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@sepisbabe
INTRO
. sophie — 19 , softhearted , lesbian , stoner . . she / her .
🎀: the pitt , yellow jackets , starwars
|+| i love to write about my favs and i try my best to really make it feel like them lol. i usually write age gap, i love me some older women… im against ai altogether, and would NEVER use it to write for me. im still figuring out how to use this app! but my requests are open, and i hope you enjoy what i cook up! |+|
“do. or do not. there is no try.”
whole hospital got doe eyes
Human Nature (pt.1)
Jealous!Cassie McKay x reader
Summary: Robby throws a Fourth of July party and invites practically everyone from The Pitt. Victoria introduces you to a new face, and Cassie gets too curious
Word count: 4.6k
Warnings: reader leans towards having female genitalia, kissing, spitting, drinking mentioned, drinking from other people's bottles, not so subtle flirting, power imbalance(s), talk of an ex being an emotional cheater, mention of Barsantos, jealous!Cassie, angst, feelings get hurt/ignored, etc.
🎵- Human Nature
God, she was so jealous.
Cassie McKay was so jealous.
But she also had no right to be.
You weren’t hers, and she wasn’t yours. Not verbally, anyway. You two had hooked up once or twice, and while she wants more, she turned you down anyway, telling you she wasn’t a good person, it didn’t fit into her life right now, etc. All these excuses were to push you away from her.
But it didn’t work out that way. You pulled her towards you like a magnet, conscious of it or not. Which was hell for her, but of course, you never realized you were doing it. So how could she fully blame you?
It was Fourth of July Weekend. Robby had put on a small party. His backyard was filled with all-day shift attendants, mostly, except for Doctor Shen and Doctor Ellis. Of course, Jack is always where Robby is, so you expected to see his face anyway. However, there were a few strangers she didn’t recognize, and neither did you.
They would come up and shake your hand, pat your back or your shoulders, introducing themselves one after the other. Meanwhile, Cassie just watched, looking on with disdain. Because she wanted to touch you, shake your hand, pat your back, etc. But she couldn’t; that was one of the rules of this whole dynamic between you and her.
No public display of affection.
The walk to Robby’s house was torture. Cassie had dragged her feet the whole way, mute alongside Dana, Perlah, and Princess, because she knew you would be there. The three of them filled the silence enough with inane chatter. Something about…who is she kidding, she wasn’t listening.
She followed them to the front door, through the foyer, and out into the back yard. And there you are. You’re leaning heavily against the fence, a drink in one hand. You perk up when Cassie approaches and tip your drink in an easy drinking.
“Hey, Cass! Long time no see.” You joke, having just seen her a few days ago.
She swallowed, playing it off with a confident smile. “Yeah. Long time no see.”
“R3 now, right?” You muse. “Too smart for me. You’re a primary code leader now, big stuff.”
“Hardly.”
“C’mon.” You bump her shoulder. “You’re overseeing the trauma floor now.”
She eyes you. “Are you actually excited for me? Or is it just to make conversation?”
The corner of your lip quirks. “You can decide.”
“It just comes with a lot more responsibility.”
“Mm.” You look amused, that’s for sure. Cassie watches as you take a long sip of your drink, and her eyes are glued to you as you swallow. “Well, I bet you could teach me a thing or two.” You eye her and keep drinking. She shifts a little in the silence, trying not to scratch at her skin, a nervous tell.
Because she knows you’re flirting. She knows you are. But what can she do about it?
“Can I have a sip?”
She pauses with her Shirley Temple halfway to her lips. Her brow lifts. But she hands the glass over, fingers brushing yours when you reach out to grab it.
“Yeah, of course.” She agrees.
You take a sip in response. “You look pretty.” You tell her. “In case I didn’t say. Meant to tell you earlier.”
You think she almost blushes, which Cassie never does. That’s not a Cassie thing to do. You nod, half to yourself.
“So do you.” She watches you closely, eyes twinkling because you place your mouth directly where hers was just moments ago. She’s almost smiling. Key word being ‘almost’. It fades when she steals a glance over your shoulder. “You have company,” she says, snatching the drink back from your hand.
You turn in time to see Dylan Marsh loping towards you. Twenty-eight, next-door neighbor to you and Robby, ex-girlfriend. And, most importantly, perpetually and persistently, in love with you. You have enough time to wink at her before she approaches.
“Hey,” she says. She turns to Cassie. “Mind if I steal her?”
Cassie’s jaw ticks. “No,” she says, after a moment’s hesitation. “Of course not. Don’t have too much fun.” She sucks in a breath and just stares as Dylan pulls you away. She watches you go with a sinking heart. You turn to look at her over your shoulder, and she swears there’s something in your eyes, but then you blink, and turn away, and it’s gone.
Baran and Trinity have now pulled up beside her.
“Dr. McKay.” Baran nods towards the woman. Cassie lifts her drink in response but says very little else. All she can do is keep her eyes on your frame as you talk excitedly with your ex-girlfriend.
Your hands flare up in certain moments, and it makes Cassie wonder what the two of you are talking about.
From across the yard, you catch Cassie’s eye finally. You give her a slight smile, but she doesn’t return it. Instead, she tries to remain stoic, the best she can, but it has her heart deflating a little when your expression falters.
She finally pulls her eyes away, forcing them to look at Baran and Trinity. “Hey.” She responds eventually.
She felt happier when you were around.
However, you two weren’t in a relationship and never would be. She’s made that clear a thousand times before. And it sucks because she knows how lovely you are. How kind. She loves watching you interact with your patients. Cassie can’t confront her feelings for shit, and she knows that, but if you put her in a room with a patient, she’s trying to relate in every way she can. She’s making jokes when needed, being sympathetic when wanted, she’ll smile and play feelings, but when it comes to you, you two don’t discuss emotions or anything like that; you guys don’t sit in your wallows together.
You just call her up, or she calls you up when you both can’t sleep, which results in you going over to her apartment, or she comes over to yours, and you two have sex, and then one of you leaves. It pulls you down sometimes. It makes you mad.
But it shouldn’t, because you two made rules for this whole agreement.
No touching in public No talking of feelings in private You two won’t develop feelings at all; you can’t (which sort of ties in with number 2) And four, if any of you decide to act on those feelings, you two have to call it off. Period. No excuses.
At first, the rules sounded great. She knew you had gotten out of a relationship with Dylan just a few months ago, and you needed someone else to take your mind off things. But then, over the course of months, she knew she liked you a lot more than just using each other for late-night hookups.
