#so when there are pictures … it’s like i’m seeing what i look like for the first time
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summary: your roommate James plots to befriend a shy you
part 1
roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1k words
The apartment is loud and messy when you come home, and James immediately feels bad about it. You freeze in the door like a doe in the woods, a few of his friends pausing their conversations to greet you from where they’re scattered haphazardly about the living room.
You give a terse smile and beeline for the stairs. You’re wearing your work clothes, dirty and rumpled from a long shift, and it doesn’t escape James’ notice that you’ve bypassed the kitchen in your hurry to get to your room. You seem to have an aversion to being witnessed. He makes a mental note to check that you’ve eaten later.
“Oh, do you work at Rizzo’s?” Lily asks you, evidently recognizing the uniform. You stall halfway up the stairs, and James suppresses a smile at your obvious reluctance.
“Yeah,” you reply, voice even quieter than usual.
“My friend works there.” Lily’s friendly demeanor is unphased by your timidity. The two of you have met before, like you’ve met most of his friends, in passing. “Do you know Mona?”
You nod, easing up a bit. James wonders at the fact that you’ve lingered as long as you have, but then he notices Sirius noticing you, and he prays his friend doesn’t say anything to make you regret it.
“Yeah, we’ve worked some of the same shifts,” you say. “She’s nice.”
Lily grins at the confirmation. James braces himself as Sirius angles his head.
“What do you do there, lovely?”
The endearment instantly flusters you. Your shoulders tighten and your hand flexes on the banister as though to keep yourself from bolting. “I’m a host,” you say.
“That’s nice.” Sirius’ grin is intentionally disarming, lopsided and flirtatious. You look as though you’re not sure what to make of it. “I’m sure it makes for good business to have the pretty girls welcoming customers.”
It’s your last straw. You mumble something about it being nice to see them and all but dash up to your room. James hears your door shut with a soft click.
Sirius frowns. “Skittish thing, isn’t she?”
“Tosser.” Remus pulls him roughly against his side, rolling his eyes when Sirius wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s torso sulkily.
“I was paying her a compliment.”
“She’s just shy.” James doesn’t know why he feels the need to explain you, exactly. Your diffidence is fairly obvious now, but he still feels a bit guilty for thinking you just hated him when he first moved in. After knowing Remus for so long, he thought he’d be able to tell the difference between shyness and standoffishness. Now apparently he feels responsible for liaising between you and his friends. “You knew you were going to embarrass her, prick.”
The conversation turns to Sirius’ tendency to verbally prod at those with quieter demeanors, which he denies vehemently and Remus corroborates with pointed looks but not much commentary.
Once they’ve gone, James goes up to your room with a sandwich. The door is cracked but he knocks anyway, waiting for your quiet “come in” before he pushes it the rest of the way open.
“Figured you might’ve missed dinner,” he says by way of greeting, going to set the plate down on your bed.
It takes effort not to let his eyes roam the room. He can see in his periphery that your desk is cluttered but neat and your walls covered with pictures and art. An effect of your reticence is that, aside from what sort of shampoo you use and how often you need to restock the milk in the fridge, James knows very little about you. He knows you’re a good roommate. You’re clean, you don’t bicker about the thermostat, and you haven’t even seemed cross with him for eating the rest of your oreos (which he’s going to replace, seriously, as soon as he remembers to go to the store). You’re quiet, obviously, but along with that you seem kind.
Honestly, it makes him a bit uncomfortable that you don’t seem to want to be friends. James is only human; he likes being liked, even more so by nice girls with pretty smiles, and it seems crucial that he be liked by nice girls with pretty smiles who he shares a living space with. If you’re going to brush your teeth using the same sink as somebody, you should be on good terms. James believes this.
And though he hasn’t had to work so hard for friendship in some years, he is diligent. He thinks he’ll bring you around yet.
Evidence of progress: the happy-surprised look in your eyes when you spot the sandwich.
“Thank you,” you say, a tender sort of bemusement lining your words. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“Well, if you’ve actually missed dinner, you probably ought to eat something more substantial,” James hedges. He pushes his luck, sitting across from you on your bed. “I don’t want to be an accomplice to your snacks-for-meals agenda.” That wins him a small smile. “But I do feel bad, keeping you from your own kitchen because I have friends over.”
Your eyes flit away at the last bit. You take a hearty bite of your sandwich, chewing to avoid a reply.
“You should know, you are actually paying rent for the whole apartment,” he says, “not just your room.”
You look chastened as you swallow, but you wave him off. “I would’ve gone down to get something later,” you say airily. “I didn’t want to infringe on your time with your friends.”
“You?” James actually laughs. “Never. Trust me, we see plenty of each other. They could probably use a fresh face.”
You roll your eyes. It’s a ploy to keep from looking at him, he’s certain of it. “Well, regardless, you shouldn’t worry about it. I wasn’t starving.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Your mattress creaks as James stands. Some of the stiffness to your posture eases, and he wonders if you’re relieved to see him go, but you look up with another small smile. Pretty.
“Thanks for the sandwich,” you say.
“You should really have another one,” he replies, grinning back because of forces beyond his control. He starts backing out of the room. “Do you want me to make it? Actually, don’t answer that. I’m making it.”
Your quiet laughter follows him down the stairs.
#roommate!james potter#shy!reader#roommate!james potter x shy!reader#james potter au#james potter#james potter x shy!reader#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter x self insert#james potter fanfiction#james potter fanfic#james potter fic#james potter fluff#james potter imagine#james potter scenario#james potter drabble#james potter blurb#james potter one shot#james potter oneshot#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders x reader#marauders au
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OOOHHHH 🐇🐇 “can i take a picture?” + rafe muahahaha
Okay so I took a lil bit of a different approach and we took a pic of him and not the other way around😜 thank u my love @babygorewhore for brainstorming w meee🖤✨
Warnings: dirty pictures, unprotected sex, cum eating, slightly pervy reader, less than 700words 18+MNDI!!
You were riding Rafe like a fucking pornstar. You were leaning back with your hands resting on his muscular thighs while you bounced on his cock like a rabbit in heat. The angle you were at made it so he could see the way your tight wet pussy swallowed him with each thrust of your hips, your head was thrown back with your chest on full display, causing your tits to bounce deliciously.
“Shit, baby, your pussy is so fucking good, so tight, practically sucking me in. Oh fuck - you’re gonna make me fuckin’ cum.” Rafe lets out a strangled groan as his hands fly to grip tightly onto your thighs.
You continue to slam your hips against his, unable to take your eyes off him. You can tell by the way his mouth is dropped open and the quickness of the breathy gasps leaving his lips that he’s about to cum. His hands squeeze your thighs even tighter as his eyes roll back and you feel his cock start to twitch inside you. You let him start to fill you and then abruptly pull off of him, taking his cock in your hand as you use your juices to work him through his orgasm. When he comes down from his high his hand immediately grips onto your hair, pulling your face down close to his.
“What the fuck was that?” Rafe practically growls at you as his eyes bore into yours.
“Just wanted to see how pretty you’d look all covered in cum is all…” you whine as you run your hand down his chest, lightly scooping up a bit of the cum there. You bring your fingers to your lips, greedily sucking his juices off of them with a moan.
“Are you? You’re so fuckin’ weird sometimes, you know that?” Rafe scoffs, rolling his eyes as he lets his grip on your hair fall. You push yourself up on your hands so you can get a better view of him.
“I was right, you look so yummy.” You giggle as your eyes roam his form. His toned abs are painted with his pearly cum, his skin is flushed, his lips are kiss swollen from your earlier make out session, and his hair a sweaty and pushed back off of his face. “Can I take a picture?”
“What? Hell no. I’m not letting you take a picture of me all vulnerable and covered in my own nut and shit. My cock isn’t even all the way hard anymore.” He looks at you like you’re insane but it only makes the hearts in your eyes grow.
“C’mon, pleaaasee?” You look down at him, your eyes wide and your lips pushed out so far he feels the blood going to his cock again just thinking about shoving it between them. “You have so many of me!! Tied up and with your cock down my throat and shit, I just want one, please?”
“Oh my fuckin’ god, fine. Hurry the fuck up with it I wanna take a shower.” He groans, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. You do a little happy dance as you grab your phone off his nightstand.
“Get your hands off your face, Rafey, you’re ruining my vision.” You tap your little manicured hand on his forearm and he lets his arms fall to his sides. “Look at me.”
He shakes his head as he turns it towards you, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek in annoyce, and maybe just a little hint of embarrassment.
“Stop looking so grumpy.” You reach your hand out and grip his jaw, you slip your thumb across his bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. Before he can protest you raise your phone up and snap a photo, and then another, and another.
“Alright, enough, quit that shit out. You got your fuckin’ picture.” He grabs onto your hand, pulling it away from his face and turning his head so he can nibble at your wrist. You look down at your phone giddily, happy with the finished product. “Now get your lil’ ass in the shower before I beat it till it’s purple and blue.”
#Dolly’s 1.6k celebration#Abi🎱#rafe Cameron#rafe concepts#rafe smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x reader#rafe cameron smut#rafe imagine#rafe outer banks#Dolly writes#weird girl!reader
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Normally, the community of Proud Immortal Demon Way can hardly be called as such. To call PIDW readers a ‘fandom’ would be akin to calling everyone who visited the same porn site a family. PeerlessCucumber is a loud exception, but in the end he’s still only an exception - by and large, people reading PIDW know exactly what they’re there for, and it certainly isn’t for any sense of shared enjoyment or community.
The community of people following PeerlessCucumber himself, however, is a whole different story.
PeerlessCucumber is the asshole single handedly responsible for at least seven different copypastas, the rich bastard that will pay an artist’s rent for a single picture of Luo Binghe if only the artist can tolerate his demands for constant revisions, the dictionary definition of an anti-fan.
He is also blissfully unaware of the absolute glee in which people take in riling him up. And in the age of the modern internet, nothing brings a group of strangers together like the opportunity to poke fun of a guy like that.
“How do I look?” HualingsWife whispers to her companions. They take a moment to scrutinize her, gaze lingering around her chest.
“I don’t know,” SwordsOfCultivators says, “I think the guy ahead of you let his robes drape open further.”
HualingsWife rolls her eyes. “If I let my robes drape open that far, I’d be disqualified - you know the rules are different for men.”
“It’s not like you’re looking to win, though,” XuanyuMeat says. “And the open chest is clearly effective.”
The three of them pause, turning to look at the stage from their spot in the wings. The competitor that came before HualingsWife is running through a series of poses that are slowly but surely allowing his robes to slip ever wider.
Two of the judges are watching with thinly veiled amusement - after several years of this tradition, they’ve gotten used to the chaos that PeerlessCucumber’s fans bring to these cosplay competitions.
The third judge is PeerlessCucumber himself, and he looks like he might be experiencing a serious health condition. A serious mental health condition, to be clear.
“- robes of inferior make! Binghe’s exposure is always purposeful, and artful, and it wouldn’t be because he was wearing robes that didn’t fit him! If you don’t care about dressing true to his character -!”
“Hm,” SwordsOfCultivators hums. “Is it just me, or is Peerless not being as harsh as he usually is? Do you think he’s finally losing some of his obsession with Luo Binghe?”
“He better not!” HualingsWife cries. “I’ve put way too much time and money into working on a cosplay for that awful porn book for him to lose interest right when I get my chance to join the torturing-Peerless-fun!”
“No, no,” XuanyuMeat says, shaking their head. “You heard his rants for the Luo Binghe cosplayers one through four - he was especially cruel to them! Look at his face now, that isn’t the face of someone losing interest!”
They turn back to the stage. Luo Binghe cosplayer number five - likely DickBiggerThanBinghe, if HualingsWife were to guess based on her limited interactions with him in the PeerlessWatchers discord chat - looks unbearably smug. His robes have fallen completely off his shoulders by now.
PeerlessCucumber, on the other hand, looks so red HualingsWife wouldn’t be surprised if she started seeing steam pouring out of his ears.
“Ah,” she says, understanding. “You think he’s recently finally realized his obsession with Luo Binghe isn’t that of a straight man’s?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him to get this flustered over a man’s exposed chest and still think it was caused purely by the outrage of seeing one of our ‘poorly done’ cosplays,” XuanyuMeat says wryly. They send HaulingsWife a pointed side eye. “So…”
“Oh yeah, I’m on it,” HualingsWife says, already loosening her robes further. “Just make sure to have the cameras ready to get the direct comparison of his reaction to a woman’s nip-slip versus the absolute conniption he’s going through now.”
“Please, he probably won’t even see it - he’ll probably get all awkward and look away like he does with any female cosplayer dressed in anything but a full body suit.”
“I think he’ll peek through his fingers anyway,” SwordsOfCultivators says gleefully. “He wouldn’t dare miss the chance to oggle another Luo Binghe cosplayer.”
On stage, DickBiggerThanBinghe finally waltzes off, having received his scoring from all three judges and a score from the back of the room where the group of PeerlessWatchers are sitting.
After all, none of them are really here for the actual cosplay competition. They only care about one thing: whoever can get the highest scoring Peerless rant about their cosplay will pay for dinner for everyone that night.
“Ohh, seven out of ten!” HualingsWife says, as the group PeerlessWatchers wave their scorecard around with glee. “The last time someone got scored that highly was when TofuBuns dared to cosplay as a half-dead Luo Binghe covered in wounds!”
“TofuBuns still has their display name set to ‘faithless mongrel undeserving of witnessing Binghes success’ in the discord server,” SwordsOfCultivators sighs. “I can only hope to one day trigger a Peerless rant so iconic.”
