to discern where her body ends and yours begins. You lean forward, hand braced on the headboard, as you move your hips forward, pussy sliding against Samiras. You shiver, pussy clenching as little shocks of pleasure roll through your body with every thrust.
Underneath you Samira gasps, "More."
"Gimme a second, baby," you reach between your bodies, pulling back the hood of her clit to expose her little bundle of nerves, "Feel better, pretty?"
Her response ia a moan, head thrown back in ectasy. You reach down, rolling her nipple between your fingers. She shudders, body convulsing underneath you as you conitinue you to slide your bodies together.
You lean down, coaxing her bottom lip from between her teeth so you can suck it into your mouth. The kiss is sloppy - if it can even really be called that. It devolves into you and Samira panting into each others open mouths while you rut against each other.
You never would have guessed that Samira was a screamer but her little shouts start to get louder. Ah, ah, ah punched out of her lunges with each thrust of your hips. You can feel her cunt throb against yours as she cums, spurring you on. It's not long before you follow, collapsing on top of her with shout.
Later, you're pressed up against Samira's back, kissing her shoulder. Your laptop is proped up on the pillow next to you as you two scroll through the various listings of dual sided dildos.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀✦ pairing samira mohan x f!chef!reader
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀✦ synopsis the ptmc staff needed raises and new hires, not a free batch of sandwiches from the restaurant down the street, or so robby had scoffed at the treat from the higher ups, steaming off the boxes in your hands— your steady, ringed hands, that had dr mohan swallowing around a lump in her throat.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀✦ notes meet cute + fluff! the bear crossover technically but no the bear characters appear for now tee hee. i don't know hospitals but i know food so! pittsburgh and chicago blend together in the space-time continuum for the sake of the plot okay
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 thank you for reading .ᐟ
the emergency department was so noisy and rushed that it made you feel right at home.
the scent of the brioche buns and the sauces of the sandwiches in your arms swirled in the air, battling off the stench of hand sanitizer and tension seeping off the walls as you walked. people sitting on wheelchairs, laying on gurneys, lining the hall. and you thought your business was bad.
you felt like a sore thumb in the middle of the chaos as you approached what seemed to be the front desk of the wing— probably the best place in the city to feel that way, though.
"uh— hello?" you tried a friendly smile, which was soon returned by the two women who'd been giggling together before you spoke. "i'm looking for a… michael robinavitch?"
you tried lifting the heavy boxes just over the edge, as your credentials. the face of one of the women lit up at the sight— and smell— while the other rounded the counter and approached you, a gentle look in her eyes, like she knew exactly what to do with you.
"this way, gorgeous. those for us?"
"so it seems," you hummed, a spring in your step as you followed the woman, whose name you soon learned was perlah. that's a beautiful name, you’d commented, before telling her yours.
she opened the door to what you assumed was the break room, painfully empty, although that changed in the following three seconds. doctors, nurses, everyone in scrubs in a five mile radius flurried into the room, almost knocking you and your precious cargo over.
"easy there! unless you want to feed the rats our lunch," perlah called from your side, her protective hand on your bicep to steady you. she introduced you to the room before letting you go, now defenseless under twenty, maybe thirty exhausted pairs of eyes. the attention flustered you.
you didn’t catch one particular look, though. dark and wide, like a deer amazed by the glittering light on the surface of a lake on a sunny day. trinity dubbed you hot stuff under her breath, but samira wouldn’t quite use those words to describe you. earth-stoppingly beautiful seemed more appropriate.
you fidgeted in place as one dr robby came up behind you to explain the gift from the heavens that was this lunch, completely covered by management since the department had gone up .5 points in patient satisfaction last week— baby steps. samira knew for a fact that it was mostly her doing, so she took the sandwiches, and hence your presence, as her own personal prize.
"here's beef, pork, tuna, vegetarian, vegan, gluten-free..." you set the boxes down, making sure the labels could be read properly, watching people line up. your eyes flickered from badge to badge, trying to pinpoint those you knew from the constant flow of hospital staff in and out of the restaurant.
dennis whitaker. the first few times he came in, you used to wonder where he stored the fat pastrami sandwiches you usually made him, until he showed up without his quarter-zip one day, bare arms on display. he gave you a little smile of acknowledgement, and muttered a thanks.
mateo diaz, another regular. you definitely could tell where he stored his lunches from the get-go.
cassie mckay, who usually showed up after her shifts instead of before them, and picked up two sandwiches instead of one. her son loved your sauce, she'd told you once with a small smile, so you accidentally dumped an extra container in their bag with their every order from then on.
samira mohan. didn't ring a bell. when you looked up at her, she was already looking at you, fidgeting with the wrapper of a cheese special. huge, sorry eyes, in a way that reminded you of dennis, yet different all the same.
pretty.
