#even on cold meds because what the hell

[front-facing-pokemon]

[jupiterpilgrim]

Swallow the Pill

Kim Minjeong (Winter) x Male Reader

word count: 17K

The duffle bag is halfway zipped when your phone buzzes on the dresser. You glance over, one hand on a folded towel, already thinking it’s the group chat. Maybe they’re early, maybe someone forgot sunscreen—typical. Instead, the name “Winter” flashes on the screen. The towel drops from your hand as you frown at it.

Winter...

You haven’t heard from her in a few days, not since that weirdly intimate coffee date where she’d kept looking at you like you hung the moon. Cute, sure, but intense. A little too much. You two weren’t even a thing. A couple of drunken makeouts at parties, a handful of late-night texts, and maybe one date that leaned dangerously into feelings territory. That’s it.

Her message is short and loaded:

"Hey, are you busy?"

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard for a second. You start typing.

"Kinda. Packing for the beach. What's up?"

The reply comes back fast, like she was waiting for you to answer.

"I’m sick. Really sick. Can you come over?"

You squint at the screen, reading the message twice. Sick? What the hell? You fire back.

"What do you mean sick? Like hospital sick? Are you okay?"

She sends an emoji—one of those pitiful, droopy ones—then another message:

"No hospital. Just the flu or something. I feel awful. Need help."

It takes a second for it to sink in. She must be joking. You stare at the phone, genuinely confused. She has friends, right? Family? Someone closer to her than the guy she’s hooked up with two or three times?

You type:

"Why me? Don’t you have someone else? Friends? Relatives? A neighbor?"

The response is instant:

"Everyone’s busy. And you’re close.

Please, daddy."

Your stomach lurches at the word. She called you that last time you were together too, whispered it in your ear with a grin, like she knew exactly how to get under your skin. You run a hand down your face and reply:

"Don’t call me that."

"Sorry. Please, though. I’m really sick. Can’t even get out of bed. Just need a little favor."

She adds a sad face this time, really driving it home. You stare at your duffle bag, then back at the phone, then back at the duffle.

You’re not her boyfriend. You’re not even really sure what you are. A fling? A pastime? The guy who texts back at 2 a.m.? And yet, there’s this strange pull. The idea of her alone in her apartment, small and helpless, buried under blankets, sniffling. It needles at you.

You type one last message:

"What exactly do you need me to do?"

Her reply is shameless.

"Take care of me. Bring some meds or soup or something. I’ll owe you big."

You know you should say no. You know you should zip the bag, throw it over your shoulder, and walk out the door to meet your friends. But something makes you hesitate.

Is it guilt? Curiosity? Some twisted sense of responsibility for this girl you don’t even know that well? You sigh, tapping out your final surrender.

"Fine. Be there soon."

You throw the duffle bag in the closet. Goodbye, beach. Goodbye, carefree weekend of sun and booze and forgetting your responsibilities.

Winter, you think, had better be worth it.

—

The plastic bags rustle against your leg as you climb the stairs to Winter’s apartment, the fucking elevator is being fixed, and it gives you more time to think about what exactly you're doing. You should have just told her to order delivery. Or called one of her real friends. Or just—anything but this. But here you are, with cold medicine, snacks, and a pint of strawberry ice cream you’re pretty sure she likes because she mentioned it that one time when you were half-listening.

Her messages played through your head the whole drive over. Fever. Headache. Sneezing. She hadn’t sounded dramatic—just miserable enough to guilt you into dropping your plans.

Her door is slightly ajar, probably because she didn’t want to get up to let you in. You knock anyway, a couple of quick raps, and her voice floats out, soft and faint.

“Come in!”

You push the door open and step inside. The place is small, tidy, and unmistakably her. Neutral tones with little bursts of pastel here and there. A fluffy pink throw draped over a beige couch. A single framed photo of a seaside sunset on the wall. It smells faintly of lavender, like one of those candles she’s probably obsessed with.

And there she is, sprawled on the couch, wrapped in the thinnest blanket imaginable. She’s wearing this oversized long-sleeve shirt that probably hits mid-thigh. Her dyed-blonde hair’s a bit of a mess, and her cheeks are faintly flushed. She looks like some kind of sickly cherub, both pitiful and oddly… attractive in her vulnerability.

“Hey,” you say, unsure where to stand, so you hover awkwardly by the door. “How’re you feeling?”

She shifts, sitting up just a little, her voice soft and nasal. “So-so. Better now that you’re here, though.”

You ignore the flutter of something in your chest and hold up the bag. “I got some stuff. Medicine. Snacks. Ice cream, too.”

That perks her up. Her eyes brighten a little. “Ice cream?”

You mumble something barely audible, already heading to her tiny kitchenette. “Yeah. Strawberry. Figured it’d help with the sore throat or whatever.”

She murmurs a soft “thank you” as you stash the pint in her freezer, then return to the living room. You glance around for a place to put the rest of the stuff and end up dumping it on her coffee table. She looks at you with those big, tired eyes, and you feel like you’ve just handed over some priceless treasure instead of a few basics.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” she says quietly, though there’s a small, pleased smile tugging at her lips.

“Well, I’m here now,” you reply, shrugging. Then, unable to help yourself, you add, “Though it’s a shame it’s under these circumstances.”

Her lips quirk. “Yeah. I was the one missing you, and this is what I get. Karma’s cruel, huh?”

You kneel beside the couch, reaching out almost automatically to check her temperature the old-fashioned way. The back of your hand brushes her forehead, warm but not alarming. Her skin is smooth, softer than you’d expected.

“Doesn’t feel like much of a fever,” you say, trying to sound neutral.

“It’s mild,” she admits, leaning into your hand slightly like it’s instinct. “But I still feel awful. Weak. Kinda lightheaded.”

“Mm.” You pull your hand back, studying her for a moment. “Have you eaten anything today?”

She hesitates, her gaze sliding to the side. That’s answer enough.

“Of course not,” you mutter, exasperated but not surprised. “All right. Medicine first, then you’re eating something. I didn’t give up my beach weekend to watch you wither away on this couch.”

Her laugh is soft and a little hoarse, but it’s there. “You’re bossy. I like it.”

You don’t bother replying, already rummaging through the bag for the cold meds. She watches you the whole time, a small, lazy smile on her lips. It’s like she knows something you don’t, and for some reason, that makes you a little nervous.

You pull a pill packet out of the bag and pop one free, holding it out for her like you’re a nurse on shift. She looks up at you, her nose scrunched. “What is it?”

“Magic,” you deadpan, before grabbing the nearest glass off her coffee table, rinsing it in the sink, and filling it with water. You return and plunk it in her hand. “Just take it. It’s for the headache and fever.”

Winter pouts but obediently swallows the pill, washing it down with the water. Her throat bobs as she drinks, and for some reason, you notice her lips lingering on the rim of the glass. You shake it off and clear your throat. “You got anything in the kitchen? Like, soup stuff?”

She blinks, like she has no idea what you’re talking about. “Maybe? I think there’s... carrots? And, um, potatoes?”

“Perfect,” you say dryly, already heading to the fridge. “Soup à la ‘whatever I can find.’”

She props herself up on her elbow, watching you rummage through her cabinets. “Do you even know how to make soup?”

“Nope,” you reply without missing a beat. “But YouTube does.”

Her laugh is soft and raspy. “Good luck, Gordon Ramsay.”

You glance back at her, smirking. “Keep that energy, sick girl.”

—

It takes longer than you’d like—turns out soup’s a bit more complicated than just dumping water in a pot and crossing your fingers—but eventually, you’ve got something that vaguely smells edible. It’s hot, steaming in a bowl, and you’re honestly a little proud of yourself.

You bring it over and hand it to her. She takes it with both hands, peering into the bowl like it’s a work of art.

“Wow,” she murmurs, a small grin tugging at her lips. “It looks legit.”

“Don’t jinx it,” you mutter, sinking into the armchair across from her.

She spoons some up, blowing on it gently before taking a sip. Her eyes widen just slightly. “Hey, this is actually good.”

“You sound shocked,” you say, leaning back. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

She grins, small and sheepish. “Sorry. I just didn’t expect you to... you know... be so domestic.”

You shrug, trying to play it off. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. This was a one-time deal.”

She finishes the soup slowly, savoring each bite like it’s some kind of rare delicacy. When she’s done, she sets the bowl aside and looks at you. “Thanks. Really. I feel better already.”

You wave her off, standing up and brushing your hands on your jeans. “No big deal. If anything happens, just shoot me a message.”

Her head tilts. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” you say plainly. “There’s still soup in the kitchen. You can heat it up later if you’re hungry. And like I said, message me if you need anything else.”

Her hand shoots out, grabbing yours. Her grip is soft but firm, and it stops you in your tracks. “Don’t go.”

You hesitate, looking down at her. “Winter...”

“Part of the treatment depends on you staying with me,” she says, her voice light but pleading. Her eyes—big, dark, and slightly glassy—fix on yours. It’s unfair. A total cheat code.

“Come on,” you sigh, trying to pull back. “I’ve already—”

“Please,” she interrupts, tugging you closer. “I get clingy when I’m sick. I need you here.”

You groan, exasperated but helpless. Her face is too damn convincing, her voice too soft. Before you know it, you’re sinking down onto the couch next to her, and she’s leaning into you, her arms sliding around your waist in a loose, warm hug.

“You're too dramatic,” you mutter, but your arms move on their own, wrapping around her small frame.

She lets out a quiet sound—half sigh, half happy grunt—and burrows into your chest like she’s been waiting all day for this. “Thank you,” she whispers.

You sigh again, defeated. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t milk it.”

She just smiles against you, holding on tighter. And somehow, you don’t mind.

—

It’s one of those nights where nothing feels rushed, where time slips by in lazy waves. You’re at one of your friends' house, slouched on his shitty couch that’s seen too many parties and not enough Febreze. A game’s on in the background, the volume turned low enough that no one’s paying attention, and the room smells like pizza grease and beer. Everyone’s in that late-night haze where conversation loops into nonsense—who’d win in a fight between Superman and a shark, or the ethics of hot dog toppings.

You’ve got a cold beer in your hand, halfway through your third or fourth, when your phone buzzes on the armrest.

It’s Winter. She had sent you other messages earlier, But you didn't see them. Or you chose not to.

For a second, you just stare at her name on the screen. It’s been a week since you hooked up at that party, and yeah, you’ve texted a bit. Casual stuff. Songs, memes, “what’s your favorite color” bullshit. You’ve been trying to keep it light. She’s cool, and that’s the problem. Cool girls are trouble. They make you think too much, want too much, and you’ve got enough on your plate without adding emotions to the mix.

Still, curiosity wins. You pick up the phone and open the message.

"What r u doing?"

Simple. Innocent. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard. You could lie. Say you’re busy. But why bother?

"Chillin at a friend’s. What about you?"

Her reply comes quick.

"Thinking about you."

You blink at the screen, your brain short-circuiting for a second. The bottle in your hand feels heavier.

"Oh yeah?"

She doesn’t reply right away this time. It’s maybe two minutes of nothing, enough time for one of your friends to ask you a question about the game, for someone else to start laughing about God-knows-what. You nod along, distracted, and then your phone vibrates again.

"Yeah... You were really fun at the party. ;) I kinda wanna see you again."

Your heart does this stupid skip thing, and you tell yourself it’s just the beer. She’s probably just bored. Horny. You tell yourself to play it cool.

"Is that so?"

The next message hits different.

"Come over."

Two words. That’s it. And then, right after, the low blow: a picture.

It’s not outright explicit, but it doesn’t have to be. She’s in these tiny-ass pajamas—shorts so loose you can see the curve of her thigh, a top hanging off one shoulder like it’s about to slide off completely. Her blonde hair’s a little messy, like she’s been rolling around on her bed, and her lips are pouty, her eyes big and innocent, like she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing.

She knows. She fucking knows.

Your friends are still talking, still laughing, oblivious to the war happening inside your head. You take another sip of your beer and stare at the photo.

"What’s the catch?"

She replies with another picture. This one’s worse—or better, depending on how you look at it. The shorts have ridden up higher, and her hand’s resting on her bare thigh, just teasing enough to make you swallow hard.

The caption?

"No catch. Just... us."

You’re toast. Game over. Whatever thin line of resistance you had is gone. You drain the rest of your beer in one long gulp and stand up, grabbing your jacket.

“Where you going?” one of your friends asks, looking up from his half-dead vape pen.

“New plans,” you say, keeping it vague, keeping it casual. No one needs to know.

You text Winter on your way out the door:

"On my way."

Her reply comes immediately, a simple:

"Good. Door’s unlocked. You already know the address."

And just like that, you’re heading into the night, her photos burned into your brain and your chest pounding like you’ve already lost a game you didn’t even know you were playing.

—

The elevator hums faintly, a low mechanical noise that fills the silence as you lean against the wall, hands shoved in your jacket pockets. The building smells faintly of floor cleaner and old carpet, and the dim light overhead flickers every few seconds. You glance at the number ticking upward, trying to focus on anything but the flood of memories crowding your head.

The party. You hadn’t planned on much. Show up, grab a drink, maybe stick around long enough to prove you weren’t a total recluse. You weren’t exactly in a social mood, but your friends had dragged you along anyway, saying something about getting you out of your funk. You weren’t even there ten minutes before you saw her. Kim Minjeong.

Winter, as she likes to be called.

She’d practically lit up the room. Blonde hair catching the crappy strobe lights, this magnetic energy that somehow felt both chaotic and easygoing at the same time. You’d been nursing your beer, trying to stay inconspicuous, when she caught your eye and grinned like she already knew all your secrets. It wasn’t long before she was laughing at some half-assed joke you made, her laugh contagious, her hand brushing your arm. Flirting came naturally, her words laced with playful teasing.

And then—your place. Her legs wrapped around you, her breathy moans filling the room as your name spilled from her lips. The way she pulled you closer like she couldn’t get enough, the way her nails dug into your back when you made her come. This story was repeated at another party, then another. And now...

The elevator dings, snapping you back to reality.

You step out into the hallway, the carpet muffling your steps as you make your way to her door. Your stomach twists—anticipation, nerves, maybe a bit of both. The memory of her last message sits heavy in your chest. "Door’s unlocked."

You knock lightly anyway, out of habit, before pushing the door open.

And then she’s there.

Winter launches herself at you like a bullet, arms flinging around your neck, her body colliding with yours so fast you almost stumble back. Your hands fly to her waist instinctively, steadying her, and she clings to you like you’ve been gone for months.

“You came,” she breathes. Her face is so close to yours, her warm breath brushing your cheek, her big eyes looking up at you like you’re the answer to every unspoken question.

“Yeah, I—”

Before you can finish, she presses her lips to yours.

Her kiss is needy, urgent, like she’s been waiting all night for this moment. Her hands move to your hair, fingers tangling in it as she tilts her head to deepen the kiss. You tighten your grip on her waist, her small frame fitting against you perfectly. Her lips are soft and slightly sweet, probably from whatever she’d been drinking before you got here.

You walk her backward, barely breaking the kiss long enough to navigate, until you feel the edge of the couch hit your legs. You sit down, pulling her with you so she lands on your lap, her thighs straddling yours.

“Miss me?” she teases, her lips brushing against yours as she speaks.

“Not sure,” you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm, though your hands are already sliding down her sides. “Depends on how much trouble you’re planning to cause tonight.”

Her grin is wicked, her eyes sparkling as she cups your jaw. “A lot. Is that gonna be a problem?”

“Probably,” you murmur, leaning up to kiss her again.

She hums against your mouth, her fingers tracing along your jawline. “Good,” she whispers. “I like being your problem.”

You laugh, pulling back just enough to look at her. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Mm, you love it.”

You don’t respond, but the way your hands grip her hips says enough.

Her lips barely leave yours as she speaks, her words soft and breathy between kisses. “Why didn’t you answer my calls earlier?”

The question lands like a curveball, and for a second, you freeze. Her hands are still in your hair, her hips firmly planted on your lap, but she’s pulled back just enough to study your face. Her eyes are sharp, curious, and maybe a little accusing.

“I was busy,” you reply, trying to sound casual as your hands settle on her waist.

Winter narrows her eyes, her head tilting slightly like she’s not buying it. “Too busy to pick up the phone? Really?”

You sigh, leaning back into the couch, though your hands don’t leave her hips. “I answered your texts, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, after I sent about ten,” she counters, her lips twitching like she’s trying not to smile.

You smirk, raising an eyebrow. “More importantly, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

She seems to consider that for a moment, her fingers idly playing with the hair at the nape of your neck. “Okay, fine. You get a pass... this time.”

“Oh, thank you, Your Highness,” you tease, earning a playful swat on your shoulder.

Her grin softens, and then she tilts her head, giving you a look that’s somehow both sweet and devious. “So... you don’t secretly have a girlfriend or anything, right?”

The laugh escapes you before you can stop it, loud and genuine. “What? No. Where’d that even come from?”

Winter shrugs, but there’s a sly glint in her eye. “I don’t know... You’re kinda hot. Feels like you’d be someone’s boyfriend already.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Trust me, I’m not. You’re not sharing me with anyone.”

“Good,” she says, her tone a little too triumphant. She leans down again, her lips brushing yours. “Because I don’t like sharing.”

You chuckle against her mouth, your fingers giving her hips a light squeeze. “Noted.”

There’s a brief lull, the kind where the weight of the moment lingers, and then she pulls back slightly, her eyes locking on yours. “Hey,” she starts, her tone shifting to something softer. “Wanna get coffee tomorrow?”

You blink, thrown off by the sudden suggestion. “Coffee?”

“Yeah,” she says, sitting up a little straighter on your lap. “Like, a casual thing. No big deal.”

You hesitate, your mind running in circles. Coffee. That’s... date territory, isn’t it? Things between you two already feel fast, tangled, intense. The memory of her in your bed is still fresh, and now she’s talking about coffee like it’s nothing.

“Don’t you think we’re moving kinda fast?” you ask, your voice careful.

She tilts her head, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she smirks, her tone light and teasing. “It’s coffee, not a wedding. What’s the big deal?”

You exhale, shaking your head with a small laugh. “You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“Pretty much,” she replies, her grin widening. “So, is that a yes?”

You stare at her for a moment, her face close to yours, her weight warm and solid on your lap. Something about her makes it impossible to say no.

“Fine,” you mutter, smirking. “But you’re buying.”

She laughs, leaning in to kiss you again. “Deal.”

Winter shifts on your lap, her legs straddling you more comfortably as she leans in close, her arms loosely draped around your shoulders. Her expression is playful, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in her eyes.

“So,” she starts, her voice soft and sweet, “tell me something about you. Something real. Like... what do you do for work?”

You smirk, leaning back into the couch. “What, now you’re interviewing me?”

“Yep,” she says with a grin. “Can’t just make out with a stranger all the time. Gotta know who I’m dealing with.”

You let out a breath. “Alright. Well, I just left college not too long ago. Now I’m working this boring office job—data entry and spreadsheets. Real thrilling stuff.”

Winter tilts her head, her blonde hair falling over one shoulder. “Office job, huh? So you’re, like, a suit-and-tie kind of guy now?”

“More like khakis and button-downs. Nothing fancy.”

“Hmm,” she muses. “Doesn’t really suit you.”

You chuckle. “Yeah, well, it pays the bills. What about you? What do you do?”

Winter’s smile widens, and she shrugs a little too casually. “I’m a stylist. Hair, makeup, fashion—the whole package.”

“Wait, really?” you ask, your eyebrows shooting up.

“Why’s that so surprising?” she teases, leaning in closer, her face inches from yours.

“I don’t know. I just didn’t peg you for that. But I guess it makes sense. You’ve got the vibe.”

“Thanks,” she says, clearly pleased with the compliment. Then, out of nowhere, she drops the bombshell: “Oh, and I already knew you before that party.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” she says. “We went to the same college.”

“Are you serious?” You sit up straighter, your hands tightening slightly on her hips.

Winter nods, biting her lip like she’s trying not to laugh at your shock. “Yep. Saw you around campus all the time.”

“Why didn’t you ever talk to me?”

Her cheeks flush slightly, her confidence faltering just a bit. “I was shy back then. Plus, you were always surrounded by other girls.”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “I wasn’t surrounded by girls.”

“You were,” she insists, grinning. “And I thought you were cute, so I didn’t want to deal with the competition.”

You lean in slightly, your voice dropping. “Well, I thought you were beautiful at the party, you know. Everything about you—your clothes, your hair, your smile. You kind of lit up the whole place.”

Winter’s smile softens, and she looks at you like you just handed her the world. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” you reply firmly. “It’s the truth.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breaths mingling.

“Do you think about me after we had sex? I mean, whe I leave?” she asks, her voice quieter now.

You pause, the question hanging heavily between you. Instead of answering, you turn it back on her. “Do you think about me?”

Her response is immediate. “Of course I do.”

You blink, a little taken aback by her honesty.

“I kept thinking about our kiss,” she continues, her hands sliding down to rest on your chest. “About your hands on me. The way you were so... affectionate and strong at the same time. And how mysterious you are. Like, you give just enough to make me want more.”

Her words wash over you, leaving you almost speechless. You swallow hard, her gaze locking onto yours, and before you can stop yourself, the truth spills out.

“I thought about you too,” you admit. “Just a little. The way you moaned in my ear, soft and slow. The way you pulled me closer, like you couldn’t get enough. And...” You trail off, your hands sliding down to cup her ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “I couldn’t stop thinking about this tight little ass of yours.”

Winter lets out a small gasp, her cheeks flushing red, but the sly grin creeping across her face tells you she likes it.

“Is that so?” she teases, her voice trembling slightly as she rocks her hips against your hands.

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss her again. “It’s burned into my brain.”

Her laugh is breathy and soft against your lips as she kisses you back, her arms wrapping tighter around your neck. “Good. That’s exactly what I wanted.”

Winter’s hips shift subtly in your lap, her thighs squeezing against yours like she’s testing how far she can push you. Her breath is warm against your neck, her lips brushing the shell of your ear as she whispers, “Show me how much Daddy missed me.”

Your grip on her tightens instinctively, your hands digging into the curve of her ass. Something about the way she says it, soft but deliberate, ignites a spark in your chest and sends it straight to your groin.

“You’re gonna regret saying that,” you murmur.

She doesn’t respond with words, just tilts her head, offering her neck like a challenge. You lean in, your teeth grazing her skin, and she lets out a quiet gasp, her fingers tangling in your hair to pull you closer.

Your touch grows firmer, your hands roaming her body like you’re staking a claim. Winter notices—of course, she does—and the sly smile spreading across her lips only feeds the fire.

“Take this off,” you mutter, your fingers toying with the hem of her top.

Winter doesn’t hesitate, raising her arms obediently, her gaze fixed on yours. The top slides up and over her head, revealing her bare chest underneath. No bra, just smooth, pale skin and her small, almost flat breasts. Her nipples are soft, pink against the lighter tone of her skin, and for a moment, all you can do is take her in.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your voice thick with something between awe and desire.

Winter blushes slightly but doesn’t look away, her confidence unwavering as she leans closer, her hands resting on your shoulders. “Well?” she teases, her voice softer now. “Aren’t you gonna touch me?”

You don’t need to be told twice. Your lips find her chest, warm and delicate against your mouth. You kiss along the curve of her small breasts, your hands sliding up her sides until your thumbs brush against the soft skin beneath her nipples. Winter sighs, her head tilting back slightly, her fingers tightening on your shoulders.

You take your time, your lips closing around one nipple, kissing it before flicking your tongue over the sensitive peak. Her skin tastes clean, warm, slightly sweet, and you can feel her chest rise and fall against your mouth as her breathing quickens.

“Oh,” she murmurs, her voice soft but needy. “That feels so good.”

Your hand moves to her other breast, your fingers gently teasing the nipple as you kiss and suck on the first. Winter shifts in your lap, her thighs pressing tighter against yours as she arches into your touch.

“God, I missed this,” you mutter against her skin, your lips dragging across her chest to give her other nipple the same attention.

Winter lets out a soft, breathy laugh, her fingers slipping into your hair. “You're making it hard to believe that you were thinking about me just a little bit.”

You look up at her, your lips brushing her skin as you smirk. “Maybe I've been thinking about you too much.”

Your mouth trails upward, leaving her chest for her soft, exposed neck. Winter tilts her head to the side, offering it to you like it’s the easiest decision she’s ever made. You kiss along her skin, slow at first, testing, and then your lips part, and you suck gently.

Her breath catches. “Oh, fuck,” she whispers.

You grin against her neck, dragging your tongue along the spot where you know her pulse is fluttering wildly. “I’m gonna leave marks,” you murmur, your voice low and rough. “So you don’t forget me.”

Winter’s fingers slip from your hair to your shoulders, her nails digging into your shirt-covered skin. “Do it,” she pleads, her voice breathy and desperate. “Please, daddy, mark me.”

Something about the way she says it sends a shiver down your spine. You latch onto her neck, sucking harder this time, your teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her gasp. She writhes in your lap, her hips shifting against yours as soft moans spill from her lips.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” she murmurs, her voice trembling with pleasure.