On stage, one of the judges glances down at the score sheet, sees that another Luo Binghe cosplayer is scheduled to come out next, and stifles a laugh before gesturing for HualingsWife to come on.
“No way I’m getting something that iconic my first try,” HualingsWife says, “but if I can get Peerless to make that hilarious choking noise he made the last time he saw a female-presenting Luo Binghe, I’ll count it as a win.”
#and for the record this is totally an AU in which one day bingge shows up and accidentally stumbles on stage while sy is judging#torn between bingge being the one guy sy can find no complaints with or if bingge should ALSO have to bear sy tearing his outfit apart tho#svsss#人渣反派自救系统#scum villain's self saving system#fic drabble
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⇢ ˗ˏˋ joost klein x tinder date!reader ࿐ྂ
ੈ✩‧₊˚ OCEAN EYES : mention of sex (but no smut) fluff ; use of alcohol ; imagine ; all is fictional ; english is not my first language
(part two)
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_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ CREATING AN ACCOUNT on tinder wasn’t on your to do list, but after another failed attempt on meet your future ‘husband’ in real life, you decided to seek luck at this app. after choosing your best pictures, you set your profile with hope that you wouldn’t have to text with all of those weirdos that probably were on this site, asking themselves why i don’t have girlfriend?
you honestly couldn’t understand people (mostly the whole alfa men) on this kind of platforms, where they acted like they’re better than everyone else, but in reality they wouldn’t even say ‘hi’ to you. also what’s the point of having a dating app, if you can’t even properly ask the other person to date. you personally hated texting, it was the worst way to communicate, because you weren’t able to show your emotions clearly and it was easier to misunderstand the intentions.
you tried to ignore all suspicious looking people, but you lose hope, when even people your type were weird or impolite towards you. you were close to just delete app and forget about everything that happened. but then you received some kind of ‘super like’ from very good looking blonde man, the first thing that caught your attention was his bright blue eyes. how ironic, you thought. blonde hair and blue eyes, if he were a girl, he definitely would be miss universe. but god knew that he would be too powerful if he was a woman.
before you even checked his profile, you saw that he already messaged you. he already had big plus, because it was usually you who needed to start a conversation.
‘you & me, beer in an hour?’ okay, he definitely was really straightforward but you couldn’t tell that you didn’t liked it.
‘okay’
it was an irresponsible decision, but you couldn’t care less right now. you were truly tried of the endless conversations about nothing, you needed some adrenaline in your life. and even if it turn out that he’s a murderer, you will have an interesting story to tell your future kids — of course if you will survive in that scenario.
, , ,
it was almost twenty minutes after the set time, but you still waited like a fool, because you were curious if you were just scammed at this point. when your second cigarette started to slowly gutter out, you checked your phone to see if he tried to inform you about his lateness, but as you thought — nothing. you were honestly irritated that you couldn’t met a proper guy, not even for a relationship but just good sex, apparently you just missed to have someone close, in physical and mental way.
fuck it. you said to yourself and deleted this stupid dating app, right after you did that, you heard someone’s calling your name. before you turned around, you throw out a cigarette.
“i get it that i’m late, but you don’t have to ignore me” you saw the blonde guy in front of you, with two bottles of wine in his hands and two beer cans in his jeans pockets.
“so your real miss universe, nice to meet you” you said with a bit of irony in your voice, and he just laughed, giving you bootle of alcohol.
“or maybe i’m just in your imagination, guess we will never know” he said with smile, and you realised that he loved to laugh a lot, but honestly that was exactly what you needed now. some positive energy. “but now let’s go, shall we?”
, , ,
at first it was supposed to be quick meeting to get each other better and then probably forget about the existence of each other. but to your surprise it turned out that you were sitting in some sketchy looking place with joost for almost four hours already, and the fun only began.
you couldn’t believe that your perfect type of person was right in front of you and he was interested in you, which was the most unbelievable part. he was the first person that could make you laugh only by saying something random, or maybe it was because you were under the influence of weed, that you just smoked. either way his ability to turn every little thing into a joke was hilarious and you simply loved it.
suddenly you both became silent, but it wasn’t uncomfortable for you, which was also something new. all you could hear was the sound of wind and some other birds but you decided to interrupt the silence.
“you want to come to my place?” you said without thinking twice, well. . . let’s be honest your brain wasn’t working at all at the moment.
“to do what?” he looked at you with his typical smirk, sipping his beer.
“obviously to play monopoly” you said sarcastically, but underneath you had a little smile. “i want you to fuck me” you added and he seemed to be taken aback with your directness, as he watched you getting up.
“so you’re coming or i will need to please myself on my own?” you said, walking slowly in the direction of your house.
“you don’t need to tell me twice” he quickly said and you just chuckled as you felt his hands on your waist.
that was a great match, for sure.
, , ,
⇢ ˗ˏˋ thank you for attention! hope you liked it!
#joost klein x you#joost klein imagine#joost klein x reader#i love joost#stand with joost#joost x reader#eurovision imagines#imagine#x reader
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just friends - pato o'ward
sister’s best friend!reader x pato o’ward social media au
a/n: it’s a sister’s best friend to best friends to lovers brain rot. i also needed something to soothe my heart after that last lap on the indy500. i also love pato with all my heart. fc is olivia rodrigo!
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y/ninstagram
liked by patriciooward, elbaoward and 21,546 others
y/ninstagram: the bff + the princess and the prince at their wedding + the bitch ass brother
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elbaoward: love you soooo much 🤍🤍🤍
y/ninstagram: i love u more 4eva, don’t care if ur married ur my wifey above all🤍
elbaoward: wifeys 4eva
patriciooward: I’m the cool brother
y/ninstagram: uncool*
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patriciooward
liked by y/ninstagram, elbaoward and 126,746 others
patriciooward: Woke up with a new brother today. Congratulations to the love birds. 🤍 Also pictured y/ninstagram waking up with a hangover. ☕️
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y/ninstagram: delete
patriciooward: But you look like a ray of sunshine
elbaoward: thank you always baby brother🤍 you look like you had a goood time lol
user46: ayo who is y/n i’m new here
user67: okay I love y/n lore, she is an influencer/model type of deal and she is pato’s sister’s bestie since forever ago and she and pato get along really well, they’re seen together a lot when elba attends races with her. it’s an ongoing joke in the fandom that pato has the biggest crush on her, which has never been denied nor confirmed lol but they’ve never posted each other on their feeds before so the rumors are rumoring
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patriciooward
liked by y/ninstagram, elbaoward and 108,924 others
patriciooward: Pre-Season recharging with some sea salt. Also pictured y/ninstagram on the phone with God. 🌊🍌
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y/ninstagram: posting bad pictures of me is becoming a thing i see
patriciooward: Technically, you started it
user74: now what is going on why are they vacationing together
user82: y/n said on her tiktok live that they’re with a bunch of other friends so there’s that
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patriciooward
liked by y/ninstagram, elbaoward and 183,746 others
patriciooward: Good season start 😊 Also pictured y/ninstagram side eying me when I asked if I could try her ramen 🍜
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y/ninstagram: you don’t just ask a girl to have her ramen, even if you got a podium
user13: anyone else noticing how they’re becoming super close after elba’s wedding
user82: I think everyone is noticing alright… elba isn’t even there
user26: they’re so dating
user98: i thought the same thing but literally every interview today was dedicated to pato saying they’re just friends
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y/ninstagram
liked by patriciooward, elbaoward and 20,724 others
y/ninstagram: it’s rawe ceek + pato’s lil hat
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elbaoward: why are you replacing me with another o’ward?
patriciooward: Sorry, she’s my best friend now. You have a whole ass husband
y/ninstagram: u could never be replaced bby girl 😽😽😽
patriciooward: Wow
user82: are we seeing this fam
user23: maybe the best friend gate is all part of pato’s plan to get the girl
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patriciooward
liked by y/ninstagram, elbaoward and 127,924 others
patriciooward: Did the best we could on that race considering the circumstances 🤪 Also pictured y/ninstagram’s sushi eyes 🍱
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y/ninstagram: maybe u didnt win on track but you won best sushi recommendation
user83: they’re so sus but they also don’t even touch when they’re in public… perhaps they are just best friends
user53: who needs touching when pato looks at her like she put the stars up in the sky
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patriciooward
liked by y/ninstagram, elbaoward and 192,246 others
patriciooward: F1 testing done right 🥹 Also pictured y/ninstagram’s face when I got in the car 🧡
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user24: are we still pretending we believe the best friends bullshit
y/ninstagram: this is so crazy to me because i’m honestly here for a shot with lando norris
landonorris: message received 🫡
patriciooward: Mate 😂
user27: that’s the most threatening laugh emoji i have ever seen
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y/ninstagram
liked by patriciooward, elbaoward and 25,935 others
y/ninstagram: it’s indy 500 time + elba being pretty + pato eating something he definitely shouldn’t be eating
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elbaoward: the support system is in need of support
y/ninstagram: we are doing great! (we are crying)
user45: how are we feeling watching the race personally I want to throw up
y/ninstagram: im fine! (i have blacked out multiple times)
user36: oh man… im so glad she’s there after that final lap heartbreak
user26: please give pato our love ❤️ he gave it all
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patriciooward
liked by y/ninstagram, elbaoward and 293,927 others
patriciooward: I woke up with a big smile on my face today, feeling very loved by all of you. Wouldn’t change a thing about my journey so far, I know it will be so special the day my name is written among the stars and I get to experience the magic everyone talks about. Excited for the rest of the season, wouldn’t want it to be with anyone else arrowmclaren 🧡 #indy500
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y/ninstagram: you inspire me every single day. your time will come and it’ll be epic. 🧡
elbaoward: you are a force of nature and the sun ☀️
user83: im sorry i really want to comment about the race and compliment pato but are we just going to ignore the last picture of him and y/n holding hands
user53: are we going to ignore their hug on national tv i really felt like i was interrupting
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y/ninstagram
liked by patriciooward, elbaoward and 35,924 others
y/ninstagram: lover boy + lover boy + lover boy. you’re amazing. 🧡
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patriciooward: 🧡
elbaoward: been a long time coming 🥰
landonorris: 😔
landonorris: jk ive been in on pato’s crush all along
y/ninstagram: 💀
user94: WAR IS OVER
user52: not the hard launch
user85: at least tell us how it happened after friend zoning each other for months
y/nusername: comfort after a heartbreak go crazy
patriciooward: You’re a natural romantic
#f1#f1 au#formula 1#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 smau#f1 social media au#indycar#indy 500#pato o'ward#pato o’ward fanfic#pato o’ward x reader#pato o’ward smau#pato o’ward social media au#pato oward
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This's kinda freaky but hear me out!!
Skz member#1 fuck reader and film it to send it to skz member#2 who is her boyfriend.
Skz member#1 was fwb w/ reader but she ended it cause she has a boyfriend now, and skz member#1 is jealous of skz member#2 and wants him to know who owns that pussy.
(I'm kinda into that type of things, lol)
immediately yes pls… my guilty pleasure is shit like this >< makes me think of hanji & felix for some reason :p
Jisung wasn’t having it. You were his— originally, at least. Sure, he didn’t get to call you his girlfriend or give you his last name, but everyone knew you were his. He thought you knew as well. But then he found out you got yourself a boyfriend and suddenly he was gritting his teeth fuming. How could you? How dare you? And the fact that you still kept his number in your phone… the same contact, the same random texts at night. Oh, Jisung was going insane. He knew you still wanted him; he knew he’s the only one who could have you, and he knew you knew that very well. Yet, you were still posting pictures of your “perfect, pretty boyfriend.” You were still telling everyone he was amazing.
Jisung wondered why you were even wasting your time. He’s seen the pictures of your boyfriend— Felix. Even the name makes him scowl. Felix was too innocent looking, too kind, the way he held you in pictures was nothing like how Jisung held you. It was different, softer. It almost made Jisung laugh whenever he saw them. Was it jealousy? Maybe, but it was also smugness. His name was practically carved into you at this point, Felix was just an added accessory. Maybe it was sad how Jisung still waited by his phone every weekend, manifesting your call on his screen as he stared at it. Maybe he was the one who should be embarrassed, but he didn’t have it in him. He always found himself accepting the invitation to your house, to invitation to fuck you. It’s like the second he heard your voice he folded. The anger he felt for being the second choice dissipated and all he longed for was you— your momentary ecstasy. The only time when he can call you truly his. Maybe it’s pathetic, he’s beginning to believe that he actually is, but he can’t help himself. It’s an incurable urge, an insatiable need.
“You’re mine— mine,” Jisung moans as he bends to your face, the flat, toned surface of his chest meeting yours, sweats mixing, eye contact unbearably toxic, “Say it to me.” God, he wants to cry, from the pleasure the absolute burn he feels when he sees you. He almost sounds angry, hissing out demands. You obey them always, your infidelity clearly not a worry in your brain. You breathlessly respond as his hips drive into you, again and again. Over and over in the same spot that he knows drives you mad. “I’m yours— Hannie, m’ all yours, please, baby!” Your nails dig into his shoulders but he doesn’t feel it, his big brown eyes shimmer down at you. “Louder.”
“I’m y-yours!” Your back arched off the sheets, Jisung’s fingertips sliding up your body and onto your throat and jaw. He touches you like lava on water, stinging and singeing. Burns of lust and bliss. Your vision is blurry and suddenly Jisung is wide awake, the pure rage becomes smugness again because, well, you just said it. You’re his. He knows it’s just temporary, but what if it didn’t have to be? Your perfect, little boyfriend might not like that his girlfriend is being fucked brainless by another man— he may not be aware of it now but Jisung was more than capable of changing that. So as your eyes cross and roll back, Jisung reaches for your phone, the screen alight with 3 messages from your boyfriend: “Where are you?” “I miss you.” “Come home soon.” And it almost makes him laugh. Oh, he knew this was evil, he knew this was an irreversible, bitter act. But so was cheating on your supposedly-perfect boyfriend.