"thank you," she muttered, stepping out of her peers' way, hoping to keep your attention for a few more seconds before someone asked you about napkins or something. she loosened her jaw, untensed her brow, gave you the exact look she gave distressed patients she wanted to soothe.
"you work at that place down the street, then?" slight smile, fluttering of her lashes. new move, never used on patients— only cute girls.
"yeah, at the beef— we're rebranding soon, though," you returned with a little shrug.
"the current name's pretty straightforward," she chuckled, hoping to pull a laugh from you. she got a small smile back, which was a victory in her book.
"it's kind of tacky, though," you murmured, offering a hesitant blonde with glasses a kind smile before your attention returned to samira. "we start renovations, like, tomorrow, actually."
"you must be busy, then."
"not as much as you guys," you laughed awkwardly, though samira swore she could hear bells chiming.
"well, i mean, it's different," she tried, but you made a dismissive gesture with your hand in the air.
"please, dr mohan. you spend twelve hours a day saving lives, no need to humor me."
oh, how that sounded in your mouth.
"i wasn't," she mumbled, dumbfounded, nervously undoing the wrapper of the sandwich to keep herself busy, lest she also trip over her words now. this was going great. "i mean, what are we without good food?"
you hummed at that, sparing the dwindling crew a glance before your eyes returned to her. "i wouldn't want to know."
in the few seconds it took samira to come up with something to say not to let the conversation die, someone else had come closer. dr mckay, god bless her, had kidnapped your attention with an anecdote about harrison. your face lit up at the mention of the boy, and just like that, samira's shoulders slumped, and she knew the time had come for her to step back.
she busied herself with her lunch, taking small bites out of the delicious cheese, peppers and arugula concoction in her hands while she lingered, praying that mckay would get called away and she'd be able to approach you once more. you had to be, like, her longest interaction with someone from her generation apart from her coworkers in a week, and she wanted to prolong it as much as possible.
but samira wasn't that lucky.
dana, who had taken her own sandwich to eat at her desk— no matter robby's glare— returned to the room and hollered for dr mohan. you turned your head just in time to catch the last of her as she ran out, cheese sandwich forgotten on a table. unconsciously, you reached for it, re-wrapping it with way too much care.
✦
samira's big, hopeful heart made her rush back as soon as she was done with the patient in question. she found you packing up, and her stomach churned.
"oh, hi," you smiled over your shoulder. "being a hero keeps you busy, huh?"
her cheeks heated up at your comment, and she would've definitely said something cheesy back, when she spotted her forgotten sandwich, with the wrapper nicely folded up around it, which she didn't remember doing.
"right, um— you left it behind," you muttered, feeling flustered yourself. "it's probably cold by now, but i could always run to the restaurant and give it a—"
"no!" she blurted out, meeting your wide eyes with her own nervous ones as she took a bite. lukewarm, much less appetizing than earlier, but she'd be damned if she didn't eat this soggy sandwich like god herself had made it— because you had. "no! it's— it's fine, really. still good. great."
you watched the poor girl make an effort to look like she wasn't making an effort swallowing, your heart strangely warm at the sight of her puffy cheeks. the tips of your fingers felt fuzzy as you folded up the last of the boxes to toss in the recycling bins out back. you loitered as she ate, not sure why.
"i'm glad you liked it, then," you spoke, since she obviously couldn't. "it's always a pleasure to feed you guys. it doesn't look like you have much time to do it yourselves."
through her last bite, she gave you a sheepish little smile, her beautiful eyes trained on the floor. you fiddled with your rings, mustering the courage to tear a piece off the least greasy of the boxes, grabbing one of the pens you always kept in your pocket.
"and, by the way, uh— the opening's in three weeks, first friday of the month," you turned around to tell your brand-new friend, shoving the cardboard in her hand. "everyone's invited, of course. the hospital is a great client. just— just text me for the details."
samira swallowed one last time as you left, the food struggling to make it down through the furious beating of her heart. between her fingers, your number.
Samira Mohan needs someone to take care of her, poor thing. Maybe a pediatrician who is very caring. Samira needs a place to stay, right? Reader, offer your house.
Like Real People Do
Request: Samira Mohan needs someone to take care of her, poor thing. Maybe a pediatrician who is very caring. Samira needs a place to stay, right? Reader, offer your house.
Hi! Sorry for the long wait. This is my first time writing for both The Pitt and Samira, so bear with me while I get the hang of writing for these characters. I love Samira a lot, I’ve been thinking about her a ton since episode 10 with everything that happened. Also, love Robby down, but I had to make him a bit of a villain for this fic, so fair warning there. I’m most likely gonna write something of a similar nature for him too, because he also needs to be babied. So, stay turned for that! Anyway, I hope you like what I came up with :)
(Warnings: episode 10 spoilers, going off the canon of the rest of the shift events, panic attacks and anxiety, swearing, i think that’s it? let me know if i missed anything!)