Yeah, she understands she has a 12-year-old kid, and she’s older than you by a mile; it makes it harder that you understand she’s still closed off in a lot of places within herself. She’s closed herself off to romantic relationships for a long time now, but she wants to be the one person you open up to, no matter how toxic that sounds.
Cassie McKay is not a therapist; she’s an ER nurse, and it’s probably a good thing she’s not a therapist because who else would keep them in business? They would make great money on this push-pull thing you and she have going on.
Her thoughts are suddenly squandered when she notices you have begun to walk into Robby’s house, leaving Dylan all by herself. You’re probably just going to the bathroom, but she still keeps an eye out for you and makes sure Dylan doesn’t follow.
“So, how is it being an R4 now?” Trinity asks, trying to make conversation, and Cassie appreciates it. Really, she does.
“Feels like every other day, really.” Cassie shrugs, taking a sip of her soda. She’s not allowed alcohol or anything, per the sanctioned court order, if she ever wants to regain custody of Harrison.
Baran smiles. “Before you know it, you’ll become an attending as well.” She nudges Cassie’s shoulder with her own.
“Kill me if I ever get that far.” Cassie shoots back, which makes both Baran and Trinity laugh. But it’s true for Cassie. She doesn’t think she could ever be an attending. It looks like it sucks the life out of anyone who inherits the title. Robby has gone on sabbatical for 3 months, which is fair enough, Baran looks exhausted constantly, and everyone is pretty sure the only thing that holds her up is getting to go home to Trinity every night, but Cassie has no one to go home to and she has never been on vacation since Harrison was born so she wouldn’t know what to do with herself if presented the opportunity.
You still haven’t come out of the house, and now Cassie is fidgeting with her hands. Dylan is still out in the yard, conversing with John Shen and Parker Ellis, so there’s no chance you’re waiting for her up there. Maybe you had too much to drink, and you’re currently keeling over the toilet. Or maybe you just got lost. Robby has a big-ish house; it would be easy.
Either way, Cassie doesn’t like the fact that you’re alone in there, so she’s excusing herself from Baran and Trinity for a moment. “Sorry, ladies, bathroom calls.” Cassie walks into the house, the waning sunlight glittering through the windows.
She can’t hear you, per se, but she can smell you. The fragrance you’re wearing drifts through the house and leads her to a bathroom on the second floor. It’s at the end of a hallway.
She knocks lightly before pressing her ear to the door. She listens to you scramble through the bathroom, reaching for the handle before swinging it open, and Cassie pushes herself back so as not to look too suspicious.
“You okay?” She asks. “I saw you walk off from Dylan down there.” She cocks her head in the direction of the backyard. “You looked anxious.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just hiding in here.” You shrug, and Cassie’s nodding. You have no reason to lie to her; you know she’d understand where you’re coming from.
“Yeah, I get that.” She sighs, smiling at you. She looks around the room before saying, “Can I hide, too?”
“Oh, sure. I mean, it’s not my house, come on in.” You step back and let her push inside. You’re locking the door again and pushing yourself through the window to sit on the roof once more.
Without a second thought, Cassie follows, grumbling as she makes it onto the roof.
“Fuck, I’m too old for this,” she mutters.
You laugh, watching as she stumbles over to join you. It’s darker now, the pink sunset has dissipated, replaced with darker blue hues of the incoming night. She makes it to your side and drops down next to you with a sigh.
“I hate parties,” she blurts, after a moment’s silence.
You hum appreciatively. “Yeah.”
More silence.
“What happened between you and Dylan down there?”
Your head whips to her. “Nothing. I just needed to get away for a moment.”
“You sure?” She’s certainly not going to let this go.
You sigh, staring out at the sky now dotted with tiny, twinkling stars. “I don’t know why Robby invited her. We broke up on okay terms, but… It’s just a lot to look at her sometimes. And she acts as if nothing happened between us. Nothing did, really. I had just found out she was having an emotional affair with someone during medical school.”
“Ah, yeah. That’ll do it.” She sucks in a breath through her teeth as she says the words.
You nod, “yeah.”
“Well, any other woman that give you a hard time, you send them my way.” It’s a little forward to say, but who is Cassie McKay if not forward? She watches you laugh then, shaking your head. “So,” she continues. “Dylan,” she holds a finger out, counting. “Anyone else I have to watch out for?”
“Since when are you interested in my love life?”
“I’m just making conversation with my favorite ped’s nurse,” she argues.
You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens at the question. “And one you happen to sleep with.” You comment, and she huffs a chuckle. “No one at the ER, if that’s what you’re asking.”
She can read your tone. It’s not exactly subtle. “So there is someone,” she says.
“It’s nothing.” You glance away from her. She glances at your swinging feet and watches the tips of your shoes.
“Have you…told them how you feel?”
“No. God, no.” You shake your head.
“No,” Cassie repeats. She sounds amused. “Why not?”
“It’s complicated,” you say, a little sharper than you intend. “I mean…just…look, it doesn’t matter, okay? Let’s just…”
“Okay. Alright, hun.” She hoists her hands in mock surrender. But there’s something else in her eyes- something darker. It’s gone before she can blink.
“How’s Harrison?” You ask. It’s a terrible attempt at a tone shift, but she lets it go. She shrugs.
“You know, a 13-year-old boy. He’s okay. But I think he misses having you around.”
Your heart tugs a little. “Yeah. I miss him too. I feel kind of bad not being able to see him as frequently.”
Cassie nudges your leg with hers. “Don’t worry about him,” she says. “He does fine enough.”
You nod. It’s suddenly painfully obvious how close she is- how her shoulder brushes yours; how her shoes are pressed inches away from your own.
“We should probably go back down,” she comments. “People will realize we’re missing.”
Her gaze lingers half a second longer. “Yeah, I guess so,” you agree. Cassie stands, brushing off her pants, and offers you her hand. You take it. She helps you up, and your hand stays in hers for a split-second longer than it should. Just long enough for your breath to catch.
“Do we have to?” You ask, your eyes looking down at her lips.
“Yeah, baby.” She whispers, looking down at your lips too. “We have to.”
“I’d really rather stay in this bathroom with you.” You confess to her. “I know you’re jealous. When I talk to Dylan. I can feel it.”
“I’m not jealous.” She shakes her head like it’s a crazy notion. Her hands make the unconscious decision to slip down to your arms. “I’m never jealous.” Cassie tries to argue.