Was it an act of jealousy or an act of revenge? Either way, he was doing it. So he opened your phone, placing the Face ID in front of your fucked-out face, snickering of how unaware you were. He laughs as your messages open and, of course, the chat was with Felix. The three messages practically burning into his retinas. He clicks the camera icon and doesn’t hesitate before clicking record. His hips relentless, but slowing now just so the camera wouldn’t shake too much. You blinked, callously breathing while your eyes stared at the ceiling above. “Baby, look at the camera,” Jisung commanded, your obedience was perfect, immediately looking curiously at the phone in front of your face. Your phone. You parted your lips to speak, only to feel the quick interjection of his cock thrust deep inside you, a moan falling from between your lips, “Who do you belong to?” Him. “Y-you.” Who? “M’ yours, Ji!” That’s right.
“Say to your boyfriend, baby, I’m sure he’ll be so happy to see you,” Jisung chuckles, tongue gliding over his teeth. You’re too fucked stupid to even reply, moaning as his thrusts became indecent, too quick and rough. Jisung doesn’t hesitate to press send, he flips you both around, situating you on his lap, a simple command of, “Fuck yourself on me, bub.” His eyes fixated on the screen; he watches the little grey dots appear and disappear, he watches so happily. He has it immortalized forever, you’re his. And now your boyfriend knows. Your boyfriend is well aware of what a cheating slut you are, the three dots appear again. And the message that sends makes Jisung laugh boisterously, throwing the phone down as his hips instantly reach for your waist, helping you bounce on his cock, “Felix said hi.”
#౨ৎ. dee’s hard hours#feat. jisung .ᐟ#nonnies !#han smut#han jisung smut#skz smut#stray kids smut#skz hard thoughts#skz hard hours
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NERD!MIGUEL X QUEENBEE!READER
PROLOGUE — let’s make a deal…
series warning - eventual smut , profanity , sexual themes , drug/alcohol usage (don’t do any of these things!) , blackmail , fighting (verbal and physical) , reader being a queenbee, Miguel is a loner at the star but grows some balls later on.
chapter warning - profanity , it’s so short , fighting (verbal) , blackmail , Miguel kinda is a loner here , literally has the worst timing known to man kind.
He’s always at the library, far back too. He reads whatever book he needs to read without any human communication. What a loser!
He always caught your eye, I mean. Why wouldn’t he? He’s such a loner, it’s so easy to miss him. Not you though, you noticed his little pattern. Going to lectures and going straight to the library.
He’s a sore loser, and you heard he dosent even know you! How disrespectful!
but you can’t focus on that right now, you’re currently putting someone in their place in the library because they think they have the right to stand up to you! How dare they, who do they think they are?
“What makes you think you can say that?” You scoffed, crossing your arms with a smirk on your face as you stared at the angry male in front of you.
“I have every right you bitch! I’m tired of you treating me around like I’m some toy to you!” He yelled and you just laugh at him. “Oh please, Don’t act like you’re all that. Did you forget I have proof of you cheating on your girlfriend?” You remind me and he immediately shuts up.
You smirked and walked up to him, harshly grabbing his chin to make him look at you. Your smirking, amused face turn into a stern serious one.
“Know your place. because I can just send your girlfriend all of the pictures, text messages and voice messages.” You advised him then smirked at him once again when you see his face drop and his face pales. You then spoke again “don’t want to ruin your 3 year relationship do you?” You cooed at him.
You waited for his response and when he shook his head no, you scowled “good, act like this again and I won’t hesitate to do it.” And you let go of his chin harshly and turned around to leave but once you do.
You see Miguel.
He looks at you, he tries to leave but you glared at him and immediately said.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’ll leave, I’ll forget this even happened!” Miguel stumbled over his words, you ignored as you walked towards him. Looking at him in the flesh fully. “No, no. It’s fine, you’re that smart kid right?” You asked him and he hesitates until you glared start him to answer.
“Mhm!” He answers and you smiled. “Then let’s make a deal…Miguel right?” You asked him as you raised an eyebrow.
He was surprised you knew his name. “Y-yes, that’s me.” He spoke, You hum in response.
“You know, I see you getting picked on the by the jocks and some girls. You’re getting tired of it? You want that to stop don’t you?” You chuckled as you looked at him.
You see him look away, like he’s scared to admit it but he nods.
You chuckled as you put you arm around his shoulder and pull him closer to you. You look at you nails on your other hand as you spoke.
“Then I Can Make you a deal, how about this. You do my work for me, you do what I say and I’ll…make you stop getting picked on. You’ll be perfectly alone and fine.” You proposed to him and you see his eyes widened at your words.
The guy you were scolding was about to warn him but you give him a death stare and looked at the door. Signaling him to keep his mouth shut and get out.
and he did so. Now it’s just you and Miguel.
You looked back at him “So how about it?” You asked him with a smirk on your face awaiting his answer.
You can tell he’s thinking about it, and he looks back at you. “I accept.”
You smirked.
This will be fun.
The next day, he’s suddenly realizes that no one is bothering him. He notices the looks he’s getting, but no one dares to mess with him.
As he’s sitting in his usual table in the library, and he hears footsteps coming towards him. He looks up and sees you standing in front of his table. A hand resting on your hip as the other hand holding some papers.
You smiled at him.
“Like the difference, Miguel?” You spoke. you face looks cocky even though your voice is sweet like honey.
He nodded and looked at the papers in your hand. “What’s that?” “Work, just like our promise.” You put some papers on his desk, he looks at the papers and looks at you.
“Aren’t you doing the same thing they were doing?”
Your smile immediately fades. “The first day and you’re already getting on my nerves, You made the deal did you not? I fulfilled your part and now it’s your turn. I Can always make them go back to bulling you again, do you want that?”
He stammered, he cannot risk the only peace he has so suddenly. He shook his head and you smiled again. “Good, it’s not a lot. Pretty sure you’ll get it done in about 20 minutes or so. Have fun!” You waved him goodbye and left.
as he is now alone again, he wonders.
Was this worth it? What is he getting him self into?
Time can only tell.
END OF PROLOGUE
tags - @pinkhelados , @jadeloverxd , @syler-griffin , @monarchberrysblog , @ultravioletrayz - if you want to be in the tag list lmk!
a/n - guys, I’m so sorry this took SO SO long and it’s not even that long. I been struggling with a lot of stuff, and I didn’t have the motivation to write. I apologize for being gone for so long.
REBLOGS - COMMENTS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED! THANK YOU FOR READING!
M.L — GUIDELINES —
#pxtch writes !#miguel o'hara#spiderman atsv#miguel ohara#spider man: across the spider verse#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel spiderverse#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel ohara x reader#spiderman 2099#miguel x you#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o'hara fanfiction
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incredibly out of character of me to write something like this about yujin and quite frankly idk what came over me… BUT WALK WITH ME!
gp yujin thoughts!
cw : kinda breeding kink, heavyy puppy kink, subtle praise kink, this is probably kinda nasty in terms of detailing and description sorry y’all it’s like 2am HELPP i’m fighting demons right now
you look at these pictures and think “omg sweet girl.. she does no wrong.” and you’d be… so right actually she’d be the sweetest girlfriend ever i mean look at her SHE TAKES YOU OUT ON DATES EVERY WEEKEND AND BUYS YOU FLOWERS BEFORE PICKING YOU UP anyways
one random saturday, you ask her if you guys could simply chill at home instead of going out since you caught a cold prior to the hang out, to which she will, of course, happily oblige! she’s fine being anywhere as long as it’s with you aheheheh she’s so cute she’d start actually giggling at the mere thought of having to take care of a sick yn, making sure you’re okay and watching over you:(( sweet bby
one thing she wasn’t expecting, however, was to witness you getting surprisingly and strangely aroused by being pampered this much and having to take care of you in another way. or, actually.. more like having the roles switch and being taken care of instead! :]
she doesn’t know what to do when you’re kissing all over her and whining about how much you need to give her a reward for being so good to you. on one hand, she wants to be spoiled too and have you all to herself. on the other, she wants to tuck you back to sleep because you’re ill and deserve some good rest!! if things went according to plan, she wouldn’t even have thought twice about it and would’ve just given you tea to drink and force you to take a well-deserved nap..
but let’s just say that the dick in between her legs, very familiar traitor to yujin, had other plans.
honestly, with your soft hand palming her dick through the fabric of her jeans that was accompanied by the sweet things you whispered in her ear, it made it impossible for her to not want more.
so when you’re finally bouncing on her twitching cock cowgirl style whilst she lays back on the couch? oh well YESS~~
and one thing about yujin? oh she’s a sensory girlie i fear… poor puppy can’t enjoy having sex if she can’t hear and see every little thing that’s happening. from the soft moans and ‘good puppy’s escaping your lips and the way you’re bouncing up and down in front of her all the way down to the noise your skin makes when it’s slapping against hers due to her rough pounding and seeing you sneak a hand under your top to access your own chest, playing with your own nipples and getting off on her adorable vulnerability,,, or maybe she’s even paying close attention to the wet sound your pussy makes when it’s rubbing against the shaft of her hard cock, she’s watching it pump in and out of you and stretch you out:(( sometimes maybe even watch and hear it slip out on accident, listening to the ‘plop’ sound it makes on your stomach when it slaps it.. YES it’s frustrating and YES it’s also incredibly hot to her LISTEN—
it’s all sososo lewd to her,,, it makes her feel so filthy ouh it drives her crazy me thinks
also the consent check is THERE! she knows you’re sick, she needs to constantly make sure you’re feeling alright enough to continue and always reminding you that you can always stop whenever you feel overwhelmed she’s so soft i’m.
omg random thoughts about yujin nodding eagerly when you talk dirty to her,, “does it feel good, baby?” and she can only whimper and keenly nod as a response because she can’t speak coherent and proper sentences when you’re making her feel this good foekfnem SHE’S SENSITIVE OKAY
also i am a firm believer of her being a drooler i don’t CARE! she’s digging her nails into your naked thighs whenever she’s close to climax, looking up at you with glossy eyes, upturned eyebrows and a cute pout:((((( her mouth often agape when she does cum, it’s very common for her to drool all over her chin as she rides out her orgasm and shoots her thick load into your womb, getting too into it to even remember that she needs to PULL OUT WHEN CUMMING? listen SHE’S JUST A STUPID PUPPY LET HER LIVEE
and when it comes to the aftercare? oh it’s unmatched; you’re passed out, naked, on the couch next to her and she runs her hand through your hair, scratching it and giving you a scalp message cause she knows your head probably hurts from orgasming while having a cold… GUYS— [EXPLOSIONS]
#smut#kpop gg#female reader#ive smut#yujin ive smut#ahn yujin#ahn yujin x y/n#ahn yujin smut#ahn yujin x reader#ahn yujin x female reader#yujin ive#yujin x female reader#ive yujin#ive ahn yujin#losing my shit
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It might be worth it for once
Fernando Alonso x Reader
A/N: English is not my first language, apologies for the mistakes! This was inspired by the song Slut!, by miss Taylor Swift! Enjoy!
You had just posted a picture on Instagram of Fernando driving you took when you were in the passenger seat, on your way to date night. You thought your caption was hilarious: “shut up and drive”, quoting the song by Rihanna. An hour later though, as the hate comments poured in, it suddenly wasn’t as funny.
Leaning on the railing of the hotel room you shared with Fernando, you scrolled through endless comments calling you names, criticizing you and your relationship. Of course, the classic “gold digger” was there. Even after four years of being publicly in a relationship with Fernando, people still didn’t get it. Even though you were used to it, it still hurt.
“Mi sol,” Fernando joined you on the balcony, pulling you into a hug from behind. He noticed that you were scrolling through the comments, “Same old, huh?”
“Always. Don’t they get tired of hating me, hating us together? It must be exhausting, after four years.” You replied, sighing.
Fernando took your phone away from you and put it in his pocket. He spun you so you were now facing him, with your back against the railing.
“You cannot let them get to you, mi sol. None of what they said is true. These people don’t know anything about us or our relationship. I love you, and that’s the only thing that matters.”
He tucked a few loose strands of your hair behind your ears, trying to comfort you. He could see that the comments had made more of an impact on you than they usually did.
“I know, baby, and I love you too. It’s just that we’ve been together for a few years now, and I had expected the hate to slow down. So what you’re older? That doesn’t change anything!” You were getting frustrated.
He kissed your cheek, wanting to calm you down.
“You’re right, it doesn’t change anything. We are just a normal couple, doing things the right way. We moved together, we’re gonna get married someday, have our own family, grow old together…” He laughed a little, “Well, I’m gonna get older earlier than you, but who cares?” He shrugged it off, not noticing your eyes were as big as saucers.
“Fernando, did you just say we were going to get married someday?”
He looked confused, and almost hurt.
“What, did you not expect us to get married someday? Or do you not want to?” He asked insecurely.
You were quick to respond: “No, no, I mean, of course, I want to get married to you! I’m just surprised that you would want to marry me!”
“Mi sol, why would I not want to make you my wife? He asked, genuinely surprised.
“Well… It’s just that I expected that you would grow tired of me one day, realize I was too young, not mature enough for you, or something like that…” You replied, looking away.