—
You and Samira had been dating for a few months now.
You met when you transferred from the VA hospital to PTMC. You’d realized you wanted to pursue a career in pediatrics, and there was a vacant residency spot waiting for you. So, you packed up your things and moved to be within walking distance of the hospital.
You were mostly upstairs for the duration of your residency where the pediatrics ward was. But every once in a while, the ED would call for a consultation, and your department would send someone down. It was usually an attending, but when it was busy and there wasn’t much time to waste, a senior resident would do. That, or the case wouldn’t be that serious or complicated, and the attendings were feeling too entitled to make the trek all the way down to the Pitt. That was when you stepped in.
You got called down for an overdose case. A kid had been brought in unconscious by his parents with no explanation as to what happened. He was usually bouncing off the walls, and nothing in his routine had changed, so it was a mystery as to what was wrong with him. After his initial labs came back normal and it was apparent that he wasn’t in any imminent danger, they made the call upstairs to you. Turns out, the kid had accidentally gotten into his fathers stash of weed gummies and had simply knocked himself out. With monitoring and fluids, he would likely make a full recovery.
You said your goodbyes to the family and were about to head back upstairs when two paramedics wheeled in a restrained woman on a gurney. She was screaming and writhing in pain, desperately trying to pull away from their hold.
“Drug seeking woman kicked off a city bus for disrupting and disturbing passengers,” one of the paramedics informed. “She’s been screaming for narcotics nonstop.”
You halted when the woman screamed again, explaining how she had called 911 for help. You were about to rush over and demand that the paramedics stop, when another resident beat you to it. You watched from a few steps away as she took control of the situation.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“She’s been uncooperative and combative since we picked her up,” the other paramedic tried to explain.
The resident shook her head, trying to shoo them away. “Get off her. Let her go!”
The paramedic ignored her, gripping the woman tighter. “Stop fighting! Calm the fuck down or I’m calling the cops.”
“My meds at home aren’t working!” the woman pleaded, turning her attention to the resident. “Please! I have sickle cell!”
The resident nodded, taking a step back. “Okay, stop. Everybody stop. Stop!”
But the paramedics wouldn’t stop. Hospital security seemed to be becoming increasingly concerned, slowly making their way over to the patient. The paramedic restraining the woman’s legs contorted them at an angle to get a better grip, making the woman scream again.
You couldn’t stand back and watch anymore, rushing over to pry the paramedics hands off of the patient. “She said stop! You’re done here.”
You pushed him back and put yourself between him and the patient so that the resident could get to work, who was already hastily throwing out medication names and treatments to immediately treat the woman with. You didn’t catch much of it, your focus zeroed in on the paramedic.
He looked beyond annoyed. “You have no right—”
“And you have no jurisdiction!” you interrupted, keeping your arms held out in front of you to stop him from coming closer to the patient. “Your job is to pick up, transport, and drop off patients, as well as making sure they don’t code in route. It is not your job to make calls about their care once they’re safely brought in. It’s the doctor’s call what the course of action is.”
“She’s just looking for drugs—”
You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, letting out a scoff. “Do I have to parent you? Do I need to speak to you like the five year old I have waiting for me upstairs, because I promise you that she is a better listener than you. I suggest you take your partner and get back out there to do something actually in your job description. And when your shift is over, maybe I’ll give you a lesson on empathy and attentiveness when it comes to assessing patients. If this is the best you can do, you’re in the wrong field.”
The paramedic only glared, glancing over at his partner. She just shrugged, packing the gurney back up to wheel it outside to the rig. He followed with a scandalized look on his face. It was only when they were gone that you turned around to assess the patient.
The resident ordering medications had already gotten her set up in a room and into a hospital gown. She’d been set up with an IV and a high dosage of pain meds, her body much more relaxed than she had been upon her arrival. The resident took a few more moments with her to assess the situation before stepping out to give the patient some peace and quiet. She closed the curtain, heading back over to the nurses station where you stood.
“That was intense,” you murmured, smiling when she looked up at you. “Nice job with those paramedics.”
She gave you a sheepish smile. “Oh! That was nothing. Anyone else down here would have done it.”
“Really? If everyone down here is like you, then it seems like the ED is in very capable hands.”
The resident smiled again, setting her clipboard down on the desk. “I’m Samira, by the way. Um, Mohan.”
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Mohan,” you grinned, offering her your hand to shake. “Again, nice job. I’ll see you around?”
She nodded, grabbing her clipboard as she watched you go. “Yeah…see you around.”
—
You most definitely did see her around.
Anytime a consultation for a minor case was called in from downstairs, you were the first to volunteer. You’d hang around for as long as you could before going back upstairs, just hoping to get a glimpse of Samira.