You move to a new spot, just below her jawline, and suck again, harder this time. Winter whimpers, her hands slipping under your shirt. Her touch is cool and electric against your bare skin, her little nails dragging lightly at first and then scratching down your back.

“Shit,” you hiss, the sting from her nails mixing with the heat of her body against yours.

She smirks, her confidence peeking through as she lifts your shirt higher, exposing more of your skin. “If you’re gonna mark me,” she says, her voice soft but teasing, “I’m marking you too.”

Her nails dig in harder this time, her hands roaming your back and sides with purpose. You feel the faint burn of each scratch, and it only makes you want her more.

You pull back just enough to look at her, her flushed cheeks, her lips slightly parted, her neck now adorned with faint red marks from your mouth. “You’re trouble,” you mutter, your hands sliding back to her hips, pulling her tighter against you.

Winter grins, biting her lip as she looks down at you. “Your trouble,” she says, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

“Maybe,” you admit, leaning in to suck on another spot just below her ear. Her moan this time is louder, her nails dragging down your chest in response.

Your hand slides down Winter’s side, sneaking under the hem of her loose shorts. The moment your fingers brush against her panties, you freeze.

“Shit,” you mutter, pulling back slightly to look at her. “You’re soaking wet already?”

Winter’s cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look embarrassed—if anything, she looks proud, biting her lip as she gazes down at you. “Just from your kisses,” she whispers, her voice soft and teasing.

You raise an eyebrow, your fingers dipping further, sliding over the slick heat of her pussy through the thin fabric of her panties. “You’re telling me this is all because of me?”

She lets out a soft gasp, her hips shifting against your hand. “It’s because I’ve been thinking about you. All night. You don’t know what you do to me.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, your thumb brushing against her clit through the damp fabric. Her reaction is instant—a sharp intake of breath, her nails digging into your shoulders as she presses closer.

You lean in, biting her lower lip just enough to make her whimper. The faint taste of her cherry lip gloss lingers on your tongue, sweet and sticky, and you pull back with a smirk. “You’ve been thinking about me, huh? Let’s see just how much.”

Grabbing her waist, you lift her slightly, laying her back on the couch. Winter looks up at you with wide, eager eyes, her breathing quick as your hands slide to her shorts.

“Let’s get these off,” you say, your voice rough.

She lifts her hips obediently, letting you pull the shorts down her legs. The thin fabric catches for a moment on her thighs before slipping away completely, leaving her in nothing but a tiny pair of panties, already darkened with wetness.

“Goddamn,” you murmur, tossing the shorts aside. “I missed this. Missed the way you taste.”

Winter squirms under your gaze, her lips parting as she whispers, “Then come and get me.”

You take off your jacket and throw it on the floor before you push her legs apart, pale and soft under your hands, guiding her closer to the edge of the couch. You remove her panties in one smooth motion. The sight of her drives you insane—her pink folds glistening, practically begging for your tongue. You kneel between her legs, hands sliding up her thighs, your thumbs brushing just close enough to tease.

“Patience,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss the inside of her thigh. Her skin is warm under your lips, the faint scent of her arousal filling your senses as you trail kisses along her thigh, inching closer to where she needs you most.

Winter moans softly, her fingers tangling in your hair. “Don’t tease me,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

You smirk, your lips brushing against her skin. “But you like it, don’t you? Makes it even better when I finally give you what you want.”

She whimpers, her hips shifting toward your mouth. “Please, daddy,” she breathes. “I need you.”

You grin against her skin, dragging your tongue up the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, savoring every shiver and gasp. “You’ll get me,” you murmur, your voice low. “But I’m gonna take my time first.”

Your fingers glide lower, grazing her entrance, and the slick heat against your skin makes your cock throb. “You’re dripping, Winter,” you murmur, teasing her as your fingers just barely slip inside before pulling back.

She arches her back slightly, her hips chasing your hand, desperate for more. “Please,” she whispers, her voice soft and breathy.

“Please what?” you ask, your tone laced with mock innocence. You drag your fingers through her wetness, just enough to make her gasp, but you don’t give her what she wants.

Winter whines, her nails digging into the couch as her thighs twitch against your shoulders. “Please... suck me. I need it,” she begs, her voice trembling.

“Need it?” You smirk, your fingers circling her clit lightly, watching the way her body reacts to every touch. “I don’t think you’ve begged enough.”

Her head falls back against the couch, and she lets out a frustrated moan. “Daddy, please,” she pleads, her voice breaking. “I’ll be good. Just—please. I need your mouth on me.”

“Better,” you murmur, leaning in until your lips are just a breath away from her. You can feel the heat radiating off her pussy, the scent of her arousal making your head spin. “But I want to hear you beg like you really mean it.”

Her hips buck again, and she whimpers, her voice desperate now. “Please, daddy, please suck me. I need your tongue. I need to feel you. I’ll do anything, just—fuck, please!”

That’s all it takes to break you.

“Good girl,” you mutter before diving in.

Your tongue runs flat against her slit, slow and deliberate, savoring the way she shudders under you. The taste of her—sweet, salty, perfect—hits your tongue, and it’s almost overwhelming. You groan against her, your hands gripping her thighs to keep her open as you suck gently on her swollen clit.

“Oh my God,” Winter gasps, her back arching off the couch. “Fuck, yes—just like that.”

You don’t stop, your tongue swirling around her clit before dipping lower to tease her entrance. She’s so wet, the slickness coating your lips and chin as you lap at her like you can’t get enough. Her moans grow louder, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you closer.

“Fuck, daddy,” she moans, her hips grinding against your mouth. “You’re so good at this—oh, fuck—don’t stop.”

You hum against her, the vibration making her cry out. Your tongue plunges into her, tasting her from the inside, while your thumb comes up to rub slow circles on her clit.

“Shit, you taste so good,” you mutter, your voice muffled against her. “I could do this all fucking night.”

Her breath catches, and her moans turn into desperate little whimpers. “Oh, fuck—I’m so close, please, don’t stop, please—”

Her begging drives you wild, your tongue glides along Winter’s folds, teasing her clit as you feel her squirm beneath your touch. But as much as her gasps and whimpers fuel your hunger, you decide to take it further. Your fingers slip down between her legs, sliding easily over her soaked pussy.

“Fuck,” you murmur, glancing up at her flushed face. “You’re so wet, Winter. You always get this messy just thinking about me?”

She nods weakly, her lips parting to answer, but all that comes out is a shaky moan as you press one finger inside her. The heat and tightness make your cock ache, and when you add a second finger, you’re rewarded with a sharp cry that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You remember last time?” you ask, curling your fingers inside her, finding that spot that made her melt before. “That sweet cream you gave me? I want it again.”

Winter’s head falls back against the couch, her hips bucking into your hand as your fingers pump into her. “Oh my God,” she moans, her voice high and needy. “Daddy, I—fuck—I’ll give it to you, just don’t stop!”

“Good girl,” you growl, your pace quickening. Your fingers thrust into her slick pussy, the sound obscene, wet, and fucking addictive. You can feel her walls tightening around you, and as you pull your fingers out slightly, you watch as a thin, creamy slickness clings to them.

“There it is,” you say, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “That’s what I wanted.”

Winter’s face is a mess of pleasure, her moans coming louder and more desperate as you keep going. “Oh, fuck, daddy, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” you cut her off, leaning in to suck on her clit while your fingers keep working her. “You’re gonna cum for me, Winter. I want all of it.”

She cries out, her nails digging into the couch as her thighs tremble around your head. “I’m close—fuck, I’m so close!”

You redouble your efforts, your tongue swirling over her swollen clit while your fingers curl and thrust, hitting that spot inside her with relentless precision. Her moans turn into frantic gasps, her body tensing as the pressure builds.

“Come on, baby,” you murmur against her, your breath hot on her sensitive skin. “Give it to me. I want to taste all of you.”

Her body arches off the couch as she lets out a broken scream, her pussy clenching hard around your fingers as she cums. You keep going, licking and sucking at her clit, swallowing every drop of her as her juices coat your tongue. Your fingers slow but don’t stop, drawing out her orgasm until she’s shaking and gasping for breath.

Finally, you pull back, your lips and chin glistening with her arousal. Winter looks at you through half-lidded eyes, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to catch her breath.

“Fuck,” she whispers, her voice hoarse and trembling. “You’re so fucking good at that.”

You grin, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you meet her gaze. “Told you I missed your taste.”

Her laugh is soft and breathy, and she reaches out to pull you closer.

“And I missed you,” she murmurs. “Every fucking inch of you.”

You lean up, your lips crashing against Winter’s in a desperate, heated kiss. She doesn’t hesitate, kissing you back with just as much intensity, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you closer. Her taste lingers on your tongue, sweet and salty, and when her lips part to deepen the kiss, you can feel her shiver against you.

Between kisses, her breathless voice cuts through. “I need you,” she whispers, her tone thick with want. “I need your cock, daddy.”

Her words are gasoline on the fire already burning in you. You tug your shirt off over your head, tossing it aside. Your hands drop to your belt, unbuckling it with quick, impatient movements. Winter watches you, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling as she stares at the bulge straining against your underwear. The sound of your zipper fills the room as you shove your pants down, kicking off your shoes and stepping out of everything, leaving only your boxers.

Your cock is rock-hard, the fabric damp where precum has seeped through. Winter’s hand reaches out, slender fingers grazing the outline of you through the thin material.

“Fuck,” Winter whispers. She slides her hand inside your waistband, freeing you in one swift motion.

The moment your cock is out, her small hand wraps around it, stroking you slowly at first, her touch firm but teasing. Her thumb glides over the head, spreading the wetness there as her lips crash against yours again.

“You’re so fucking hard,” she murmurs against your mouth, her strokes growing bolder.

“For you,” you growl, biting at her lower lip as your hips thrust lightly into her hand.

Her grip tightens just enough to make you groan, but you pull back, grabbing her wrists to stop her before this ends too soon.

“Turn around,” you command.

Winter obeys instantly, her movements eager as she twists to lie on her belly on the couch. You guide her legs up, positioning her so her knees rest on the arm of the couch, her ass raised in the air and her thighs trembling.

The sight of her like this—completely vulnerable, her pale skin flushed, her pussy glistening and ready—makes your breath hitch. You step behind her, standing on the floor, your cock twitching as you grip her hips, lining yourself up.

“Beg for it,” you demand.

Winter lets out a soft whine, her head turning to glance back at you. “Please, daddy,” she starts, her voice shaking. “Please fuck me. I need you so bad. I need your cock inside me.”

“That’s not good enough,” you growl, gripping her ass and squeezing hard.

Her voice grows louder, more desperate. “Please, daddy, I’ll be so good for you. I’ll take all of you. Just—fuck, please! I need you to fill me up. Don’t make me wait anymore.”

You smirk, the raw need in her voice sending a shiver down your spine. “That’s better,” you mutter, your hands sliding up her thighs as you position yourself.

“You’re gonna feel every inch of me, baby,” you promise, your voice dark and full of intent. “And you’re gonna love it.”

You don’t bother teasing. Gripping Winter’s soft hips firmly, you position yourself at her entrance, the slick heat of her pussy already pulling you in. And then you push forward, slamming into her in one smooth, powerful thrust.

Her gasp is sharp, a mix of surprise and raw pleasure. “Oh, fuck!” she cries, her body jerking forward on the couch.

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, pausing just for a second as her pussy clenches tight around you. “You’re fucking tight, Winter. So goddamn tight.”

She moans in response, her head turning slightly to glance back at you. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted, and her eyes are already hazy with need. “Don’t stop,” she begs, her voice breathy. “Fuck me harder. I need it.”

“Careful what you wish for,” you growl, pulling back and slamming into her again. Her cry of pleasure spurs you on, and soon you’re setting a brutal pace, your hips slamming against her ass with every thrust.

Her pussy grips you like a vice, impossibly tight and hot, and each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through you. You grab a handful of her ass, squeezing the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks as you drive into her over and over.

“Shit,” you groan, your voice rough as your hips snap forward. “You take it so fucking good. This tight little pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Winter moans, her voice high and needy. “Yes, yes—don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Her hands claw at the cushions, her body rocking with every thrust. You lean over her slightly, one hand gripping her hip while the other slides up her back, pressing her down into the couch. The new angle has her crying out, her pussy clenching even tighter around you.

“Fuck, Winter,” you mutter, your breath ragged. “You’re so goddamn wet. So tight. Feels like you’re trying to milk my cock.”

Her moans grow louder, more frantic, each one making your cock throb inside her. “More,” she whimpers, her voice breaking. “I need more. Please, fuck me harder. Use me.”

You oblige without hesitation, your grip on her hips tightening as you pound into her mercilessly. The sound of your hips slapping against her ass fills the room, mixing with her desperate moans and your own rough grunts.

“You love this, don’t you?” you growl. “Getting fucked like this, bent over and taking it. You’re such a good little slut for me.”

Her response is immediate, a loud, breathless moan as her back arches. “Yes! I love it—I fucking love it!”

Your thrusts don’t falter, hips slamming into Winter’s ass with relentless force, the wet, filthy sounds of her tight pussy taking you driving you insane. Her body shakes with every thrust, her moans coming louder and louder, each one dripping with desperate need.

And then you glance down at her ass—small, pale, and bouncing every time you slam into her. The sight sends a wicked idea flashing through your mind, and without thinking twice, you bring your hand down hard against her cheek.

The smack echoes in the room, and Winter cries out, the sound somewhere between a moan and a gasp of shock. “Fuck!” she whimpers, her head snapping up as her back arches.

You grin, your hand tingling from the impact. “You like that?” you growl, squeezing the soft, warm flesh you just marked.

“Yes,” she moans, her voice high and breathless. “Do it again.”

Your hand comes down again, harder this time, the sound sharper, and Winter’s reaction is immediate. She moans loudly, pushing her ass back toward you like the filthy little slut she is. “More,” she begs, her voice trembling. “Please, spank your good girl’s ass. I need it.”

“Yeah?” you say, your tone low and mocking as your hand rubs over the red print blooming on her cheek. “You need me to mark this pretty little ass of yours?”

“Yes,” she gasps, writhing beneath you. “Mark me. Use me. I’ll take whatever you give me.”

The words flip a switch in you, and your hand comes down again, and again, each slap leaving a red handprint against her pale skin. Winter cries out every time, her moans turning to shameless, wanton whimpers as she pushes back into your hand, her pussy clenching tighter around your cock.

“Look at you,” you taunt, your voice thick with satisfaction. “Bent over and begging to get your ass spanked like a little whore.”

“Because I am,” she whimpers, her voice trembling. “I’m your little whore. Please, don’t stop. Spank me. Fuck me.”

Your hand comes down one more time, the slap ringing out, and Winter practically screams, her hips jerking forward before slamming back against you. Her ass is warm under your palm, the flesh reddened and glowing, and you can’t help but grab it, squeezing hard as you bury yourself inside her again.

“God, you’re such a slut,” you growl, your grip on her hips almost bruising. “Taking my cock so fucking well. You love being dominated, don’t you? Being used?”

“Yes,” she cries, her voice breaking as she gasps for air. “I fucking love it. I love the way you use me.”

Her pussy grips you like a vice, her walls fluttering around you as you pound into her, each thrust sending shockwaves through both of you. But neither of you is there yet—this is just the beginning, and you’re nowhere near done with her.

Your thrusts are relentless, Winter’s high-pitched screams filling the room, each one tearing through you like fuel on a fire. Her once-pale ass is now completely red, the heat radiating from her skin as you give her one last hard slap. The sound echoes, and she cries out, her body trembling beneath you.

“Get up,” you order.

Winter doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even question you. She pushes herself up from the couch, her legs shaky as she stands, looking over her shoulder at you with wide, obedient eyes. Her chest rises and falls, her flushed body trembling slightly as she waits for your next move.

You don’t give her time to think. Grabbing her by the waist, you lift her with ease, her small frame light in your hands. Her arms instinctively wrap around your neck, and her legs lock around your waist, pulling herself closer to you.

“Good girl,” you murmur, your cock brushing against her slick entrance as you position her. “So fucking obedient. You make me so goddamn hard.”

Her breath hitches, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “Anything for you, daddy. Use me however you want.”

“Fuck, Winter,” you growl, the words making your cock twitch.

You push into her slowly, her wetness making it easy, but her tightness still squeezes you. Both of you moan at the same time, the sound mingling in the air as you bury yourself inside her.

Her voice is soft, trembling. “Oh my God... you’re so deep, daddy.”

“That’s because you’re made for me,” you reply, your voice low and rough as your hands grip her thighs. “Every inch of this tight little pussy is mine.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, her nails digging into your shoulders as you start to move. You lift her up, her body sliding along your cock, slow at first, letting her feel every inch as you fill her completely.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this,” she murmurs, her lips brushing your neck as she moans softly in your ear. “I love being your fucktoy.”

You groan, your grip on her tightening as you pick up the pace, moving her up and down on your cock like she’s nothing more than a doll in your hands. Her moans grow louder, each one hitting your ear and making your cock throb inside her.

“Yeah, that’s it,” you mutter, your voice thick with lust. “Moan for me. Let me hear how much you love being fucked like this.”

“I love it,” she whimpers, her hips moving in time with yours, her voice high and needy. “I love the way you use me. You make me feel so good—so full.”

“You’re my good girl,” you growl, biting at her neck as you fuck her harder. “And it’s my fucking job to ruin you.”

Her cry is almost a scream, her nails dragging down your back as she clings to you. “Yes,” she moans, her voice breaking. “Ruin me, daddy. Fuck me however you want. I’m yours.”

Your grip tightens on Winter’s thighs as you start pounding into her harder, your movements raw and unforgiving. Her gasps turn into high-pitched moans, her breath hitching with every thrust as her body clings to yours.

“This what you wanted so bad?” you growl, your voice rough against her ear. “You called me over just to get fucked like this?”

“Yes,” she cries out. “Yes, this is what I wanted. I needed your cock—I needed you to fuck me. Make me cum, please!”

“Fuck, you’re so naughty,” you growl, biting her neck lightly as your hips snap forward, driving her down onto your cock with brutal force. “A little slut, calling me in the middle of the night just to get used like this.”

“Yes!” she moans, her voice breaking, her hips grinding against you. “I’m your little slut—I love it! I love being your whore!”

Her words fuel something dark and primal in you, and you slam her down harder, her body bouncing against yours like a rag doll. “Yeah?” you snarl, your tone dripping with dominance. “Then be a good slut and cum on my cock. Right fucking now.”

Winter’s cries rise into screams as you adopt a brutal rhythm, your hands gripping her ass and thighs tightly, throwing her body onto your cock like she’s nothing more than your personal toy. Her moans are loud, desperate, raw, and you can feel her body trembling, teetering on the edge.

“Cum,” you command, your voice firm and unrelenting. “Cum for me, Winter. Now.”

Her body stiffens, her head snapping back as she lets out a long, broken scream. Her pussy clenches hard around your cock, her thighs quaking as waves of pleasure crash through her.

“Fuck!” she cries, her hands gripping you tighter, her nails digging into your back. Her entire body convulses, her moans turning into incoherent whimpers as her orgasm consumes her.

You lean in, attacking her neck with kisses and light bites, your breath hot against her skin. Her eyes roll back, her lips parted in silent screams, and you hold her tightly, keeping her steady as her body jerks uncontrollably in your arms.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” you murmur against her skin, your tone softer now. “My good girl. You did so good for me.”

Winter’s breathing is ragged, her body limp in your arms as she comes down from the high. You shift your grip, holding her gently, your lips brushing along her jawline and cheeks, peppering her with soft kisses.

“You’re amazing,” you whisper, your hands smoothing over her back. “You deserved every second of that.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, her face burying in your neck as she clings to you. “You’re gonna kill me,” she murmurs, her voice hoarse but full of satisfaction.

“Not yet,” you reply with a smirk, kissing the top of her head. “I’m not done with you.”

Slowly, you lower her to the ground, setting her on her knees in front of you. She goes willingly, her legs trembling but obedient, her wide eyes looking up at you as she licks her lips.

Winter smiles, her voice soft and teasing. “Ready for more, sir?”

You look down at Winter, kneeling in front of you like the perfect little slut she loves to be. Her blonde hair is messy, her cheeks flushed, and her lips slightly parted, still red from all the biting and kissing. She looks wrecked, and it’s fucking beautiful.

“Yes,” you say, your voice low and full of hunger. “I’m ready for more. But the question is—are you?”

She nods eagerly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as her eyes flicker down to your cock. It’s still rock hard, slick with her arousal, twitching slightly as you step closer.

You grab the base, stroking it slowly as you guide it to her face. The swollen tip brushes against her soft cheek, and her breath hitches, her hands coming up to rest on your thighs for balance. You drag your cock across her flushed skin, over her delicate jawline, and finally against her lips.

“You see this?” you murmur, smirking as you tap the head of your cock against her mouth. “This is what you do to me, Winter. You’ve got me so fucking hard, and now I’m thinking about marking this pretty little face of yours.”

Her eyes flutter shut for a moment, a quiet whimper escaping her lips as she presses a soft kiss to the head of your cock. “Do it,” she whispers, her voice trembling with need. “Please, cum on my face. I want it. I want you to mark me.”

Her words send a jolt straight to your core, but you’re not letting her off that easy. You grip her chin gently, tilting her face up to meet your gaze. “If you want it so bad,” you murmur, your thumb brushing over her lower lip, “you’re gonna have to earn it. Make me cum, Winter. Show me how much you want it.”

She doesn’t waste a second. Her hands wrap around your shaft, small and delicate against your thick cock, and she leans in, her tongue flicking out to tease the head. You let out a low groan, watching as she works, her eyes locked on yours the entire time.

“Good girl,” you mutter, your hand resting on the back of her head. “Show me what that pretty little mouth can do.”

Winter’s lips part, and she takes you in, her tongue swirling around the tip before sliding down your length. Her mouth is warm and wet, and the suction she creates has your knees threatening to buckle. She starts slow, her movements deliberate as she takes more of you, her hands stroking what her mouth can’t reach.

“Fuck, that’s it,” you groan, your fingers tangling in her hair. “You look so fucking good like this, Winter. Taking me so well.”

She moans around you, the vibration making you curse under your breath. Her head bobs, her pace quickening as she gets more confident, more eager. Spit drips down her chin, her hands twisting at the base of your cock, and her soft little whimpers drive you closer to the edge.

“Shit, baby,” you mutter, your voice rough. “You’re so fucking good at this. Keep going—just like that.”

Her response is to take you even deeper, her throat constricting around you as she gags slightly, but she doesn’t stop. Her nails dig into your thighs, her moans growing louder, and you can feel yourself getting dangerously close.

“Fuck, Winter,” you groan, your grip on her hair tightening. “You’re gonna make me cum all over that pretty face of yours. Is that what you want? To be covered in me?”

She pulls back just enough to speak, her lips slick and swollen. “Yes,” she gasps, stroking you with both hands. “I want it so bad. Please, cum for me, daddy. Mark me. I’ll take all of it.”

Her words are your undoing, and you feel the tension coiling tight in your core as she wraps her lips around you again, sucking you with even more determination.

Winter’s lips work over your cock like she was born to do it, her soft, pink mouth gliding along your length while her tongue swirls and flicks against the sensitive underside. Every movement sends jolts of pleasure coursing through you, making it harder to keep your composure.

Her eyes glance up, locking onto yours, and fuck—it’s like she knows exactly what that look does to you. Wide, innocent, framed by her messy blonde hair, and full of something sinful. The combination of her gaze and the wet, obscene sound of her sucking you is almost too much.

“Goddamn, Winter,” you groan, your head falling back for a moment as you let yourself get lost in it. “You’re so fucking good at this. Just like that. Don’t stop.”

She doesn’t. She doubles down, taking you deeper, her lips stretching around your cock as her tongue continues to tease. You can feel her saliva dripping down, making a slick mess of her chin, but she doesn’t seem to care. If anything, she moans softly, the vibrations shooting straight through you.

“Fuck,” you hiss, your fingers tightening in her hair. You glance down, and the sight of her small hands now cupping and massaging your balls makes your knees nearly give out. “Shit, baby, that’s... that’s so fucking good.”

Winter’s only response is another moan, muffled around your cock. She speeds up, her hands stroking what her mouth can’t reach, her tongue flicking over your tip with each pass. You can feel the pressure building in your gut, that telltale tightness letting you know you’re close.

“Fuck, Winter, stop,” you growl, pulling her off your cock with a wet pop. You’re panting, your cock twitching in your hand as you take a step back.

She looks up at you, her lips swollen and slick with spit, her chest heaving. “Why’d you stop me?” she asks, her voice sweet and breathless.

“Because,” you say, gripping your cock and stroking it slowly, trying to hold back. “I’m gonna make a fucking mess of your face, and I need you to beg for it.”

Her eyes light up, and she leans forward slightly, her hands resting on her thighs. “Please,” she says, her voice soft and needy. “I want it. I want you to cum on me, daddy. I need it. Please, baby, please.”

“Shit,” you groan, the sound of her sweet little pleas making it impossible to hold back.

You stroke yourself faster, the slickness of her spit making it easy as you aim at her gorgeous face. Winter watches you, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, her expression full of anticipation.