He forced you to look at him by pulling gently on your chin.
“How can you believe that I will ever get tired of you? Mi sol, I could never have enough of you. I always knew I was going to be proposing to you one day. It has been part of my plan ever since we started dating.”
You were blushing, ashamed of yourself for being so insecure: “Maybe one day you will start to believe the comments on my Instagram posts, and you will leave me because you think that I am a gold digger, or that I’m only using you for fame… Even though none of this will ever be true, of course!”
Fernando took both of your hands in his, then he exclaimed “I could never believe lies like this! Frankly, I am a little disappointed. Do you not have faith in me or our relationship?”
You gasped, realizing you had hurt his feelings: “I’m sorry baby, I did not mean in that way! I know that you love me, and I love you too. I promise, I’ve always imagined us being together for the rest of our lives, I just wasn’t sure if you shared my plan. If you didn’t, baby, I would be crushed to death. In fact, I have so much faith the future of our relationship that I already have a Pinterest board for our wedding as well as a list of potential baby names that suit the last name Alonso!” You admitted desperately, but also sheepishly.
Fernando immediately softened at your words.
“Mi sol, you have a list of names? Which ones are at the top?”
You turned a deep shade of red. “Right now, it’s Santiago for a boy, and Marisol for a girl, because it reminds me of the nickname you have for me.”
“Don't be embarrassed. These are very nice names, all in Spanish too… You’ve really thought about this huh?” He stroked your cheek, then pulled you closer to leave soft kisses on your jawline. He was clearly pleased to learn you had planned ahead.
“Of course. It’s not a simple task, it cannot be rushed.” He could hear your smile in your voice.
“Yeah? I kind of want to put a baby in you right now,” he whispered in you ear. You immediately shivered at his words.
“Me too. God, it would be so hot to walk around the paddock pregnant by a man fifteen years older than me. Everyone would know it was you that knocked me up. Everyone would know how good you treat me.” You were getting turned on by this fantasy and the trail of kisses Fernando left all over your throat. He was getting worked up too, and you could feel it on your thigh.
“I can do all of that, mi sol. Multiple times, even. I would love to see you at the races with a baby or two in your arms, and another one on the way.” He left your throat to give the same treatment to your shoulders, pushing the thin straps of you dress to the side. His hands were working efficiently too, getting access to your thighs by lifting the hem of your dress.
You brought him even closer to you by pulling him by the loops holding his belt in place.
“Baby, go ahead then. We would be the talk of the town. Oh, the scandal it would cause, especially since we’re not married.” The thought was thrilling.
Fernando went back to your neck, one hand lifting your leg and the other one on the side of your boobs.
“Oh yeah, I forgot about that part. I want to make you my wife before I get you pregnant. I want you to have my last name before I give it to the baby.”
You were conflicted, but also pleased. On one hand, you really, really wanted to get pregnant as soon as possible. But being his wife before being the mother of his children was also really tempting. You teased him: “Sounds like you are ready. Pretty please, tell me, do you have the ring already?”
Your boyfriend smiled against your neck. “In the first drawer of my dresser, hidden underneath my socks.”
You shrieked: “No way!” Fernando laughed at your excitement.
You hugged him tightly. He really was serious earlier.
He answered simply: “Yes.” You kissed him, and he kissed you back immediately. The kiss was soft and tender and had a thousand words hidden in it. It was full of I love you, no I love you more. It was the kind of kiss that creates buttefly. It was the type of kiss you remember forever. After a few minutes, or maybe a few hours, the driver pulled away.
“Mi sol, I know I haven’t even proposed to you yet, but what if we went inside and practiced for our wedding night?”
You laughed and followed him inside.
A year later, it was his turn to post on his Instagram. This time, it was a picture of your wedding. Multiple songs by Rihanna could have been fitting for the caption: We Found Love, Only Girl, Love On The Brain, and many more. Ultimately, he chose a simpler one: Mi sol.
And when you welcomed your little girl, his caption was similar: Mi sol y mi Marisol. This time, the comments were pretty nice.
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If your heart is three sizes too big (the vriska staredown post as reference) does that mean you also kin the grinch? I’m aware that may have been unintentional, but that’s a very funny coincidence for three green men.
-💀
No. The Grinch had a heart three sizes too small. I was referencing something very personal to myself...
You see, when I was a child, I was subjected to a lot of cultural talk of horses as an unfortunate side effect of growing up in Kentucky. I learned a lot (against my will) about the Kentucky Derby as well as famous horses.
I learned about Secretariate.
I remember where I was when my father told me what they discovered during that horse's autopsy. I was roughly 9 years old, sitting on a bucket or somesuch item in the stables as my Father was feeding his horses. I had not yet been mauled by Bucephalus, his prized horse, but I still had a healthy fear of them, even at that time. It was their eyes that scared me.
Father told it to me casually, as if it was a charming trivia fact: Secretariate had a heart three times the size of a normal heart. They never knew it until he had died.
I am not sure exactly why this fact struck me as so disturbing. Father certainly did not notice the way I completely froze after he told me, or my shallow, frightened breaths. He didn't look at me. He never looked at me.
I could clearly picture the swollen, pulsing mass of meat and blood that had kept Secretariat alive. Did it burn inside him? Did he know, on some level, that something was wrong inside him? Did he feel wrong? He ran like an animal trying to escape something inside of him, too large for his chest, different and monstrous in a way no one could see on the outside.
I felt my own heart pounding in my chest. Too large. Too monstrous. Swollen with hate and emotion and a need to run. A need to rip it clean out of my body. I was too young to feel like an animal whose insides were all wrong.
So no, anon, I do not kin the Grinch, even if he is the most fuckable of the Christmas characters. I want to bounce up and down on his long green fingers and feel his green fur inside me while I ride his hand and scream in ecstacy while he
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happy belated mermay! i drew that final pic after i went with my family to the new england aquarium recently, and picked out something they had there for each of the nocturnal detectives - plus kurumi! more description (spoilers) under the cut:
kurumi - piranha! it fits her color scheme, and her little freckles… and well, you know *bites you*
yuma - emperor tetra. actually i lied this one wasn’t at the aquarium i had to look it up
yakou - anemone man. ouughhh so sillyyyy
desuhiko - tried to ID the guy I took a picture of and it looked closest to the crosshatch butterflyfish. could be wrong though.
halara, fubuki - i could not find the labels for either of these fish unfortunately
vivia - electric eel (yeah he’s there, look again)
———-
the mermaids were kinda based off these species, except fubuki changed to a betta fish. bred for glamour, not for function. she is out there living her best life tho!!! nothin gets this mermaid princess down!!!!
obviously squid shinigami (squidigami) is based off ursula. but also i liked her having squid tentacle hair. woomy!
i imagine it would actually be kind of a reverse ursula situation though (reversula?). poor unfortunate amnesiac yuma would go up to sea witch shinigami asking her for his memories back, but she reveals she was the one who took his memories in the first place, and they’ve actually already made a deal. which she’s not going back on, sorrynotsorry lol!!! of course he’s actually not a mermaid at all but a human under a spell to go investigate…. something underwater. idk. maybe the mystery labyrinths are still a thing in this universe?
vivia, i’m sorry to say, would be a hundred times more miserable than we ever see him in canon, because guess what. no books. he’d still have some sort of coping mechanisms like watching other fish, watching stuff above the surface of the water, wanting nothing more to join them and fly someday. (the dragonflies, of course, are a reference to the famous water bugs and dragonflies story.) he’d still find something to get distracted by… although if he had his forte he probably would ghost up to the surface and read whatever the humans are reading up above. i guess this would make him the real ariel of the story.
kurumi of course is still based on a piranha, because it’s cute. of course these fish shouldn’t all live together but whatever. it’s mermaids. she probably is still some kind of informant, and probably hangs out near yakou’s place a bunch.
i could see yakou running some sort of shop. or if he’s still into detective work, he’d probably need kurumi as an assistant since he’s uh. not much of a swimmer. (he claims he can too swim, but it’s really silly looking. google swimming anemone. you’ll thank me.) he considers those little teeny fish to be pests (or at least claims they are. they’re probably helping him hide some sort of secret in there.)
desuhiko is a wandering trader with a keen sense of fashion. he’s great at repurposing sunken sails into mer-clothing, not so great at making sales. also the fact that his hair is gelled is way more obvious when everything is underwater. he’s basically got a helmet.
halara of course puts up an intimidating front, but has a secret soft spot for cute sea creatures. i asked my irl friend what she’d consider ‘the cat of the sea’ and she said pufferfish. i do think they are very cute and make a lot of sense as an allergen. but i don’t think halara’s taste is limited to pufferfish only, no no no. they like anything cute.
fubuki has got to have been kept captive before the story - by humans? or other mermaids? but either way, now she’s free and having a blast exploring the deep blue ocean. she really wants to know what kind of exciting creatures live in the deep!!!
and that’s it. hopefully all this description makes up for being 2 days late to mermay LMAO. i guess now it’s merGAY
#rain code#master detective archives#mdarc#rain code spoilers#yuma kokohead#shinigami chan#kurumi wendy#yakou furio#vivia twilight#desuhiko thunderbolt#halara nightmare#fubuki clockford#mermay
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Request: Teenage Girl Dad Joe
him meeting his daughter's first boyfriend, who also plays football in high school as a quarterback
You’ll always be my little girl | Joe Burrow
Pairing: Joe burrow x fem first person reader
Words: 3632
Notes: this one was so fun to write, thanks for the request! I hope you enjoy! 🫶🏼🫶🏼
Taglist: @wickedfun9
Today was the day Joe met his daughter’s boyfriend for the very first time since he was taking her out on a date, and to say that nerves were high from every side was an understatement. From the very start of finding out that I was having a girl, Joe always preached about how he always wanted to be a girl dad, but wasn’t ready. The part he wasn’t ready for was the fact that one day, his precious little girl would turn into a teenager who was going to be interested in boys, and he didn’t like that one bit.
Joe thought he had so much time and that he would be prepared for when the day finally came, but it’s very evident that even now, he is very ill prepared for this. Part of me felt bad though. I mean he couldn’t help it. His daughter is going to be going on a date for the very first time and there’s nothing he can do. She’s hung out with the boy numerous times after school and did typical things people do together when they have a crush on each other, but nothing major like this. What he can’t stand is the fact that he can’t go to make sure she’s safe and he obviously can’t stop them from going, though he begged me to lie about having plans that we forgot about.
“Mom, can you please make dad behave? What if he intimidates Brady so much that he decides he doesn’t want to be my boyfriend anymore?” Ryan asked me as she looked through her closet, deciding on what to wear. Ryan wasn’t nervous about their first real date since they’ve been friends since they were in middle school. She wasn’t nervous for riding in Brady’s car for the first time and she wasn’t nervous that it wouldn’t be a good first date. She was nervous that her dad, who she loves so extremely much, would ruin the whole thing and drive the boy that she has had the biggest crush on for years away.
I sat on her bed and swung my legs back and forth, smiling at all of the pictures of friends and family she has in her room. My favorite picture was the one we took together at Ohio State when Ryan was born. Yes, Ohio State. When Joe and I met in High school, we had the perfect little relationship built around trust and loyalty. Then one day, we got pregnant. Being pregnant at 19 was terrifying, but it was the most incredible thing to ever happen to the both of us. Though we were terrified of being parents, we accepted it and when she was born, we were on top of the world.
“Your dad won’t scare him away, I promise. He’s happy for you.” I said in more of a question tone. I knew Joe was happy for his daughter. He was happy that she was going on her first ever date at the age of 16 and had her first real boyfriend, but it still made him nervous. “See? You say that like he’s not happy. What if he ruins this, mom?” She asked me and hung her shoulder low, a defeated look on her face. I tilted my head and then patted on the bed next to me, wanting her to come over and sit by me. With a sigh, Ryan walked over to me and plopped herself down on the bed next to me.
I wrapped an arm around her and she leaned into me and rested her head on my shoulder. “Your dad is just nervous, and that’s understandable, right? Not only is he meeting your boyfriend who is about to take his daughter away from him for a few hours, but you have to remember that we got pregnant at 19 and you’re only 3 years younger.” I said. Ryan looked up at me with a shocked expression on her face and shook her head. “Ew, mom. I’ve told you a million times that I’m waiting for marriage, I would never. Does he not trust me?” She asked me.
I laughed a little bit at her quick response to tell me she was once again waiting till marriage. “It’s not you that he doesn’t trust sweetheart, It’s Brady. But once he see’s that he’s harmless and a sweet boy, he’ll love him just as much as I do.” I said. The only reason I’ve met Brady before is because I go to all of the Friday night games with Ryan so she can see Brady play football since she doesn’t have her drivers license yet. Joe hasn’t met him because if he’s not at home, he’s at practice or games being the starting quarterback for the Bengals at 35 years old. Even though we’ve talked a lot about retirement, he thinks he still has a few more years left. It works for me though since I absolutely love watching him.
“Can you go talk to him and try to get him to be as nice as possible? Maybe tell him that we can all watch SpongeBob when I get home from the movies?” She asked me. I rubbed her arm and with a little smile, nodded my head and got up off of the bed. “I’ll try my best. But really sweetheart, try not to worry. It’ll be fine.” I said and left her to get changed into her little dress that she picked out a few months ago for when Brady finally built up the courage to ask her out.
Brady and Ryan have Been friends since middle school and despite them obviously having feelings for each other, never admitted those feelings. Throughout their freshman and sophomore year they always hung out and I always drove her to his house, but they were just friends. But, a few weeks ago, Brady finally admitted that he’s had feelings for her for a long time, and the rest is pretty much history.