“Yes, you are.”
“You’re drunk. You don’t know-” Now that might be a little toxic to say. She knows you’re not drunk, she knows. But she doesn’t want this to happen again. There have been so many instances where the two of you have become somewhat estranged, just to fall into each other once more, and before the two of you know it, you’re both hurting one another again.
“I’ve had one beer, maybe. Not even. I’m not drunk. I know what I’m saying, Cass.” You cut her off, arguing your point. You’re crossing your arms, making her drop her hands from them.
“No, no, I’m not trying to dismiss you, I’m…okay, maybe that’s what I’m doing, but I’m not trying to, okay? I’m…I’m trying to tell you I really do too, baby, but we can’t right now. Dylan seems…really nice!”
You roll your eyes. “She is. But she’s not who I want.”
Cassie sighs, her lips pulling into a straight line. “I know.” She whispers.
But you understand, too. You can’t adopt this routine again. However, even though you keep repeating in your head that you can’t do it, you can’t have feelings like this for her, you lean in slightly, looking at her with sad eyes as you silently beg for her to kiss you.
You end up dropping your head to her shoulder, whispering an ‘I’m sorry’, over and over and over again. You take a step away from her, going to turn around when she grabs you by the wrist.
“No, no, no, no. Hey, hey, come here.” She coerces you back to her before hesitantly leaning in. And you think maybe this time she will kiss you, but she instead presses her lips to your forehead. “You look really good tonight.” She tells you, as she moves past you, leaving you in the bathroom.
You huff a laugh, once again rolling your eyes, but Cassie is not there to see it. You slowly make your way back down to the now dark house and out into the backyard, surrounded by string lights and candles.
You’re feeling low, now. Like everything has been drained from you. You want to leave, and you might, you might pull an Irish goodbye and text Trinity and Dennis and Vic that you got home okay, but you weren’t feeling it anymore. And you would send a text to Robby, wishing him a Happy 4th.
That sounded like a great idea. Except Victoria had other plans for you.
“Hey!” She runs up to you in heels somehow. “There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”
“Vic, I don’t-”
“It’ll be fun! She’s interested in meeting you, trust me.” She’s grabbing your hand and pulling you across the yard. You drag your feet the whole way, trying to stall as much as possible. Vic loves to do this, introduce you to people she thinks you’ll like. And most of the time you do, but it never goes any further than a one night stand as your feelings drag themselves back and stick onto one person in particular.
“Victoria, I really can’t-”
“Doctor Lorenz!” she cuts you off immediately, shouting the woman’s name to grab her attention. The supposed Doctor is dressed in a nice striped tank top, some bell-bottom jeans, sandals on her feet, and curls in her hair. “This is our favorite Peds nurse I was telling you about!”
The woman turns around, and you’re almost awe-struck. She’s….really pretty. Like unfairly pretty. Like Baran Al-Hashimi, unfairly pretty. She has big, brown doe eyes, the perfect set of lips that are shining in the overhead lights, and her nose is arched. There’s a small indent on her chin, and a little dimple that shows in time with her smile.
You stand in front of the older woman, putting on your best smile in return. “Hello, Doctor Lorenz.”
“Ah, yes. Victoria here has been non-stop talking about you.” She smiles as well, and it’s a nice, warm, beautiful thing. You feel something warm begin to swirl inside you.
“I hope all good things.” You joke, and she laughs, reaching out to touch your arm. The action makes you feel good.
“Of course! Nothing but good things.” She insists.
The two of you fall into easy conversation. Turns out, Victoria had asked Doctor Lorenz if there were any openings at Boston Children’s Hospital, and if you could tour it one day. It would be your dream to work there, as it’s one of the best Pediatric Hospitals in the US, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine the amount of opportunities that type of job would bring you.
From your peripheral vision, however, you can see Cassie standing around, keeping a watchful eye on you. It somewhat infuriates you, because why should she? She has no right. She has no right to you, or to survey you from that far a distance. Actually, she doesn’t have the right to watch you with such a keen eye at all.
An idea starts to form.
It’s not a good one at all. Matter of fact, it’s downright terrible. But you make the excuse that the alcohol is getting to you, and something about the way she looked at you, the way she hesitated before kissing you on the forehead, the way she sat with you on the roof, so close- all of it is telling you to do it.
You need to make Cassie McKay jealous.
So- fuck it. You do.
“What’s that you got?” You ask Doctor Lorenz, and she glances down at her bottle.
“Oh! Smirnoff. Really good. I had originally asked Robby to pick some up for this party tonight, but I decided to just bring some. There are a few left! You want to try some?”
“I’d love to. Can I…try yours?” You question, and Doctor Lorenz holds the bottle out to you. You grab the neck of it. Before you can tip it back, your eyes make contact with Cassie’s across the room. She looks so ticked off, her jaw seems clenched, and she has an iron grip on her soda.
Your eyes rip away from hers to focus on Doctor Lorenz’s, and they’re staring back at you, intently at that. You put the opening of the bottle up to your lips and take a swig, and you swear you watch her pupils dilate, but it could just be the lighting.
You’re giving it back to Doctor Lorenz once you take a few sips. Wiping the back of your mouth, you hum. “Wow. That is really good, you were right.” You chuckle, and so does she.
“Right? I think there are a few more in the cooler over there,” she cocks her head towards a red cooler with a white top, sitting near Cassie, funnily enough. “But you can have some of mine anytime you want.”
You look up at her. Yes. Look up. She has to be at least 5’11, and while you think you have a good length on you, you’re not that tall. And she has to be at least ten years older than you.
And you know she’s making Cassie envious.
Now, is this completely unprofessional? Absolutely. And it’s wrong to use this woman in this way, to make your friend with benefits, Cassie McKay, jealous. But Doctor Lorenz obviously wants this to continue as her hand brushes your arm. And not in an absentminded way that’s for sure. However, you feel Cassie before you see her.
She’s at your side now, slinking there like a shadow. Brooding, quiet, five foot five of her.
“Oh! Doctor Lorenz, this is our R4, Cassie McKay.” You introduce them to one another, and they exchange a cordial enough greeting.
“Hi. Hey, can you help me with something?” Cassie is trying so hard not to seem upset. “Robby needs an extra hand with the margarita mixer machine.”
“Yeah, of course. I’m so sorry, Doctor Lorenz, I have to lend a helping hand in the kitchen for a little bit, but I look forward to talking with you more!” You can feel Cassie’s hands slide underneath your shirt. They’re warm on your back. But then they slip down to one of your pant loops and hook around it.