“Fuck,” you growl, the tension snapping as you feel yourself tip over the edge. “Here it comes, baby. Take it all.”

The first hot spurt of cum hits her cheek, followed by another and another, painting her face in thick, messy streaks. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move—she just sits there, taking every drop like the good little slut she loves to be.

“Fuck, Winter,” you mutter, your strokes slowing as the last few ropes of cum land on her lips and chin.

Her lips curl into this filthy little smile, and she doesn’t waste a second. Her fingers are already working, sliding through the mess, gathering your cum like it’s something precious, smearing it across her cheeks, her forehead, even brushing it down to her neck. She spreads it out deliberately, almost artfully, until her face glistens with it, sticky and marked like she wants everyone to know exactly what she’s done. Exactly who she belongs to.

Her tongue flicks out, tasting the corner of her lips, humming softly as if savoring the flavor. She's in no rush to get clean, it's like Winter feels like she doesn't need to—she just leans into the mess, into the filth, wearing it like a badge of honor.

"You taste so fucking good, daddy,” she murmurs, her voice low and thick with satisfaction. Her eyes stay locked on yours as she drags her fingers to her lips, sucking one clean with a soft, wet pop. She grins wider, teeth flashing. "I could eat this off me all night.”

You smirk, brushing a thumb across her cheek to gather some of the cum she missed. “Clean me up,” you say, stepping closer and holding your cock in front of her mouth.

Winter leans in without hesitation, her tongue flicking out to lick along your length, cleaning every inch of you with slow, deliberate strokes. She takes you into her mouth one last time, sucking gently, her eyes fluttering shut as if savoring the moment.

“Good girl,” you murmur, stroking her hair as she finishes. “You’re fucking perfect.”

—

The TV hums softly in the background, some late-night infomercial filling the quiet, but you’re not watching it. Your eyes are on Winter, her head resting on your lap as she sleeps. Her soft blonde hair falls over her face, her lips slightly parted, her breathing slow and steady. She looks so peaceful like this, curled up on the couch under your hand.

You stroke her hair absentmindedly, your mind drifting. It’s not the first time you’ve been like this with her, and that’s what’s messing you up. You think back to that night at her apartment—the way she kissed you like she’d been waiting her whole life for it, the way she moaned your name, the way she asked you to mark her, the way she fell asleep in your arms afterward.

And then, the morning after. That was unusual for you. Normally, you’d wake up, maybe share some awkward small talk, and then you’d be gone. No texts, no calls, just a memory and a closed chapter. But with Winter...

You remember how she clung to you that morning, burying her face in your chest, refusing to let you go. How you didn’t mind staying in bed with her, your arms wrapped around her, her warmth sinking into you. It was so... different.

Now here you are again. Winter on your lap, completely comfortable with you being here. And you, sitting here like an idiot, unable to tear yourself away. If only she wasn’t so cute, so sweet, so... fucking irresistible.

You sigh quietly and glance at the clock. It’s late, and you know you shouldn’t stay. Carefully, you slide your hand out from under her head and shift her onto the couch, laying her down gently. She murmurs something in her sleep but doesn’t wake up. You grab a blanket from the armrest and drape it over her, tucking it around her small frame.

You pause for a moment, just looking at her. God, she’s beautiful. Too beautiful.

Shaking your head, you grab your jacket and head for the door. You’ve got your hand on the doorknob when you hear a soft, groggy voice behind you.

“Where are you going?”

You freeze, turning to see Winter sitting up on the couch, her eyes heavy with sleep but full of confusion. She looks at you like a child caught waking up to an empty room, her expression tugging at something deep inside you.

“I was just leaving,” you say quietly. “You were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you.”

She gets up slowly, the blanket falling off her shoulders as she shuffles over to you. Her arms wrap around your waist, her cheek pressing against your chest. “Stay,” she murmurs, her voice soft but firm.

You hesitate, your hands hovering awkwardly at your sides. “Winter...”

“Why do you always run away?” she asks, her voice muffled against your shirt.

“I’m not running away,” you say, though it sounds weak even to your own ears.

She pulls back slightly, looking up at you with those big, questioning eyes. “Yes, you are. You did it the first time, and the second, and—God, you always do this. Why?”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t... I don’t do relationships, Winter. That’s not my thing. I’m not trying to hurt you—I just...”

“Just what?” she presses. “What are you so afraid of?”

You hesitate, the words caught in your throat. Finally, you take a deep breath and say, “Maybe I like you more than I should. And I don’t know how to deal with that.”

Her eyes widen slightly, and you feel her grip on your shirt tighten.

“Relationships are messy,” you continue, your voice low. “They’re complicated. And I’m not good at that shit. I don’t want to fuck this up, Winter. I don’t want to fuck you up.”

She blinks at you, her expression softening. “You’re not fucking me up,” she says quietly. “You’re... you’re making me happy. And I think I make you happy too. Or am I wrong?”

You look at her, the vulnerability in her eyes. “You do,” you admit. “You make me feel things I don't want to feel, Winter.”

“Then stay,” she whispers. “Just for tonight. Stop running, just... stay with me.”

Her words hang in the air, and for once, you don’t have a reason to say no. Letting out a heavy sigh, you throw your jacket back on the couch and wrap your arms around her and pulling her close, resting your chin on top of her head.

“Alright,” you say quietly. “I’ll stay.”

Winter hugs you tighter, her body relaxing against yours. “Thank you,” she murmurs, her voice soft and full of relief.

Winter tugs you back to the couch, her small hands wrapped around your wrist as she pulls you down beside her. The blanket slips off the couch as she curls up next to you, her head resting against your shoulder.

“How’re you feeling?” you ask, glancing down at her.

“Better,” she murmurs, her voice soft and still a little groggy. “Just a little cold.”

You tilt your head, your brow furrowing slightly. “Want me to grab you something from your closet? A hoodie or something?”

She shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips as she looks up at you. “No. You’re already enough to warm me up.”

You roll your eyes, though the corner of your mouth twitches upward. “You’re so clingy.”

“And that's why you like me,” she shoots back, leaning into you a little more.

You sigh, letting the moment settle for a bit, but then Winter shifts, sitting up slightly to face you. There’s something in her eyes now—a mix of curiosity and determination that instantly puts you on edge.

“So,” she starts, her tone deceptively casual. “Why are you so anti-relationship?”

“Winter…” you warn, already feeling the weight of the conversation she’s trying to start.

“Nope,” she says, cutting you off with a shake of her head. “Don’t brush me off. You just admitted you like me, so now I get to ask questions.”

You groan, leaning your head back against the couch. “This is why I don’t talk about shit like this.”

“Too bad,” she says firmly, poking your chest with her finger. “Spill.”

You let out a long sigh, dragging a hand down your face. “Fine. You want the story? Here it is.”

Winter doesn’t say anything, just waits, her eyes locked on you, her expression soft but focused.

“It was high school,” you start, your voice quieter now. “I was seventeen. She was… everything. Or at least, I thought she was. We were together for two years—serious, like, talking-about-the-future serious. Then, out of nowhere, she dumped me. Said she was bored. Two years, and she just… walked away like it was nothing.”

Winter’s face twists in disbelief. “Are you serious? She said that? That she was bored?”

You nod, a bitter laugh escaping you. “Yeah. And she was already hooking up with some guy from her physics class a week later. Guess I wasn’t exciting enough.”

“That’s fucking awful,” Winter says, her voice soft but filled with anger on your behalf.

“Yeah, well, it kind of destroyed me,” you admit, rubbing the back of your neck. “I was stupid enough to think it was love, you know? Thought she was the one or whatever. But after that, I decided I wasn’t gonna deal with that shit anymore. Relationships are messy, and people suck.”

Winter doesn’t say anything right away, just stares at you like she’s trying to piece you together. Finally, she asks, “So, what? You’re just gonna live the rest of your life alone?”

“Pretty much,” you say with a shrug. “I’m not living in the 50s, Winter. I don’t need to get married or settle down to be happy.”

Her brow furrows, and she shifts closer, her hand resting lightly on your knee. “I’m sorry you went through that. I really am. But…”

You raise an eyebrow. “But?”

“But,” she continues, her voice firm, “not everyone’s like her. Not everyone’s gonna break your heart.”

You scoff lightly. “Right. Until they do.”

Winter shakes her head, her hand squeezing your knee. “I’m not saying you have to trust everyone. I’m just saying… maybe you shouldn’t shut the door completely. You’re not the same person you were back then.”

You glance at her, her face so earnest it almost hurts to look at her. “What are you getting at?”

She takes a deep breath, her hand moving to cover yours. “I’m saying… give me a chance. Let me show you that relationships don’t have to be messy and painful. That they can be good, too.”

“Winter…”

“Just think about it,” she says softly. “I’m not asking for forever. I’m asking for a chance. For us.”

Her eyes search yours, and for the first time in years, you feel the walls you’ve built around yourself start to crack, just a little.

“Why me, anyway?” you finally ask. “There are so many guys out there—guys who actually want to date, who don’t have all this baggage.”

Winter sits back a little, still close but giving you enough space to think. Her eyes stay locked on yours, though, unwavering. “Because none of them are you,” she says softly, her tone leaving no room for doubt.

You blink, caught off guard by the simplicity of her answer. “What does that even mean?”

She smiles, a small, almost shy curve of her lips. “It means I don’t want someone else. I want you. You’re funny, and you’re smart, and you’re—” She pauses, her cheeks flushing slightly. “You’re different. In the best way.”

You snort lightly, trying to deflect the compliment. “Different how?”

“You just are,” she says, leaning forward. “Remember that night I couldn’t sleep, and you were up playing video games? We messaged for hours, just talking about the dumbest shit.”

You do remember. She’d been wide awake at 2 a.m., texting you about how she hated the sound of the neighbor’s wind chimes. You’d been mid-match, only half-paying attention at first, but then she’d started making jokes, and somehow you’d ended up talking until the sun came up.

“Yeah,” you say after a moment. “That was... pretty cool.”

“Exactly,” she says, her smile growing. “You made me feel better that night without even trying. And it wasn’t just that. It’s everything. The way you talk, the way you think. You don’t even realize how... captivating you are.”

You glance away, the intensity of her gaze making your stomach twist. “You’re overselling me, Winter.”

“I’m not,” she says, and before you can argue, she climbs into your lap. Her movements are smooth and confident, and suddenly, she’s straddling you, her hands resting lightly on your shoulders.

“You’re scared,” she says softly, her face inches from yours. “And I get it. But if you give me a chance, I promise you won’t get tired of me.”

You look at her, her wide, earnest eyes, her lips slightly parted, and you know she’s being honest. You sigh, leaning your head back against the couch. “I already know I wouldn’t get tired of you,” you admit, your voice low. “That’s the problem.”

Her brow furrows slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” You pause, your hands instinctively settling on her waist. “What if it’s the other way around? What if you get tired of me?”

She stares at you for a moment, and then, without saying a word, she leans in and kisses you. It’s soft at first, her lips brushing against yours gently, but then she deepens it, her hands sliding up to cup your face. It’s not just a kiss—it’s an answer.

When she finally pulls back, her voice is firm. “I’m not going to get tired of you.”

You stare at her, her words settling somewhere deep inside you, and you can’t find it in yourself to argue.

She smiles again, softer this time, her fingers tracing along your jaw. “So... is tomorrow’s coffee still on?”

You chuckle, shaking your head slightly. “As long as you’re feeling better.”

She grins, her eyes lighting up. “Deal.”

Winter’s hand moves slowly over your chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns against the fabric of your shirt. Her gaze softens, though there’s a playful glint in her eyes. “So,” she starts, her tone low and inviting, “what do you think about celebrating this new phase of ours… in bed?”

“You’re sick, Winter.”

She tilts her head, her lips curving into a sly smile. “I feel cured already.”

You raise an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Do you?”

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, leaning in closer, her fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to brush against your bare skin. “And if I’m not, maybe you could… help with that?”

Your laugh is soft, though your body betrays you, your hands already resting on her hips. “You really think I’m gonna fuck you when you’re sick?”

“Why not?” she counters, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “Are you saying you’d stop just because of that?”

“Yes,” you say firmly, though your grip on her hips tightens slightly. “Because I actually care about your well-being, even if you don’t.”

Her smile widens, and she leans closer, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “For the sake of my well-being, I need to be fucked really hard. By you.”

You pull back slightly, giving her an incredulous look. “And how exactly is that supposed to help?”

She shrugs, her fingers sliding further up your chest. “It’s alternative treatment,” she says, her tone teasing. “I’m pretty sure it’s good for circulation or something.”

You shake your head, fighting a grin. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re already hard,” she points out, shifting her weight slightly to grind her hips against your lap. The motion is subtle, but it’s enough to make your cock twitch, the heat of her body pressing against you.

“Winter—” you start, but she cuts you off, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.

“Don’t tell me you’re hard from the thought of fucking a sick, vulnerable girl,” she says, her voice dropping to a provocative whisper.

You smirk, your hands sliding down to squeeze her little ass. “You don’t look very vulnerable right now.”

She laughs softly, her breath warm against your neck. “You’re right. I’m not. In fact, I’m fucking horny.”

Her words send a jolt straight through you, and before you can second-guess yourself, you’re standing, lifting her effortlessly into your arms. Winter squeals softly, her legs wrapping around your waist, her hands locking behind your neck.

“You’re so fucking naughty,” you mutter, carrying her toward the bedroom.

“And you’re irresistible,” she counters, grinning.

You glance down at her, her flushed cheeks, her bright eyes, her lips slightly parted. “You are too,” you admit, your voice quieter. “Too fucking irresistible for your own good.”

She leans in, brushing her lips against yours in a soft, teasing kiss. “Then don’t resist.”

You step into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind you before lowering her onto the bed. She looks up at you, her messy blonde hair splayed across the pillow, her lips curling into a pout. “Promise you’ll be affectionate with me after?” she asks, her voice soft but laced with mischief. “I'm so sensitive.”

You laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Sensitive? You? That’s the last thing you are.”

Her pout deepens, though the glint in her eyes gives her away. “I can be sensitive!”

“Sure you can,” you tease, your hands already sliding under her shirt. “But I think we both know you’re a lot more dangerous than that.”

She grins, her hands tugging you closer. “Dangerous or not, I’m all yours.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you murmur, lowering yourself over her as your lips capture hers in a kiss that promises everything she asked for—and more.

As you pull back from the kiss, standing over Winter while starting to unbutton your shirt, she suddenly shifts, adopting this dramatic, old-Hollywood expression. Her eyes widen with mock innocence, her hand fluttering delicately to her chest.

“Oh, Doctor,” she says in an exaggerated, breathy voice, like a starlet from a black-and-white film. “Are you sure this… treatment is absolutely necessary?”

You blink, momentarily thrown off. “What?”

“This treatment,” she repeats, pointing vaguely between the two of you. “It feels so… unconventional. I’m not sure I should be here.”

The way she’s looking at you, like she’s trying to win an Oscar, makes you snort. “What the hell are you doing?”

She gasps, putting a hand to her cheek like you’ve just scandalized her. “I’m your patient, Doctor! You mustn’t mock me in my time of need!”

It finally clicks, and you shake your head, chuckling as you play along. “Oh, I see how it is,” you say, pulling your shirt off and tossing it onto the floor, already working on your pants. “Well, don’t worry, Miss Winter. You’re my favorite patient. The most beautiful, the most well-behaved. You deserve the best care.”

She covers her mouth like she’s shocked, then peeks through her fingers with a mischievous grin. “Oh, Doctor, you must say that to all your patients.”

“I don’t,” you say firmly, now standing in just your underwear. You slide your hands slowly down her thighs, her skin soft and warm beneath your palms. “You’re the only one I touch like this. The only one I care for in such a… special way.”

Winter bites her lip, pretending to be shy as she squirms under your touch. “Doctor,” she whispers, her voice trembling with fake innocence. “Promise you’ll take good care of me?”

You smirk, leaning down so your face is close to hers. “I promise. That’s my job, after all.”

Her cheeks flush, and she looks up at you through her lashes. “You make me feel… strange things, Doctor.”

You raise an eyebrow, playing along. “Strange things? What kind of things, Miss Winter?”

She hesitates, biting her lip like she’s embarrassed. “Well… down there,” she says softly, gesturing vaguely toward her hips. “You make me all… wet.”

You fight back a grin, your hands tightening slightly on her thighs. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” she continues, her voice growing more dramatic. “And I’ve been having such impure thoughts about you, Doctor. Thoughts about your… hands. And your lips. And other things.”

You let out a low chuckle, leaning down to kiss her, slow and teasing. “That does sound serious,” you murmur against her lips. “But don’t worry, Miss Winter. I know exactly how to solve this.”

She gasps softly, her hands tangling in your hair as she kisses you back, her voice a little less dramatic now and a lot more needy. “Oh, Doctor,” she murmurs, her tone shifting into something real, full of anticipation.

You grab the hem of Winter’s oversized shirt, lifting it slowly, and the sight of her bare thighs makes your breath hitch. But when you lift it higher and realize she’s not wearing panties, her pussy already glistening, you pause.

“Fuck, Winter,” you mutter, your eyes locked on her. “You’ve been walking around like this the whole time?”

She grins, her cheeks flushed but full of mischief. “Maybe. It's more practical to simply not wear panties around you.”

You slide a hand between her legs, your fingers brushing against her wetness, and she gasps, her hips jerking slightly. “Soaked,” you murmur, rubbing her gently. “You’re soaked already. You’ve been like this the whole time, haven’t you?”

“Since you walked in,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “I’ve been dreaming about this cock since you got here.”

You lean in, kissing her hard while your fingers work her pussy, sliding along her slick folds. She moans into your mouth, her hands reaching down to grip your cock through your underwear. The pressure is just enough to make you groan, and she strokes you, slow and deliberate, her fingers wrapping around your length.

“Dreaming about me, huh?” you say, pulling back just enough to look at her flushed face. “Were you even sick, Winter?”

She hesitates, biting her lip before confessing, “Maybe… I'm not that sick.”

You smirk, shaking your head. “Yeah, I’m noticing that.”

Your fingers slide inside her, and she lets out a sharp gasp, her nails digging into your shoulders. She’s tight, hot, and so wet it’s almost obscene. You move slowly at first, curling your fingers just right, and her moans grow louder, her body arching into your touch.

But then you pull your fingers out, watching as they glisten with her slickness. Without a word, you bring them to her lips. “Suck,” you command softly.

Winter’s eyes widen slightly, but she obeys, parting her lips and taking your fingers into her mouth. Her tongue swirls around them, slow and sensual, and the sight of her makes your cock throb painfully.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” you mutter, watching the way her lips move, how she looks up at you like she’s daring you to lose control.

You pull your fingers from her mouth with a soft pop, her lips shiny with saliva, and you smirk. “Open your mouth,” you say, your voice rough.

She does as you ask, her lips parting slightly, and you spit, the act filthy and intimate. She takes it without hesitation, her tongue darting out to taste it before you lean in and kiss her hard, your hand gripping the back of her neck.

Your other hand comes up to her cheeks, holding her face as you pull back slightly. “Tell me,” you murmur, your thumb brushing over her flushed skin. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice trembling with need.

“That’s not polite,” you say, smirking. “Ask nicely.”

Her eyes darken, and she bites her lip before speaking again. “Please, daddy. Please fuck me. I need you so bad. Please.”

You grin, leaning down to kiss her again before pulling back. “Lie down,” you command.

Winter obeys, sliding back on the bed until she’s lying flat, her legs spreading instinctively. You strip off your underwear, your cock springing free, hard and already leaking.

“Condom?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

She shakes her head, her lips curling into a sly smile. “You know we don’t need it.”

You raise an eyebrow, smirking. “I like to be polite.”

She giggles, her laughter soft and breathy. “You don’t look so polite when you’re fucking me like an animal.”

You climb onto the bed, positioning yourself between her legs, your cock brushing against her entrance. “And you love it,” you say, rubbing the head of your cock along her slick folds, teasing her.

“Fuck,” she whispers, her hips shifting as she tries to take you in. “Yes, I love it. Please, don’t tease me.”

You lean down, your lips brushing against her ear. “Then beg louder,” you murmur.

Winter’s whines turn into outright begging, her voice trembling as her hips tilt up, desperate to pull you in.

“Please,” she whimpers, her hands gripping the sheets. “Please, I need it so bad. I’ll be your little whore, I promise. I’ll be good, daddy. I’ll do whatever you say—just fuck me already.”

Her words make you grin, the filthy desperation in her voice hitting you in all the right places. You look down at her, her angelic face flushed with need, her wide, pleading eyes fixed on you, and you can’t help but marvel.

“How can you look so sweet,” you murmur, your voice low, “and be such a little slut at the same time?”

Winter moans at the words, her thighs trembling as she spreads her legs even wider. “I’m your slut,” she whispers. “Only yours. Please, please, don’t tease me anymore. I need you.”

“Yeah?” you growl, gripping her hips tightly. “You’re mine, huh? My needy little slut?”

“Yes, daddy,” she cries, her nails digging into the sheets as her head tilts back. “All yours. Please, just fuck me!”

You don’t make her wait another second. With one powerful thrust, you bury yourself inside her, all at once, hard and fast. The sheer heat and tightness of her pussy make you groan, your fingers digging into her hips as her scream of pleasure fills the room.

“Fuck, Winter,” you growl, barely able to hold yourself back. “You’re so fucking tight.”

She’s writhing beneath you, her back arching as her hands grab at your arms, her moans coming high-pitched and desperate. “Yes, yes, fuck—just like that!”

You don’t waste time easing into it. You pull back and slam into her again, setting a violent, unrelenting pace that has the bed creaking and her cries growing louder with every thrust. Her pussy clenches around you, slick and hot and perfect, pulling you deeper every time.

“Goddamn, you take it so good,” you growl, leaning over her as your hips snap against hers. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To get fucked like this?”

“Yes!” she screams, her nails raking down your back. “Yes, yes—fuck me harder! Use me, please!”

“You love being my slut, don’t you?”

“I love it,” she gasps, her voice breaking. “I fucking love it. I’ll do anything—just don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Her legs wrap around your waist, locking you in place as her body trembles beneath you. Her moans are constant, her cries mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin. The sight of her like this—messy, desperate, completely lost in you—only makes you go harder, driving into her like you’re trying to ruin her.

“You feel so fucking good,” you groan, your grip on her tightening as you pound into her mercilessly. “This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it? Made to be fucked like this?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Winter cries, her voice shaking as she clings to you. “It’s yours—only yours. Please, I can’t take it—please don’t stop!”

Your cock drives into her over and over, each thrust rougher, deeper, more unrelenting than the last. Winter’s high-pitched moans fill the room, her thighs trembling as her hips push up to meet yours, desperate for every inch you’re giving her.

You bring your hand up to her throat, wrapping your fingers around it, just enough for her to feel it. Winter gasps at the touch, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours, and her lips part in a soft, breathy moan.

“You like this, don’t you?” you growl.

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice trembling with need. “I love it. I love how you make me feel.”

You smirk, leaning down slightly, your hand tightening just enough to make her breathing shallow. “You love being submissive, huh? Love being at my mercy?”

Her head tilts back, her eyes rolling slightly as she moans louder, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. “Yes,” she whimpers. “I love it. I love being yours.”

The sight of her—so completely lost in the pleasure, so willing to let you take control—sends a jolt of heat through you. You squeeze her throat a little harder, watching the way her body reacts instantly, her back arching as her pussy clenches around your cock.

“Fuck, Winter,” you mutter, your hips snapping against hers. “You’re so fucking perfect like this. You’re made to be my little slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she cries, her voice strained but dripping with need. “I’m your slut—your good little slut. Please, don’t stop, daddy.”

You lean down further, your lips brushing against her ear as your hand stays firmly on her throat. “You like being choked, don’t you? Like how it feels when I take control?”

Her eyes roll back again, her body shuddering beneath you. “Yes, yes—I love it,” she gasps, her voice barely audible now. “Please, don’t stop. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Yeah?” you growl, your other hand gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks as you thrust into her relentlessly. “You’d do anything for me?”

“Yes,” she moans, her nails digging into your arms. “Anything. I just want to please you.”

You tighten your grip on her throat slightly, watching as her lips part in a silent cry, her body arching off the bed. The way she looks right now—eyes hazy, mouth open, completely at your mercy—drives you insane.

“Good girl,” you mutter, your pace never faltering. “You’re such a good little slut for me. Taking my cock so well.”

Her moans grow louder again, her body writhing beneath you as you push her closer and closer to that edge. But you’re not done yet—you want her completely undone, begging for more, completely yours.

Your cock slams into Winter’s soaking wet pussy with relentless force, the violent pace making her body bounce with each thrust. Her moans are high-pitched, desperate, and completely filthy, and you can feel the way she’s tightening around you, her body trembling as she gets closer and closer.

“I’m close,” she cries, her voice breaking, her nails clawing at the sheets. “Fuck, I’m so close!”

The moment the words leave her mouth, you slow down drastically, pulling almost all the way out and thrusting back in painfully slow. Winter whines loudly, her hips trying to chase yours for more friction, but you grab her waist, holding her still.

“What did you just say?” you growl, your voice low and dangerous. “You don’t cum unless I say so.”