I headed out of the room and then down the stairs. As I turned to walk down the stairs, I saw Joe sitting on the couch, hunched forwards. Both of his fists were clenched and so was his jaw, and his expression was tense and serious. As soon as he heard me walking down the stairs, he turned his head to the right to look at me and when we made eye contact, he just sighed and shook his head. “Oh Joey. This is a good thing. You knew this day would come.” I said.
As I walked around to the front of the couch, I tried to study Joe’s expression and read him, but he looked so standoffish. There was absolutely no way he could greet Brady looking like that. When I sat down next to him and crossed my legs, Joe placed one hand on my thigh and gave it a small, unsure squeeze, but never looked over at me. I then put my arm around him and rubbed his back a little bit. “I know. It’s just hard, that’s all.” Joe said. Frowning a little bit, I nodded and kissed the back of his neck. “I know it is. It’s hard to see her getting older, but it’s so rewarding.” I said, continuing to rub his back. “That’s not why this is hard for me.” Joe said.
“Talk to me about it then,” I said and patted his thigh with my other hand, “because your daughter is up there freaking out because she thinks you’re going to scare Brady away.” I said with a small laugh. Joe let out a sigh and leaned back against the couch, so I repositioned myself so I was facing him and I tucked my legs under me. “I know I’ve never met him before, but boys these days are stupid and disrespectful. I don’t want her to go through that, ever.” He said. I frowned a little bit but tried to still be cheery. “Brady is a respectful young man, Joe. Once you meet him you’ll see.” I said, trying to redirect him slightly.
I get why he’s unsure about this. The most important person in his life is going to be going out with a boy he’s never really met before and he’s nervous. “I was a teenage boy once too. I know how they think. And a lot of us are dicks,” Joe said and looked over at me this time, “boys want to know what’s under a girls clothes. I don’t want anyone thinking that way about my daughter.” I sighed a little bit and tried my best to assure him that Brady was a good boy and that they’be been friends forever, but I didn’t know what to say. I’m not a guy. I don’t know what they think about girls or what they want to do to girls.
The only thing that I could say to possibly make him feel better was, “do you know all of those ufc moves you taught ryan? Our daughter is going to be perfectly fine.” I said. “I’m serious about this.” He said with a small glare, thinking I was trying to be funny. “You think I’m joking but I’m not, she can be scary and mean when she want’s to.” I said. Joe chuckled a little bit, thinking to all the times they’ve practiced ufc moves on each other. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it, Ryan can defend herself. “Plus She’s been raised around nfl players her whole life, she is perfectly capable of taking care of herself.” I said.
Joe leaned forwards and wrapped an arm around me, pulling me closer to him. I let out a little laugh as he practically placed me on his lap. “I know, I know. But I swear, if he even tries anything, I’m going to fuck him up.” He said. I smiled up at him before leaning forwards and placing a kiss on those pink lips. “I wouldn’t expect anything different. But since he hasn’t done anything wrong, please try to be civil.” I said. “I will be.” He said.
With a little smile, Joe leaned forwards and started to kiss my neck. I let out a small sigh, but just as he started to kiss me, I heard footsteps on the stairs. “Really? Get a room, please.” Ryan said with a small laugh. I turned around to look at her and saw the most disgusted face in the entire world. With a laugh, I scooted off of Joe’s lap and onto the couch next to him before I stood up. Joe followed after me and looked at his daughter in her dress.
“You’ll be doing that with Brady soon enough, don’t worry.” I joked with her. Brady just looked even more disgusted since her father was right next to me to hear that. I turned to look at Joe as he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are really not helping.” Joe said through squinted eyes.
As if on queue, I heard Brady pull into the driveway and excitedly looked over to Ryan who looked at me and then Joe, giving me a worried look. Before I walked to the door, I mouthed to her, ‘don’t worry, I talked to him,’ and then excitedly walked to the door. To be honest I was ready for Ryan to go on her first ever date and for Joe to meet her first ever boyfriend. I knew this time would come one day and now that it’s here, it’s exciting. I feel like I was just a 16 year old girl going on a date with Joe for the very first time. Granted, I hope Ryan doesn’t get pregnant in college, even though getting pregnant was the best thing to ever happen to me since it gave me Ryan.
As I walked to the door with Joe and Ryan following after me, I heard a knock on the door, so I opened it up and was met by Brady’s huge smile. “Hello Brady, it’s so good to see you again. How are you?” I asked him and let him come inside. “I’m doing really good Mrs. burrow, especially since I get to take Ryan on a date.” Brady said and looked over at Ryan. Immediately, I could see him start to blush as he looked at her.
I couldn’t help but think about Joe and how he couldn’t stop blushing on our first date. He even blushes now every time he looks at me. “Oh wow, you can call me by my first name, Mrs. burrow makes me feel old. It reminds me of my mother in law.” I joked with him, getting a laugh out of him as well. I could tell he was nervous, but he was doing surprisingly well given the fact that he was meeting Joe for the first time.
As soon as Brady stepped inside, I shut the door since I didn’t know how long it would take and watched as Brady took a few steps towards Joe. “It’s great to meet you, Mr. Burrow. Ryan talks about you a lot in school.” He said and shook Joe’s hand that was extended out towards Brady. I looked over at Ryan during their first encounter and gave her a little shrug and she just gave me half a smile. At least it was going good so far. “I hope all good things,” Joe chuckled, “It’s good to finally meet you.” Joe said.
I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding in and smiled at the both of them. Then, out of nowhere, Joe said, “can I speak to you privately? It won’t take more than a few minutes.” My eyes shot up at Joe and then Ryan who looked terrified of what her dad was going to say to Brady. Was he going to threaten Brady? Or try and scare him away? Oh shit. I could’ve sworn this thing was going to go good and he was going to behave himself. If he takes Brady in there and gives him the talk about ‘if you hurt my daughter I will fuck you up,’ like he said he was going to do a million times, I am going to kill him.
Brady looked to Ryan quickly and then back to Joe with a hesitant nod before Joe signaled to the living room. “Can you both wait in the kitchen?” Joe asked me. Brady walked past him and to the living room and Ryan slapped her forehead and walked to the kitchen. I walked over to Joe before following Ryan and glared up at him. “I swear, if you scare that boy away, I will kill you.” I whispered to him. “I’m not going to scare him away. I want to get to know him a little and try to get him to be less scared of me. He might’ve put on a brave face, but he was shitting bricks, believe me.” Joe said before turning around and walking to the living room where Brady already was.
Taking a deep breath, I composed myself a little and then went into the kitchen where Ryan was. “What’s going on?” She asked me nervously. I put my hands up a little bit to calm her down and then leaned on the counter opposite of her. “He’s trying to get to know him so he isn’t so nervous around him.” I said. Ryan raised an eyebrow up at me and her mouth hung open. “What? Get to know him? I thought he’d be all uptight and shit.” She said. “Right? I guess we both don’t know him.” I laughed. I could see the worry and tension leave Ryan’s face as she started to calm down and let herself take a breather. And here we thought Joe was about to ruin everything.
“So, do you think he likes Brady?” She asked me with a slightly weary smile on her face, not knowing whether or not her dad likes the boy she is about to go on a date with. “Yes and no. I think he knows that Brady is a nice boy, but no because he’s taking you on a date. No matter how old you get, your dad’s always going to worry about you.” I said, giving her a small smile. She sighed while nodding and then walked over to me and stood next to me. Once next to me, she leaned on the counter like me and then rested her head on my shoulder. “I know. I’m glad I got good parents.” She said and looked up at me. I stuck out my bottom lip while looking down at her and wrapped my arm around her. “You’re not too bad yourself, kid.” I joked with her.
After about 5 minutes, I could hear Brady and Joe walking towards the kitchen before Joe peaked his head in and said, “we’re all done. You ready to go?” Joe asked Ryan. Ryan excitedly looked up at me and then to Joe. I watched as Ryan nodded quickly and then headed towards Joe who turned around and walked back towards the door as we followed him. “Thank you so much again, Mr. Burrow, I’m really looking forward to Sunday, sir.” Brady said while looking up at Joe, then to Ryan. I couldn’t help but smile at the way Brady’s cheeks flushed a light shade of red while looking at our daughter. It reminded me so much of Joe and how his cheeks and ears always flush red when he see’s me.
“Please, call me Joe. Why don’t you go wait in the car for a second while I talk to my daughter.” Joe said with a smile. Brady reached out his hand to shake Joe’s hand, so Joe reached forward and grabbed ahold of his hand, giving him a firm handshake. “Alright, Joe. She’s in very good hands, and we’ll be back before her curfew.” Brady said. I raised my eyebrows slightly at how professional Brady was being right now and then looked over to Ryan who also looked kind of shocked. I could tell she was extremely relieved by this whole thing. “That’s what I like to hear,” Joe chuckled slightly, “it was really nice to meet you, Brady.” Joe added in. “You too Mr. burrow-I mean Joe.” Brady said with a smile and then turned around and left.
I stood off to the side with my hands on my hips and smiled up at Joe as he turned to face Ryan. “Dad…you are amazing. Thank you so much.” Ryan said and walked towards her dad. Joe started to laugh when Ryan wrapped her arms tightly around Joe and buried her head in Joes chest. Joe wrapped his arms around Ryan and then glanced over at me. I gave him a small smile and nodded, happy with how this turned out. “Of course, Ryan. Just know that no matter what, I’m always here for you, and I love you,” Joe said and put both of his hands on Ryan’s shoulders and gently pushed her back so he could look into her eyes, “you’ll always be my little girl no matter how old you are, you know that, right?” Joe said. “I know, dad, and I love you too, no matter how old you are.” Ryan laughed at the last part and stood on her tippy toes. Just like always, Joe leaned down so Ryan could place a kiss on his cheek, and then she excitedly jumped backwards. “Wish me luck!” She giggled and started running out of the door.
Joe and I came together by the front door where we watched Ryan run to Brady’s car. Brady was leaning on his car and when he saw Ryan, he walked to the passenger side door and opened it up for her. Joe wrapped his arm around me, so I leaned into his side and rested my head on his shoulder. “What’s Sunday by the way?” I asked. “I invited him to the game so he could be up in the suite with you and Ryan and meet my parents. I figured it was a chance for them to hang out some more.” Joe said while smiling down at me. “You honestly handled this much better than I thought you would.” I smiled up at him and kissed his shoulder. All along I thought this would be some dumpster fire and he would embarrass Ryan. I guess I should’ve given him more credit.
“Yeah, well they remind me of us when we first started going out. Everyone deserves a first love and I’m glad that Brady’s the one she chose. He’s a good kid.” Joe said. “They remind you of us? Well let’s just hope history doesn’t repeat himself and we become grandparents in a few years.” I joked with him. Joe immediately pushed me to the side slightly and sealed his eyes shut, punching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t even fucking say that, what the hell?” Joe said and then looked down at me. I laughed and then pushed him right back. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” I giggled and got into a fighting position, making Joe laugh. “Get over here.” Joe said and grabbed my hand, pulling me to him. Once I got to him, he moved me in front of him and wrapped his arms around my neck. Reaching up, I rested both of my hands on his arms and watched as Brady and Ryan drove off. “There she goes.” Joe said with a sigh. “She’ll be back.” I said and kissed his arm.
#joe burrow#joeburrow#cincinnati bengals#nfl#joe burrow bengals#joe shiesty#joey b#bengals#joey burrow#joe burr#joe x reader#joe#joe burrow fic#joe burrow fan fic#joe burrow imagine#joe burrow x reader#nfl imagine#imagine#nfl fan fiction
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Imminent Threat: Baby Pictures Confirmed!
I was bitten by the inspiration bug and I do love this idea a lot, heheh…
Wanna see what happens if HT!Sans catches a glimpse of your baby pictures?
(HT!Sans x Female!Reader)
(No warnings just be prepared for silly, fluff, and cute (aggression))
——————
Sans twiddles his thumbs, watching you leave with the dishes into the kitchen. Your parents had forbidden him from doing the dishes.
“You made us this wonderful meal! It’s her turn on the chores anyway,”
“What! I come home to see you and you’re just making me do chores?”
“Yes! It’s to catch up on all the chores you missed these past few months! Hahahah!”
He turned to you and whispered a pathetic little “sorry,” but you waved him off.
“It’s ok, I’m used to it. Might as well treat them since I can’t cook like you, right? Keep them company.”
So here he was, sitting on the table, feeling like he was going to expel the meal he just ate, watching your parents wipe their lips with tissue like they were about to interrogate him.
“So, how’s living with (Y/n) like?”
“good.” no no. too fast. talk more. “she…… she’s nice.”
nice? is that all i have to say about her?
“Ah. That’s good to hear,” your dad replies, taking a sip of tea from a mug.
…
i guess if i said the other things i thought of her, they’d probably want to take her away from me.
“Hey, I hope she’s more active than how she used to be. She used to stay home for days, and we’d have to remind her to go outside and get some sun!” Your mom chortles, and Sans rubs the back of his neck.
“a… actually… she’s the one that wants to leave the house now. i don’t… like leaving. the house is nicer.” Sans forces a grin, but he can’t tell if it’s coming off as awkward or spine-chillingly horrifying.
He can’t gauge how your parents reacted. Your dad smirked, and your mom tilted her head. What does that mean? Do they not approve? Sans usually prides himself in being able to read people like a book- even after the head injury. But his skull is full of thoughts.