She was drop dead gorgeous, that much was true. Anyone with eyes could see that. But she was more than that. She was good with patients, attentive, and an effective communicator. She seemed to thrive in situations of high intensity and chaos. Most of the residents you knew upstairs would have floundered in Samira’s place. But she was a wonder to watch.
Brief moments in passing turned into conversation, conversation turned into meetings. Eventually, whenever one of you had a lull in between patients, you’d make the trip up or downstairs to see each other. Those moments eventually became just as frequent outside of work as they did during, going out for coffee or a stroll through the park when your schedules lined up.
After a few months, you asked her to be your girlfriend. You were nervous as hell, nearly driving yourself crazy trying to figure out the best time and place to do it. In the end, you asked her one evening after a shift when you’d decided to get ice cream before you went home. You’d prepared yourself for all the potential scenarios, like rejection, or her distancing herself. You’d thought about all the ways it could go wrong for so long, you’d pretty much expected it to. But she simply smiled, nodding excitedly before she leaned over and took a bite out of your waffle cone.
The conversation about living together only came up once towards the beginning.
You’d both decided that having differing schedules was too much. One of you’d be coming while the other was going, disrupting your routines and schedules too much to justify it. Plus, it was still early days, and neither of you felt quite ready to take that step together. You both wanted it to be perfect before you reconsidered. That meant weekly sleepovers at each other’s places when you could both make the time, or otherwise you’d make the effort to see each other at some point in the day. If you were both working a shift, you’d come to accept that you weren’t going to see each other much that day. It was messy, but it worked for you both.
For now, it was enough.
You’d noticed over the past couple of weeks that Samira was a bit on edge.
She’d been taking calls from her mother a lot more often, each one seeming to tax her more than the last. When you’d ask her what they were about, she’d give you some short answer that didn’t really clear anything up. But the more you pushed, the more stressed she got, and you didn’t want to be the one to add to her stress. You let it go.
That was until your shift on July 4th when a call came from downstairs about her having an apparent heart attack.
You’d never run so fast in your life. You took the stairs rather than the elevator so you could be faster, nearly mowing down three people on your way and just barely catching yourself on the railing when you missed a step and slid on the landing. You most definitely tweaked something, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about that. Not while Samira was in a hospital bed.
You flung open the ED door, looking around till you spotted a resident you recognized. “Langdon! Where is she?”
“She’s in Central 6,” he pointed, following you as you rushed for her room. “Her first round of tests are normal, it’s not an MI. Robby’s in there checking her out now.”
You felt like you could finally take a breath when you laid eyes on her, sweaty and clearly panicked, but alive. She had a dazed look in her eye, sweat beading on her forehead as Dr. Robby listened to her heart. You pushed through the crowd of people in her room, Perlah stepping to the side once she saw you so that you could take her spot.
“What happened?” you managed to choke out, still trying to catch your breath.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Dr. Robby said, ordering a list of tests. “Any chance you’re pregnant?”
Of course, your humor chose a terrible time to make itself known. “Unless we somehow missed an evolutionary event, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say no.”
Robby stifled a laugh, resting his stethoscope back around his neck once he finished. Langdon explained how she was tachycardic, but it seemed to have resolved itself by now. You could barely hear them converse with the blood pumping in your ears, finally forcing yourself to snap out of it and take Samira’s hand. She squeezed it gratefully.
“Have you eaten anything? Staying hydrated?” Dr. Robby asked as he checked her pupil dilation.
Samira only nodded in frustration, seeming to have finally reached her breaking point. “A hundred percent. I’m doing everything right! It’s everything around me that’s all fucked up. I mean…it’s just my mom moving and calling me over and over again, and now I'm scrambling to find a job next year. I had it all planned out! And now everything is just out the window.”
“Wait a minute,” Dr. Robby scoffed, an exasperated smile on his face. “Is this a panic attack because of your mommy issues?”
You stiffened at her side, barely believing what you were hearing. You were about to say something, but he beat you to the punch, continuing his rant. His tone was patronizing and apathetic, one you weren’t accustomed to hearing from him. He was usually very patient and understanding.
“Jesus, do you need to go home? You should go home.”
“No, I’m fine—”
“I don’t need the fucking liability, go home. Everyone else, get back to work. Dr. Mohan, you either get it together before stepping foot back in my ER, or you clock out and let your girlfriend drop you off.”
He headed for the door, leaving behind many stunned faces. Dr. Al Hashimi, Joy, Perlah, Langdon, Dana, but most of all you. He’d nearly made it through the threshold when you let out an incredulous laugh.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” you asked, not bothering to watch your language in front of superiors. “What gives you the right to speak to her that way?”
Robby sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have time for this—”
“You don’t have time to assess the safety and wellbeing of one of your staff?”