“Sorry, daddy,” she whimpers, her eyes squeezing shut as her hands grip the sheets tightly.

“Do you?” you challenge, raising your hand and slapping her cheek firmly, just the way you know drives her wild. Her head turns with the impact, her lips parting in a sharp gasp, and her eyes flutter open, looking at you with a mix of surprise and arousal.

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

“Louder,” you demand, your hand gripping her chin to make her face you. “Speak clearly when I’m talking to you.”

“Yes!” she cries, her voice louder now, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glazed over. “I understand. I’ll be good, I swear!”

“That’s better,” you mutter, giving her one more light slap for good measure.

Without another word, you lift her off the bed with ease, her small frame fitting perfectly in your hands. You reposition her so she’s sitting in your lap, her back pressed against your chest. The intimacy of the position contrasts sharply with the dominance in your touch as you slide back into her, burying yourself deep.

Winter lets out a choked cry, her hands grabbing at your thighs as you hold her firmly against you. Your chest presses against her back, your arms wrapping around her waist as you start to move again, slow and possessive this time.

“Fuck,” you mutter, your lips brushing against her ear. “You feel so fucking good like this. You’re mine, Winter. My good girl.”

“Yes,” she moans, her head falling back against your shoulder. “I’m yours. I’ll be good, daddy—I promise, I’ll be good for you.”

“You better,” you growl, your teeth grazing her neck as your hands roam over her body, gripping her hips and pulling her down onto your cock with each thrust. “If you want to cum, you’re gonna have to earn it. Be the perfect little slut for me.”

“I will,” she gasps, her body trembling against yours. “I’ll do anything for you. Just don’t stop.”

You hold her tighter, your thrusts growing faster, deeper, the angle making her whimper and cry out with every movement. Her head rolls against your shoulder, her lips brushing against your neck as her hands grip your thighs desperately.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” you murmur, your voice rough with lust. “You take me so well. You were made for this, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” she cries, her voice breaking. “Made for you. Only for you.”

Your cock drives into Winter slowly, each deliberate thrust making her squirm in your lap. Her back is pressed tightly against your chest, her flushed skin damp with sweat, and her whines are soft and desperate, filling the room like music. You can feel how badly she wants it—the way her pussy clenches around you, her hips trying to push down to take you deeper. But you don’t let her.

Instead, your hand slides up to her throat, fingers wrapping around her delicate neck, and you give her a firm squeeze. She gasps at the contact, her head tilting back against your shoulder, exposing her throat to you.

“You really like this, don’t you?” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “The way I fuck you. The way I tease you.”

“Yes, daddy,” she whimpers, her hands gripping your arms for support. “I love it. I love everything about it.”

You squeeze her throat a little tighter, your lips brushing against her ear. “You sure about that?” you ask, your thrusts slowing even more, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in agonizingly slow. “Because if you’re not, I can stop. I won’t let you cum.”

“No!” Winter cries, her voice high-pitched and panicked. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

You chuckle darkly, your free hand sliding down to grip her hip, keeping her firmly in place as you continue your slow, deliberate pace. “Then tell me,” you growl. “Tell me how much you love this cock.”

“I love it,” she whines, her voice trembling with need. “I love your big, thick cock. I love the way it fills me up, the way it drives me crazy.”

Your cock twitches at her words, and you tighten your grip on her throat just enough to make her gasp. “Yeah?” you murmur, your tone still teasing. “You love the way I fuck you, don’t you? The way I make you beg like this?”

“Yes, yes,” she moans, her head rolling back against your shoulder. “I love it so much. You make me feel so good—so fucking good.”

You smirk, your lips grazing her jawline. “You’re not just saying that, are you?” you ask, your hand flexing around her throat. “Because if you’re lying, Winter, I swear I’ll stop right now.”

Her body shudders, and she turns her head slightly to look at you, her eyes glassy with desire. “I swear,” she says, her voice breaking. “It’s true. I love it. I love the way you fuck me. Please don’t stop, daddy. Please, let me cum.”

You study her for a moment, her trembling body, her wide, pleading eyes, the way her voice shakes with desperation. There’s no denying how much she means it, how much she needs this.

“Good girl,” you murmur, your grip on her throat easing slightly as you press a kiss to her cheek. “You’ve been so good for me.”

Winter moans softly, her hands tightening on your arms. “Does that mean I can cum?” she asks, her voice hopeful and needy.

“Not yet,” you reply, your smirk growing. “But soon. I’ll make sure it’s worth it.”

Your hands move up from Winter’s waist to her chest, cupping her small breasts as you start to squeeze and knead them. Her soft moans grow louder, her nipples hardening against your palms as you gradually pick up the pace, your cock sliding deeper and harder into her with every thrust.

“You like this?” you growl, your lips brushing against her ear as you whisper. “You like how I fill you up, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whimpers, her voice trembling. “I love it. I love how deep you are. Please, don’t stop.”

Your fingers pinch her nipples, twisting just enough to make her gasp, and you lean in closer, your breath hot against her ear. “I’m gonna fuck you every day,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “Every chance I get. I’m gonna make you scream so loud the neighbors’ll know exactly how good I fuck you.”

Winter shudders in your arms, her head tilting back against your shoulder as a moan tears from her lips. “Fuck,” she cries, her nails digging into the sheets. “I’d let you. I’d let you ruin me every fucking day.”

The way she says it, so shameless and raw, makes your cock twitch inside her. You smirk, gripping her hips tightly as you pull out slowly, savoring the way her pussy clings to you. Then you shove her forward, letting her fall onto her hands and knees.

“Get on all fours,” you command, your voice rough with need.

Winter scrambles into position, her pale little ass sticking up, her glistening pink pussy on full display for you. She looks back over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed and her lips parted as she waits.

“Good girl,” you murmur, stroking her ass lightly before positioning yourself behind her.

Her pussy is already full of creamy slickness, and when you slide back into her, the wet, obscene sound it makes drives you wild. “Shit,” you groan, your hands gripping her hips as you start to fuck her hard, the bed creaking beneath you.

Winter’s moans grow louder, turning into screams as you pound into her, your cock hitting her deep and fast. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” you growl, your hips slamming against her ass. “So wet and messy for me.”

Her cries are almost incoherent, her body jerking forward with each thrust. “Yes! Yes! Fuck me harder!” she begs, her voice breaking.

Your gaze drops to her ass, watching the way it bounces with every thrust. Her tight little hole quite inviting as you fuck her, so pink and tempting. You reach out, rubbing your thumb against it in slow, deliberate circles.

Winter gasps, her head snapping up as her back arches. “Oh my God,” she moans, her voice trembling. “Yes, touch me there—please, more!”

You keep rubbing, teasing her hole with your thumb as your cock slams into her harder, deeper. “You like that?” you growl, watching the way her body responds to every touch.

“Yes,” she cries, her hips pushing back against you. “I love it—don’t stop, please!”

Your grip on Winter’s hips tightens as you pick up the pace, your cock slamming into her soaking pussy harder and faster. Her screams are music to your ears, high-pitched and raw, echoing off the walls. Her ass bounces against you with every thrust, the creamy slickness of her pussy making every movement wet and obscene.

At the same time, your thumb continues massaging her tight, virgin asshole, slow, deliberate circles that make her body shudder beneath you. Her moans turn breathless, desperate, her hips twitching as she pushes back against your hand.

“You like it when I play with your ass, don’t you?” you growl, leaning forward slightly, your breath hot against the back of her neck.

“Yes,” Winter moans, her voice trembling with need. “Fuck, yes—I love it!”

“You’re such a fucking slut,” you snarl, your thumb pressing more firmly against her entrance. “Getting off on me fucking your pussy and playing with your ass at the same time. That’s what you are—a needy little slut.”

“Yes,” she cries, her voice breaking. “I’m your slut—only yours. Please, don’t stop!”

You grin, knowing how much she loves hearing you call her that, and you feel her pussy clench tighter around you, her body trembling as she edges closer to the brink.

“I’m close,” she warns, her voice shaky and frantic. “Fuck, I’m so close!”

Your pace becomes brutal, your hips slamming against her ass as you drive into her harder, deeper, faster. At the same time, you press harder on her asshole, teasing her entrance with your thumb.

“You’re gonna cum with my finger in your ass, aren’t you?” you growl.

“Yes!” she screams, her voice raw. “Yes, yes—please, make me cum! I need it!”

You smirk, pushing your thumb in slowly, just enough to stretch her a little, and her reaction is instant. Her back arches sharply, and she lets out a guttural moan, her nails clawing at the sheets.

“Fuck, Winter,” you groan, your cock driving into her harder as your thumb moves slightly inside her. “You’re so fucking tight everywhere. Such a perfect little slut for me.”

Her cries grow louder, her body shaking violently as she teeters on the edge. “I’m gonna cum—I’m gonna fucking cum!” she screams, her voice echoing through the room.

“Do it,” you growl, your grip on her tightening as you fuck her relentlessly, your thumb pressing deeper. “Cum for me. Let me feel it.”

Winter’s entire body tenses, her head snapping back as a scream tears from her throat, so loud it’s a miracle the neighbors don’t start banging on the walls. Her pussy clamps down on your cock, her hips jerking uncontrollably as her orgasm crashes over her, wave after wave of pleasure leaving her shaking and gasping for air.

“Fuck,” you mutter, feeling the way her body spasms around you, completely undone.

Her cries eventually fade into soft whimpers, her body going limp beneath you as she collapses onto the bed, her chest heaving. You pull out slowly, your thumb sliding from her ass, and you smirk as you watch her shiver from the aftershocks.

“You’re fucking perfect,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to her back.

You hold Winter close against your chest, showering her neck and shoulders with tender kisses as she catches her breath. Her body is still trembling from the intense orgasm you just gave her, her pussy dripping wet and sensitive. You stroke her hair gently while whispering in her ear.

"Such a good girl for daddy, cumming so hard on my cock like that. You're perfect, baby."

Winter preens under the praise, a proud smile spreading across her flushed face. She's never experienced pleasure this intense before - her whole body is still tingling from the force of her climax. Your words make her feel cherished and special.

"The neighbors definitely heard what a naughty girl you are," you tease, making her bury her face in the mattress with an embarrassed whimper. Her ass wiggles enticingly as she squirms.

"I bet they heard every single moan and scream while I was pounding your tight little pussy. Now everyone knows what a dirty girl you are for daddy.”

Winter's embarrassment only makes her more aroused. She can feel your hard cock still buried deep inside her, and she desperately wants to make you feel as good as you made her feel.

"Please daddy," she whimpers needily, turning her head to look at you with big innocent eyes. "I want to make you cum now. Will you...will you cum in my ass?"

Your cock twitches inside her at those filthy words coming from such a sweet mouth. Hearing your innocent submissive good girl beg for anal makes your head spin with lust.

"Is that what you want, baby? You want daddy to fill up your tight little asshole with cum?" You give her ass a firm squeeze.

"Yes daddy, please," she moans. "After you played with my ass, I can't stop thinking about having you inside me there. I want to feel your hot cum filling me up."

"Fuck, you're such a dirty girl," you growl, your cock hardening even more. "Begging daddy to cum in your virgin ass like a little anal slut."

Winter whimpers and pushes her ass back against you needily. "Please daddy, keep fucking my pussy and when you're about to cum, just put the tip in my ass and fill me up. I want to feel it so bad."

"Stay right there on your stomach like a good girl," you command, repositioning yourself between her spread legs. Your cock is still buried in her dripping pussy, and you start thrusting again at a steady pace.

Winter moans and arches her back, presenting her ass to you perfectly. "Does daddy like my tight little holes? They're all yours to fill up however you want."

Her dirty talk drives you wild and you pick up the pace, fucking her pussy harder. "Keep talking like that baby, tell daddy what a naughty anal slut you are.”

"I'm your anal slut daddy," she pants between moans. "I want you to stretch my virgin asshole and fill it with your hot cum. I've been such a good girl, please give me my reward."

You spread her plump ass cheeks apart with both hands, exposing her tiny pink asshole. The sight of that tight virgin hole makes your cock throb with need. You start fucking her pussy even faster, your heavy balls slapping against her clit.

"Look at this perfect little asshole," you growl. "So tight and pretty, just begging to be filled with daddy's cum. You want it bad don't you baby?"

"Yes daddy, please! I need it so bad," Winter begs shamelessly. "Cum deep in my ass, mark me as yours. I want to feel your hot cum dripping out of me."

Her filthy words push you closer to the edge. You spread her ass wider, watching your cock slide in and out of her soaked pussy while her tight asshole clenches and relaxes invitingly.

"Such a dirty little anal virgin," you pant. "Begging daddy to take your ass and fill you up. I'm going to cum so deep inside that tight hole."

Winter's moans get louder and more desperate. "Please daddy, I'm ready for you. Put it in my ass and fill me up with your cum. I want to be your anal slut."

You can feel your orgasm building as you pound her pussy relentlessly. Her tight walls squeeze your cock perfectly while she continues begging for anal.

"Daddy please, I need your cum in my ass so bad. Make me your anal princess. Fill up my virgin hole."

When you're right on the edge, you pull out of her dripping pussy. With one hand you spread her ass cheek wide, exposing her tiny pink hole. With the other, you guide the head of your cock to press against her virgin entrance.

The tight ring of muscle resists at first, but then the head of your cock pops inside her ass. The incredible tightness sends you over the edge instantly. Winter cries out as she feels your hot cum start flooding her virgin asshole.

"Fuck baby, taking daddy's cum so deep in your ass," you groan as you empty your balls inside her. "Such a good anal slut for me."

Winter moans and shivers as she feels each hot spurt of cum filling her ass. The head of your cock stays snugly buried in her incredibly tight hole as you finish cumming.

When you finally pull out, your cum immediately starts leaking from her stretched asshole. You spread both of her cheeks wide apart to watch the erotic sight of your white cum dripping down toward her pussy.

"Look how pretty your ass looks leaking daddy's cum," you praise her. "Such a perfect little anal princess."

Winter whimpers and wiggles her ass. "Thank you daddy. I loved feeling you cum in my ass."

You continue admiring the view of your cum trickling from her freshly-fucked hole. Her virgin ass took you so well, stretching perfectly around the head of your cock.

"We're definitely doing that again baby," you tell her, giving her ass a playful smack. "Now daddy knows what a naughty anal slut you can be."

Winter blushes but smiles proudly, happy to have pleased you. She can still feel your hot cum inside her ass, marking her as yours.

You lay down beside her and pull her into your arms, peppering her face with soft kisses. She snuggles against your chest contentedly while your cum continues slowly leaking from her ass.

"Such a good girl for daddy," you murmur. "Taking my cock in your virgin ass like that. Did you like having daddy's cum filling you up?"

"Yes daddy," she says shyly. "It felt so naughty but so good. I loved feeling you cum inside me."

You stroke her hair and hold her close, letting her bask in the afterglow of her first anal experience. Her body is completely relaxed against yours, thoroughly satisfied.

"Next time I'll fuck that tight ass properly," you promise. "Really stretch you open and fill you with cum over and over."

Winter shivers with arousal at your words. "Yes please daddy. I want to be your anal slut whenever you want."

You spend the next little while cuddling and exchanging soft kisses, your hands roaming over her curves possessively. Winter occasionally squirms as she feels more of your cum trickling from her ass.

"Should we get cleaned up baby?" you ask after a while, noticing the mess of cum between her legs.

"Not yet," she says, clinging to you. "I like feeling your cum inside me. Makes me feel like I'm yours."

You smile and kiss her forehead. "You are mine baby. My perfect little anal princess."

—

You sit across from Winter at a small café table, the sunlight spilling through the large windows and catching the golden streaks in her blonde hair. She’s wearing a light yellow sundress that flares out just above her knees, a little bow tied at the waist. The dress shows just enough skin to drive you crazy while still looking effortlessly cute. Her white sneakers complete the look, giving her an innocent, casual charm that feels so uniquely hers.

Winter’s playful smile is fixed on you, her chin propped on her hand as she stirs her iced coffee lazily with a straw. She’s got that look, the one that says she knows something you don’t. Probably feeling like she’s already won whatever unspoken game you’re playing.

“You’re really feeling better?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you take a sip of your drink.

She nods, her grin widening. “Completely cured.”

“You sure? Because you got better awfully fast. Makes me wonder if you were even sick in the first place.”

Winter lets out a soft laugh, twirling the straw between her fingers. “That’s because of you,” she says, batting her lashes mockingly. “You were such good… medicine.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Medicine, huh? Pretty sure I broke a few ethical guidelines as your doctor.”

“Yeah, well,” she teases, leaning forward slightly, “I’m not complaining.”

She looks too damn proud of herself, and you can’t resist poking at her.

“Hey, you spilled some coffee on the table,” you say, pointing to where she spilled it.

“Oh, you're right! Hand me a napkin.”

You pick up a napkin and slide it toward her. “Here. Do you clean by yourself or do you want daddy to help you?” you ask, purposely raising your voice a little.

The shift is instant. Winter’s playful confidence crumbles as her cheeks turn bright red, her eyes darting around the café to make sure no one heard.

“Are you insane?” she hisses, grabbing the napkin and glaring at you. “Don’t say things like that in public!”

You chuckle, leaning your elbows on the table. “Why not? You seemed to love it in bed yesterday. Hell, you couldn’t stop saying it.”

Her face gets even redder, and she throws the napkin back at you, hitting you square in the chest. “I was dying of embarrassment even leaving the house today!” she exclaims. “I’m pretty sure the neighbors really heard everything.”

Your laughter only makes her more flustered, and you lean back, grinning. “Hey, you asked for it. Literally.”

Winter groans, burying her face in her hands for a moment before peeking out at you. “You’re insufferable.”

“You chose the insufferable,” you say smoothly.

She tries to hold her annoyed expression, but a small smile slips through. “Whatever,” she mutters, picking up her coffee again.

“So,” you say after a moment, tilting your head. “You gonna call me daddy again later?”

Winter glances up at you, her lips twitching as she tries not to smile too much. “Yeah,” she says softly, her eyes meeting yours. ��I love calling you that.”

There’s a moment of silence, charged but comfortable, before you clear your throat. “Anyway, why’d you pick this café again? There are like, fifty others places we could’ve gone to.”

Winter shrugs, stirring her drink again. “Last time didn’t count.”

“Didn’t count?”

She looks up at you, her expression soft but serious. “You dodged all my questions last time. You didn’t even seem like you wanted to be there.”

The guilt hits you instantly, and you exhale, leaning forward. “Yeah, I… I’m sorry about that. It wasn’t you, though. It’s just…” You pause, lowering your head. “You already know the reason.”

Winter nods. “I know. But it still kind of sucked.”

You nod, meeting her gaze. “You’re right. It did. I didn’t handle it well, and I’m sorry. But I’m here now. And this time, I won’t run.”

Her smile grows, slow and genuine, lighting up her entire face. “You promise?”

“Promise,” you say softly.

Winter leans forward, resting her chin in her hand again, her grin turning playful once more. “Good. Because I wasn’t gonna let you run anyway.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, I’m starting to figure that out.”

For the first time in a long time, you feel it—something steady, something warm. Maybe this time it’s worth the risk. Especially with her.

[andhumanslovedstories]

Last two shifts I worked, I had the same patients but was precepting (training) different nurses. So two nights in a row, I have a patient with a post-op complication (guts not moving) that the surgeons are taking a conservative approach to (wait and see if the gut starts moving). This treatment plan makes sense for the specifics of this patient, but that means we’re doing a lot of symptom management without directly treating the thing that’s causing the symptoms. In this case, symptoms are pain and nausea so bad that the patient said if they’d known this is how they’d feel after, they’d have skipped the surgery and just rolled the dice with what that colon polyp would do if left alone.

So we’re throwing meds at this patient, we’re walking them so their bowels can get moving, we’re giving ice chips and gum and cold wash clothes, we’re giving IV fluids (which is SUPER rare in the hospital right now because due to one of the recent hurricanes, we are critically low on IV fluids), we’re doing basically all my tricks short of putting another tube in this guy. And it’s working okay. Like we’re keeping pain and nausea just below “intolerable” but not by much.

That first night I have that patient, while I’m talking to the surgeon on the phone, my preceptee is in the room talking to the patient. I don’t get any new orders because most usual meds that would help are contraindicated in this particular circumstance. I’m feeling frustrated about that—I HATE when I can’t get symptoms significantly under control—when my preceptee comes up excitedly and says that the patient says they’re feeling much better after the therapeutic intervention my preceptor did. The intervention was hanging out in the room for 15 mins and talking with the patient about their hometown in Canada.

(Which, hell yeah. Very proud of that new nurse because she said one of the biggest things she wanted to work on was being less nervous talking to patients.)

Next night, I got the same patient, still miserable, and a new preceptee. We’ve got more meds this time, but still only marginal success with managing symptoms. I tell my preceptee, “next time you’re in the room, plan on staying and chatting with the patient for like ten minutes.” Next time we’re in the room, we do just that—we talk sports, hobbies, plans, past surgeries, how much this surgery sucks, just the three of us shooting the shit for a while before we have to go give pain meds to another patient. (It was a surgical floor. That night was mostly handing out ice packs and oxy.)

Anyway, the patient tells us that this chat has been the best they’ve felt all night. My preceptee comes out of the room, and my preceptee is like “wow that really was our best intervention.” And I get to be like “yes witness the power of chit chat as nursing intervention.”

Reflecting back, I’m grateful that the patient was so expressive about what we did that was working. I told the patient at one point, in the midst of their most acute misery, that we were going to give them everything we had available, and if that didn’t work, I had backup plans in mind. Like you might spend the night miserable, but it’s not because we didn’t keep trying stuff. And after I say that, the patient goes, “that was good, I like that you said that, that comforted me.” Which was very nice and convenient because before we’d gone into the room, I’d talked to my preceptee about how to make patients feel supported and cared for, even when none of the care we do is working. When we left after that, my preceptee was like “wow, you’re right, that really worked,” and I was like, “I KNOW, that’s cool right? I mean you always hope it works, but sometimes you just can’t tell if it actually does.”

I love really open patients, they are such fantastic teaching opportunities. For example, I had another patient both night who was also very open, specifically about what a bad job the hospital was doing and how everyone should just stay the hell out of their room. Considerably less pleasant feedback, equally valuable, about essentially the exact same situation that the first patient was in. Talking through that patient with my preceptees was also very useful and very easy, because the patient had been so explicit in their feedback.

It’s always odd training nurses because you don’t want bad things to happen to your patients, but you also need to new nurses to see bad things. And sometimes you get a patient assignment that is so good for teaching, it’s like it came from a textbook. Very convenient for me personally as a preceptor. Feels weird to say that about patients who are having absolutely miserable times, that their misery is useful to me, but (as preceptors normally say about stuff like this) if it’s happening, at least it’s happening where we can learn about it. Anyway, great couple of shifts to practice therapeutic communication.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

gentleman thoughts, comfort edition 🩶

gentleman! katsuki, whose love language is acts of service. who doesn’t need to know whats wrong to comfort you. who will gently (maybe not so gently, it’s him) remind you to get up and eat on those days you find it hard too. who’ll let you cry in his arms for hours, not moving an inch, acting as an anchor for you. who is normally a dick, but is also uncharacteristically patient and loving when he knows you need him to be. who will listen if you need him too, and is just as willing to go give hell to someone if that’s what you need. he’s a bodyguard <3

gentleman! izuku, who is probably the most emotionally intelligent on this list. who is so quick to notice signs when something is wrong, and who won’t hesitate to offer his support. who is a natural empath, hating to see you in pain, willing to give anything, but learns that sometimes they’re aren’t any tangible solutions and the best he can do is be there and listen. who always tells you that he’s proud of you, because he knows it isn’t easy. who is in love with you when you’re happy and healthy or when you’re sad and needing comfort, even when you can’t love yourself.

gentleman! shouto, may come off us cold or uncaring, but who cares so much more than he’s able to admit. who you learn to bond with over shared trauma, creating a safe refuge for just the two of you. who wants to understand for you, and even if he doesn’t, will be there as long as you say the word. who, after long crying sessions, awkwardly tells a joke that he heard fuyumi say to her class and delivering it in the most monotone voice. “why can’t can’t dinosaurs clap their hands? because they’re extinct.” (it was stupid.) (you still laughed.)

gentleman! eijirou, who might not notice right away, but who you have wrapped around your finger once he does or when you tell him. who opts to stay with you if he isn’t already, not liking the idea of you being alone while you’re sad. who, after holding your hand, comforting you and being your rock, gently helps you back up. who will congratulate you on things that feel small- texting someone back, taking a shower, etc- but cheers you on like you’ve just walked on the moon. who knows its your journey but swears to himself he’ll see it through with you.

gentleman! denki, who is kind of an idiot- but who always means well and loves unconditionally. texts you day and night, checking on you, sending you things he hopes will make you laugh. who is forgetful about most things but really good at reminding you to take your meds, to eat, to not be hard on yourself. who doesn’t wanna see anyone being mean to his partner, including you. who will gently remind you not to criticize yourself too much, wishing you could see yourself from his pov (you’re everything to him and he’ll remind you of that until you believe it).

gentleman! hitoshi, who knows so much about mental health because he himself has dealt with his fair share of struggles. who is endlessly patient, knowing that sometimes dealing with a messy room or dirty dish feels like it’d take everything from you. who is more than willing to spend a day in bed with you, holding you close, letting you cry or sleep it off. who leaves you with his clothes, his home and all his promises if he does have to be somewhere, assuring you that he’s a text away. who is more than willing to talk, but is also a great distraction if you need it- taking you out, playing you music, being the sweetest guy you have ever met and safe place.