Cassie is so angry she’s practically fuming. She feels hot all over, watching you with that woman. She drags you past coworkers and friends and strangers alike into Robby’s house. She pushes the two of you past the kitchen, past the margarita mixer, upstairs into the bathroom that the two of you had just practically left.
She shuts the door and locks it.
You swallow.
She’s so close you can taste her: her breath on your lips and her scent in your nose, soda and something so distinctly Cassie. The silence is suffocating. You lean up against the counter and wrap your fingers on the ledge.
She slowly moves to stand in front of you, placing herself up against your body. Her hand slinks behind you, turning the sink’s faucet on. Then she stills, her mouth so incredibly close to your neck that you begin to tip your head back.
She lets the tap run, drowning out the sound from beyond the door. It’s not like anyone else is in the house, but still. You feel her breath heaving against your skin before she finally leans forward and connects her lips to your neck.
Your fingers curl on cool granite. Her hands push you back, into the counter, and the edge of the stone bites into your spine. “Did that get you off?” She asks suddenly. “Flirting with her?”
Her strap crowds your hips, nudging at your core.
“Sorry,” you gasp, but you’re not, really- you did it on purpose, riled her up, and a part of you thinks it’s because you know this would happen. “I’m sorry- fuck.”
“I asked you a question, baby.” She murmurs, rolling her hips into yours, and you gasp. “You need it that bad, you’re that fucking desperate, you go to someone else?” She licks her tongue up your neck, moving to the front of your throat, and stopping at your chin.
Her hand slips under your shirt and splays at your ribcage. Her fingertips move higher, skating up your skin, grazing your nipple. You whine softly, trying to lift your hips off the counter as you chase her cock.
The hand on your waist clamps tighter.
“Open your mouth,” she says.
You stop wriggling. You part your lips for her, and her hand leaves your hip, coming up to wrap around your throat. You watch her thumb settle on the edge of your jaw. It digs into the skin there, kneading gently, forcing your gaze to her. Her index and middle fingers tug at your lip and dip into your mouth.
She raises herself to get a better angle before gathering spit into her mouth and dropping it onto your tongue. You swallow with a whimper before she finally kisses you, tongue and all.
Cassie doesn’t make any noise during the whole thing, but you sound like heaven to her ears. You whine against her lips, moan, whimper, every noise she could come up with, you produce from your throat.
She likes it so much that she wants more. Much more, if you’re willing to give them.
However, you’re pulling away before she can flip the two of you around.
“Stop, stop, stop.” You’re both heaving, chests rising up and down in tandem. Your hand is placed directly in the center of Cassie’s breasts, holding her a few feet away.
“Are you okay?” She hears herself asking.
“I don’t want to do this if it’s going to end up in a one-night stand. I ca-can’t do it, Cassie. I can’t do it anymore.” Your eyes look so sad as they focus on her blue ones.
She knows what you mean. And neither can she. But that would put her in a vulnerable position. A position she hasn’t been in for a long time now. She doesn’t quite know what to do. She’s caught in a crossroads of sorts.
“Then we shouldn’t go any further.” She tells you, and watches as your face falls.
“Fine. Then we’re done? Done, done? Just like that?”
“Yeah. Done, done. Just like that.” The words don’t even sound like something she would actively say out loud. She knows you don’t want to stop this. And she knows herself that she doesn’t want to stop this. But she really can’t. She just can’t.
“Right.” You nod, and she watches as your eyes brim with tears. “Fuck you, Cass,” you mutter before unlocking the bathroom door and pulling it open, stepping through before slamming it closed. She exhales a shaky breath, bending herself over to rest her hands on her knees.
It’s like she’s somehow stabbed herself, right in the heart. She feels like she might throw up, too. Her arms wrap around her middle. She’s acting so stupid, she thinks to herself, because she’s the one who could’ve just said the right words. However, the voice inside her head took over, and soon enough she was agreeing to something she couldn’t let go of just yet.
a/n: Hi guys!! I'm back!! Sorry, I was gone for some time (I'm sure ya'll didn't even notice LMFAO), but I went on a trip with my gorgeous, beautiful mom to London!! And yes, it was to see Harry Styles. And I got barricade (first time I've ever gotten barricade for anyone) and it was hot as well, thought I was gonna pass out, but I didn't! And don't even get me started on Harry, he was hot as ever, literally passed by me three times, and everything. But I'm back to writing now, I promise!!
I missed all of you guys!! 🩷
so freaking good 💔😩
Pull Over
Reader gets pulled over by Officer Evans
—
tw: nsfw, fingering, r fucks the police, or the other way ‘round, college drinking, driving while inebriated
—
this came to me in a wet dream a week ago, finally got the courage to actually write it!!! im so bored, somebody please send in requests!! :(
“No, no! Not happening, Lexi. I’m not going.” You huff, eyebrows furrowing. She’s begging you to go to some stupid, illegal party. You both know how college parties end. Campus security pulls up, shuts the whole place down, they chase stupid young-adults through the hallways until actual police show up.
“You’re such a priss. God, actually let go for once!” She whines, grabbing the book from your hands and tossing it elsewhere in your shared room. “I even bought you a pretty dress.” A sigh, pulling out the skankiest piece of fabric you’ve ever laid eyes on.
It’d barely cover your nips. There’s slits that go all the way up to your upper-thigh, it’s tight. Something you’d have to wear commando because you’d see the line of your thong. You have to admit… It's skimpy, but it’s gorgeous. The fabric? Soft. Comfortable. In a way it’d keep you warm. It’s black, and it’d probably go with any cardigan you have tucked in your wardrobe. Plus… when are you ever going to have the chance to wear something like this ever again?
A fat sigh sounds from your throat, eyes rolling to the back of your skull in annoyance.
“Fine, but don’t be upset if I dip earlier than you like.” You get up from your bed, snatching the dress from her hands. She squeals in pure excitement, like you don’t have next-door neighbors.
—
Lexi is flirting with some frat boy in the far end of the room, and you’ve made yourself very comfortable tucked away in a corner. Too many guys have tried to flirt with you, ask you if you wanted to get a drink or if they were incredibly bold—they’d ask if you wanted to go upstairs and ‘hang’ in a free room.
You brushed off every attempt, told them you had someone accompanying you and they walked off with a scoff and sometimes even an insult.