“It’s not the day for weak links,” he replied, glancing between you and a very distraught Samira. “It’s nothing personal.”
He tried leaving again, but you moved to stand in the doorway, blocking him from leaving. “I don’t care what’s going on down here or whatever crisis it is you think you need to go manage. You will absolutely not talk to her like that again. Sounds like your sabbatical can’t come soon enough if that’s how you’ve been treating your doctors. What you just said is beyond ignorant.”
The rest of the group stood in awkward silence, suddenly finding the ceiling and the paint cracks in the walls very interesting. You paid them no mind as you continued.
“She just had a panic attack so bad that it mimicked the symptoms of a fucking heart attack. You’d be convinced you were having one too if you were suddenly looking and feeling like that. She’s never had anything like this happen before, so clearly she’s scared and worked up. Panic attacks and anxiety aren’t rational, you don’t get to choose when they happen. You don’t get to choose what they’re about. They creep up on you and do their best to take you out. God forbid she needs to take a breather and calm herself down before she heads back into that nightmare out there. I thought you of all people would understand the importance of that.”
Robby stood there silently and listened as you spoke, his jaw clenched. He was clearly finding some truth to your words, but for whatever reason, was too proud to admit it. He let you get your rant out before giving you a curt nod, brushing past you out the door. Everyone else seemed to take that as their cue, wishing Samira good luck before filing out one by one.
Once you were alone, you returned to her side. You reached for the cool towel Dana had pulled from the fridge, gently wiping her face with it. She seemed to relax, if only a little bit, letting you dote on her.
“I’m sorry,” she finally mumbled, glancing up at you. “I didn’t mean to worry you or make you run all the way down here. Dana got ahead of herself and called upstairs before I could stop her.”
You gently cupped her cheeks, tilting her head up to look at you. “Hey.”
Her gaze met yours, her shoulders relaxing just a bit.
“Sweet girl, you have nothing to be sorry for. Never worry about bothering me for anything. I’m always here if you need me. You call, I come. I’ll always come.”
She let out a shaky breath, leaning forward until her head rested on your shoulder. “I don’t know what happened.”
You hummed, gently running your fingers through her hair. “Shortness of breath, maybe wheezing? Clammy? Suddenly feeling like there’s an elephant standing on your chest?”
She nodded. “Yeah, exactly. How’d you know?”
“It happens all the time upstairs. Parents see their kids all hooked up to the machines or in a cast and they lose their minds. We keep extra gurneys up there just for the parents who look like they’re a strong breeze from keeling over.”
You could feel her chuckle into your shoulder. “Really?”
“Mhm,” you mused, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “God forbid a kid needs their blood drawn. We’ve got a betting pool on the fathers who come in to see how long it’ll take them to drop. All big and tough until they faint at the sight of a little blood. Those sugar filled juice boxes we keep in our fridge for the kids have double uses.”
You took the opportunity while she was relaxed to carefully slip the hair tie from her hair. The low ponytail she always wore had become loose in the chaos, and all that hair on her neck couldn’t have felt good. She was too hot and overstimulated already. You raked your fingers through her hair to draw it back up into a higher ponytail, twisting it around the base until it could be secured in a bun. You carefully pulled out the little wispy bits that framed her face, gently tugging at various parts near the hair tie to make sure nothing was hurting.
“All good? Not too tight, nothing is pulling?”
She shook her head, smiling up at you with shy eyes. “It feels fine, thank you. How do I look?”
“Stunning as always,” you replied, not a moment of hesitation to your answer.
Samira huffed out a laugh, still resting against you.
You stayed like that a long while. She wasn’t in the mood to talk, and you weren’t in the mood to push her. You let her relax and do her best to calm down while you read through the test results that had come back so far. When the rest of them came back and proved that she was in the clear, you reluctantly let her get up from the bed to start getting ready. Just as you opened your mouth in an attempt to convince her to let you bring her open, Dr. Robby opened the door and poked his head in. You stiffened at her side as he stepped into the room, subconsciously taking a half step in front of her to put some distance between them.
“Got a sec?”
Any relaxation she had been feeling immediately vanished, replaced by tense shoulders and curt responses. “Sure.”
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.”
Dr. Robby sighed, asking again in a slightly softer tone. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Troponin, D-dimer, and TSH all came back normal.”
“Listen,” he said, wanting to meet her gaze, but she refused to look back at him. “I’m sorry about earlier. I think I was being—”
“A dick,” you and Samira replied at the same time, unable to stop yourself from getting a word in.
Samira wasn’t a very confrontational person. She was patient and smart, she picked her battles. But the ones she didn’t? You were more than happy to pick them for her.
Dr. Robby had the decency to look a bit embarrassed as he glanced between the two of you. “I was gonna say unprofessional, but probably that, too. I’m sorry.”