[wandering-pirate]

Mouthwashing Characters Headcanon

Christmas Day with You

Captain Curly

You and him baking sugar cookies in matching aprons? Peak domestic fluff His apron said "Sugar Daddy," and yours? "Daddy’s Sugary Snacc"

Yeah, that was all his idea. He couldn’t stop showing them off, grinning ear to ear, parading them around Walmart like it was a fashion show.

Meanwhile, you were just trying to hunt down all the ingredients in peace, but nope, he had to follow you around, flaunting those aprons.

After a war of flours, you successfully conjured up a decent batch

You had to use actual physical restraint to stop him from adding Vegemite to the cookies. The audacity. And when he ate one, took a full spoonful of it, and moaned?? Yeah, a monster

He’s obsessed with ski or any snow sport video game and always teases you for being a noob. But it’s all in good fun—he’s learned his lesson after the Mario Kart Incident that shall never be mentioned again

"Sweetheart, you’re gonna twist your joint with that posture—"

"Hush! You just wanna win gold again. Stop tempting me, you tall, handsome, bulky-ass demon"

Naturally, your competitive streak kicked in and, somehow, you ended up twisting your ankle

He played the role of nurse, cold compress in hand, sneaking kisses to your ankle because “it speeds up healing” (and also because he’s a shameless flirt who’ll use any excuse to be touchy)

You both gave up on the active stuff and just settled in for a holiday romcom. Of course, you both passed out halfway through

Nurse Anya

You made sure the fireplace was stacked to the brim with firewood because Anya + cozy fire = Christmas must

Your tradition? Her reading a book with her legs propped up on your thighs while you either watch your favorite YouTube videos or game

She’d be all serious about the book, but every now and then, she’d peek over at your screen, giggling at your reactions, but pretending like she was still super into the book

"What did he even trip on? Hell no, he deserved more than just getting skinned alive"

“Y/N, sweetie, natural selection. The weak always get eliminated”

"Mmm, makes sense"

When the clock hit a certain hour, it was handwritten letter time. Instead of gifts, you both wrote love letters to each other. This started when she told you how she re-read your first love letter whenever she got stuck on months long of hauls as a crew nurse

"Yeah, sorry, Anya. No letter this year"

"What? Bu—"

"Because you’re not getting back on that claustrophobic flying submarine this time"

Knowing how much she wanted to enter med school, you gave her the ultimate gift: fully paid tuition for a six-month medicine review center. You’d worked all year for it, and seeing her reaction made every second of it worth it

It was the first time you saw her cry. Anya, who’s always calm and composed, was sobbing in your arms, and it just wrecked you with love. You hugged her tighter, not sure who was more emotional at that point

"Y/N, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me"

Intern Daisuke

He planned the perfect Christmas adventure, complete with bullet points, timestamps, and color-coded charts. You had to give him credit for actually being organized for once—he really took his Christmas plans seriously

But, of course, the Christmas spirit was clearly not on his side this time. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong:

Alarm didn’t go off

There was a traffic jam due to a fender bender

Your favorite thrift store? Closed for maintenance

Even the skating rink shut down after some bizarre oil spill caused a dogpile (like, how does that even happen?)

By the end of the day, you weren’t mad at all, just hungry. And somehow, Daisuke turned every misfortune into something you both would be giggling about

You both bought GIGANTIC mugs at Walmart that read, “The Grinch pales at my naughtiness.” They were immediately used to create the world’s sickest hot chocolate, piled with as equally large marshmallows and a diabetes-inducing amount of whipped cream.

Meanwhile, Daisuke was relentless in roasting the Grinch—he couldn’t stop hating on that movie.

“Who even hates Christmas? It’s the grand finale of the year! Absolute loser behavior.”

Mechanic Swansea

Christmas in the garage, for short, his sanctuary. The man thought of everything: fully insulated it, brought in a heater, all just to make sure you were warm and comfy while you both worked

Both of you had this wordless agreement to work on woodcrafts for Christmas. He taught you the basics of woodworking and you proved yourself to be a modern abstract Picasso. You improved throughout the years, tho. Your pieces? From abstract Picasso to expressionism Picasso

He loves carving because it gives him the perfect excuse to sit right behind you, guiding your hands with his. His big teddy bear frame is all around you, and something about that just hits him deeply. Like when he knows you’re safe and protected in his arms. And your eagerness to learn and follow his moves. He melts.

Naturally, you got a splinter, triggering his fierce Tsundere side

“What did I tell you about not rubbing fresh-cut wood? Keep this up, and I’ll just have you sit on my lap while I do your work for you.”

But underneath all that scolding, you could see his silent panic. He just hides behind transparent glass

"Stop smiling at me like that, you clumsy goof"

After crafting a spoon with a thirty-degree angled handle and an awkward head (he still called it perfect, of course), he whipped up his signature paella

Somehow, despite having eaten a thousand spoonfuls of it over the years, you still weren’t tired of it

Co-pilot Jimmy

Jimmy’s not really one for celebrating Christmas. Not bitter about it or anything, but he just treated it like any normal day. That all changed, though, when he realized that Christmas was your thing.

“Babe, why Christmas?”

“Honestly? I’m not really sure. But you know how, when we were kids, there’s that feeling of excitement, like when Christmas is coming and you can’t stop smiling? It just brings all that back, and suddenly, you feel like a kid again. So I guess, it’s just nostalgia, huh?”

He never really thought about it that way before. After all, his goal as a kid was always to grow up faster than everyone else.

So, you took it upon yourself to share all your favorite Christmas traditions with him, hoping to bring a little of that magic into his world:

Decorating your tree? He suggested replacing the star with an angel figurine... with your printed face glued on it. (Naturally, he followed through after you both went to bed, sneaking up to do it.)

Making a gingerbread house? He blocked the chimney, and when you asked why… well, he said it best:

“I don’t want some fat bastard breaking in, he’d eat the entire damn house”

By Christmas Eve, looking around his once-bare apartment, now filled with colors he didn’t even know existed, he couldn’t stop that tugging in his heart. He didn’t even realize how much of his childhood was missing until now.

You were patching up his unhealed wounds with your bandaids, and he didn’t even notice until it was too late. He's down bad

a/n: I know it's late T.T, but here's the crew having some holiday break... future angst coming up with curly and you (sorry)

also p.s. english ain't my first language, so i kinda felt like my whole headcanon writing abilities were crap... but these somehow are the top liked posts soooo... future HCs comin' down your way

[amor-ad-nauseam]

Somethin’ stupid

Pairings: Sam Winchester X reader

Summary: You get hurt on a hunt and in taking care of you, Sam reveals a hidden talent and maybe even some hidden feelings…

Word count: 2.1k

Tags; Sam and reader have a crush on each other, fluff, no use of y/n, Sam x fem!reader, carheartt!Sam

Requests are open

part two

You never realized just how cold it got in Montana until you were here, wrapped up in Sam’s carheartt with his hands on your waist.

Well, one of his hands was on your waist, the other was digging through the pocket of his jacket for the motel room key.

“Sorry,” Sam chuckled awkwardly as his hand accidentally brushed over the small gap of exposed skin between your jeans and top.

This is definitely not what you had imagined when you envisioned his hands on you.

“It’s fine, really,” you replied with that sweet consideration he adored.

His left hand fumbles uselessly between the two of you- desperately searching for the key. He was embarrassed, beyond embarrassed. You had gotten injured-stabbed in the thigh on a hunt when he should’ve been protecting you. On top of all of that now he now has you out in the cold because he can’t find a damn key.

He eventually manages to get the key between his fingers but much to his dismay he couldn’t quite manage to pull it from the pocket due to the precarious position the two of you were in: Your left arm swung around his shoulder, his right hand on your waist and his other wedged between the two of you.

Sam was far too kind to let you slip from his grasp, no matter how many times you told him you were fine. So, you take matters into your own hands. “Here, lemme just-“

You shift your weight to your injured leg, giving him just the right amount of room to fish the key out.

His smile of triumph quickly falters once he hears your hiss of pain. He instinctively tightens his grip, reeling you back into him and closing the gap between your bodies; Sending your heart beat racing.

There’s a stillness for the moment. You staring into his eyes and he into yours. Sam couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you looked in this moment. Your normally neat, pulled back hair now wild and lovely with the cool night wind whipping through it. Your cheeks and nose were this beautiful shade of pink from the cold and all he wanted to do was reach out and cup your divine face in his hands.

“Sam,” you say, your voice just above a whisper. You never realized just how much green was in those pretty hazel eyes.

He tries to speak but not a thought -well, not a thought aside from professing his love(which he thought to be a terrible idea)- comes to mind.

Instead he blinks, searching your face for something- anything. Even a slight muscle twitch that would let him in on what you were thinking.

“The door.”

“Right,” he nods, clearing his throat and breaking the moment. He felt so stupid.

As the key turns in the lock you mentally curse yourself. Why the hell did you say that? That was the worst thing you could’ve possibly said.

He helps you limp your way into the motel room, the whole time not daring to look at you. And you do the same.

“Come on, there ya go, atta girl.” Sam grunted, gently setting you down on the bed.

Aside from your royal fuck up a minute ago, maybe this whole thing (getting stabbed included) wasn’t too bad. After all, you did get to hear sam say “atta girl” and if you were being honest, you liked it.

While Sam went to go dig out the med kit from his duffle bag you found yourself zoned out staring at his muscular frame. His hair, god it was perfect. Whose hair looks that good after spending the better half of the night in an abandoned building? It was practically witchcraft.

“Last time we let Dean pick the motel,” Sam chuckled.

“Hm?” You questioned, Sam’s voice snapping you from your train of thought.

“The whole uh, “Wild West” theme,” He smiles, gesturing to a cowboy hat hung just past his head.

“Right,” you chuckle dryly. “Definitely not letting him pick again.” You hadn’t really noticed the room; you were a bit preoccupied.

“I mean seriously,” Sam said, sitting next to you. “Where’d they get all this stuff? Cowboy furnishings?”

You giggle at Sam’s joke and lay your leg in his lap. Wine colored blood had pooled at the epicenter of the make-shift bandage (the torn sleeve of Deans FBI suit.)

The room was just large enough to comfortably accommodate two queen sized beds, separated by a thin wooden divider. On the far end of the room there was a pull-out couch with a cowboy hat pattern dancing across the leather; that same pattern reflected on the small sofa chair across from the head of your bed.

“Wild West express?” You reply while looking around the room- not wanting to lay eyes on that nasty wound. Sam chuckled and you somehow find yourself right back where you started- staring straight at him. God, he was a sight for sore eyes. His smile was enchanting.

The room had this homely atmosphere, whether that was due to Sam’s presence or the warm lighting was a mystery to you. The lights seemed to perfectly reflect on his face, illuminating those stunning hazel eyes and giving his skin a warm honey glow.

While Sam worked on disinfecting your wound he replayed the scene over and over again in his head. You were right there, mere feet from him and yet you still got hurt. Sure you’ve been banged up worse, not to mention the other bruises all three of you sustained on this hunt alone. But this time, this time was different. You’d need stitches, the stab was a few inches deep and wide with jagged edges. He cringes as he threads the needle. This was his fault.

His eyes snap to your face after the first nonevent of the needle through your skin. Your jaw was clenched tight, eyes large and pointed toward the ceiling, attempting to breathe through the pain. Guilt fills him at the very sight.

“Should’ve drank.” You grunt out, your hand balling into a fist as your eyes squeeze as tight as a camera shutter. Your head falls forward, your wind-whipped hair forming a curtain over the sides of your face. Even in pain, somehow, Sam thought you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen all wrapped up in a brown carheartt.

“Almost done.” He says gently, tying a knot and cutting the thread.

You let out a hefty breath, throwing your head back against the bed frame and sinking into the mattress with relief.

Sam’s hand slips to the underside of your knee, gently raising it. “God-“ he breaths, the new angle allowing him a better veiw of just how bad it was. “If I was there I could’ve-“ he sighs. “I’m sorry.”

You tilt your head in a dog-like manner of confusion. “What? Sam, this isn’t your fault.”

The pain had mostly subsided, fading to a feeling of dull pressure - more uncomfortable than anything really.

“Regardless. You got hurt on my watch.”

“Sam, c’mon. Don’t be so hard on yourself,” you frowned. He was too sweet for his own good.

The both of you knew this was a losing battle. You had this conversation a dozen times over during the car ride alone.

Sam goes back to silently wrapping your thigh in gauze while you decide to let your eyes wander around the room. Eventually you land on a wooden guitar propped up against the sofa chair right across from you.

You gasp and before Sam knows it you’re on your feet foot, the roll of gauze dangling from your thigh.

“What are you-“ he calls your name in an exasperated manner. “I wasn’t-“

You spin on your heels and reveal yourself to be holding a guitar with a beaming smile on your face.

“Oh no- oh no no no no.” Sam shakes his head.

“Pleaseeeee,” you beg, giving him the most puppy-dog eyed look you can muster.

“That’s not going to work on me,” he grins. “Now c’mon, sit.” He pats the space next to him and reaches out to take your hand. “Gotta finish patchin’ you up.”

You fold your arms over your chest with smugness he knew all too well. “That’s not gonna work on me,” you replied, looking from him to the guitar.

“Dude, I haven’t played since like, college.” His hand falls limply to his lap with a sigh. “Now c’mere before you make me regret ever getting drunk around you.” Sam attempts to make his voice sound serious but fails to hide the smile on his face and the amusement in his voice.

“Oh please,” you said through laughter at his expression. He looked adorable trying to be serious. “Just one song.”

Your laughter, it was contagious. Being around you was like the best high. “No.”He laughs, and he doesn’t even know why. “Okay, okay, how bout this?” He adjusts his position a little, trying to shove down the laughter. “You let me finish bandaging you up and I’ll play one, and I mean one, song?”

“Orrrrr, you play a song and I’ll let you bandage me up.”

“You can’t be serious. y’know you run the risk of infection the longer you don’t let me wrap it?”

“Then you better get to playing guitar-boy”

You smile and simply hold out the guitar to him.

Slowly, a scheming grin spreads on his lips, his large hand grabs the guitar and your wrist in one fail swoop. He attempts to get you seated back on the bed again but you’re too quick.

“Ha! Not gonna get me that easy!”

You giggle as you slip from his grasp. He watches as you run off do this weird limp-hopping thing off into the bathroom, the unfinished gauze swinging from your leg like a pendulum.

If he really wanted, he could easily stop you but he was more interested in seeing where this would go.

A few years ago, while Dean was off flirting with the bartender, you and Sam were in the back of the bar like a couple of wall flowers.

That’s the night you started to look at him differently, to feel things for him differently. That’s the night you started to like him; and it only grew from there. Admittedly, you both had a bit too much to drink. You told each other things nobody else knew. During the conversation he talked about his college days; how he smoked weed a few times (you couldn’t stop laughing at this) and played guitar like a proper hippie. (This also, much to his dismay, made you erupt into drunken laughter).

“You alright in there?” Sam calls from the room.

“Y-yeah! I’m good.” You shout back. You quickly tie off the end of the bandage and waltz back into the room only to discover Sam in the sofa chair, guitar in his lap.

You press your hand to your chest and make a show of having an aghast expression. “Is that what I think it is? Sam Winchester! Strumming the guitar?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes. “I’m just tuning it is all.”

“Uh huh,” you reply, packing up the first aid kit.

Sam’s fingers work the strings of the guitar, playing around with a few notes here and there, tuning, plucking strings. But at the playing of a few specific chords, your ears perk up in recognition.

You immediately race limp-jog? Over to the bed and perch yourself upon the edge. Sam smiles at your eager face.

“I figured one of us outta hold up our end of the deal.”

You just smile and shake your head.

And there you were. Staring into Sam’s eyes, doing a mixture of humming and singing along while he played your favorite song on guitar.

“…hmm hm hm… we pop into a quiet place and have a drink or two…”

He would hum and sing along with you, a slight hesitation every time the main part of the chorus would appear.

“…But then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin’ stupid like-“

As if the lyric held far too much weight to sing.

“I love you…”

Eventually, you began to drift off. Sinatra always put you to sleep. He knew that. Sam’s eyes don’t leave you for a moment. You were reveire incarnate. Half asleep, head on a pillow and lazily humming along.

“…But then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin’ stupid like…”

Your chest slowly rose and fell with every soft slumbering breath. Warm lighting over your skin. Tranquil and mesmerizing as a sunset.

The lyrics come out a statement more than anything else. A truthful, unsung whisper.

“I love you.”

[stevieschrodinger]

So what if like the thing that makes Alpha and Omega pairs, true mates or whatever, is like a detectable thing that they can test for. And like, everyone has their little blood test at birth and then on say, their 18th birthday, the Alpha gets informed as to who their omega is.

Obviously it's a bit of a sexist deal and lots of Omega and their supporters are trying to get it changed so that both parties are informed, to make it fair, and that is getting some traction but right now, the Alpha gets told and the Omega has to wait for them to show up.

Except when Eddie, fucking excited as all hell to meet his Omega finally, opens his envelope to find Steve Harrington's name starring back at him and Eddie just. He just can't. Steve's one of the biggest bitches at Hawkins high. And even if Eddie can, sort of, get past that, Steve's a snob. He lives in a fucking mansion and has a nice car and preppy clothes and yeah...Eddie is going to get rejected stone cold and that would be fair because he doesn't have a single thing to offer and Omega like Harrington.

Eddie burns the envelope.

And yeah, he can't help but watch Steve a little more now that he like, Knows, but he does his best to put it behind him.

And Steve gets into a fight with Nancy wheelers new Omega, when Nancy gets her envelope, and it's not Steve's name inside and it looks like Jonathan came out on top and Steve...well, he looks beaten and sad and that nearly makes Eddie cave but...no. no.

Right up until he has Steve under his hands, pinned to a boathouse wall with a bottle to his throat and Eddie's been thinking of Steve has his Omega for so long it just kind of slips out. Eddie whispers it, 'Omega' and the bottle drops to the floor and shatters more.

And Eddie has to watch it play out from close range on Steve's face, dawning realisation. Deep hurt. And then anger. An angry shield that comes down as he pushes Eddie off.

"Dustin explain to Munson what's up, I'll be outside a minute.". And Steve just stomps out and there's fuck all Eddie can do about it.

And then he kinda gets distracted by hell dimension stuff. For a bit. And Steve's clearly fucking angry with him and Eddie, well, what the fuck is Steve expecting Eddie to do, right? Steve would never have wanted him in the first place. So Eddie is fucking angry. And it comes out spiteful, calling Steve 'big boy' like he knows it'll rile Steve up. Throwing his jacket at Steve so he will cover up, because he can't bare to look at all the skin Steve is showing, especially with fucking Wheeler hanging around. And if it got something of Eddie's on Steve, well then, it doesn't fucking matter does it? Doesn't mean anything.

And it's not until it's all done, and Eddie wakes up fucking high as a kite on pain meds, with non other than Harrington sitting by his bedside that it all slips out, "what are you doing here?"

Steve shrugs, won't look at him, "waiting to see if my Alpha dies, I guess."

And he just sounds so...bereft. so broken.

"Steve, I just...look-"

"Doesn't matter. You've made it clear. It's fine. And you're going to live I guess so I'll just-" and he's standing, turning to leave.

And Eddie knows Steve now. Sees him with the sheep. Knows he isn't a bitch. Knows he's just...a good guy. Knows he isn't any of the things Eddie thought he was.

"You grew up in a fucking castle." Steve pauses, sitting back in the chair to frown at Eddie.

"What has that go to do with-"

Eddie clears his throat, it's dry and scratchy and hurts but he has to do this. "You grew up in a castle. Nice car. Both parents. Preppy clothes, fucking, shitty fucking jock friends. Steve, you would have rejected me in a heartbeat. I live in a fucking trailer and sling drugs on the side I'm not- I couldn't do that to you."

And Steve just, he just starts crying. He nods, wipes his eyes, "I might have," he admits finally, "I don't know what I would have said...but I needed you. Since then I needed you so much and," he sniffles, wipes his pink nose .

"And I didn't know. I couldn't have and I am so sorry but could we just, now, can we just-" and it hurts like fuck but Eddie bites it down because Steve is half clambered into the bed next to him and yeah. Yeah, that's perfect.

[thargelalia]

Love at first shot - pt. 1

jason todd x fem!reader

adulting is hard, especially when you need to deal with Gotham's misadventures and its crazy ass vigilantes

or alternatively, this is how you meet Red Hood for the first time

-> +5k words

-> slight dark content, mild angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers

-> warnings: violence; guns; blood; lots of swearing; mentions of drug dealing, and organized crime; poor attempt at humor; reader is unhinged, don't mess with her; jason looks like could kill you, and he could, but he's also a cinnamon roll <3

The hospital’s fluorescent lights contrast sharply with the dim orange glow of Gotham’s street lamps as you step outside. The cold autumn air nips at your face, a welcome break from the stuffy, sterile environment of the hospital. You’re exhausted but find a small sense of accomplishment as you reflect on your day. 

Dr. Joshi had pulled you aside earlier to express her satisfaction with your work performance so far, and you couldn’t be happier. She did warn you, though, to ‘take it easy’ because professor Chinwe apparently had a chat with her about your tendency to forgo any sense of self-care in order to achieve perfect results. 

Or whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.

There was no sleeping on a scholarship before, and there’s certainly no sleeping on a residency now. No time for slacking off. You’re not going back to counting pennies to buy subway tickets again. Or choosing between having lunch or dinner because you can only afford one. Or mending shoes countless times until the soles effectively fall off and there’s nothing else to be done. Sure, you’re still not rich. But you’ve managed to successfully move from the dorms into a small apartment in Burnley. That’s a hell of an accomplishment already.

These are some of the thoughts that accompany you home during the bus ride home.

Desperate for a hot shower and yesterday’s leftovers, you climb the stairs leading to the second floor with what energy is left in your body. A yawn escapes your lips as you trudge through the corridor, feet stopping at the mat saying make yourself at home (but remember you’re not there). 

Much to your horror, the door to your apartment is ajar. 

Light escapes through the crack. 

Muffled sounds of struggle and stuff breaking are coming from the inside. 

Also, another thing.

You live alone. 

Shit.

Now, a reasonable person would probably back away slowly and hide, immediately calling the police. 

A reasonable person would be desperate and frightened to the core. 

But you’re not exactly a reasonable person. 

You’re a first year medical resident that spent the day busting your ass off only to come home and find… your cousin fighting – or better, trying to survive – the Red Hood in the middle of your living room.

“What the fuck is going on here?!” You eye the mess of broken vases, dirt spread on the floor, chairs thrown across the room, fallen paintings and shards of glass everywhere, until it stops on both figures at the center of the chaos. Red Hood’s hulking frame is hunched over your cousin, grasping his collar. His other hand freezes mid punch in the air. “Ezra???”

Ezra, your cousin, muttered a weak response akin to your name and a plea for help. Black eye swollen shut and multiple contusions of equal color all over his slender body. You’re surprised he’s not passed out yet. He’s close, though. 

Red Hood drops your cousin to the floor, straightening his posture. He looks twice as big now – if that’s even possible. Dark suit, accents of red on his chest and helmet, looms over you. You’d certainly be intimidated had it not been for the fact that you were fuming. 

These motherfuckers thrashed your entire place.

“This fucking dirtbag is dealing stolen meds and guns through my turf. To kids. He’s lucky I’m not dumping him in the harbor.” A deep modulated voice speaks menacingly.

Oh, yeah. Right. Your family’s aware of Ezra’s illicit activities. Just not the true extent of it. As it’s well known, whoever looks for trouble in Gotham, finds it fast. Or even if you don’t go looking. Like you at the moment. In any case, everyone had already tried to put some sense into Ezra’s head several times, but ultimately he’s a grown man. Dropped out of high school, told everyone to fuck off and said he was now going to do his own thing. 

Sometimes you felt guilty for not trying harder but over the years you realized it’s impossible to help someone who doesn’t want help.

“I can’t even—” you try to process his words, only for your lips to draw back in a snarl. “And what the hell makes you think you’re entitled to kick his ass at my place?!”

“I only followed his tracks here.” Red Hood has the audacity to shrug. “Got the drop on him before he could steal your shit. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Not much to steal now, huh? Is this your way of stopping house robbery?” you’re seething, gesturing wildly around like a madwoman. “Can’t steal what’s broken into pieces, jackass!”

“Your boyfriend told you that?”

“Go to hell!”

“Already did.”

A moan of pain snags your attention to the floor. Damn. You’d forgotten about Ezra. Red Hood approaches him again, seemingly wanting to finish the job.

“Wait!” You hold your hands out to stop him. “Don’t do this. Let me handle him.”