You sip at your shitty beer, relishing in the sting. You’re getting tipsy, humming softly to yourself while your eyes wander the crowded area. There are too many people making out on the sides.
“M’gonna go.” You hobble over to your friend, nudging her shoulder—watching her lips pull off some hunks.
“You need me to call an uber?” She slurs, obviously drunk. You shake your head and kiss her cheek goodbye.
You get behind the wheel, slightly—just slightly inebriated and you drive back to your apartment. The air is chilly, your windows are down, and the roads are completely empty… Well, save for you and your shitty Toyota.
The peacefulness doesn’t last long, there are blue and red lights flashing behind you. You genuinely groan. Y’fucking joking me?
Pulling over and whining about how this night couldn’t get any fucking worse, the police officer strolls up casually like he isn’t ruining your clean record.
Looking up, oh. Oh, that’s not a he. That’s a beautiful woman. A beautiful police woman with slight bags underneath her beautiful flushed blue eyes with silvery-blonde hair. “Y’have any idea what I pulled you over for, ma’am?” Her accent is thick, very Pittsburgh—if you were from anywhere else it’d sound like a soft Jersey one.
You want to respond—really, but your words are jammed in your throat and all you do is fucking babble. The officer’s lip quirks up slightly, her head cocking to the side. “Have you been drinking, ma’am?” That’s when your response is immediate.
“No!” It’s loud, sudden—you wince at it. “No, I haven’t. I haven't been drinking. Promise, Ms. Officer.” Your words fall out in a whiny little drawl. Oh, where did that come from?
“You haven’t?” She cooes, it’s barely audible. Her hands resting on your car door—and your eyes shoot to her ringless left finger. Shaking your head at her response. “M’kay, baby, then that’ll make it easier for you to step out of the vehicle?”
“Baby?” A hiccup. “Mmh, can I stay here?” You slur, grinning. Her lips quirk even higher, amused. Fuck, this is incredibly inappropriate—the officer is staring at you like she’s about to devour you whole. You watch as she clicks her body-cam off. You read her patch. DANA EVANS.
“Ma’am… I really need you to step out of the vehicle.”
And so you do, with wobbly steps. “Can you walk in a straight line for me, baby?” Her hand smooths over your hip, just lightly.
You almost tip over, but you walk the line—and the woman is looking at you hungrily, at your ass when you walk further and your tits that are basically spilling out when you walk back towards her. “Count to ten, backwards.”
You recite it perfectly. “Okay, baby. Good girl.” And she’s pressing your chest against her cop car. She’s groping at every body part she can. “Is this okay?” Dana murmurs against your neck, and you nod eagerly.
“S’okay.” It comes out needy and wanting. You don’t even know her and she’s gripping at your tits. You mumble out pleas, looking back at her.
“Look at this. Y’know how many laws I’m violating?” She kisses your neck, sucking a soft mark. “Not enough to go to jail, though, baby.”
You’re panting, like genuinely panting from a little teasing—thighs pressing together, slick dripping down them. You hear her mumbling behind her before her palm slaps against your ass, squeezing hard. “Look at that.” Dana groans, softly.
Her mouth pressing to your jaw, humming. Slim fingers moving to bunch the dress around your hips, to find bare ass and a slick pussy. She tuts behind you, and a finger glides through your folds—prodding at your hole to tease before dragging it back up to your clit with your new found slick. It makes this nasty squelching sound and the officer can’t help but groan.
The two fingers circling your bud make your fuzzy brain go even fuzzier. You’re mewling out against the frame when she finds the perfect tempo and pressure. “Yeah, that feels good, hm?” And then it’s gone, replaced with small smacks to your already needy, drooly pussy.
“Please…”
“Please, what?”
“Please, what, sweetheart?” She coos, condescendingly. “Use y’words, like a big girl, yeah?”
“Touch me… on my pussy.” You squirm, and her thumb slips into your mouth—pressing down on your tongue.
You hear Dana’s little “m’kay”, feel her little pat to your clit before she slams her two thick fingers into your sloppy cunt. Not nearly enough, she stills her fingers inside and you grind.
“What, baby? M’touching you. S’not enough?” She coos, mockingly. “Not enough?”
You groan, whining–tilting your head back, lips puckering for a kiss and she delivers. “Move them… please.”
A grunt sounds from her lips, and she starts moving her fingers–rubbing against your slick gummy wall, tapping it gently, but when she hears your whine? It encourages her, and she fucks her fingers harder into you.
There’s a wet squelching sound from below where her digits stretch you out, she’s panting in your ear like this is getting her off too, just fingering your greedy pussy. Mumbling soft “fuck”s and “getting close, baby?”, she knows the answer–you’re clenching around her fingers, and there’s slick dripping down into her palm.
Your eyes screw shut, hand moving behind you to grab her wrist but her free hand slams them back onto the car door frame. A whine sounds from your throat, guttural and it only makes her go faster. Pumping so fucking deep, you trap her in your cunt when you finally reach that high. “Mm–mmn, please…” you beg, lips pressed to the frame–saliva dripping down the glass.
“I know, s’so much, hm baby?” She cooes into your temple. “Good girl… did so good.” Working you through your orgasm, just pumping in and out until you grumble in overstimulation.
She tilts your head to the side so she can kiss you properly, her tongue slipping into your mouth–soothing over your own. You start to giggle, and she raises an amused eyebrow. “Somethin’ funny?”
“Uh-huh.” She nudges her nose into yours in question, a quick peck to your full lips. “I literally just fucked the police. Y’know… the–mmh…”
Cut off with Dana’s mouth smushed against your own, pulling away to mumble a teasing– “Mmh-mmn, the police fucked you.”
A/N: omg please disregard the end i had no other idea what to do 💔 if there’s grammar mistakes i also apologize 👀 its 1am and im TIRED!!!!
happy father’s day to my daddy 🤍
please she’s so gorgeous mama sepi
Rubber Band
Baran snaps at reader after getting assaulted by a patient on her dayshift.
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tw: kind of mean baran, baran uses looks to get her way 😭, yelling (kind of), i dont know how to tw this, angsty, hurt and comfort, good ending :)
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meow, this was so rushed and not proofread i just got off of my nine hour shift. can u tell? im also not the best at angst… thinking of just sticking with smut and very short blurbs of angst :( sorry for the long note chicas. hope u enjoy!!! <3
Soft music plays in the dim of your apartment, your pasta sits beautifully in the pot and you’re stirring at the orangey-tinted sauce that you spent hours perfecting. Humming along to the song playing. One that you and Baranam sway to in the morning while you make breakfast for her and your son.