Samira finally looked up at him, analyzing a few moments before nodding. “Thanks.”
“Now I kinda need you to stop feeling sorry for yourself and focus back on your patients. Think you can do that?”
She nodded. “Sure.”
“Great,” he replied, turning his attention to you. “I’m sure you’re needed back upstairs. You can get back to your own patients, we’ve got it squared away down here. Thanks for staying with her.”
He turned to head back out the door, but you called out before he could leave. “Dr. Robby?”
“Yes?” he asked, looking back at you over his shoulder.
“She may be ready to forgive you, but I’m not.”
“Baby—”
“He needs to hear this, love,” you gently reassured Samira when she grabbed your arm to get you to stop talking back to her boss.
You slid your hand into hers, giving it a quick squeeze as you redirected your attention back to Robby. To his credit, he stood there and openly listened to your words without any negative reaction or interruptions.
“I apologize for what I said earlier. It was wrong of me to do that in front of your peers. But I won’t take any of it back. I get that it’s hectic down here and you’re under a lot of pressure, but that is no way to speak to your staff. You embarrassed her in front of a room full of people, and I won’t stand for it. If I hear that something like this happens again and you choose not to handle it with empathy and tact, we’re going to have a problem. Understood?”
Robby stared at you a long minute before he finally grinned, glancing between the pair of you until his eyes settled on Samira. “You’ve got a good one, Dr. Mohan. Don’t let her go.”
“I don’t plan on it,” Samira replied, squeezing your hand.
“Let me know if you need anything, alright? Let’s get back out there.”
Robby quietly excused himself, stepping back out into the hall. You turned back to Samira, wincing at the look of concern and disbelief on her face. You let out a dramatic sigh, holding her out at arms length.
“You can be mad later,” you mused, retreating towards the door. “I was on a roll. I’ve gotta get back to work, baby. Call me if you need anything, I love you. Bye!”
You quickly stepped back out into the hall before she could reprimand you any further.
—
The rest of the shift went by relatively smoothly. Nothing drastic happened to any of your patients, and no one downstairs, including Samira, called upstairs to ask for you or your department.
You finished up what you were doing a little early and got the green light to head home, meeting Samira down in the ED. You found her finishing up her charting, the bun you’d done for her still intact — she hadn’t been running her hands through her hair, a nervous habit she thought you didn’t notice. You smiled to yourself, walking over to her.
“Hey. Ready to go?”
“Almost,” she smiled up at you, continuing to type as you leaned against the nurse’s station. “Just finishing this last bit.”
“Take your time.”
You listened as she typed, looking around the room. The chaos of the day had seemed to calm down. Most of the night shift had clocked in, fresh faced and ready to work. Some of the day shift had already left, others lingering behind to finish up some work or to talk to a coworker. You glanced around to look for Dr. Robby, but you could only find Dr. Abbot in his place.
“He went home,” Samira noticed you looking around, logging off the computer to gather her things. “And he apologized again before he left. Said to apologize to you, too.”
That threw you for a loop. “He sounded sincere?”
“Mhm. I think he was too tired not to be.”
You nodded, helping her pack her things up before you slipped her bag onto your shoulder.
“Hey! I can—”
“Let me carry your bag for you? Yes, yes you can!”
She huffed as she caught up to you, heading for the door while trying and failing to hide a smile. “I’m a big girl. I can carry my own bag, I’m quite capable.”
“I know you are.”
She let you carry her things as you led her to the car, unlocking it and placing all your bags in the backseat. You motioned for her to get in on the passenger side, slipping into the driver's seat. You let the radio play softly as you backed out of the parking space.
“We’re going to my place, okay?”
“But—”
“Not buts,” you gently pushed, pulling out onto the street. “Just for the night, okay? Don’t worry, you’ve got enough things at my place to spend the night. We can pick up anything else you need in the morning.”
She was quiet in the passenger seat next to you, her head resting against the window. She was tired, you could tell. Quiet, not in her usual soft way, but in the way that she got when she was too in her head. You knew you had to pull her out.
“I’m thinking a bath when we get home,” you pondered, glancing over at her. “Takeout since it’s too late to make something. Then maybe a movie, your turn to pick. I’ll refrain from asking you about whatever is going on with your mother till tomorrow.”
Samira sighed quietly. “You don’t have to do all that for me.”
“I know I don’t have to, love,” you explained gently, reaching over to take her hand. “But I want to. You’re my girl.”
“I feel like I’m being gentle parented,” she laughed, running her thumb along the back of your hand. “In a much less severe way than you did with Dr. Robby today.”
You winced, squeezing her hand. “Sorry, force of habit. The parents upstairs usually need to be talked to in that sort of way. Some of them require a firmer tone. And the kids usually respond better if you talk to them gently…guess I’m used to using it, I don’t always slip out of it.”