“Nobody fucks with me and lives to tell the story, doc.”

You choose to believe he knows your profession only because he’s seen the graduation pics before getting into action with Ezra. And not because he already had intel on you. Or had stalked you before due to Ezra’s stupidity. 

“Oh, yeah? And how about me? You fucked with me!” Whole face is now burning as you practically yell. “You’ve no idea how long it took me to finally be able to rent a place and buy my own shit! You self-righteous vigilantes need to get off your fucking high horses and actually see the amount of damage you cause under the excuse of ‘helping’! So do me a fucking favor and fuck off!”

You’re out of breath by the end of your outburst. There’s a beat of silence before Ezra starts contorting himself on the floor while coughing out blood. Red Hood looks between you and him, seemingly contemplating his next move.

“As you wish, then. He’s your fucking problem now. But if this son of a bitch shows his weasel face near my turf again, I’ll get him clipped.” You crouch down next to Ezra as the vigilante backs away and swings one leg over the windowsill. “One more thing, doc.”

You snap your head to him. “Play it smart with your words next time. Not everyone will be nice like me.”

Unfortunately, he’s out the window before you have a chance to flip him the middle finger.

“Shit. What am I gonna do with you now?” You heave a sigh, beginning to assess the damage in your cousin’s body. 

There’s a brief moment in which you consider just leaving him there like that and deal with everything in the morning. After all, you’re exhausted and it’s not your fault he got what he went looking for. 

The only thing left to do is to patch Ezra up and get him off the floor and onto the couch as he’s completely out now. His heartbeat and breathing are slow but steady despite everything, so he’ll live. Probably going to need a trip to the hospital to check for internal bleeding tomorrow, though. That is if he wants to, which you doubt. And also if you don’t decide to dump him in the river yourself until then. 

Grabbing a broom, a trash bag, disinfectants,  and other products, you clean what you can from the mess strewn across the place, not forgetting to scrub the small pool of blood off the floor. Good news is apparently Red Hood managed to catch him in the living room and kept the destruction there. Sadly, you’ll have to replace your brand new TV, three of your poor plants, an armchair, a few portraits and chairs. 

Tidying everything up as much as possible, you left to go straight into the shower; falling into bed face first afterwards, not even bothering with blankets. 

Walking into the living room the next morning and discovering you hadn’t dreamed at all about last night shattered your inner peace, anger rushing back in tidal waves. You were supposed to be getting ready for work now but instead you’re calling Dr. Joshi, bargaining to work an entire night shift in order to deal with family business this morning.  

After that, you’re dumping a whole bucket of cold water on Ezra for him to “wake the fuck up, bitch”.

You give him several pieces of your mind, threatening to bestow his face with another black eye to match the other one when he dares to intervene. The only reason why you won’t press charges against him is solely to prevent your aunt and uncle from having a heart attack. 

When you’re done, Ezra only provides a half-assed apology about things going out of his control, arguing that Red Hood is a “deranged psycho on steroids”, and that you should be more understanding of the situation as a family. But when he actively calls you selfish, saying you always got it easy as a student and now as a doctor, and thus have no right to be bitching about money, you lose it completely. 

The feral scream that comes from the depths of your soul is enough to make him bolt out the door without looking back, injuries be damned and all, as you let yourself drop into the wet couch cushions with a sniff.

–//–

It’s the middle of the evening on another day off when your apartment is yet again invaded. 

This time by an enforcer claiming that Ezra listed your name as someone who could pay his trafficking debts. Wonderful. He gave this gang both your home and work address. 

The criminal barged in with a kick to the front door. Not even a peep heard from your neighbors. Not then, not now. 

Rather you than me. It’s the Gothamites way of life. 

You had just finished cleansing and moisturizing your face inside the bathroom when you heard the noise of wood splintering. Not fast enough to hide, the enforcer soon found you, pulling roughly on your upper arm and shoving you into the living room with even less care. 

So, yeah, now there’s a gun to your face. 

Despite your heart beating faster than a hummingbird wings, the knees wobbling, and sweat starting to coat your back, you try not to let desperation completely cloud your judgement. 

The criminal was demanding the cash, threatening to shoot in case you don’t hand it to him, stating he knows you got it, so there’d be no way out of this. Meanwhile, your brain tries to come up with a solution. 

Think. Think. Think. Think. 

Skimming through several mental philes in a flash.

Ah. 

Krav Maga. 

This one might work.

If it doesn’t, then… well. 

Let’s just say it was nice sticking around long enough to watch Beyoncé’s Coachella performance.

Through Delilah’s 144p resolution FaceTime call. But still.

“Oh, my God!” Looking past the guy, you exclaim. Mouth wide open. “Batman?!”

Instant terror cascades his features, eyes bulging out of their sockets, as he snaps his head to look behind him.

In a rush of adrenaline, you act quickly to disarm him by twisting the barrel away with one hand while the other simultaneously pushes his wrist down. You slide back swiftly as the criminal cries out in pain — thumb got caught in the trigger, most likely being broken now. Good. 

“You bitch.” Hand cradled to his chest, he glowers at you in fury from a hunched position. “Got the guts to shoot me now, huh? Aren’t you supposed to save lives?” 

“You know what I do but you don’t know me.” Mustering your best sinister smile, you try to keep a steady grip on the weapon, adding another hand to its bottom. “Hands up behind your neck, asshole. Slowly.”

Doing as told, he winces, trying to plead through gritted teeth. “Put down that gun, sweet cheeks. You don’t wanna do this.” 

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” you start, cocking the pistol. Eyes never leaving him. “You are getting lost. Now. And if you, or any other piece of shit, ever come back, you will pay.” 

“You’ll regret this.” 

“Not as much as you.” A click of another gun. 

Red Hood. 

You’ve no idea how he got here unnoticed but instant relief floods your system. Not that you’ll ever admit it.

Two guns point at the enforcer who’s now positively shaking and sweating buckets. Looking like a helpless sheep cornered by two hungry wolves.  

Oh, how the tables have turned. 

“C’mon, guys… Two against one? Not fair.” A nervous laughter reveals his yellow teeth. “I was just following orders, I swear! Don’t shoot the messenger, as they say.” 

“Just shut the fuck up.” In a swift motion Red Hood swings his gun upward, the solid metal butt striking the enforcer’s forehead, sending him sprawling to the ground. Then he turns. “You okay?”

Unable to come up with words, you simply nod. Lowering trembling hands, trying to take deep breaths as Red Hoods watches on.

“I’ll deal with this bastard outside.” He informs and you nod once again, extending your hand as a silent invitation for him to take the criminal’s glock. 

Tucking it into one of his holsters, he then picks up the unconscious body, throws it over the shoulder like a sack of rice and leaves through the window.

You waste no time in scrambling to the bedroom to find your phone. 

Delilah picks up after a few rings and you feel bad for waking your best friend up as her tired voice sounds through the speaker. 

“Hon, you okay?”

“I-can I..can I crash at your place?”

“Of course… What happened?? You’re scaring me.”

You fill her into all the crazy shit you’ve been dealing with, thanks to your stupid ass cousin, while leaving the details for later. She’s absolutely horrified as expected. Since you’ve both been super busy recently, there hasn’t been a chance to talk about all this. A text seemed inappropriate. 

Delilah asks how you’ll get to her apartment since she’s taken her car in for a revision, and you just tell her not to worry, promising to be there shortly. Ending the call, you hurriedly grab your stuff and throw everything necessary for a couple of days inside a backpack. 

Stepping out onto the sidewalk, you pay no mind to the chilling wind, intending to run as fast as possible to Delilah’s block. 

Out of a sudden, a prickling sensation spreads through your arms, making all the hairs stand up. 

Somebody’s watching you.

As you turn around, you jump when spotting a familiar figure leaning on their shoulder, arms and legs crossed, almost fully concealed by shadows. “The hell you’re still doing here?!” 

“Just tryna scare you. Good to see it worked.” Before you can open your mouth to curse him, his entire bloodline, every vigilante in Gotham city and their predecessors, Red Hood continues on a more serious note, “That son of a bitch won’t be a problem anymore.”

The enforcer. Right. 

“D-did you kill him?” You hate the way your voice wavers. 

“Sure you wanna know?” He leans away from the brick wall and saunters in your direction, causing you to instantly take a step back.

“Seriously, why are you still here?”

He ignores your question, pointing at the backpack strapped on your back. “Where you’re going?”

“Fuck off. That’s none of your business.”

“I just made it my business.”

“I’ll knee you in the groin.” 

At that, his modulated voice makes a weird strangled noise that almost sounds like… 

Wait. Is he laughing at you?

“Tough words for someone wearing a sleeping cap and Snoopy pajamas.” Yep. He’s definitely laughing at you. “There’s more holes in your shirt than in the assholes I...”

You drown out his last sentence, focusing on your lower body. Old white cotton pants and a long sleeved shirt with Snoopy prints adorned your frame. Clearly, in your haste to get away, changing clothes was the furthest thing to mind. 

That means you faced the criminal that broke into your house like this, too.

Placing a hand on your head, you also feel a smooth fabric there.

Immediately, you rip it off.

“I-Fuck. Listen, these actually—” A pause. “You know what? I don’t have to explain myself to you. Fuck off!”

“Pretty sure you already said that.”

“And I’ll keep saying it until–stop staring!” 

His amused chuckle fills the air.

“How do you know I’m staring?” There’s a 99% chance he’s smiling behind that helmet and you just wish you could slap it off his face.

Instead, you huff and walk away, leaving him standing there. More out of frustration and sheer annoyance than to actually ditch him as this would be impossible. Indeed, he manages to catch up easily with his long legs. 

Then, turning on heels briskly, you brandish the pink satin fabric in front of his face. “By the way, this is called a bonnet.” 

“Duly noted, Snoopy.” He’s closer now. Not too much to make it uncomfortable, but enough to fully enclose a large gloved hand around yours. Somehow, he manages to soften the modulated voice. “I know you’re scared. But lashing out at me isn’t the answer, alright? I’m only here to make sure you get to your friend’s place in one piece.”

“I’m not–Wait. Never told you where I was going.” 

“Mmm, you did.” 

“I didn’t.” A gasp of realization leaves your lips. “You were spying on me!”

“My hearing is just sharp.”  

“Unlike your brain, apparently.” 

“Hilarious.” Judging by the flat tone, he must’ve rolled his eyes. “But seriously, let me walk you there. The streets are dangerous at this hour.”

Much to your dismay, he’s actually right. Being out in Gotham by yourself as a woman in the middle of the night is a terrible business. Best not to take any chances. 

“Fine…” You tug your hand back and start walking again, mumbling sarcastically, “what a gentleman.”

“Nope. Not even close,” he drawls, falling into step behind you. 

You don’t say anything back and neither does he. To his credit, he actually keeps a respectful distance. Even when the cold is too much and you halt to produce a jacket from the bag. Only the sound of your backpack rustling echo in the empty streets. Not a single soul in sight. 

This whole predicament is just so uncanny to you. Only a month ago your only knowledge of vigilantes came from sensationalist news outlets or frequent whispers and gossip at work whenever criminals were admitted to the ICU in a coma. 

Like most people, you’ve also seen the bat-signal reflected in the night sky multiple times.

But you’ve never actually seen one of them right in front of your eyes. Twice now. 

You chance a furtive glance behind. 

Thumbs hooked in his utility belt, Red Hood has his attention to the passing houses, leisurely putting one foot after the other as if he’s taking a stroll at the park. 

One would even think he’s distracted. But you know better.  

Feeling watched, he tilts his head in question, prompting you to immediately avert your eyes to the front. 

At some point, he offers to carry your backpack, but gets impatiently dismissed. 

The rest of the walk to Delilah’s block is silent.

“This is it.” You announce when you reach the familiar beige stone building. He patiently waits as you climb the first two steps of the entrance and turn to him, standing eye to eye. “I appreciate your help tonight but I hope we won’t ever see each other again.”

“Ouch.” He clutches his chest in feigned hurt, wiping an invisible tear off the glowing white eyes. “How will I survive?”

“I don’t trust you, Red Hood.” You narrow your eyes, voice coming out more stern than intended. 

Silence. 

“You’re smart.” His tone is neutral. 

“Of course I am.” 

Again, silence.  

He lifts his fingers. 

And flicks. 

He flicks your forehead, completely catching you off guard.

Aside from your pride, nothing hurts, though. 

Then, he’s gesturing to your worn out pajamas. 

“You know, too bad I don’t have my wallet on me right now or I’d give you twenty bucks to replace those rags. Seriously, not even the homeless in Crime Alley—” 

“YOU—”

“I know, I know. I’ll gladly fuck off this time.” He cuts in, leaving the range of your clenched fists by gracefully sliding back. Hands up in mock surrender.  “Take care, Snoopy.”

–//–

After the entire ordeal of being held at gunpoint, nearly robbed, having your place broken in and thrashed, you decided to move to the other end of the neighborhood. A more busy but still fairly calm street. 

That doesn’t stop you from investing in sturdy locks for the windows and front door. 

No uninvited — and highly dangerous — guests this time.

Delilah let you stay with her for the days necessary to pull everything together. Despite the close ties you share, however, you really don’t like feeling like an intrusion. Not that she’s ever been unkind, quite the contrary actually. She loves having people over. The thing is once you get used to having your own space, it’s hard to live around others again.

Amidst the chaos of packing stuff and moving, you managed to take some time to visit your aunt and uncle. According to them, Ezra’s been arrested for drug trafficking, theft, and extortion. They were obviously crushed but understanding that there was nothing else to be done. You tried to show your support while hiding the relief of having one less problem to worry about. 

It’s a Tuesday night when you decide to get cozy on the sofa after an ordinary shift at the hospital. 

You’re tired, but not entirely exhausted. Just an ache in your bones. 

After a relaxing shower, you make some hot cocoa, pick up a book and dim the lights a little until sleep comes to find you. 

Contrary to your expectations, something else does. 

Trouble. 

In the shape of a black suit with a red bat insignia. 

A frantic knock on the glass window scares you into dropping your book to the floor. Scowling as you identify the source of disturbance. 

“Seriously, dude? What happened to fucking off for good?”

You reluctantly slide the windows open before he manages to crack them with his knuckles. He ducks his head in and drops unceremoniously to the ground, arms spread open.

“How did you even find me??” 

Noticing his chest heaving, you cross your arms and wait for him to catch his breath. 

“Need... a.. minute.” It’s all he manages to get out. 

Huffing in disbelief, you close the window and get comfortable on the couch again. No one’s keeping you from enjoying the little free time you haven’t had in a while. 

There’s a sound of careful footsteps. “I swear to God, if you dirty my house with those boots I’ll—” 

“Shhhh.” He lifts a finger to where his lips are, behind the helmet. “Don’t worry, Snoopy. I’ll leave soon.” 

“Still haven’t told me what you’re doing or how you found me.” 

He looks around and points at your armrest. “Mind if I sit?”

Tsking, you shut your book and drop it on the coffee table. “Go ahead. Not like I can stop you anyway.”

A deep sigh comes out as he flops down onto the soft cushions. He adjusts himself on the seat, legs widely spread, evidencing chunky meaty thighs. That’s definitely not a bad sight. Not that you’ll ever reveal this to him or anybody else whatsoever. 

“I know you’re not happy to see me again. But I actually needed to ditch someone. Some people. If you can actually consider them people.”

You lift an eyebrow as he says the last sentence almost inaudibly. 

“Why not just gun them down?” Your question drips with sarcasm. 

He hesitates. “They’re.. fast.”

At that, you shoot up from the couch. “And you risked bringing them here?? What the fuck?!”  

“What? No. No. Easy.” He tries to sound gentle and not make any sudden moves. As if dealing with a hostile cat. “I made sure they lost my tracks on the other side of town.” 

“How can you be so sure??”

“Trust me. I’d never endanger you like that.” 

You fall back onto the couch. Head stuck between hands. Can’t believe you’re in this mess again.

“As for how I found you,” he goes on, thinking as he says, “uuh.. let’s say I asked around.”

“Asked around?” You eye him suspiciously, getting a vigorous nod in return. “To whom?”

“Mmm, I’ve my sources. The same that also let me know your jackass cousin went to jail.” 

“Yeah, that’s right.” A sigh leaves your lips at the reminder. “But being privy to my life without consent is called stalking, you know?”

“I understand. But, hey, I needed to know if you were alright so I could sleep at night.” You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. “Felt bad for destroying your things the other day.”

“Well, if you really want to compensate for the damage, start by getting me a new TV.” He laughs and stops when he sees you’re not following along. “I’m serious.”

He clears his throat. “Any preferences?”

“No less than a sixty-five inch screen. 4K resolution. Feel free to choose the brand.”

“Got it.” You’re not sure he actually means it. “Does that mean I get an invitation to visit you again?”

“Ha! Unbelievable. Just order it online or have someone else deliver it at my door.” 

“Why do you even need that big of a TV anyway? The previous one you had was fifty inches.” 

That’s shockingly accurate. How does he remember that? Why did he pay enough attention to that when invading your place to whoop your cousin’s ass? So many questions pop up inside your head but you decide to let them go for now. 

“Okay, creep. You don’t get to call the shots here. I’m the one being compensated, remember?” 

“Fine.” He sighs in defeat, dropping the back of his head against the armchair. Then, he’s looking at you, or rather, your clothes. “I see you finally got new pajamas. Snoopy will be missed. RIP.”

Unlike the long sleeved Snoopy one, this set is composed of light blue polka dot shorts and shirt.  

“For your information, that wasn’t my only pair.” A flush creeps up your cheeks as you grab a throw pillow and place it on your lap, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I own a lot of pajamas.”

“So you willingly choose to dress like an apocalypse survivor?” 

“You’re not really in a position to critique my fashion choices.”  

“Hey, what’s wrong with my suit?”  

“The person behind it.”

He tuts, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “You’re a really irascible lady, huh?” 

“You learned that word today?”

“Yesterday, actually.” His attention is drawn to the book you were reading. He grabs it and examines the pages curiously before closing them. Moving on to the cover, he reads the title out loud. “A Scandal of Bohemia. Sherlock Holmes? You like mystery books? Should I call you Scooby Doo instead of Snoopy?”

“I’m surprised you can even read.” Your eyes roll at his foolishness. “And stop calling me cartoon dogs names!”

“Can’t you just play nice for once?” He puts the book down and reclines, arms braced on the armchair. “Yes, for your information, not only can I read as I actually enjoy doing it very much.”

Contemplating his words, you decide to indulge yourself him by asking, “Well, what do you like to read?”

“Finally curious about me?” The smugness in his voice earns him a dirty look. “Careful. One might even think you’re starting to like me.”

Maybe you are, in fact, irascible. 

“I take it back.” 

“I read pretty much anything as long as it’s interesting to me.” He reveals honestly, not wanting to waste the opportunity of having a civilized conversation with you for once. “Most of it is fiction. Classic, Gothic, Horror…” He stops listing on his fingers to make a dramatic pause. “Romance…”

You blink in surprise. “What?”

“What what?” 

“You said Romance.”

“Yeah, I did. Why?” Jutting his chin out, he crosses his strong arms in a playful attempt to intimidate you. “Got a problem?”

“Nope. It’s just… hmm, unexpected?” You offer with a shrug. “I’m not much of a Romance reader myself, to be honest.”

“I can tell.”

Something about the way he says it so earnestly elicits what could be considered a witch cackle from you. Red Hood watches this whole display in stunned silence until you’re wiping a tear off the corner of your eyes. 

“Oh, wow. Didn’t know you were capable of that.” 

“Laughing?”

“Being human.”

Just like that, your expression closes up again. “Ha-ha. Don’t get used to it.” 

“Right. Back to cranky default, I see.” His words are colored with amusement as he cranes his neck to look at the wall clock near the kitchen entrance. A gasp leaves his lips and he’s suddenly up on his feet. “Shit. Didn’t mean to stay this long. I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” You stand up and check the time as well. It’s almost midnight. 

“Thanks for everything, Snoopy. See you around.”

“See you.” A strange feeling of disappointment settles into your chest after his departure. 

You enjoyed his company tonight more than you’re willing to admit. 

—//—

Not even a week later, you arrive home to see him there again. 

Now, installing a new television in your living room. 

Seventy inches screen. 4k and all that. Just like you requested.

“Honestly. I’m not even surprised anymore.” You say while taking off your coat and hanging it on the wall hooks. “Don’t know why I bothered with getting better locks in the first place.” 

Despite the jab, your voice lacks its usual bite. Only a teasing lilt present in them. It’s nice to see he listened to your demands. 

“No, you did the right thing. The locks are actually great.” He comments absentmindedly, engrossed in the task at hand. 

“Not enough to keep you out, obviously.”

You take in the scene in front of you. There’s a cardboard box and some plastic wraps placed in the corner. At the center of the living room, Red Hood is assembling the TV to its mount on the wall, deeply concentrated. It’s a big heavy object that to anyone, would be awkward to lift alone. Not to him, though. He holds it almost like a freaking tablet. 

That also begs the question as to how the hell he managed to climb up to the third floor and pass through your window while carrying a seventy inch television. 

A lighthearted chuckle diverts you from your thoughts. 

“I’ll leave if you want, though. Almost done here.”

“Oh, no, please be my guest.” You wave him off, going into the kitchen for a glass of water. Then, coming back to watch him work. “You know, I’d offer you something to drink but… the helmet, right?”

“Sorry, Snoopy.” He’s fishing for the TV remote inside the box now. “Secret identity and all that shit.” 

“No, yeah. Absolutely. ” The bitterness within your words seems impossible to be contained. “It’s not like you know my home and work address, my occupation, my family and friends relations, my routine…”

“Okay, okay. I get it.” He winces, fiddling with the remote in his hands. It’s the first time he appears awkward standing in your apartment. “For what it's worth, I’m really sorry.”

After making sure the TV is working properly, he makes his way to the window. 

“Thank you.” You say suddenly, causing him to freeze. 

He turns his head slightly and gives a curt nod. 

“Anytime.” 

Then, he’s gone.

A/N: in case anyone's wondering how Jason managed to get the big ass TV through a window on the third floor, he asked Dick for help. No questions asked.

remember to reblog and let me know your thoughts if you like this!

pt. 2 will be posted soon!

thanks for reading <3

divider

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I saw you write for Ghost, if you want could you do some fluff with him? No pressure🥰

Till last breath

a/n I had this story in my drafts for over year and it’s been deleted on multiple occasions but I guess we are bringing it back cause I always had a soft spot for it… idk

warning: injuries, blood, guns, shot wounds, hurt comfort our favorite. Our oc’s nickname is Sugar. Have fun.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He hadn’t slept in the last 48 hours. Couldn’t both allow himself to and equally as much even if he tried Simon knew that his mind would not still enough for even a restless slumber. You spent exactly 43h 37min and 59s being held hostage. And still, he’s here running over every single second of when you were there. Cold cell. Waterboarding. Knives. Their hands on you. It’s as if it’s all now permanently engraved in Simon’s brain. A new scar to carry. New guilt to bear.

His head snaps to the side at the sound outside his room. There’s a commotion and he knows he should move but he can’t. Not until there’s a harsh knock on his door. A relentless one. Forcing him to pull the blanket off his body. “What do you bloody want?”, Ghost grunts the doors slightly agare as he stares at the person in front of him. “Moving base, cap said it’s not safe”, Soap says calmly, bags beneath his eyes. He too had been restless. Not leaving Ghost’s side the whole time the operation was in motion. “Now?”, Simon’s tone is a lot different now yet still sharp enough to not appear weak.

“No, I got dressed at 3 am because i love it”, Soap rolls his eyes before stepping back to make room for the running soldiers. “Fucking hell”, Ghost grunts, running a hand over his mask. “30 min”, Soap nods making Simon grunt as he shoves the door closed only to be met with his teammate's foot in between the door. “What now?”, Simon sighs but he knows the look on Soap’s face. Knows what he’s about to say. “Can’t get to Sugar’s room, she must have locked herself in”, he nods towards the door right next to Ghost’s. “She’s not in the medical?”, he frowns glancing over. “Despatched herself an hour after we got her there. Just double check…”, Soap rambles on but Simon can’t listen, won’t listen to it, “I will”, he nods sharply moving back. “With the number of sedatives”, Soap shakes his head and that’s it. That’s all it takes for Ghost to snap, “Soap. I. Fucking. Will.”, he practically growls before kicking the door shut.

His head rests against the wood for a moment as he lets himself breathe. Just for a moment before he springs into action. Crossing his room in no time. Showing things into a bag. “Hey”, he’s slowly reaching out. The clammy skin he is met with makes his insides turn. But he knows he has to. There’s no other way. A little groan fills the silence followed by a pained whimper. “I know, I'm sorry but we need to go, they are moving base. Someone must be on our ass”, Simon says quietly, listening to the uneven breathing.

“I should have tied you to the bed in med”, he says through gritted teeth as you slowly peel your eyes open. “Can you move at all?”, he knows that it’s the stupidest question ever with the injuries that you have. “Simon”, it’s barely a whisper but it’s enough to leave him defenseless. “Don’t speak just nod or blink”, he softly cups your face, “Let’s try to sit up, yeah”, he can sense the dread yet you nod, his arms moving across your shoulders as he slowly lifts you. The pain on your face makes him want to scream. And then your head lulls back. “Shit”, he winces himself before lowering you down. The bandages all soaked in blood screaming at him.