The door clicks open, and then clicks shut. You look over your shoulder and look at the entry way mirror to see Baran toeing off her shoes. She’s awfully quiet. You set the stove heat to a warm simmer and leave your station.
Making your way over, your mouth opens to spew sweetness and instead you croak—left in shock at her bruised nose and cheek.
“Baran, what the fuck?” You curse, hands trembling as they hover over her face—not wanting to touch her. “What happened, baby?”
You watch her face tighten, watch her flinch back in pain—she was assaulted at work, doing a diagnosis on a particularly aggravated patient. The purple bruise coating the caramel skin of her cheek.
Your chest tightens in worry. “Baran, what hap—“ Apparently the worrying was enough for her to snap.
“Azizam, enough! Just stop for a second.” She’s staring at you, breathing deeply—her sharp jaw is clenched. “Just… I need a second without feeling like I’m being bombarded by you.” The way she says it sounds like she’s been thinking about it for a while, and god if it doesn’t hurt.
You stare back, eyes glossier than before—your chest tightening with something other than worry. Hurt, confusion even because where did this all come from?
Sure, you’ve been a teensy bit more protective of her since her first day as an attending at the PTMC. You didn’t think you’d been bombarding her though. Not really.
You take a deep, shaky breath in—nodding. “Yeah, okay. Sorry.” And you back away from her slowly, swallowing.
Baran looks at you with the smallest hint of regret. She doesn’t snap at anybody, not usually—and especially not you. Her sweet girl, her sweet perfect wife who does nothing but the most for her.
She also didn’t mean to imply you were burdening and bombarding her. Baran knows you just trying to look out for her, see what you could do like you always do, her perfect baby.
For the rest of the night, you’re quiet. Working on dinner, holding back tears of quiet frustration (at Baran, and yourself) while staring down at over-cooked pasta. Straining it and mixing in Baran’s family sauce—one that you’d made for her prior because you know how hard she’s been working these past couple of weeks.
You eat quietly at the table, you clean up quietly, you don’t speak one word to Baran and her heart shatters. She tries to talk to you, tries to coax your sweet laughter out of your throat—but you’re stiff, and you’re silent. Not once does she apologize though.
You wrap an icepack in a rag, and drop it in her lap. That’s when she realizes your sadness has shifted into anger, not that you’d blow up in her face and throw things at her. Baran notices your anger in the quiet, little things… like dropping something so roughly in her lap rather than handing it to her gently.
“Thank you, darling.” And she watches your eyes roll. Her heart clenches, painfully.
—
You’re both getting ready for bed, Baran getting into her lilac silk night dress—something sexy, like she’s attempting to appease you. Win you over again. Everything she does gets ignored.
“I could be masturbating and you wouldn’t even care, hm?” Her lips pressing to your bare shoulder, sucking a soft mark—her version of an apology. A really shitty apology and usually Baran is incredibly good at them. “Aziz…” She sighs into your skin.
“Don’t.” Baran freezes, it’s the first word you’ve spoken to her since the argument. “Stop acting like everything is okay, Baran. Enough acting like you did nothing wrong.” You choke out, eyes watering—and you hate yourself for crying over something so silly.
“Sweet girl…” She spins you around, her hands sliding from your waist to frame your face. “I’m sorry.”
You groan, loudly—wiping your tears with balled up fists. “No, you aren’t.” Your sniffle is wet, loud. “You’re not fucking sorry, Baran. If you were sorry we wouldn’t be doing this in the first place.”
“I am sorry,” She grabs your wrists, pulling them down. “I’ve had a rough day, baby. Am I not allowed to be upset?”
Another groan, another eye roll, another huff at how cruel she’s being. “Of course you’re allowed to be upset. You got assaulted, dude!” You see her jaw clench at the ‘dude’, you know she hates when you call her that. “It doesn’t mean you have the right to treat me like I’m less than, when all I’m trying to do is make everything a little bit easier for you. Okay?”
Baran sighs, “okay.” it’s all she says. You see the regret in her eyes, the genuine apology—but she doesn’t outright say it to you, doesn’t coddle you or beg for forgiveness.
“I’m tired.” You see her eyes widen at that, and you are quick to calm her nerves. “I’m not divorcing you, Baranam. But I am telling you that if you want to continue loving me and receiving the same affection—you have to fix your bullshit. I’m done being the silly doormat, because I’m everything but that. I am your wife.” Voice still shaky, unsteady. Your fists still balled up, not to punch or attack, but to ground.
“You’re right,” She’s sitting upright now, standing in front of you—bruised face to one sad, tired face. “You’re right. My darling,” her lips pressing to yours, not to appease but apologize. “I’m sorry. Truly, aziz. I’ve… taken advantage of you. You’re not a doormat, you are my wife and I’m sorry I haven’t been treating you as such, my darling girl.”
“It’s not an excuse, but the pressure of the Pitt… it’s weighing on my shoulders and I’m struggling to keep my head above the thick water, hm?” She pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, wiping away a sliding tear. “I never meant to make you feel like a burden, like you bombarded me. You didn’t, darling. I know your intentions.”
“I’ll back off next time—“ She immediately cuts you off.
“I’m not asking for that. Look, my darling, I’ve worked in the medical field for… quite some time, I’ve been through shit your precious eyes should never see.” She brushes her nose against yours. “I’m asking you to… understand where I’m coming from. That I’m a big girl, and I can handle myself. Punched or not.” Another sweet kiss to your lips.
“Okay, big girl.” You kiss back, and she has to forcefully pull her lips off of yours. You just stare at each other for a while, breathing each other in because you haven’t all day. Lingering guilt remains in Baran’s eyes and yours too.
“You’re my princess. I will take care of you, not the other way around.”
“But sometimes even the frog needs help.” And Baran barks out a loud and especially hearty laugh—eyebrows shot up in a ‘oh yeah?’ gesture. Tugging you onto the bed with her till you’re on her lap.
She mumbles a soft insult in her Persian-tongue that makes you laugh in confusion. “So… we… are okay? We are better, I mean.”