“I imagine you’d have to stay at home to hone that cooking skill, then?” Your mom offered, “that stew was amazing! The blend of herbs and spices, the broth wasn’t too thick or thin, and the meat was cooked to perfection…”
Your dad chuckles. “I don’t know about cooking as much as my wife does, but I’ll tell you what, that’s one hell of a stew you’ve got. You could probably start a restaurant,”
“heh… heh you think?” His grin turns more genuine as his cheeks turn a tinge of dark blue.
“How did you learn to cook so well, Sans? Did you go to culinary school?” Your mom pries.
“oh… no actually, i learnt it all myself,” Sans explains, “back in the underground we didn’t have much to go on but we didn’t want to eat something completely tasteless so i learnt how to make things taste good with what we had…”
Sans realizes too late that maybe he brought up the underground a bit too casually, because all of a sudden your mom looks stricken with guilt, and your dad looks awfully uncomfortable.
“O-oh, I’m so sorry Sans, I didn’t mean to…”
“no no. i-i brought it up, you don’t have to apologize,”
Is he smiling too much? Should he be frowning? Wait hold on he’s looking at your mom too much, he should look at your dad now. Oh he’s looking away…
Why was he so bad at this? He’s relied on looking scary and stopping everyone from trying to talk to him. B-but he likes your parents, they’re nice, some of the few humans that actually look past his scary face and see him as… sort of harmless?
Your dad broke the silence.
“Yes, I’ve always tried to make the most of my meals. Like when I have crumbs I’d toss them near the anthill we used to have in the backyard. Hahah, one time when (Y/n) was very little she saw me throw breadcrumbs and asked me what I was doing. I told her I was feeding the ants, and she must have been really impressed with that idea… because,”
Your dad got into a fit of giggles, and Sans perks up.
“Tch… hih! Because the next day I found her standing in front of the anthill… with bread on top of it. Whole wheat, whole bread slice. I asked her what she was doing! And she said ‘I’m feeding the ants!’ She looked so proud I had to take a picture of her! I think I have it on my phone,”
Sans mouth opens. He all but quaked in his chair, having to physically restrain from grabbing your dad’s phone.
“m-m…” Sans coughs trying to regain composure, “may i see it,”
“On it, just… give me a sec…” Sans watched as your dad scrolled and scrolled, until…
“Found it,”
He turned his phone around.
There you were, no older than 3, in a little bucket hat, sleeveless shirt and shorts, with tiny flip flops. You had a bright, sunshine smile on your face, and humorously… a slice of bread sitting amidst the grass and dirt just a foot or two away from you.
Sans’ eyelights shrinks, his grin gone. Carefully, he takes the phone out of your dad’s hands and zooms in on your face. You had dimples in your cheeks, and they… they looked so plump like little squishballs. Your eyes were round and sparkled in the sun. His hands shook.
He must’ve looked unhinged.
“What do you think?” Your mom asked.
“sh…… she’s so small……” Sans breaths, then swallows, turning to your dad. “d… d’you… do you have more…?”
Your dad snorts, his arms crossed. “‘Do you have more’ he says,” he scoffs. “Kid, we have an entire baby album.”
****
You tuned out of the conversation in the kitchen, earphones plugging your ears, a tried and true ‘dish washing’ playlist playing as your background music. It was a nice break. You’re happy to see your parents again, but they can be a bit overbearing at times… ask Sans odd questions about monsters, sometimes mention how tiny you look next to your boyfriend (which had Sans hiding his face… they thought he was offended but he was mortified, worried your parents were hinting at how he was like with you in private).
Though you certainly didn’t miss doing chores back home, you did see it as a bit of a reprieve.
But then over the music, you heard laughter… loud laughter. It didn’t sound like your dad. And Sans doesn’t usually laugh that hard. It started soft at first but it got louder and louder, until you were sure that was Sans. What were they doing to him? It almost sounded like they found his most ticklish bone and was torturing him with him.
A laugh startled you so bad you almost dropped a clean plate onto the floor. You took off an earphone just in time for your mom to walk in.
“Hi dear, this is your dad’s, he’s finished his tea. You don’t have to wash it if you don’t want to…”
“Yea, ok-” you say, distracted and looking over your mom’s shoulder as if you could see what was causing all the ruckus. “What is happening???”
“Oh,” your mom laughed, “Sans is such a sweet, delightful monster. Your dad’s showing him your baby pictures-”
“Excuse me my WHAT?!!”
You threw the gloves onto the sink counter, washed your hands hastily, and yanked the other earphone off, tossing them haphazardly into a pocket. Tripping over your feet to sprint into the room, though you realize you’re too late.
Sans is vibrating on the sofa, having migrated from the table it seems. His eyelight was blown wide, the widest you’ve seen it, glued to the open book in front of him. Your dad flipped a page, looking unaware of the murderous skeleton next to him.
“And here… oh this was on a trip to the beach. She’d gotten scared of water because of a wave too big had brought her out from shore and her legs couldn’t reach the sand. It wasn’t out to sea or anything, but when you’re that small it must’ve been scary. But the hotel had a pool and I couldn’t have my daughter stay afraid of water… this was after a fun session of swimming in floaties and being swung into the pool.”
“ah… HAHAHAH! bright… orange…!”
It was clear to you now. Sans wasn’t laughing from something funny. He was overjoyed. So overjoyed he can’t contain it in himself that he just bursts with it. His eyelights warbled. They looked like hearts shimmering under a running river.
You grabbed your head in despair. “No, no no- what have you done!”
Your dad had looked up immediately, while Sans’ didn’t, holding onto the album. Though… his grin had twisted into something dark.
Dad took a photo out, the one he was just explaining: a picture of you laughing in orange floaties, floral swimwear, carried by your dad in a clear blue pool, looking up at the camera. The sides of the picture were slightly yellow.
“Do you remember this, poppy? It’s weird to think you were ever scared of water now… it’s hard to stop you from swimming, nowadays,”
You can’t help but smile in your heart a little. It brought back happy memories of travelling with your parents when you were little.
Unfortunately, there are far more pressing matters at the moment.
“No, wait, dad… what did you do?”
“What?”
“You… you showed Sans my baby pictures?”
“Baby and toddler pictures,” your dad corrected. “Also there’s no need to be embarrassed, I feel like it’s a right of passage to have your baby pictures shown to your significant other by your parents.”
“No, I’m not embarrassed,” you shake your hands helplessly, “it’s just… Sans is gonna kill me,”
There was an incident, almost a year ago now. You were shuffling through some things you found in a box you never unpacked… at the bottom you found a polaroid of you rolled up in a baby blue blanket and, admittedly, looking pretty darned cute.
You showed it to Sans, innocently. It’s cute, you can admit it, and you knew Sans would appreciate it.
Oh how naive you were.
He held the picture, stared at it. Was at a loss for words, though he kept trying to form them helplessly, bringing it close to his face like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then he muttered.
“b… baby…… b… baby…”
Then he went crazy. Picking you up, not listening to your protests- usually when Sans gets in a cuddly mood he ignores your complaints but that time, it was like he really couldn’t hear you. His pupil was blown wide and constantly shifted from heart to circle. He squashed you in bed, smooshed your cheeks, kissed you until you were gasping for breath- you don’t even think it’s a sexual thing, he was just overcome with cute aggression!
It wasn’t a one time thing either. Carelessly, you’d leave the picture propped up on the window as a cute memento aesthetic… thing, maybe, but every time Sans looked at the picture too long, he’d get into his violent cuddly moods and kidnap you to the bedroom to squish you. Eventually you had to hide it to avoid inducing anymore ‘cute-induced murderous rage’ in him.
And your parents just opened pandora’s box for you.
Your brows furrow in worry as Sans looks up from the album to you, his eyelight tightening into just a fraction of what it was before, zeroing in on you. His grin was wide and deranged. He chuckled, a low, threatening sound.
“heh heh… i’m going to crush you.”
#aka writing#ht!sans#sans x reader#i need to fix the x reader tags someday#jsdjggf#childhood stories are sourced from Me#disclaimer: no actual imminent threat#just get squashed by sans#lol
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Covet: Chapter 11 (Part 2 of 3)
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader
Covet Summary:
Life was good. No, life was great.
Was.
Until.
Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.
You welcomed him into your life—your home.
Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in.
Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.
At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.
Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; EMDR (VIVID intro to revisiting traumatic situations); crying + feelings of sadness; heart issues (POTs); use of heart monitors; dangerously high heart rate; implied abusive situations; derogatory verbiage from past abuser; implied drug use; very unsanitary living conditions; visits to safe place; usage of containment strategy * * * revisited, vivid memories of sexual encounters; body changes as a result of pregnancy; talks of baby + pregnancy; pregnancy hormones (+ continuing to act on them ;)); reader and jake continue to be STUBBORN; cheating; heavy petting; forgetfulness (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)
Chapter 11 (Part 2) Word Count: 23.9k+
a/n: i broke my promise, i know. :( i feel absolutely fucking terrible that i made you all wait, but life happens. :'( i wish this story was my main priority/job, but alas...that dream is not a reality. i need you all to know: when i say i'm going to do something, i fully intend on it, but...life (and crippling adhd + anxiety).
i am so incredibly sorry, my lovely readers. :(
also, life update to blame (only if you care to read). BUT, on top of trying to get my house completely cleaned/shit thrown away, i officially had to empty out my classroom (see also: due to toxic work enviro, i had to leave the career i've wanted to live out since i was six y/o). so, i'm currently in the process of completely shifting careers (going from one emotionally taxing career to another, but that is apparently the type of job my heart desires lol).
as always, big thank you to @joshym for being the best sister there ever was and supporting me in my writings + pursuits <3 i love you to the ends of the earth, lis. you're my person. <3
Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤 (fr, i listen to it nonstop when i write this.... all of the songs are pertinent to the story and aid in telling it - either already or eventually.)
Covet Masterlist
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"I covet truth; beauty is unripe childhood's cheat; I leave it behind with the games of youth."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
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Monday
December 12, 2022
“So, any news on the baby since I last saw you?” Gia started, a sure smile on her face that helped ease you. “You had your second appointment on Thursday, right?”
“No,” you shook your head. “Dr. Rose wanted to just wait until closer to Week 18 so we could find out the gender at one session rather than having to wait between week 16 and week 18. Knock everything out at once,” you explained, clearing your throat. Looking around the office, you admired the pieces of floral art littering the walls, as you always did. “We’re going this Friday now.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Gia asked, raising a brow. She was rolling to her desk, getting the (seemingly) last thing she needed for your session today and placing it in her lap. “Not stressed about putting it off?”
“No, actually. I’m not stressed at all,” you acknowledged, sticking your lip out in thought. You hadn’t even thought to be stressed yet. Progress? Sure seemed like it. “It’s strange; the longer time passes, the bigger I get. . . The worries just aren’t as prevalent. It’s like I can feel that the baby is okay.”
“Not strange at all, babe,” Gia reassured with a shake of her head. Her platinum blonde hair was wavy today, framing her angular face perfectly. “Completely normal for new mothers to sort of get used to the pregnancy enough to feel at peace, per se. And I am so proud of you for getting to that point.”
“Well thanks,” you grinned crookedly, trying your best to settle into the worn, camel-colored leather of her sofa. “Can’t say the same for today’s session though. . . I am nervous about it.”
Gia waved it away, showing you a look of ease on her stark features. “No need. You’re the one in control, girly,” she winked, placing both white-sneakered feet on the ground.
She reached in her desk drawer for the little pouch, the familiar one that you knew held the device you’d be using today. A sudden wave of nerves began to crash over you as she unzipped it, revealing it and the paddles that would be the catalyst in placing your brain. . .elsewhere— somewhere.
Somewhere bad? Good? In-between?
“Here’s the plan,” she started, wheeling her chair closer to the couch, where you were trying your damnedest to sit comfortably. “We’ll start with your safe place to give you some sense of peace and stability — gotta make sure it’s still fresh and open in your mind.”
You watched as she turned the knob of the device, the little green light beginning to blink to notate that it’s on. “Then,” she continued, situating the device to look it over before her green eyes settled back on you. “Once you feel comfortable, I’ll tell you to begin walking away. Whatever direction you’d like to go, it’s completely up to you.”
Gia held the paddles out in front of you, and with clammy, shaky palms, you tentatively took hold of them. One in each hand, just like last time.
You couldn’t stop worrying about where you��d end up, where you’d walk away to. Walking away from your beautiful field, from Jake. . . What if you couldn’t do it?
“Will I. . .,” you cleared your throat, nervous. “If where I go is too hard, do I just—,” you panicked, unable to properly finish your sentence due to an onslaught of nerves. “What will I do?”
You were fumbling with your words and clarity, before she interjected, knowing just where your mind was going. “I’ll simply tell you to walk back to your safe place. I’ll be talking you through it, I’ll be right here the whole time — just gotta keep your ears open for me,” she winked, clicking open her iPad and testing her Apple pencil on the screen, readying to take notes.
“And, if at any point I see your body language change to indicate any distress, I’ll guide you back to your safe place, okay?” She soothingly told you the words, her full pink lips widening to a sweet smile, clicking her pencil into its spot at the top of her iPad case. “Remember, my specialized area is EMDR. I’ve done it multiple times before this – successfully. I plan to complete this successfully with you, too, y/n.”
When you gave her a small, timid smile, she took that as an indicator to continue on with her little speech. The tiny faux grin on your otherwise concerned face was the most emotion you could muster in that moment.
“It will hurt from time to time. I can’t take that away. It will be harder than most other things you’ve ever had to do.” She paused, her own brows curving to show care for your rigid state. Gia reached forward to unwrap your hands from the paddles gently. Once she had a hold on your hands, she rubbed the backs of them reassuringly, her thumbs so soft with their intricate patterns. You looked down to study the patterns, working to focus on something else and rid yourself of the nerves.