She nodded. “I wasn’t chastising you. Just making an observation.”
It was quiet a moment as you pulled up to the light that intersected your street. Nothing but the turn signal and the soft hum of the radio could be heard. You weren’t sure how to break the silence.
“Thank you for speaking up for me,” she finally murmured, turning to look at you. “Thank you for staying.
“Of course, baby,” you replied, not a moment's hesitation.
“I know I’ve been a bit distant lately. But I promise I’ll be better about it. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”
You shook your head. “Take all the time you need, Samira. I know whatever it is is clearly overwhelming. I hope you feel like you can always come and talk to me, but I don’t expect you to unpack it all in one day. We’re moving at your pace, okay? I just wanna make sure you’re talking to someone.”
She nodded, emotion welling in her chest. You always knew exactly how to make her heart ache. But it was a good ache — the kind you felt when you understood the depth of how much you were loved. She relished in it.
“I like the pediatrician tone you use,” she mused, unbuckling when you pulled into the parking lot. “It’s cute. Don’t think I don’t like it.”
You laughed, unbuckling. “You wanna know a secret? I think everyone likes it. It doesn’t matter how old you get, everyone likes to be babied every once in a while. It just takes some guts to admit it.”
“Well, I admit it,” she smiled, hooking her arm with yours the second you got out of the car, steering you towards the elevators. “Forget the bags. We’ll get them tomorrow.”
“Bossy.”
“You love it.”
You chuckled, the worry in your chest dissolving seeing her so much more at ease than she’d been the past few days. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
She pulled you close as you stepped into the elevator, letting her chin rest on your shoulder. She barely let you pull away far enough to press the button for your floor. You could feel her smiling into the fabric of your scrubs as the doors shut.
More head canons for sickler!reader x Samira Mohan
*my works are all black reader/black OC. These creations are my own and you do not have permission to repost or use my works as your own. You do not have permission to feed my creations to AI to make your slop.*
If reader has a sweet tooth, mohan would constantly remind her “you shouldn’t eat so much sugar” “slow down with the sugar”
She means well, but reader would have to talk to her about being her girlfriend, not her patient
After this, Samira decides to hold back on the reminders and take action
so she frequently packs reader fruit snacks! no not, fruitsnacks
She'll take some time before her shift to get an apple, and cut it into slices, and sneak it into readers go back (because it takes a workaholic to know a workaholic)
And half way through her shift, Samira will get a text like
"Oh really? Apples? do you hate me?"
"What?"
"an apple a day keeps the doctor away...do you want to be away from me?"
She switches to pears after that
Samira who is obsessed with readers eyes, especially when they're in the sun
"Like pools of honey"
"Sorry?"
"Your eyes"
"Oh you're that into my eyes? Are they your favourite part of me?"
"Yeah...when they aren't yellow, are you taking your medication?"
everyone rise for pussy drunk!samira mohan (as requested)
It's around your third orgasm of the night that you think maybe, just maybe, you're being selfish.
Samira's between your legs. She's been down there pretty much since she stumbled in after work. You're not one to complain, not when your girlfriend is eating your pussy like her life depends on it. Though, you do feel a little guilty when she starts whimpering against your cunt.
"S'mira," you slur. You try pulling her off of you, hands tugging at the roots of her hair, but she's in it. "Samira, baby, come on. Let me take care of you now."
"Mmph," she... says? Who knows at this point?
"Baby, it's your turn to get taken care of," you try.
Instead of listening to you, Samira doubles down. As her hips cant uselessly against nothing, Samira's tongue languishes your oversensitive clit. You cry out, tugging even harder at her hair.
"Samira– of fuck –Samira, baby, I–" The words die out on your tongue as you realize you're about to come again. Four times in an hour, and your girlfriend is apparently content just humping the air.
You don't have the coherence to warn her, but Samira already knows. As the fingers knuckle-deep in your cunt begin to massage your g-spot, you know that there's no way you're getting out of this.
"Oh fuck, fuck, yes–" Your babbling ceases when Samira moans against you. The vibrations are all you need, sending you tumbling over the edge of your orgasm. It's more intense than all the others combined. You're moaning so loud that if you had half a mind, you'd be worried about a sound complaint. It's a good thing Samira and her magic mouth is keeping you nice and dumb, because it ensures that the pure, uninterrupted bliss of your orgasm is nothing but a dream.
It's only when you start whining, two hands now tugging at Samira's hair, that she finally stops. Neck craned back, she stares at you with blown pupils. Samira's tongue swipes out to collect the shining release that paints her lips and chin.
"Hey," she breathes, biting her still-glistening lips. It's one of the filthiest sights you've ever laid eyes on. If your heart weren't still pounding from your orgasm, it would certainly be fluttering now.