“As long as you don’t snap at me like that again, we are.”
dr. baran al-hashimi // nobody by mitski
digital painting, june 2026
i feel like im going insane i literally cannot find any of these fic series ive been readinf!!!!! pls help theyre so delicious i need to find them again 😭😭😭😭😭
attending!reader x ex-gf baran and i can faintly remember the storyline but i just remember the last chapter i read they were walking around the pitt and chatting after readers breakdown HELPPPPP
playboy cassie x reader and cassies like a freaking jock and ‘cheats’ on reader even tho theyre not dating but they both rlly like eachother omg im going insane
pls pls pls i literally followed these people for a reason and now its like they vanished im gonna die 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
Don’t Do That
Reader has a panic attack —
tw: idiots in love, robinavitch mention, reader has a panic attack, NO 3 THINGS YOU CAN SEE FEEL OR SMELL!!!!
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hi, i havent been writing and im so sorry this is a short lil blurb… kind of angsty kind of stupid so lo siento chicas!!! and ofc with cassie mckay there always has to be something going wrong with reader…
“Hey, hey, baby—m’right here. Look at me, can y’look at me?” But your chest is going up and down rapidly and it feels like it’s going to explode—shaky eyes move to Cassie’s wide ones.
Your lower lip is shaking and tears are spilling down red cheeks. You don’t know what happened, not really—at one point, Robinavitch was scolding you, the next you were running into an empty medical supply closet hunched into yourself and hyperventilating like an overworked dog.
“Breathe with me, jus’ till you feel better, okay?” The words are pressed to your temple, she’s probably shaken up just as much as you are. She saw Robby unprofessionally reprimanding you in the middle of the nursing station, she saw you rush away from prying eyes with shaken steps.
She presses your palm to her chest, right over her heart—then brings the other hand to her lips, kissing each knuckle until your breathing starts to slow down. Then her lips move to your forehead. “Good girl… good job. Feel better? Just one, two, three, baby.” Your eyes shut as you continued to breathe with her.
You sniffle, trying to clear your airways and you catch Cassie’s scent—that lavender dollar tree body-wash shit, mixed with your shampoo and conditioner. And then the smell of the Emergency Department, sterile and honestly, faintly metallic.
She waits a minute before cracking a joke. “Y’know what m’gonna do right now?”
“We are not doing the three things you can feel, touch, or smell, Dr. Mckay.”
Her big toothy grin smushing into your mouth in an even toothier kiss. “M’kay. Your loss.”
Why would a man be there????
Look at Yourself
Yolo fucks you in front of your full body bedroom mirror
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tw: smut, fingering 👀, strap on use 👀, looking at eachother in the mirror while having gay sex 👀, choking (slightly) 👀, excessive use of mommy and baby 👀, mommy kink 👀, brat play 👀, soft yolanda AND established relationship!!! (is that a tw?)
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hi cuties im back again!!!!! this time with something way freakier than the last :) sorry if im totally spam posting fics!!!! i just have a really creative head rn!!!
Breathless gasps and moans fall from full lips as Yolanda pounds into you from behind with the thick nude-colored strap that she bought while thinking of you. Your wrists behind your back as she uses them as makeshift handles, her free hand on your throat—sometimes squeezing to see your eyelashes flutter shut. “Fuck, you look so good, baby. You wanna see yourself?” She mumbles into your ear, tongue flicking out to tap your earlobe, her voice hoarse from the groans that she spills when she watches your greedy hole suck her in.
You could only muster out a soft whimper in response, which made her hand around your throat subtly squeeze tighter. You know Yolanda likes verbal agreement, you’re being bratty on purpose—she, herself, knows that too.
She stops in punishment, squeezing your throat—tutting when you whine like a bitch. “Use your words. Be a big girl.”
You groan, your orgasm is quickly receding so you quit the bratty act. “Mmh.. wanna see myself, Mommy.” Tilting your head back for a kiss, she delivers—devouring your mouth with practiced ease.
Her fingers rub your puffy clit while turning you towards the full-body mirror. Your hair sticking to your forehead, body slick with a sheet of sweat. Neck littered in dark hickeys and Yolanda’s teeth indents, God, that’ll be such a pain to cover up. Your nurse scrubs don’t cover all that much.
Eyes trailing up from yourself to Yolanda and her trademark smirk. Still looking perfect, not even breaking a sweat. Yet the pinch between her brows tells you she’s a little breathless. Her fingers are still deftly working on your needy pussy.
They, the fingers, stop when she picks you up to slam you on her lap—needy pussy swallowing her thick cock whole. She lets you adjust for a minute, murmuring soft praise into your ear… soft cooes like oh wow, look at how you take mommy’s dick and mommy loves this greedy pussy and because she’s feeling so nice and soft for her baby right now mommy loves you, baby girl.
When she sees you’re adjusted almost fully, she continues to thrust, from soft and experimental to sloppy pounding. Your body moving back and forth from the force of her thrusts, eyes rolling to the back of your skull before switching back to the mirror to see yourself. “Thank you, Mommy.” Your responses are delayed and whiney.
“My beautiful girl…” She croons, loosening her grip. Placing a soft kiss on your damp temple–yanking your head back by your hair. Your back arched, the silicone dick reaching parts you didn’t even know could hit.
She watches you in the mirror, watches the way you don’t shut up because of the new perfect position—your hardened nipples are perfectly out for Yolanda to tweak. Cooing pathetically at your needy blabbering. Mumbling does that feel good, slut? who knew baby could take mommy’s cock so fucking good? are you fucking crying right now, baby? mommy’s here to take care of you, don’t cry.
Tossing you back onto the bed, the silicone dildo slipping out of your slick cunt with a squelch. Whining at the loss, before Yolo adjusts you to her liking (Pussy up, face in the comforter).
Going to town on your sloppy pussy, two fingers rubbing on your pretty clit. Her tongue dipping in your fucked-out hole, groaning when you whine—and you flinch at the stimulation.
You’re stretched out enough, so Yolanda decides to slam three slender (but thick enough to fill) fingers into your sore pussy. Cooing when you scream “I know, baby.” She kisses your ass, biting—laughing when you cry. She knows you’re fine, if you weren’t you’d say the safeword. Yolanda knows consent, lives for it—if her baby says no, it means no. She’ll never do anything you’re not comfortable with. “You gonna shut the fuck up so Mommy can fuck you properly, hermosa?” Another bite.
“Uh-huh.. m’sorry, Mommy. Please..” You whine, thrusting back onto her fingers—Yolo lets it slide, this time. Usually she’d stop, fully. Make you whine and beg, but she’s genuinely feeling kind today—you both had a rough shift. Yolanda lost more patients than she had liked, so she was… ‘vulnerable’ to say the least. You got yelled at by your superiors in surgery, it was so bad you literally had to leave and resort to smoking outside (which you hadn’t done since you and Yolo got together).