“Y/n.” She stated your name, making you look up at her. Her seafoam-colored eyes grabbed yours. “Before we begin. . . I want to make sure – once more – that you are sure about this . . . that you want to continue. We’ve talked about it a lot, but I want you to be sure. There are other routes of therapy. . .”
“No,” you replied, completely sure of your decision. “No. I want to do this. I promise I haven’t changed my mind. I don’t want to change my mind,” you rushed out, desperate for her to understand you. “I’m just–just scared. Is that not okay?”
You didn’t mean to sound defensive, but your biting tone contradicted that. The nerves were wracking you, from the inside out.
Luckily, Gia seemed unphased, keeping with her featherlight touch to the backs of your hands. “It absolutely is okay to be scared,” she confirmed, tone firm and soft all at once. “But, I need you to keep in mind: you are in charge this time. You have the power. We will approach these places in the now – you are in the driver’s seat of conquering these past battles. We’re in this together, love – and we will make it out stronger and better than before we started.”
Her voice assured you, of course. But the fear was still ever-present.
Sure, you did have control. But what if you couldn’t control where you went?
Where would you go? That was what scared you most. Your mind was bound to let loose. It was one telling part of this sort of therapy. You didn’t really know what had been hiding deep in the drawers of the credenza in your mind. . .
Hence you being here.
You just knew, whatever it was lying beneath the surface — you knew it was. . . a lot.
Then, as if she could hear the additional fearful thoughts swimming in your brain, she grasped your hands tighter in hers, moving to rub her thumbs over the tops of your knuckles. “You’ll be just fine. We’ve got a solid plan, babe. I just need you to trust me, and I need you to trust yourself. If you need to walk away, tell me and we’ll do it. That is in our power – your power.” Her pristinely white, pearly teeth were on display as she looked deep into your worried eyes. “We can do this, okay?”
We. I’m not alone.
You’d never had a single doubt about Gia. Of course you trusted her. But. . .maybe the true problem was trusting yourself. . . Over the past several months, you were finding that to be a bit more difficult.
But, Gia was right. You had to put some trust in yourself to know when you needed to step away. You could do it. You had to.
And knowing that she had a plan and had done it so many times before. . . Those were relieving thoughts, to say the very least. She knew what she was doing, and she knew what was best for you.
I can do this, you recited to yourself. I can. . .
You sighed, out of both relief and persistent worry. “I trust you,” you told her, another somewhat forced smile following your words. “And I’ll learn to trust myself. . . I’ll try my best,” you grinned sheepishly. “We’ve got this.”
“Good deal,” she responded with a far more sincere smile than you could offer. “There’s just one more thing we need to do before we get started.”
She clicked her iPad closed, wheeling back toward her desk, reaching down in the same drawer she pulled the device from. Only this time, she pulled out a large legal style, white notepad, and a large box of Crayola markers. Lastly, she grabbed a flawlessly sharpened pencil from the ceramic baby blue jar, covered in white roses, next to her keyboard.
What could she be up to? You wondered, eyebrows drawn together.
“I need you to describe something for me, something visual to lock any horrible memory away in.” She took a sip of her tea, which sat atop her desk, before she stood up from her chair. She came to sit directly next to you on her couch. The smell of eucalyptus that swirled off of her, from her perfume, was soothing. “You need to give it lots of detail, make it unique. I’ll even draw it for you,” she held up the notepad, pointing to it with a gentle smile. “Seeing it visually will help you when it’s time to lock the memories away mentally. Some people want a box, a filing cabinet, a treasure chest,” she laughed, and you giggled at that one, too. Jake would love that one. Buried treasure, like his pirate documentaries. . . “Whatever you want. You just tell me exactly what you want it to look like.”
Something about this felt a little silly, but you understood the purpose for it. Just having a place to put the memories after you visited them, it felt like closure. A special sort of closure at the end of every session, just like your safe place felt like closure. . .
And then, you knew what you wanted it to look like. Saw the image, clear as day, in your mind. It felt significant to you, it felt right. There was no question.
But, you had a thought.
“Would–would it be okay if I drew it?” You questioned carefully.
She eagerly handed you the notepad, markers and pen with a huge smile. “Absolutely. That’s called trusting yourself big time, girly. This box is a special one!” Her voice was wet as she sniffled. “I’m not supposed to get so emotional with my clients, but I’m proud of you. You’re making great strides and we’ve barely started.”
“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a bit encouraged, your own throat tight as you reviewed her once more with a glance.
Then, sticking the tip of your tongue out from the corner of your mouth, you looked down at the paper, and began.
A small, wooden box was all you could see in your mind. So, you drew it out, as best you could, given your lack of artistic abilities.
One side, then the other, the bottom, the top. . .
Before you knew it, you had a perfect, rectangular box on the stripped notebook paper. Then, it was time for the important part: the details.
There was only one element that felt right — felt safe — to decorate the box with.
Scouring through the markers, you found two perfect shades of purple at the bottom — two very different shades, to add depth. You weren’t an artist, really, but you could pretend for the box’s sake.
Then, you searched for the greenest green you could find. One more marker in a shade of dark brown, and you were ready to draw the box exactly as you saw it in your mind.
You began drawing tiny individual stalks of lavender on top of the box. You filled in their blooms with the purples, drawing their stems underneath with the green. Their placement may have seemed scattered across the top, but you kept going. To you, it made sense. And that was all that mattered.
One bloom in the top left corner, one diagonal from it in the bottom right corner. Then, there was one on the bottom left going straight up and down, with a slight curve to the stem. . . And one more, laying on its side directly in the middle. . .
It was perfect. Just as you’d imagined.
You filled in the blank spaces with the brown marker, immulating the antiqued, stained mahogany wood you were envisioning.
And once you filled it all in, your vision had come to life right before your own eyes. It was the ideal picture of what you saw, and despite the fact that you were no artist, it was beautiful. You loved it. Looking at it forced emotions you weren’t expecting, so many big emotions that begged to be surfaced.
And for whatever reason, looking at it made you think of the baby. This beautiful, hand drawn box held a strange connection to the life you and Jake had created, though you couldn’t explain how. . .
But, you felt it. You felt it so strongly.
“Lavender means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” Gia asked you, smiling and wiping away a stray tear that sat on top of her highlighted cheekbone. “It’s very lovely, y/n. And I’m so glad that you drew it.”
You contemplated her question about lavender. You’d never considered just how prevalent it was in all of your happy places. . . But, it was. It meant so much. . .
Who knew that such a simple plant could bring you so much comfort? So much peace?
A tear came to your eye at the thought of how special the plant had become to you. . . It was really no secret why it’d become special.
Gia leaned over, giving you a small side hug, but didn’t linger before making her way back to her chair. She sat at the edge of it, elbows placed on both knees as she clasped her hands at the front.
“How are we feeling?” She asked, sniffling once more as she looked you directly in the eyes. “A little better now that we have our box?”
“Yes,” you nodded, wiping under your eye to rid yourself of any tears. “The box idea is genius.”
“The technical term is containment. Again, it’s simply where the client creates a space to store the distressing memories. I want to emphasize that the memories aren’t coming back to control you, rather you’re the one controlling them. And, the box’s containment of the unpleasant memories gives you a little extra control over these memories and the emotions attached to them. They’re yours to deal with,” she explained softly. “You done with the notebook and pens?”
“Yeah, yeah,” you nodded eagerly, handing the materials back to her. You went over her words in your head, extra control. . . the idea of that sounded wonderful to you. Those words aided in lifting a decent amount of weight from your nervous body.
She took the materials from you, and as she did so, you decided to take the paddles in your hands once more, feeling much more confident.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, rolling back in her tufted chair to put the markers and pencils back on the desk. “I definitely can’t take credit for the idea of containing those horrendous memories in a certain area. . . but it has proven wonderfully effective for every client I’ve practiced this form of therapy with,” she explained further, coming back to sit in front of you, wheeling smoothly back towards you. When she was about two feet away from you, she stopped and observed the picture of your box, the notepad still in her lap. “Do you have a clear idea of the box in your mind?”
“The clearest,” you affirmed, no question in your mind of the precise placement of each piece of lavender. The exact color of mahogany that you’d depicted for the wood, sealed in your brain.
“Wonderful. Well, I’m going to hold it so I can get a good idea of it; just in case you need help finding it at any point,” she said, eyes scanning the page as she spoke. “I’d love to see this in real life – it’s gorgeous.”
“I think so, too,” you grinned, eyes twinkling. And, suddenly, your body felt light in a way that could only indicate one thing. . . you knew there was no time like the present. “I’m ready.”
Gia looked up at your words, her own eyes donning a spark as she tucked the notepad onto her lap. “If you’re ready, I’m ready,” she smiled kindly, her eyes trustworthy and open for opportunity. “First things first. Make yourself as comfortable as you need to. Sit, lay down. . . it’s up to you.”
You kept yourself upright on the couch, allowing yourself to sink back into its cushions a bit more. And for some reason, the thought of crossing your legs, criss-cross applesauce came to mind. So, you did just that, bringing your legs up to the couch and criss-crossing one over the other. You looked at your belly as you did. A timid grin crept along your lips at the thought of knowing you didn't have much longer until you’d no longer be able to do this.
Thank you, sweet baby.
With one deep breath in, you felt your stiff limbs loosen with the comfort of the new position you found yourself in. And with the exhale, you looked down at the paddles in your hands, holding them probably a bit too tight as you felt your nails digging into your clammy palms. Still yet, you kept your grip, somehow feeling a bit more secure that way.
“Nice and comfy?” Gia asked, her warm, knowing smile aiding in relaxing your body even more.
You looked down at your hands, smoothing your thumbs over the cool plastic of the paddles. You knew this was it, that this could begin to change a lot; it could change everything. The thought of change was a frightening one, but with this change would come a healing journey like you’d never known. For you, for the baby, for Jake, even. . .
“As I’ll ever be,” you confidently answered. You were ready to embark on this expedition of mending.
“Perfect,” she said, her voice soft, reassuring. “Close your eyes, take a few deep breaths. Let yourself relax.”
You did as she said, and with one breath in through your nose and blowing it slowly out of your mouth, you closed your eyes.
You felt your chest rise and fall with each breath. You began to breathe deeper and easier the longer your eyes were closed.
“Good job.” You heard her sweet voice, feeling comforted by the simple fact that you knew she was still with you. Though you could no longer see her, you felt her. And that was more than enough. “I’ll start the paddles off slowly, just like last time. Turning them on in 3, 2. . .”
Your body instinctively jolted at the light humming sensation you felt against your palms, your eyes closing a little tighter. But, you quickly remembered the feeling from last time and it didn’t take you very long to get used to it. You even found a little relief in the alternating vibrations. Their consistent rhythm worked to ease your mind. Your eyes, though still closed, instinctively followed in the back and forth motion of the pulsations in your palms.
“Does this speed feel okay?” You heard her ask, her voice suddenly becoming more distant as you let yourself focus on the steady thrumming of the paddles.
“Yes,” you whispered, the sound of your voice echoing as though you were in a long, narrow tunnel. “Feels good.”
“We’ll start with establishing your safe place, y/n. Go ahead and start walking to it. Lead the way.”
My safe place.
Suddenly, as though the mere mention of it had some sort of ability to transcend you there, you began feeling the familiar cool breeze against your face. Faint sounds of the birds singing in the forest of trees filled your ears, becoming a bit louder as you found your footing against the lightly dampened grass beneath your feet. “The birds,” you felt yourself say. “They’re singing, their chirps are becoming clearer now.”
“Wonderful.” Her voice was heard all around you, echoing against the wind. “Tell me what you see.”
Your eyes, still physically shut, began to open in your mind. They squinted at the bright, warm rays from the sun. And as you turned your face upwards toward the sky, you could feel the radiance of the rays against your skin.
And, as you peered a few feet ahead of you, you witnessed a beautiful family of deer were perusing the lush meadow.
“The sun. . . It’s so beautiful and bright, but it doesn’t hurt to look at it,” you shared with her, squinting towards it with no negative effect, shocked by the fact. “And the deer. So innocent and pure. They’re so near to me, but not scared of me at all.”
“You’re doing amazing, y/n. Keep going, tell me what you can touch, what you can smell.” Her voice carried throughout the trees like the wind, meshing beautifully with the songs of the birds.
Bending down, you ran your fingers through the dewy blades of grass. They felt cool, soft. Like a blanket of emerald velvet. “The grass. It’s soft, a little wet.”
And then, the smells. The fragrance of freshly rain coated grass, as though an evening shower had just finished nourishing the ground before you’d arrived. The rainfall, sustaining the life of the pasture, the jude green grasses, the illustrious amethyst plant surrounding you. . .
The divine aroma from your favored flower overwhelmed your senses in the most alluring way. The bloomed field, surrounding you, holding you carefully in its gentle grasp.
“The lavender,” you felt yourself say, eagerly. “I can smell it, so fresh and clean; the sense of calm it brings me. . .”
You then felt the paddles pick up in their speed, ever so slightly, but enough that you could tell.
“Oh yes, your lavender,” Gia hushed as she positively tracked with you.
My lavender.
Gently, you sat your body down in the midst of the flowers. And once you did, you felt the urge to place your hands against your tummy, to feel the baby, just like last time.
There you are, right where you belong, you thought when you felt the smooth bump beneath your hands.
You felt nearly complete, nearly, but you knew something was still missing—someone.
And just when you started to look beyond the stems of lavender to find him, there he was.