“That bad”, you whisper, eyes not leaving him. He doesn’t answer. His jaw is clenched so hard it hurts but he needs that pain now. Needs something else running through his head. “You’re hot”, his palm rests against your forehead. “Are you hitting on me lieutenant?”, you manage to pull a pained smile making Simon shake his head, “You’re a mad woman”, he grunts. “Mad for you”, you mutter watching his eyes snap at you. “Bloody hell”, he murmurs throwing his head back. “Now who’s hot and bothered?”, you try to chuckle but it only results in a pained expression. “If you weren’t bleeding out in my bed I would throw you over my shoulder”, Ghost threatens only making you smile, “Don’t threaten me with a good time”, just he’s not ready to joke and it shows.

“How bad?”, his voice is firm as he looks right at you. “It’s manageable”, you whisper but you can tell that he doesn’t buy it. “Y/n… We don’t keep shit from one another”, he leans forward, cupping your cheek. “Really bad”, you can feel tears prickling your eyes but you refuse to give in the panic. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay, I will make it better”, Simon kisses your cheek, before resting his forehead against yours for a heartbeat. “Come on, I will carry you”, he muses, pulling back. “But the walking order”, you protest, knowing the base rules like the back of your hand. “I will shoot them in the shins so they would have to crawl themselves”, Ghost states casually. Yanking the blanket from the bed wrapping it around your body. He knows it’s the fever that makes you shiver so badly but still, after hours in that cell…

The clammy burn of your skin against his neck makes his insides twist. He endured so much. Seen so much torture and pain. Yet none of it made Simon feel this bone-deep sickness of watching your already frail body go weaker. “Do you still want to get that pottery set when we get back?”, he knows that he’s pulling shit out of his ass now, trying to keep you awake. To keep you up. Until he can change your bandages in the truck. “You hate pottery”, you frown slightly. “I’ve been thinking about a design to paint on it” He hadn’t given it much thought. You had been testing his limits. But saying no to you was another thing Simon struggled with. And now looking at that slight smile on your lips it feels more than worth it. “Did you?”, you whispered, voice raspy as you clung to him.

“Yeah, maybe we could paint a mug for one another”, he suggests stepping past the chaos in the hallway with calculated ease. “You do like your tea”, you whimpered against his skin. I like you more, he screamed in his head. “Why is your heart beating so fast? Are you hurt?”, your palm moves over his heart. One that has been doing overtime ever since. “I am unharmed I’m just… worried”, he admits because what’s the point in lying. “Why”, the question makes Simon want to scream. “Fucking hell, Sugs, I feel your blood seeping through my shirt and fingers and you look like you’re one step from crossing the threshold”, he practically cries through gritted teeth.

Your fingers reach up to his neck, gently brushing the tight muscles before inching beneath the material of the mask. Ever so slightly. Skimming over his jaw. Feeling the stubble prickling the pads of your fingers. “Look at me”, you mutter, but his face doesn’t move. “Simon fucking Riley”, you grip his jaw, pulling his face down as he halts. “I will pull through”, you say firmly feeling the edges of your vision blur. “You fucking better because I would not make it out without you”, his words leave a pang in your heart but you manage to give him a slight smile, “Tell that to me one more time when I am not…”, and that’s it your head falls against his shoulder. Body going limp making Simon hold onto you even tighter. As he steps to the outside his worried gaze is quickly replaced by the iron steal one. Cold enough to kill the stupid ones who dare to meet his eyes.

“Over here”, Price doesn’t ask but Simon can read his cap without words after so many years together. So he simply shakes his head. “Nurse is already insane. Back seats are just for her”, Price claps him on the shoulder. Simon doesn’t speak. Can’t find it in him. He would crack and he can’t crack. His shoulders droop with ease when his eyes land on Price’s wife, medical bag already open. A drip hung from the roof of the car. “Our trouble maker”, she grunts spotting you two and instantly moving to make room for Ghost. “She got wounded…”, Simon starts but she simply places a hand on his palm gripping onto you, “I know, honey, Price told me everything”, Simon is about to thank her and plead with her to do what it takes as he carefully lowers you onto the back seat when a sharp voice rings out, “She can’t be here”.

“Pardon”, Ghost turns back, facing the chaos once more. “The rule.. she didn’t… you carried her and this is an emergency evacuation”, the first-year-old nearly trembles as Ghost fully stands up, towering over him. “Ghost, stand back”, Price places a warm hand on his back but Simon doesn’t move. “Who do you think you are?”, the lieutenant’s voice is full of malice as he sizes the soldier up and down. “She should be left behind she’s our weakness”, there’s no rational thinking as Ghost reaches for Price’s gun aiming it at the boy before firing it right into his thigh. The scream that rings out is enough to drown out the commotion.

“Crawl if you can”, Ghost grunts through clenched teeth. “That is out of line, I will…”, the soldier whimpers, tears staining his cheeks. Ghost aims the gun at his head. “Ghost, last warning”, Price claps a hand around the back of his neck, “Think about Sugar. She needs you. Push it down”. Your name seems to breathe a sense of sanity back into him. Pointing the gun to the sky Ghost fires at the air one last time. “Listen closely you fucking scums”, his whole troop is quivering. The pathetic look makes Simon’s blood boil. “That’s my fucking wife bleeding out in that car right now”, he growls, pointing the gun back at them, “If you have a bone to pick feel free to. But you will have to go through me to get to her”, he holds eye contact with them for a heartbeat before shoving the gun at Price’s chest and climbing into the truck.

“Move your piss bags”, Soap’s voice rings out, “Before I leave you running next to the trucks”, he’s shoving the soldiers by the uniform before glancing at the open back. At Ghost crotched down by you, the scared palm resting against your forehead. “Fucking wife”, he mutters glancing at Price. “Don’t look at me, I found out only because I know how to make my wife talk”, the captain shrugs before motioning for Soap to get in too.

[redvdress]

Ahem katsuki taking care of you when your sick? 🫣

I’m so sick lately I need something to devour rn to survive (you don’t have to tho dw bb)

DUMBASS FLU PATROL

A/N: i’m SO SO SO SORRY this and all the other requests are taking so long but i’ve been running out of ideas and school took a lot of time from me. This prompt was just so fun to write ‘cause I can perfect picture bakugo taking care of reader..in his own way..I’ve been sick to after hanging out for halloween night, we all need a bakugo to take care of us🦇

It starts with Bakugo noticing something off about you during class.

He wouldn’t say anything right away, but he’s sharp enough to pick up on small changes. You’re quieter than usual, your eyes look a little glazed, and you keep rubbing your temples.

At first, he thinks you’re just tired from all the late-night study sessions you two have been pulling together, but when you keep sniffling and coughing under your breath, he starts to get annoyed.

Not at you—no, he’s irritated because you’re clearly sick and trying to tough it out, which to him is just stupid.

As class goes on, he watches you like a hawk out of the corner of his eye.

You’re shivering slightly, even though the room isn’t cold. Finally, during a brief break, he leans over, his usual scowl firmly in place as he mutters,

“Oi, what the hell’s wrong with you? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

You give him a tired smile, trying to brush it off. “I’m fine, Bakugo. Just a little under the weather.”

“Bullshit,” he snaps, barely lowering his voice. A couple of classmates look over, but Bakugo doesn’t care.

“You’re sick, dumbass. Why didn’t you stay in bed?”

You shrug, trying to play it off like it’s no big deal. “Didn’t want to fall behind.”

Bakugo grits his teeth, muttering curses under his breath.

The fact that you’d drag yourself to class, even when you’re clearly unwell, pisses him off more than he’d like to admit.

Part of him is frustrated that you’re so stubborn, but another part—the part he doesn’t like to acknowledge—feels a strange pang of concern.

After class, he’s practically glued to your side, his eyes narrowed and jaw clenched as he escorts you out of the room. You insist you’re fine, that you just need some rest, but Bakugo’s having none of it.

“Shut up,” he growls when you try to brush him off. “You’re goin’ back to your room, and you’re not leavin’ until you’re better. Got it?”

You try to argue, but Bakugo’s glare is unyielding. His hand finds the small of your back, firm but surprisingly gentle as he steers you down the hall. He’s not usually one for soft gestures, but something about seeing you weak and vulnerable sets off an instinct he can’t ignore.

Once he gets you to your dorm room, he practically shoves you inside, crossing his arms as he stands in the doorway, blocking any chance of escape.

“Get in bed,” he orders, his voice rough but laced with an unmistakable note of concern.

You sigh, knowing better than to argue with him at this point.

You climb into bed, pulling the covers over yourself as he watches, his eyes sharp and critical, like he’s assessing just how sick you are.

After a moment, he grumbles, “You got medicine in here?”

You nod weakly, gesturing toward your desk where you have a small stash of over-the-counter meds.

Bakugo grabs them, inspecting each bottle with a furrowed brow, clearly reading the labels with more intensity than necessary.

He pours out the recommended dosage and hands it to you along with a glass of water, his expression a mixture of irritation and reluctant care.

“Take it” he says, watching closely as you down the pills. You can’t help but chuckle softly at his intensity, which only makes him scowl harder.

“Quit laughing, idiot. You’re the one who’s sick,” he mutters, almost to himself.

Bakugo doesn’t leave after that.

Instead, he grabs a chair from your desk, dragging it over to sit beside your bed, his arms crossed as he watches you. You raise an eyebrow, surprised by his persistence.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” you murmur, your voice a little hoarse.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Like I’m gonna leave you here to get worse just ‘cause you’re stubborn as hell. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t do somethin’ stupid.”

There’s a warmth in his tone, buried under layers of gruffness, but it’s there.

The corners of his mouth twitch, almost like he’s considering a smile, but he quickly forces his expression back into a scowl.

You settle under the blankets, feeling a strange sense of comfort in his presence.

For the next few hours, Bakugo stays put, occasionally checking your temperature with the back of his hand (grumbling something about “damn germs” every time he does it) and making sure you’re drinking enough water. At one point, he disappears for a few minutes and comes back with a bowl of soup he somehow got from the cafeteria.

It’s barely warm by the time he returns, but the gesture makes your chest feel warm.

“Eat” he commands, holding the bowl out to you.

You take it, giving him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Bakugo.”

He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, whatever. Just don’t get used to it.”

As the day goes on, you start to drift in and out of sleep, your fever making you drowsy. Each time you wake, Bakugo is still there, watching over you with a mixture of irritation and quiet worry. At one point, you feel his hand gently brush your forehead, checking for any sign of improvement.

The touch is warm—maybe a bit too warm, given his quirk—and you find it oddly soothing.

Just as you’re dozing off again, you hear him mutter under his breath, “Stupid… makin’ me worry like this…”

It’s barely audible, but it makes your heart flutter.

You feel yourself drifting back into sleep, a faint smile on your lips as you listen to him grumble, his voice softening in a way you rarely hear.

When you wake up again, it’s late, the room bathed in the dim glow of your bedside lamp. Bakugo’s still there, now slouched in the chair, looking half-asleep himself. He’s fighting to stay awake, his arms crossed, head nodding forward slightly.

You feel a pang of guilt, realizing he’s been with you all day. “You should go rest..” you whisper, not wanting him to feel obligated to stay.

He snaps awake, scowling. “I’m fine. You’re the one who looks like crap.”

You can’t help but smile, too tired to argue with him. Instead, you simply reach out, your fingers brushing his arm. He stiffens for a moment, surprised by the contact, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Thank you… really,” you murmur, your voice soft.

He looks at you, and for a second, his expression softens, his usual harshness fading just slightly. He lets out a small sigh, leaning forward to gently press his hand against your forehead again, feeling your temperature one last time.

“Tch. You’re still warm,” he mutters, but there’s a tenderness in his tone that he can’t quite hide. Not with you.

You close your eyes, feeling yourself drift back into sleep, his presence comforting and grounding.

Just before you drift off completely, you feel his hand linger on your forehead, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. It’s such a small, unexpected gesture, but it speaks volumes—his way of showing he cares without saying a word.

As you fall asleep, you can just barely hear him mumbling under his breath, his tone low and almost affectionate.

“You better get better soon, idiot. Can’t have you fallin’ apart on me.”

[tojiscumdumpster]

⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ knockout x renji abarai

✧ summary there’s no better way for renji to celebrate a big win than to spend the night with y/n.

✧ content warnings reader described as a black woman who uses she/pronouns. feisty!reader, chubby!reader x undergroundfighter!renji. modern au — no bleach verse. told in first POV — renji’s. mentions of stitches and bruises. usage of profanity, praise kink, cowgirl position, nipple play, facefucking — renji will finish in reader’s, squirting. terms of endearment — baby, sweetheart, angel, etc. reader and renji are in their late twenties.

✧ author’s note hello, hello. i am here with a fic that’s not jjk for once in my life, lmfao. this idea has been in my drafts since january 2023, and it was just sitting there collecting dusts on my old tumblr. but i said i was going to do more bleach characters, so here we go. first time writing renji, so if this ain’t how you see him, oops. still enjoy. also didn't really focus on the underground!fighter portion as much. but maybe i will if there's a next time. support me by liking, commenting, and reblogging this post. i would greatly appreciate it. AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS AND MINORS— DO NOT INTERACT.

I know she told me not to come by after the fight, but I needed to. 

 I won.

 I fucking won, and there’s no other way for me to celebrate winning ten thousand dollars than to be with Y/N.

 Well, that’s if she’s still not mad at me.

 Before I left for my match, we got into an argument. A huge one. She doesn’t like that I fight for a living, let alone illegal underground fighting. I mean—I get it. Seeing someone you care about constantly getting his ass beat isn’t a sight worth seeing. 

 But fighting is all I know. 

 I had a shitty childhood. Didn’t know who the hell my parents were since they gave me up at birth for adoption. Jump around in foster care homes until the mothers got sick of me and kicked me out in the streets. Survival was basically forced on me.

 Fighting is what kept me alive. For food. Clothes. A place to lay my head. Whether I lost or won, I know the reason why I’m alive today is because I’m a fighter. 

 It wasn’t until I was eighteen when I found out about the world of underground fighting. Ten years deep and I know nothing else. 

 Y/N knows this about me. She understands I didn’t have it easy and never judged me. But that doesn’t mean she agrees with my lifestyle. 

 She came to a few fights in the beginning. Eventually, she got tired of seeing me stitched up almost every weekend. 

 Shit, me too. 

 However, after tonight, I feel good about my future wins. I busted my ass in training, so now I don’t have to hear shit about anymore losses. 

 Even if right now I’m stitched up and have a black eye. I feel good.

 Great.

 Better if Y/N opens the door after keeping me waiting out in the cold for the past ten minutes. 

 I know she’s awake. She has a habit of staying up late, studying for med school. And plus, I haven’t messaged or called her yet. Despite her not showing up to my fights, she still wants an update afterwards that I made it out alive.

 “Y/N, let me in,” I say, knocking loudly on her apartment door. “You know I don’t care about making a scene.”

 After a few more obnoxious knocks, the door finally swings open and I am met with deep russet skin, tight curls, and chocolate-colored eyes that pierce an annoyed look in my direction.

 “What do you want?” She bites out. “I’m busy.”

 I smirk and hold the bag of money in the air. “I won.”

 “Congrats.” Her tone is flat and she tries to slam the door in my face, but I placed my foot to stop it from closing. “Seriously?”

 “Yes, seriously. Are you really still mad at me?” I teasingly ask. 

 “You won. I said congrats. What more do you want?”

 I shrugged. “I’m locked out of my apartment.”

 She arches a brow at me, already recognizing my bullshit ass excuse of being locked out of my apartment. 

 Y/N knows me. She knows I would do anything to be in her presence, so going back and forth in forty degree weather is pointless. 

 Her pretty brown hues travels across my face and body, examining the stitches and bruises that probably has her wondering, who the fuck treated him? 

 Me. But that’s besides the point.

 A deep sign escapes her mouth when she realizes I’m not going anywhere until she lets me in, so she opens her door wider and turns her back to me to walk further inside her apartment. 

 “Sit,” she orders, which I happily do so while chuckling to myself. 

 While Y/N goes to the bathroom (assuming she’s getting a med kit to fix my shitty patch job), I take advantage of staring at her round ass that’s barely covered in those tiny boy shorts. Every step she takes it jiggles, creating an ocean of waves I’m eager to swim in.

 I get comfortable while I wait, taking off my skully, sweater, and any other form of heavy clothing that would cause me to sweat in her heated apartment. 

 “I’m going to start charging you if you keep fucking coming to my apartment like this, Renji,” Y/N snapped, walking with the kit in her hand as expected. 

 “Outside of paying for your tuition, I can think of other ways to repay you.”

 She rolls her eyes at my suggestive comment. “Get over yourself, Abarai.”

 I let out a snort before she stands in front of me and tilt up my chin to start making work on my face. 

 She’s cute when she’s mad. Huffing and puffing while whispering slick comments under breath. But how she’s handling my face by moving it around with force rushes blood straight to my groin.

 I’m getting hard.

 Hard as shit, and it’s not helping that I’m in close proximity with her. 

 That jasmine lavender scent that circulates through my senses. Looking up at her full lips that’s coated with gloss. Then, lowering my gaze to her tits that’s big, naturally saggy, and pretty. My mouth is watering at the sight of her nipples hardening.

 And I don’t know if it’s because she feels that I’m checking her out or the coldness outside is affecting her. 

 Either way, I’ll act on it.

 Taking it upon myself, I grab the back of her thighs to pull her on my lap. As if she’s used to my antics, it doesn’t catch her off guard and she continues to clean up my wounds. 

 “You’re all bloody up with a black eye and somehow you still have the energy to be a pervert,” she retorts.

 I move one of hands to her ass, massaging comforting circles. “For you? Yeah.”

 The quiet between us was comfortable until she opted to speak again. “So… who’d you fight?”

 “Some huge motherfucker. I thought I was going to die.”

 She leans back to grab more alcohol and dabs it above my brow. “Maybe that’s what needed to have you stop fucking fighting.”

 I throw my head back to laugh, but she grabs my chin to bring my face forward. “Like you want me dead.” My hands creep beneath her cheeks to pull her closer to me and apply more pressure to my cock. “That’s what you want?”

 “That came out my mouth, Abarai?”

 “Why are you still mad at me?” 

 She scoffs. “Why am I mad that you’re practically coming to me everyday with a busted face and broken ribs?” That’s one thing I love about Y/N—her feisty personality. It turns me on so fucking much because I know when I fuck her, it’ll be a different story. 

 Continuing, she says, “I think I would be a little more satisfied if you did this professionally as opposed to underground. Underground doesn’t come with insurance, Ren.”

 “Aw, you care about me that much?” My question was supposed to be posed as a joke, but the look on her pretty face says otherwise. 

 “Fucking asshole. I don’t know why I still deal with your ass.”

 “Probably because you love me.”

 “Probably not.”

  Gripping her hips, I pull her with me and lean back into the headrest of the couch. We’re inches away from our mouths cooling and I take advantage of this proximity by basking in her sweet smelling breath and beauty. 

 Simply because Y/N exists, my cocks hardens for her. Holding her in my arms. Feeling her pussy against my erection and breasts suffocating pressed on my chest. Girlfriend or not, she’s mine.  

 And she knows it. 

 I can see how she looks at me, even when mad, that she cares and loves me. Y/N is a tough girl. I can only imagine what she’s been through. Still, she manages to soften up just for me. 

 We never made it official since she doesn’t approve of the underground shit, but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop asking. 

 “So when are you going to say yes to being my girlfriend?” I whisper.

 She tries breaking from my embrace, but I tighten my grip. “Renji…”

 “You feel my dick pressed against you, right? It only makes it harder when you say my name like that, Y/N.”

 “Be real with me… will you keep doing this shit forever?” Her eyes waver as she awaits my answer and I can’t help the guilt from pinging my chest. 

 “If it lessens my chance of being with you, no.”

 She searches my face for hesitance or deceit, however, she finds nothing because I meant what I said. Y/N is the only person that looks at me like I’m a human, and I wouldn’t let my obsession with fighting get in the way of our future together. 

 How she tucks her coil behind her ear and nips down on her lower lip shows me the bit of vulnerability she reserves for me.

 So—I take advantage of it. 

 In less than three seconds my lips were on hers. I take my time relishing those sweet, plump and plush, strawberry flavored lips.

 I can feel the skepticism from Y/N while kissing her, maybe because she’s trying to put on this show that she’s still mad at me. But soon, her rigid body melts into mine and returns the kiss. 

 Our heavy breaths mingle, increasing in speed the more aggressive we lock lips. She begins rolling her hips onto my cock and I let out a grunt, feeling the moisture of her pussy liquefying on me. 

 The slaps I leave on her ass are harsh, causing her to bite my bottom lip and suck it into her mouth. Y/N is so fucking aggressive it drives me nuts. She gives me a high and adrenaline not even a fight could give. 

 “Pull your dick out, Ren,” she orders through muffled moans and our kiss. 

 “Fucking bossing me around to give you cock? Not mad at me anymore?” Y/N ignores my taunt and works her hands between us to untie my sweats. I hiss at the feel of her cool hands engulfing my dick to give it a few pumps.

 She must not know what her touch does to me. She handles my cock like she owns it, and gosh, I fucking love that shit. My fingers gently tangle into her coils to deepen our kiss, but she soon gets up to strip her clothes.

 Fuck… Fuck, she’s so goddamn sexy. I’ll never get tired of her thick body, filled with soft dips and curves. I look at her, observe her like she’s an expensive piece of art hung up at a museum because that’s what I see her as. 

 Pretty pussy leaking arousal and I smirk to myself, thinking how she had all that attitude earlier while being wet for me like she didn’t want me inside of her.

 “You’re fucking beautiful. You know that?” I ask, massaging her tits and looking up at her. “You still have that attitude or are you going to come ride my cock like a good girl?”

 She gently pushes me back against the couch with her lips on mine and straddles my lap. “Depends on if you’re going to be a good boy and take this pussy.”

 “Shit, angel. I will.”

 Y/N hums while reaching around to align my cock with her sex. Two seconds later, she slowly sinks down my length until I’m buried into the hilt. That soft lingering fuck that slips past her pretty lips sounds sexy as hell and has my dick twitching in response.

 I can’t bust now. Not yet. Even if the tightness and heat of her pussy pushes me off the edge of a mountain. Her pussy is so warm, so fucking warm, fat, and wet. Gosh, I don’t ever think I can be without this pussy. 

 I throw my head back and savor this feeling, but Y/N had other plans for me. 

 “Remember to look at me when I’m riding you, Ren,” she coos. “Eyes on me, baby. I want you to see how much I love this dick inside my pussy.”

 Fucking Christ. “Tell me how much you love it while bouncing on me.”

 And she does just that. Telling me how big and girthy I am, that she’s sorry for giving me attitude and admits that she just wanted dick. But no. I want her to fuck me like she’s mad. I need that type of energy pumping through my veins after this win tonight. 

 I reassure Y/N and tell her to fuck me harder. Her pace quickens and slaps her ass fervently against my cock. I can’t stop moaning her name. The wet slippery noises coming from her pussy increases in volume and it creates a mess between us. 

 This is where I belong, deep in her pussy and feeling her walls squeeze the hell out of me. I don’t even hold her hips or waist. I relax comfortably with my arms sprawl over the top of her couch, watching how gorgeous she looks while fucking what’s hers. 

 “Oh, fuck, Renji,” she moans, tugging her lips inwards and lolling her head to the side in complete pleasure.

 Those perfect, full tits bounces in my face and I can’t help but stare and become mesmerized. Light marks that resemble tiger stripes decorated the valley of breasts. Her nipples, pebbled and straining underneath my gaze, look desperate for my touch.

 I take it upon myself to pinch them between my fingers and a soft shriek escapes her mouth, further arching her back. 

 Y/N keeps getting wetter by the second, every bounce she makes. And hearing her sticky arousal, I know and see how she’s creaming my cock.  Purposely, I sit myself on the couch, thrusting up in her a bit to feel my head hit her g spot.

 “Ren, help me little,” she begs through a whimper. “Fuck me back.”

 I caress her cheeks with the back of my head. “Yeah? You want me to help you, sweetheart?”

 “Please.”

 God, I love it when she’s needy for me like this. 

 In no time, my hands are at her waist and my thrusts meet with her jumping movements. Y/N isn't loud when it comes to her sounds of pleasure. Vocal, yes. But right now, her moans and whimpers are louder than usual. 

 It’s like she needed my dick inside of pussy just as much as I needed it. 

 I see the desire in her brown hues. I feel the heat radiating off Y/N’s skin while my fingers dig into her flesh, holding her in place to pound upwards into her pussy. 

 This is what I wanted—to fuck my girl after a well deserved win. And she’s going to congratulate me how I want. 

 My lips are at her neck leaving wet kisses and sucking her flesh until purple specks form. “Coming home to this good fucking pussy. Gosh, I love how you feel, angel. Going to fucking mean it now when you say congrats?”

 “Congratulations, baby,” she purrs, slamming harder on my cock. “You did good… so damn good, Ren.”