"Oh, baby," you coo, "Are you pussy drunk?"
Samira bites her lip, "If I say no, can I keep going?"
You chuckle, "You're unbelievable."
A finger grazes your oversensitive clit and you gasp.
samira mohan uses you when she's angry (f!reader) (as requested)
You may very well die here. That's alright. Hopefully it'll be engraved on your headstone.
Suffocated by a beautiful woman's pussy.
Samira has two hands firmly buried in your hair, holding you flush against her cunt as you lap up her arousal. You rock your still-clothed cunt against the palm of your hand, desperate for your own release, but too busy giving your girl what she needs. What she deserves.
You were off today, enjoying the evening to yourself when there was an aggressive knock on your door. When you opened it, Samira wasted no time in pushing you against the wall, muttering something about a long day before shoving her tongue down your throat.
Still in her scrubs, Samira dragged you by the collar of your shirt to your bed. She shucked off her pants and thong and ordered you to get to work.
That was an hour and a half ago.
"Fuckin' Robby," she grumbles. You're sucking her clit now, tongue occasionally flicking out to give it a tender lick. "On my ass about cases per hour like I’m not the only reason Gloria hasn’t fired him about satisfaction scores…”
You hum in agreement, though it's muffled entirely by her cunt.
"That's it," she coos. Her voice is airy and shaky from pleasure. “My little stress ball, always so good for me, helpin’ me out like this. You like it when I use use, isn’t that right?”
You’re too pussy drunk to answer, but Samira does it for you. She pulls you off of her cunt, forcing you to nod all with the hands in your hair. You give her a lazy smile, and Samira chuckles.
“What a good girl, you are,” Samira praises. “Now get back to work.”
samira mohan being all needy with f!reader (original ask)
*****
“Please, baby,” Samira whines. Her breath is hot against your neck, “Please?”
“Uh…” You blink, trying to focus on the medical journal in your lap. “I… I can’t.” You squirm, pressing your thighs together in a sad attempt to satiate your poor, neglected clit.
She blinks at you, her big brown eyes making your resolve almost entirely dissolve. Her finger trails down your chest, covered only by a thin tank. Samira’s thumb finds your nipple through the fabric. “But I really need it,” she teases.
“L-Later,” you stutter, gulping in an almost comical manner. “I need to read.”
Samira rolls her eyes, pinching your nipple slightly. You moan as she teases you, “Read? Baby, I’m begging to eat your pussy and you want to read?”
You gulp, “Yeah?” You clear your throat, trying to sound more convincing as you repeat, “Yeah.”
Samira purses her lips. “Fine,” she wretches herself from you, crossing her arms as she huffs.
Suddenly, the room feels so much colder. But… you asked for this. At least you would finish the article much sooner. Then you would make it up to her.
As you read (look at words is more like it. Not a single word registers in your head, but you wouldn’t tell that to Samira), you feel Samira shifting next to you. Nothing out of the ordinary, she’s probably just getting settled into bed. She sighs, and you roll your eyes.
“Sigh all you want,” you say, “I’m not letting you touch me until I finish this article.”
Samira sucks in a sharp breath, “That’s- That’s okay…”
You furrow your brows, sneaking a look at her through the corner of her eyes. Samira’s on her side, her back towards you. She shifts again, and you return to the article.
“I promise, I’ll be done in…” You flip through the pages, “Five minutes. Ten tops.”
“It’s f-fine.” You hear Samira… moan? You turn fully to your girlfriend. “I don’t want it anymore,” she says.
It’s then you notice it— the shifting of Samira’s arm, the slight slick noises that are coming from her direction,
“Samira…”
“Yeah?” She asks, breathless.
“Are you…” You lick your lips, “Are you masturbating?”
A pause. More noises that you now know are her fingers in her cunt. Fingers that should be yours.
“Yeah,” she whimpers.
Fuck the stupid fucking journal.
You slam the journal shut, throwing it on the edge of the bed. “Baby,” you say, stern. “Get your ass over here right now.”
“Fucking finally,” Samira groans. She rolls over so she’s on top of you, her lips hovering just above yours, “You’re, like, the first woman ever to say no to having her pussy eaten.”
“Samira?”
She smiles, it’s all dimples and it makes you sick from how fucking beautiful she is. “Yeah?”
i just think that samira is a boob girl through and through (just obsessed with her gf tbh)
and youre so right. doesnt matter whos doing what as long as boobs are involved shes living the dream. im a big believer in her having very sensitive nipples so the second you get your mouth on them shes loosing her mind. like if she could shed keep you there for hours. and she does. if shes had a bad day at work. her face in your boobs. like head buried under your shirt. her favorite pillows fr.
AND that recent post about her with pierced nips….. changed my brain chemistry.