“Thank you, baby.”
—
By the end of the night, Yolanda’s kissing the back of your slick thighs. Wiping dried spit and come off. “Did a good job.” She’s dragging the rag through your inner thighs to clean them off too. She moves up to kiss your cheek. “Such a good girl.” Watching the way your eyes flutter all the way shut in the mirror.
Yolanda could cry, really—she loves you so much. In the ER, or during sex she’s a rough prickly cactus… but at home? When you’re alone and intimate and soft? She’s a big ball of mush, kissing all over you—and she’d truly never admit it but her favorite part about sex is the aftercare. The way you trust her enough to clean you up, the way you slowly drift to sleep while she drags the warm, wet cloth over your thighs and tummy and chin.
“Sleepy? Go to bed, baby. Gonna be here when you wake up, sweetheart.” You shake your head, turning over to face her fully—drowsy eyes roaming her face.
“Notebook.” You mumble, pressing full lips to her own. Shit, she almost forgot—she grabs the small diary that she bought in the beginning of your relationship from the bedside table.
It was supposed to be something kinky, at first—rating each other’s styles teasingly and punishing each other for what the other said. But now it’s routine, and it’s totally intimate.
She writes your name at the top, the date, and time—and draws five stars underneath it. perfect, my perfect girl. sat there and took everything i gave you. She scribbles it down in her shitty doctor writing. It makes you smile. You write your signature lazily underneath, and she writes her own—like you’re signing off charts at the hospital.
“Okay… now I can sleep.” You say against her mouth, stealing one more chaste kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you three-thousand, baby doll.”
“I love you to infinity and beyond.”
Munchkin
Reader has a bad day on shift, Cassie makes it all better…
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tw: mentions of sh, sh, hurt/comfort, cass feels and sees readers cuts :( reader x cassie mckay, making out for a little :3
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first fic post on the big T!!!! idk how to format at all :((( but i hope you enjoy this
You’re exactly where you are most days after work, sitting on Cassie’s lap—lips pressed against her own in soft desperation.
You feel her hands grazing the soft skin on the back of your thighs while your own hands are thrown over her shoulders.
It’s nice. Peaceful, to say the least. After a long shift this is what the both of you desperately need. Each other and needy kisses.
Cassie’s lips move to the underside of your jaw, smiling when she hears the little groan punched out of your throat.
“That good, baby?” Her lips quirk in that gentle way, you huff and let her continue. You’re not very talkative today, not really—usually you’re a nonstop chatterbox, it worries Cassie.
You’re kissing her the same, she guesses, but your eyes are blank and your body freezes some times. She kind of just assumes you’re tired today, she doesn’t blame you—with the loss of too many patients this shift and Robby’s constant chastisement.
Cassie’s fingers shift to the top of your thighs—and that’s where she feels it—slowly. The bandage, a bandaid. Her eyes flit up, and she sees your face cringe.
“Baby,” is all Cassie says before she’s tugging your sleep shorts up even slower and trying not to cry (for the first time in years) when she sees the deep kitten scratches littering your thighs. Sloppily covered by hospital bandaids. “oh, baby.”
You don’t say anything, god—what is there to say? I’m sorry, Cass I’m sorry I couldn’t take it today I’m sorry I’m a fucking screw up and can’t control my emotions. Cassie sees the thoughts running behind those beautiful eyes and your eyes glossing over, and she stops—stops moving to take off the bandaids and truly see the damage.
Cassie doesn’t bombard with questions, just looks at the cuts. They’re deep, inflamed and it takes everything in Cass not to choke up at the sight. Her thumb soothes over them. “Fuck.” She shakes her head. “Anywhere else, baby? Jus’ need you to be honest.” She says so gently, never harsh.
“No,” it’s soft and laced with pure pain. “nowhere else. M’sorry. M’sorry, Cass-Cass.” You sob. Cassie tucks your face underneath her chin, rubs your back and mumbles that she’s going to try to make it all better for you, but if she does that—you need to try to talk to her. Communicate when you’re feeling all shitty like this. You nod and agreement and that’s really about the end of the conversation.
—
The next morning, Cassie’s already up. You move your arm, expecting to feel that warm heat—face already drooping when you find her side to be empty. Your thigh is sore, buzzing from Cassie’s soothing kisses last night.
You grab your charging phone and check the time. 8:34. Okay, not too early, Cassie’s probably running errands. Still, it’d be nice if she were here with you. Especially after last night’s fiasco, just to know she didn’t ditch you.
There’s shuffling coming from the living room-kitchen area—you get up to see what the ruckus is about.
And you are delighted to see Cass in a silly panda apron, whipping something up.
“Oh?” Your arms wrap gently around her from behind. “Morning.” The word is mumbled from between her shoulder bones.
“G’morning, sweet girl.”
“Is this what took my morning cuddles away on m’day off?” You say with a kiss to her shoulder—on your tip toes, even though you really aren’t that short.
“Surprise?” She turns her head to kiss your temple. “Mmh, sweet baby. Food’s gonna be done in a bit. Sit pretty on the couch, watch your silly show.” Her hand comes behind the two of you to pat your ass.
“M’kay, McKay” it’s dragged out and so obviously reluctant—you drag your feet all the way to the couch before you plop down.
Half an hour later, Cassie’s shuffling towards you—plates and cups balanced in her arms.
“Breakfast is ready, my love.” She passes you your cup, full of your favorite morning drink and then your loaded up plate. She plops down beside you with a groan, what a needy forty-four year old.
You both watch your show, Cassie’s slightly more invested than you are. You’re taking small bites out of your breakfast. “You don’t want to talk about… last night?” Your eyes, filled with shame, flit to hers and then back to the TV.
“Mm, talk about… what?” She kisses your temple, not trying to downplay—just showing that she’ll talk when you can fully verbalize it. “We will talk about everything when you are ready, munchkin. Don’t worry about me, yeah?”
You nod again. Your eyes fill with tears, lips quirking in relief. “Okay.”
“Okay.” She says back. “I love you.”
there's not a single casual bone in my body. everything means something to me
having a complicated relationship with ur mother is not for the weak !!!
We need more media about a younger woman psychosexually obsessed with an older woman
i think i WILL sexualise that 50-60 year old woman today thank yewwww