 I hum, dragging my tongue along her neck. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

 Y/N continues to gasps out her pleas for me to fuck harder. I comply… I comply in helping my pretty girl come and savor the look when she washes over me. My grips are firm on her waist, betting that’ll leave marks when she wakes up the next poor, and drive my cock deeper into her pussy.

 I’m in pure awe. I feel my own releasing catching up to me the more I watch her take me. This is my woman. My fucking girl. I come home to this every night after every fight to hold her in my arms and fuck her. 

 Her name from my mouth sounds like a broken record when I moan her name. This fat, gushy, slick and tight pussy has this power over me. She won’t stop fucking squeezing me, I can’t prevent my face from growing hot. It’s intense how I feel right now, and it’s all because of Y/N.

 “Good, good fucking pussy. God, you’re so fucking good to me, angel face,” I rasp, pecking her lips. “You’re going to come for me?”

 “Yes, Renji, baby. I’m going to come. Keep giving me that dick. Please don’t stop, please.”

 “Put your fingers in my mouth.” She does quick with my command. I suck on her digits and coat them well with saliva before pushing them out of my mouth. “Now rub your clit, pretty girl. I wanna see you squirt everywhere.”

 Because she’s overwhelmed with arousal, Y/N stops bouncing on my cock and allows me to fuck her while she plays with clit. Her mouth hangs gape, drool slightly coating the side of her mouth and breathing heavily. 

 My balls slap her ass. My head kisses her soft cushion repeatedly. Her velvet walls transfer warmth to my cock and the bubble that rests in the pit of my stomach is on the verge of explosion.

 I’m about to come. Hard.

 But I need her to come first.

 “Fucking come for me, Y/N. Keep playing with that pretty pussy and moan my name,” I grit out, pushing past all my thrusts. 

 “Right there, Renji. Keep fucking me right there… I’m–oh, fuck–I’m coming.”

 She’s so pretty when she comes. Dark brown porcelain complexion, slick with sweat. Eyes rolling to the back of her head. Pussy clenching and unclenching around my cock. Moaning, whimpering my name back to back. 

She’s breathless. Flawless. I have this image of her painted perfectly in my mind. Watching Y/N come, makes me come, so I make quick work to pull her off my lap. And she knows exactly what I want–to fuck my release down her throat.

 Her mouth is as warm as her pussy, and I let out hitched breaths and harsh grunts when she swallows me whole. I’m relentless when forcing her head down on my cock as I facefuck her. The gurgling noises she makes are obscene. Pornogrpahic, even. 

 And what caused my come to shoot through her mouth is seeing that she’s still massaging her clit, eventually squirting all over her wooden floors. 

 My hips stutter and I throw my head back to moan into the air. “Fuck, Y/N! That’s my fucking girl. Look at you making a mess while choking on my cock and swallowing my come.”

 Y/N takes it upon herself to wrap her lips tighter around my cock and massage my balls, ensuring every single last of my nut has released in her mouth. I take it for a while, but I soon become sensitive, practically feeling my skin being sucked off.

 “Easy now, angel,” I say through an airy chuckle. I pull my cock out and her mouth echoes a pop sound. 

 She whines a little because I’m no longer in her mouth and it causes me to smirk because it wasn’t too long ago where she acted like she hated me. 

 My hand grasps her chin and guides it upwards to meet with my eyes. “You swallowed for me, Y/N? Open up.” She nods, sticking her tongue out. “Perfect.”

 “You’re going to fuck me again?” She asks, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.”

 Gosh, this woman will be the death of me.

tags: @dejwrld @hvshinas @diamondoidxx @xxjazzxx @thegirlwonder1 @ryukenzz @maiapuhpaia @elitesanjisimp @amyrahrose @sweetpeachies @abigolemess @linastired @diorsbrando @starrygetou @niya729 (if i didn't tag you it's because tumblr wouldn't have your user pop up)

[i314flix]

[ 7:23 A.M. ] “god, ____, you’re killing me here.”

you glared at jake. you wanted to retort that if anyone had the right to claim that they were being killed at this second, it would be you, thanks to your annoying fever. after all, you have been glued to your bed since yesterday, only getting up when you needed to pee or wished to rummage through the fridge, trying to find something to eat that your appetite might be kind enough to accept. so far, a half-glass of orange juice has managed to get down your throat, as well as a few spoonfuls of rice porridge.

“how the hell am i supposed to leave you like this?” he added when you didn’t answer. “should i make a call and say i’m rejecting the deployment?”

“is that even allowed?”

“no. i’m pretty sure they’ll throw me in the brig and give me a bad discharge or something.”

“then you should leave now, jake.” you weakly pushed his thigh. he was standing beside the bed, dressed in his naval aviator uniform, this permanent worried expression etched on his face. “i promise, i’ll live. it’s just some stupid cold.”

he didn’t move.

“jake.”

“what do you expect me to do?” he raised his arms up in frustration, voice raising a bit. he sometimes had the bad habit of converting his concern into a display of anger. “my girlfriend’s sick. her temperature’s not lowering, she lives alone, and i’m about to leave her for three months because my job demands it. i’m sorry if i want to ditch my patriotic duty for a goddamn day!”

you sighed. you weren’t sure how you were going to make the situation better either, and being scolded by jake didn’t help. it only worsened your headache, this ringing bothering your ears heightening for a second.

“shit, i’m sorry.” you suddenly heard jake mutter almost immediately when he finished talking, and he crouched down to your level, placing a hand over cheek. “i did it again, didn’t i?”

“turned your anger on me? yeah.”

guilt washed over him further. “i’m sorry for being a dick. you didn’t deserve that.”

“it’s alright, babe.” you placed your palm over his hand, a small smile making its way on your lips to appear stronger than you were. “we both know this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. we’re supposed to be sneaking in a quickie before i drive you to the airport and instead i’m sick.”

jake laughed at that. “i hate that i can’t even kiss you right now.”

“i know. i hate it too.”

“i hate that i need to leave.”

“if only you didn’t have to.”

“you sure you’ll be fine?” he asked.

“yeah, positive.” you replied. “i mean, this isn’t the first time i’ve been sick on my own. i’m a grown woman. i can take care of myself.”

“that’s another thing i hate.”

“don’t worry.” you kissed his wrist. “once i’m back on my feet, i’ll tell you.”

that seemed to ease him a little. “i expect you to tell me you’re okay as soon as possible, alright?”

“i’ll even write it in paragraph form with pictures if you want.”

“i’m being serious.”

you smiled wider, sheepish. “yes, sir. i’ll update you as soon as possible.”

he rolled his eyes at your playfulness and leaned in to give your forehead a long kiss. “don’t forget to drink your meds on time. i’ll tell marjorie to check on you every now and then.” marjorie was your elderly neighbor who had a dog you often looked after when she had lengthy errands to do.

you nodded once more, and with a final kiss on your cheek this time, jake said his farewells (reluctantly) and was out of your apartment by the time you were threatening to call coyote to haul him away.

[ashley-foster-13]

Can I request a "maze runner boys × reader having their first kiss." Like what would be the scenerio and stuff. Thank you♡

TMR x Reader having their first kiss

Thomas:

- oblivious puppy we all know that

- you came up before him, so there wasn’t much time to get to know each other

- in the wicked headquarters, when Teresa got taken away and you didn’t, you were the one trying to calm him down and helped to search for her

- you almost had a heart attack when he barely slid under those doors

- kept nudging you forward so that you don’t fall behind when you were running away

- when Winston passed away, you grabbed his hand for support, squeezing hard, and he squeezed back, letting a few tears spill from his eyes

- you finally realized you’ve fallen for each other

- cold nights in the scorch were warmed by his huge bear hugs

- I mean, literally, he has large arms and super protective hugs

- always makes you feel wanted

- so back to business, you arrived in the Right Arm, everyone had a chance to finally relax, you and Thomas went to search for Teresa

- At some point you stop and take both his hands in yours

- “You have to stop throwing yourself in danger like this”

- “But I have to protect-”

- “You can’t save everyone, Thomas. And who will save you?”

- hug him tightly, as if at any moment he’d disappear

- “I just car about you all,” he says, his hands gently drawing circles on your back, “I care about you,” he adds, then pulls back

- you look at him, not really understanding what he’s getting at

- his warm hand touches your cheek, doing the thumb thing

- and then he leans in

- and you do, too

- the kiss is very gentle and soft and loving

- you are his world and he is yours

- both of you pull back, smiling sheepishly

- *beat* *both, blurting out* I love you

- laugh at your perfect timing)

- he starts kissing you again, but you step back, because from the corner of your eye, you saw a wicked berg…

Newt:

- long story short, two oblivious idiots in love

- Minho’s “lovebirds!” jokes weren’t helping, only leading both of you to believe that the feelings aren’t mutual

- spent a lot of time with him in the gardens as a track-hoe

- deep, meaningful conversations

- QuAlItY tImE

- once he accidentally hurt his bad leg

- you helped patch him up

- it triggered him, and so he decided to confide in you, just let it all out and be done with it

- let’s just say it was really sad and emotional

- since then you became even closer

- you would stay with him in the Med hut, trying to cheer him up

- you didn’t even have to do anything, you being there is a boost to his mood already

- once you were sitting together on his bed and you started falling asleep

- he tried to shake you up, but you only wrapped your arms around his neck and clung to him

- unconsciously, of course

- you were just so sleepy, and he was so cozy, and…

- he wouldn’t stop smiling, admiring the girl in his arms

- feels like the luckiest guy ever

- kisses the top of your head, thinking you’re asleep

- TA DAM you’re not.

- you slowly get up, any tiredness completely gone

- and you blush, and he blushes, and you’re eyes widen

- then, surprising you both, you press your lips to his

- man, he didn’t expect that

- doesn’t kiss back, scaring the bloody hell out of you, because you think you did s wrong thing

- but then his hand is on the back of your neck, another around your waste, and his lips meet yours again

- boy, he did know how to kiss. No idea how, but he. just. knows.

- so careful, yet so passionate

- both of you pull back rather quickly

- ToUcHiNg FoReHeAdS

- “I think it’s the right time to say I love you” he breathes

- you look into his chocolate eyes and smile

- rub your noses together, peck his lips once more

- and once more

- and then his cheek, making his breath hitch

- “love you, too, mister Newton”

Minho:

- The two of you are sassy, no denying that

- but before you became an official couple, you were just so shucking shy like oh my

- and he didn’t understand it at first

- then he grew to like it

- and like you

- he would sit with you at lunches whenever he had a day of, and made sure to have a brief conversation with him at bonfire

- you would always be rather timid and polite, until one day you ACTUALLY SASSED BACK

- it surprised him so much he would just open his mouth and stare at you for a few seconds

- “are you okay?”

- after that, he knew there was more to you than shyness

- he taught you confidence

- maybe you taught him to be a tiiiiiiiny bit humble

- (unlikely thought, duh)

- one day you couldn’t find him anywhere, so you went to the map room

- and yup, he was there, leaning over the table covered with maps with a grim expression

- you asked him what was wrong, and even tried to joke

- he would always laugh at your poor attempts to joke

- he was silent

- so you walked up to him and took his hand

- “what’s wrong?”

- it was the first time he was so open with anyone about his problems

- it just, like, spilled out

- and then you hugged him, because you knew he needed it

- he almost squeezed the air out of you, but you didn’t care

- “there is a way out, I promise. You’re doing your best to find it, and I know you will”

- “And what is I don’t?” you were taken aback, because he sounded on the verge of tears, “What if there’s no way out?”

- you pulled back, making him look at you

- “There is. And you’ll find it.”

- the way his eyes watered made yours burn, too

- to put you both out of your misery, you leaned down and kissed him

- he held you like you were his last hope

- his lips so soft and arms so strong

- barely audible moans made you shiver

- when you pulled back, you saw a few tears escaping his eyes

- but he stood straighter

- “thank you��

Gally:

- most people would say he’s not the type to fall in love or fall for, but actually quite the opposite

- instantly noticed you, but never thought you noticed him

- was shocked when you walked up to him and asked for help

- like, why him?

- alright, it didn’t mean anything, so he just went on and helped

- all the while you more and more understood that grumpiness is not his only face

- you got a job as a builder and so you had more time to spend together

- he was so talkative around you

- your conversations would occasionally be really, really deep

- one time you told him you weren’t sure you were beautiful, since there were no mirrors in the Glade

- it really stung him

- like, how could you, YOU, not feel beautiful? You were gorgeous

- when you walked to your hut, you’ve found something on your pillow

- a flower and a note

- “you’re beautiful”

- it actually made you cry

- next morning he came in to ask for something, you literally ran up to him with a hug

- he felt kinda awkward

- when you pulled back, he said “What was that for?”

- you saw a hint of a smile on his lips

- it made you smile even wider

- suddenly he was all serious, placing his hands on your shoulders

- “Don’t ever think you’re not beautiful. You are. If any of those shanks ever says otherwise, I’ll beat the living klunk out of them.”

- unbelievable man.

- watches you for a few seconds

- then carefully leans in, searching for any sign on your face that you don’t want to

- but you do, so when you’re sure about what he’s doing, he close the gap between you

- you have to try it to know how good it feels

- and so gally kept his promise, and you never felt not beautiful ever again

[letters-with-notes]

P1HARMONY TAKING CARE OF YOU WHEN YOU'RE SICK

💌 GENRE: fluff 💌 READER: gender neutral

A/N: my own work reposted

KEEHO:

“Okay, this is fine, I know what to do.”

He’s internally panicking but still manages to remember what his mom did for him and his siblings, when they got sick.

After he finishes lecturing you about how you need to take better care of yourself, he also tries to remember what he usually did when he had to take care of his little brother.

Absolutely refuses to let you do anything, you’re only allowed to stay in your warm bundle of blankets and rest.

“Where are you going??” “Um, to the toilet?” “Oh... oh okay, you can go there.”

He feels like he can’t do anything to help and he hates that feeling.

He’s also very distraught because he hates seeing you miserable and he can’t even kiss your or give you a hug to make you feel better.

God forbid you ask for a kiss or a hug.

He’d have the biggest crisis of his life because ew, he doesn’t want to catch your cold but he cannot say no to you.

Holds your hand until you fall asleep and kisses your forehead anyway, in hopes that it will help you get well sooner.

THEO:

“Wow, you look like shit.”

Shakes his head and tsks because he told you that you’re going to catch a cold if you don’t dress warmer.

But did you listen to him? No. Of course you didn’t. You never do.

And now what? He has to take care of your sorry ass.

You better be super thankful to him once you get better and repay him for his efforts.

He’s only frustrated because he doesn’t like seeing you in such a bad state, it really hurts his heart.

He also blames himself a tiny bit because maybe he should have been firmer and not let you go out without a jacket.

If your condition is very bad, he will definitely tear up when you can’t see him.

But wipes his tears right away and forces all of your meds and a bowl of soup and a mug of tea down your throat.

Strictly enforces self-care.

Sings and talks to you so you won’t get bored, and because he knows that you like to fall asleep to the sound of his voice.

JIUNG:

Forces you to take all the vitamins in the house before going to the drug store and buying some more, as well as some medicine.

The best person to have around when you’re sick.

Makes you chicken soup and chamomile tea and a healthy meal, depending on what you’re able to swallow.

He knows all the tricks and the traditional folk remedies for colds, runny noses and sore throats.

Half of them come from his grandparents, half of them from various internet searches because obviously, he’s the one who takes care of his members too.

He doesn’t scold you, at least not until you get better, but he looks at you with that disappointed gaze and sighs, and that’s almost worse than a scolding.

He will never let you forget about this, he will bring it up all the time. “Remember when you got sick? You don’t want to repeat that, do you?”

He will literally not touch you.

May or may not comes into your room with a face mask on.

But he still fluffs your pillow up and pulls your blanket over you when it falls, because you were tossing and turning too much.

He also collects and throws out your used tissues then wipes your face with warm water so you won’t feel so terrible in your skin and environment after you wake up.

INTAK:

Continuously on the phone with his mom.

Asks what you feel and conveys everything through the phone because he sure as hell doesn’t know what to do and he doesn’t want to accidentally poison you with the wrong medicine or smth.

This is just a lot of pressure on him, he really wants to take care of you, not make your condition worse somehow.

It’s like he never in his life had a cold, his brain just shuts down.

After feeding you the medicine and making you go to bed, you fall asleep.

He hovers around your bed awkwardly like a lost puppy, not knowing what to do.

He sits down on your desk chair and just... stares at you. Not in a creepy way, he’s just observing if you’re okay so he can jump up and run to your help at the slightest hint of discomfort.

You start to stir and he’s already by your side with a cup of water or tea because he knows your throat must have dried out while you were sleeping.

Refuses to go home even if there’s really nothing he can do for you anymore.

Doesn’t care at all if he’s going to catch your cold or not, if it were up to him, he’d rather it was him being sick instead of you.

He hates seeing you like this so much.

If you don’t let him stay and cuddle you, he’s going to cry. He just needs to be there for you, with you.

SOUL:

Clueless and lost but he definitely won’t overreact.

Half thinks that this is just a cold so you’ll get better after some rest.

But also, when he sees you suffer, his heart is just in pain.

He knows that you’ll be just fine in a couple of days but still, he wishes those days could pass a little faster.

Keeps looking stuff up on the internet to find something he can help you with.

Which was a bad idea because now he’s overreacting.

“This article says, you might be dying... you’re not dying, right?” “...” “Right?” “No, I’m not dying, it’s okay, I just need some rest.”

Thinks that getting sick together would be a good couple bonding activity and it’s up to you to convince him that no, it is not.

Stays a respectful distance away but doesn’t really want to leave you.

He just knows that colds suck and you must be super bored with all that sleeping and resting so he takes your tv over and binge watches something the both of you like on low volume.

That way you can sleep when you want to sleep and watch the show when you wake up.

And he can also bring you whatever you need, help you and take care of you while entertaining himself.

Insists on holding your hand all the time, and the better your condition is, the closer he moves to you.

Before you notice, those few sick days already passed and you're cuddling all healthily again.

JONGSEOB:

First of all, he gives you a scolding through the phone while already putting on his shoes and collecting things you might need.

His heart sinks when he sees you in your bed, weak and surrounded by tissues but then gathers himself together and starts nagging.

Gives you a thousand kind of vitamins, explaining what each of them is for and how it’s good for your body, you should always take them not only when you’re sick. If you take them regularly, you won’t get sick in the first place.

Interrogates you about your symptoms and only eases up when he’s sure that you only have a common cold.

When he sighs in relief, it hits him just how deeply he cares about you and how worried he is.

He then takes on a softer tone and attitude, making sure that you have everything you need and you’re as comfortable as possible.

Runs home for his laptop so he can work from your bedroom.

He practically makes your desk his own and he does his usual things while you sleep.

He regularly checks your fever and makes sure that you stay hydrated too.

He knows that he could just leave you alone, it’s not like you need 24 hours supervision but he kind of doesn’t want to leave.

Finally, he decides to just sleep on the couch and makes you a nice breakfast in the morning.

[holymolyfizzie]

i don't wanna derail @kityana's post about stolas's pill popping, so i'm making a separate one. but something kityana said finally made me think about something: "i'm still not sure if those pills are actually helping him or if they were just given to him to numb him to how shitty his life is"

I've wondered something related to this a lot myself. but Stolas takes his antidepressants with alcohol (and in the aftermath of alcohol, like at the end of The Circus), which is a depressant. taking antidepressants + alcohol at best just cancels out your antidepressants so they don't actually do anything. but both at once, at worst, makes your depression symptoms a lot worse. taking them together is the sort of stuff that college girls get yelled at for, but i guess no one told stolas. i wouldn't be surprised if he's been popping them like candy and upping his dosage because he was told they would help him…and then they don't because of the rampant alcoholism. which is to say that we don't know if the meds even worked for him at all (i'd argue strongly they didn't, considering his alcoholism only ever got worse and he kept taking more and more pills, like they never worked enough) or if they were a placebo while he was taking them

and this might be a bit too nuanced for such a show, but as someone who has suddenly gotten off antidepressants that didn't work at all, the withdrawal symptoms don't always affect mood that much (they did nothing for it to begin with) and they sure as hell don't last a full month after getting off. in fact, going cold turkey off of meds that do work for you shouldn't have withdrawal symptoms that last a full month (if you do, it's a Talk to Your Doctor moment). i just really wonder if Stolas noticed the lack of antidepressants after the first few days beyond the old habit of taking them, and if we really can contribute much of his mental breakdown to getting off antidepressants

but you know what he was taking religiously, that did affect him for sure, and that we haven't seen him touch in a month now? the alcohol. he was drinking during Mastermind, but he clearly hasn't touched it since the trial. Blitz doesn't seem to have alcohol around, and Stolas wouldn't ask for the extra expense -- he's being forced to quit. he passes up Loona's beelzejuice at the Sinsmas party, noticeably. the beelzejuice is brought in, and Stolas immediately goes outside for a smoke instead. he's not drinking anymore. and quitting alcohol cold turkey is an insane process, esp at his level of hard liquor. we're talking about disastrous health consequences and a whole host of withdrawal symptoms -- anxiety, depression, irritability, fatigue, loss of appetite, brain fog, hallucinations, and much worse stuff (in humans, seizures). it's impossible to underestimate the severe damage alcoholism does to your brain and body longterm. and a lot of those withdrawal symptoms stay weeks after stopping cold turkey

like, i don't want to detract from him going off of antidepressants; he needs and obviously wants working antidepressants, he's desperate for them. but i'm gonna be so for real, i've had my experiences going off ineffective antidepressants, and i've watched family members try to quit alcohol. an alcoholic quitting is a brutal, drawn out process that shakes me to my core. there are reasons a person still says "i am an alcoholic" even a decade after quitting. that shit's insidious in a way that antidepressants aren't, and it was affecting stolas noticeably more, surely enough to render his meds useless. if you want him back on antidepressants, then you need a sober Stolas first, and this is what he's FINALLY working on

so i think more emphasis needs to be placed on Stolas's recovery from alcoholism when discussing his mental breakdown, irritability, etc. the fact that he's doing this without rehab or other interventions is miraculous, nearly impossible. i don't want his impressive recovery (so far) from alcoholism to end up getting buried under the antidepressant talk ngl, especially when his getting off of alcohol now means that his antidepressants may actually work in the future and help him. this is something to be so so proud of!!

[puppyscatorccio]

abo anon from earlier... hi

(tfem or not) alpha!yjs & omega!reader..

omega!reader who had to take so many meds for supressants and have so blockers so they could be on the soccer team, because as an omega they couldnt. and all of the yjs just thought they were a particularly sweet scented beta.

& now its winter & everyone is stuck in the cramped proximity of the cabin. but thats not readers current worry, not the starvation or the cold. the fact that they knew their heat was due anytime now, and that if it ever did come, they were so fucked.

not only cuz everyone would find out that they were lying, and that they would get in genuine trouble for doing so— but because almost all of their teammates were alphas who probably havent gotten off in awhile.

& so one fateful winter morning when they wake up absolutely soaked, achy and needy they're practically terrified. as its been hard enough keeping their scent from being super regonisable all these months, but how the hell were they gonna hide this? not just their scent— which was already a massive problem in itself— but the symptoms. the unbearable aching, the incredible sensitivity— theres just no way..

and as their mind is scrambling with ideas n shit they hear the stirring of the others, the pheromones— only intensified— making them practically double over. readers mind is practically screaming for anyone, but god damn if they arent gonna give up so easily

the real question is; are the others going to fight their urges aswell?

sorry if ts is alot feel free to ignore this LMAO 😭😭😭

also lowkey not even an ask anymore but i wrote sm so

anon, i'm gonna hold you when i say this: i love long asks. do not apologize for that! in fact, the longer and more elaborate the ask, the easier it is for me to write. / mdni, cnc/noncon if you squint

at first, i think most of them would try to control themselves. keyword, most. shauna would definitely be the first to complain that you're stinking up the whole cabin with your scent, that "it's actually fucking unbearable" and that "someone should do something about this". even though most of them internally agree, lottie is all protective, trying to keep you safe and not letting anyone hurt you. does it come from a place of her wanting you just for herself? sure, probably.

since you can't do much of anything, they lock you up in the attic for a while. it's safer for both you and them, the last thing they need is another a baby and a bunch of alphas fighting like animals over you. it lasts for about a day and a half.

i think shauna would be the first to break that rule. she's angry, stressed and needs some kind of outlet. of course, you're an easy target, just there for her to take. she would sneak into the attic when nobody's looking and have her way with you, pretty much using you for her own pleasure. of course, the others obviously hear it all with how loud you're being and decide to say fuck it, if shauna can have you, why can't they too?

after that, it's a mess. even after your heat is gone, all of them still use you like some sort of toy for their relief. nat usually does it after she's tired from hunting, lottie breeds you claiming that it's what the wilderness would want, all of them make up excuses and more excuses to why they just need to have you. it's not like they need an excuse; you're an omega stuck in a cabin with a bunch of alphas, they barely have to lift a finger to overpower you. the excuses are more for their own comfort than anything, to convince themselves that you were asking for it, that it's totally fine for them to take you anytime, anywhere.