Clad in the very same navy blue, three piece suit you’d seen him in the first time. The rays from the sun bounced off of his chestnut locks, his tanned skin radiant and glowing.
With a soft, lopsided smile, he slowly walked toward you. The vision of him, walking amongst the stalks of lavender as they gently swayed from the light breeze against his calves. . . You felt yourself sigh with relief.
This was safe. This was home.
Once he approached you in what felt like no time at all, he laid down right beside you, extending one arm out for you to join him. And as you did, letting yourself at last melt into his warm embrace, you were finally there.
Your safest place.
“I’m here now,” you muttered, feeling yourself smile warmly as you did. “And I’m safe.”
“Enjoy it for a moment, let it sink in, put yourself at ease.” You heard Gia’s voice, but the more you focused on Jake, the more distant she became.
You found yourself gazing into his eyes, sparkling like golden gems, as he cradled you in the crook of his arm.
In his amber-brown eyes, you saw your haven, your sanctuary of serenity.
A gentle smile graced his lips as he reached up, tenderly brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear. “It’s time to step away now, y/n,” he told you. Though, you knew it was truthfully Gia telling you, you heard Jake’s voice. You watched his lips move as he spoke, “You can do this. I’m right here.”
Again, you knew the words were coming from Gia. But, hearing them in his voice, as much as you didn’t want to leave him, it was the final push you needed.
It was time.
With only a bit of resistance, you sat up, slowly standing to your feet and urged yourself forward towards the unknown. When you looked back, you saw Jake standing gracefully amongst the fragrant blooms of your lavender.
Home, you thought. He looks like home.
With one final sigh, and with the most strength you were sure you’d ever mustered, you walked away from him.
Your hands found your belly for some extra courage as you stepped away, everything turning black for a moment once you got far enough. But, the further you went, a tiny, dim light caught your attention. It initially seemed like miles away, but with every step you took, it became worlds closer.
A lamp. You could finally see it. It was old, dusty. It was sitting atop a table, from what you could tell. . .
With one more step, the full picture started to come to you. You’d guessed right — it sat on top of a round, wooden table that only had one leg in the center, making it lean a little to the left. The white, canvas lampshade was stained so badly. . .
The stains were reminiscent of those that come from years of smoking cigarettes near it.
In fact, you were shocked that you could tell it had ever been white.
As the image became more clear, you saw a black ash tray next to the lamp, full of cigarette butts, all but confirming your cigarette theory. You could smell the smoke, too, as though someone had just finished one off. The stench was putrid, the chemically treated tobacco mixed disgustingly with the other trash laying on the table.
To the right, you saw a sofa. The blue cloth over the cushions, stained just like the lamp, was tattered and worn. It was full of holes. Tiny, black holes. Cigarette burns?
God, the smell was nearly becoming too much. It was so strong, potent. Cigarettes and filth. Utter filth. Filth that you suddenly began to remember being suffocated by as a child.
No wonder you liked things so pristinely clean. . .
The shag carpet beneath your feet felt like it had never been vacuumed after years of wear. It was littered with half empty beer cans, more cigarette butts, rat droppings. . .
God — the fucking smell. A triggering smell—one that had your stomach turning to the point that vomit rose in your throat.
The paddles sped up a bit more, much more noticeably this time as they forced your brain to grasp what you were experiencing.
“Tell me what you see, y/n. Tell me where you are.” It was no longer Jake’s voice that you were hearing, it was once again Gia’s. And though you missed the sound of his, you were so happy to hear her, reminding you that she was still there.
This was the past. Gia was the present. You were with Gia.
You stepped to the side, glancing around the room you were standing in, trying with all of your might to not allow the stench to make you sick.
“It’s—I’m in a living room, I think. . .?” You noticed a television set, one from the late nineties with a built-in VCR, sitting on top of a makeshift table made of three small slabs of particle board.
The more you looked around, you noticed there was only one average-sized window in the whole room, next to the white front door. The door was scuffed to hell and looked ready to give at any second. The blinds attached to the window were ripped to shreds, hardly hanging onto the frame.
“Y-yeah, it’s a living room. It’s. . .It was our living room. One of them, at least. I’m fully beginning to. . . To recognize it. . .”
You’d lived in so many homes as a child, seen many living rooms. But this one, this home and the walls surrounding you. . .this one was different. While most homes from your childhood didn’t leave you with happy memories, this one felt—evil. This had been a personal hell.
Anxiety, heavy sadness. . . this room was wrought with it.
And as you heard a certain laugh, deep and throaty, from the next room over, your stomach churned and your mind went fuzzy. That sound. It was vile and thick with too many years of smoking. That particular laugh was associated with ugliness and gut-wrenching fear.
The man that the laugh was attached to. . . This was his house. You remembered that now. There was no safety here. This place was only associated with feeling powerless, forgotten, and lonely.
The paddles wiggled in your hands, the vibrations reaching your worn nerves.
Elsie was here, though. Somewhere. You knew that.
And Elsie had helped in making it less lonely — just knowing she was in this past-tense moment filled you with ease. Your sister was here.
Though, you knew for past Elsie, she was still trapped. Even though she comforted this adult version of you that was invading. . . there was still no escape for little girl Elsie.
This place had been desolate, with no chance for escape. You’d been tied here by invisible rope.
Fuck. Where was your sister? You could feel her near, but she wasn’t in the living room with you. Your skin prickled at what she could be experiencing. . . You couldn’t fully wrap your brain around it.
But this was the past. Right now, you just needed to focus on your surroundings.
Living room. The living room.
Your mind was quickly skirting back to your present placement. And, rather than standing, you suddenly realized you were sitting on the ground. Strangely, your hands in the memory were free of the paddles, tucked safely in your lap, shaking. . . And not daring to touch the dirty, shaggy carpet.
For a split second, you wondered. . . Why were you not sitting on the couch or a chair? And why were you sitting in a place you felt you couldn’t move from? Was this how you’d been placed originally? In the past?
You observed the wobbly dinner table in front of you and realized it had zero chairs. And on a second glance around the room, you noticed something you hadn’t before. . . a sleeping form on the couch.
So, it seemed, with the occupied couch being the only other piece of furniture in the living room besides the table. . . the floor had been your only option.
You used the unconscious state of the room’s other occupant to your advantage and turned a bit to observe the person. The person’s face wasn’t visible and their body was covered in a blanket filled with holes and torn more than it wasn’t. But. . . You could see hair.
Blonde. Yellow-blonde. Box-dyed with the cheapest dye.
Long hair, ratty and knotted to the point of almost no fixing it. The way the strands shone a little bit under the dim lighting from the old, dusty lamp showed you it was very oily as well. . . It wasn’t a healthy shine.
The person on the couch, from what you could see, was far from healthy in any capacity. The body looked malnourished through the blanket’s holes. At closer inspection, you noticed an arm dangling off the sofa, peeking from the blanket.
The arm was littered in tiny holes and scars. . . from heroin injections, multiple cigarette burns. . . Then there was the red, irritated acne that littered the pale skin, between the various marks.
Poor thing. What a dreaded way to live life. . . Your heart broke in your chest and tears sprung to your tired eyes as your hand clutched at your tummy.
You could do that in the memory. You were you in the present, yet placed like you’d been in the past. . . so weird.
All you knew was you had a sense to protect the untouched life in your womb. The feeling of being a protector to your child was unparalleled to anything in this moment. . . You would never let the little life inside of you bear witness to anything like you had as a child. . .
Like your current situation.
Or, past situation, rather. . . This was not real. Not in the present. This was controlled — controllable.
The paddles jolted in your real hands, helping you to center you.
“Y/n,” Gia’s voice broke through your psyche, touching your brain delicately. You let out a sigh of relief at the sound of her soft spoken tone. “Can you hear me, girly?”
You nodded, but weren’t sure if she could see it or if the action was only visible in your dreamlike stupor. This was so weird. . .
So, you decided to respond the best you could with words. “Y—yeah,” you stuttered out, blinking rapidly as you tried (and failed) to keep tears at bay. “This is. . . So familiar, yet so forgotten. . .,” your voice faded out.
Your eyes in the memory were now pinched shut, trying to keep the laughter you could still hear from the kitchen (because, yes, you somehow knew exactly where it was coming from) far away.
But it just seemed to be getting closer. . .
“Tell me where you are, y/n,” Gia requested, soothing, yet strong. “Take me with you. You are going to be okay.”
“I—I can’t—,” gasping, you shook your head.
Willing the menacing, thick chuckle to fade, you squinted your eyes open slowly, tried to refocus on the living room to tell Gia what you could. Your hands still held your belly, but your thighs came closer to your chest. You wanted to scrunch up and stay in your bubble.
“Y/n.”
Your blood ran cold and your skin prickled harshly with goosebumps. Fear. Terror. Dread.
The voice wasn’t Gia’s. It wasn’t Jake’s. No. It was coming from behind you. The person on the couch. The worn down, baby blue fabric couch. The navy blue patterns of it, a distant memory, washing back quickly like a flood. . .
This was definitely a memory. A real thing that had happened in the past. This had happened before. It was deeply repressed.
A dark memory. Bad. So, so bad.
You felt dirty for more reasons than one now. . .
Looking down, you noticed your outfit had changed. Though you still looked as you currently did in 2022, you were wearing an outfit you had as a child. The attire made your skin crawl.
This pajama set, you were made to wear it more often than not.
A tiny, satin set. Too small for you to properly fit into. How old were you? Nine? Ten? Was this right before you went to live with. . .?
“Pig.”
No. Not that nickname. No no no.
You hadn’t heard that since your mother had called you–.
The person on the couch.
“Piggy.”
Did you have it in yourself to face her? Could you? What would happen if you didn’t? No. No.
You had to. The baby, safe in your belly. . . that baby needed a mom who could face her demons and not fall to them.
. . .Fall to them like the shell of a woman, on the couch behind you, had fallen to hers.
You felt crippled with fear, but brave beyond comparison all at once. . .
The steady tremors from the paddles in your hands were the best help you could’ve had in the moment, reminding you of your power. . .
And, once you’d given yourself the strength to swivel your body to meet her eyes. . . there she was.
A woman whose face had become a shadow since she’d left you. The moment she’d left you. . .a mess of snot and tears, head throbbing as it laid on Elsie’s shoulder, desperate to understand a mother that had never seemed to love you.
Your eyes were her eyes. Thankfully, that was about where the similarities in your features stopped.
She was paler than you. Her lips, thin and cracked from lack of hydration where yours were full. Her cheekbones were sharp and protruded more than they should. . . Your cheekbones, defined, yet concealed under soft skin you took very good care of . . .
And her face. . . It also lacked freckles. You had the tiniest spatter of light freckles that sat at the tops of your cheeks. Your freckles, mimicking angel kisses, which stayed mostly hidden save for the summertime when they’d make an appearance after exposure from the sun. Her skin was washed out, lacking color. It was as if she hadn’t even been exposed to the sun for a long, long time. . .
Perhaps you might’ve looked more like her than you could tell at this moment. But, right now, all you saw was a sunken face, holding more wrinkles and lines than a woman her age should hone. And, her eyes, even if they looked like yours initially, were glassy and hollow from too many drugs. . .
Right now, they held uncertainty and a rage that was becoming more and more apparent the longer you looked into her eyes. . .
She looked lost. . . Confused, yet furious.
The fury, pointed towards you.
“Get. Up,” your mother ordered, voice cracking a bit, spit flying past her chapped lips. The tone of her voice. . . it made your heart jump into your throat. “Do your job, Pig.”
Before you could respond, you felt heavy footsteps make their way into the living room, shaking the weak structure of the small home that seemed to be falling apart around you.
“Move, you lazy drug slut,” a booming voice growled. You knew it was aimed towards your mother. “Give little Piggy some space to sit next to Mr. Morgan, hm?”
Mr. Morgan.
The paddles buzzed in your hands, re-centering you.
You didn’t dare look at the man who’d entered the room behind you, knowing it was the same man attached to the laughter from the kitchen.
So, it was only out of your peripheral vision when you noticed him round to the other side of you, getting close to your mom. The next thing you saw, faded from the corner of your eye, were fat, sausage-like fingers reaching to yank the thin blanket off your mother. The unmasked view of her figure broke your heart further, her body shaking, bones on full display through her papery skin, begging for a fix. . .
It didn’t take long for those same fingers to forcefully clutch her shoulder and yank her up. You could’ve sworn you heard the bones in her shoulder crack, but she barely let out a yelp. It was more of a tired groan, eyes closed and eyebrows drawn in with irritation towards being disturbed.
But, she shook more. . . Her bones, most likely rattling under her skin. And this time, you knew it was more from nerves and terror, than lack of drugs. She was just trying to play tough.
Mr. Morgan (the name, making bile rise in your throat) came to sit at the end of the couch, but your eyes once again drew shut and your body became rigid. Even if you were facing the couch, you still only kept your body towards your mother’s. She wasn’t safe, by any means. But she wasn’t Mr. Morgan.
You couldn’t look at him. The vile smell of him alone, sweat and grime from lack of showering. . . You were going to hurl on the spot. The way the nausea quickly began to rise in the hollow of your throat, you knew there was no time to get out now. . . Your heartbeat was thrumming so vigorously in your chest, you felt like you were going to choke on its strength.
Then the ugly, bitter laughter was back again. . . Right in front of you this time, your mother moaning next to him. . .
A distant beeping in the background. . . what? Where was that coming–?
The intensity of the paddles increased, the vibrations working to balance you amidst the fear.
“Open your eyes, Pig,” Mr. Morgan grunted, reprimanding you. His voice was stark and loud against the decaying walls of the living room. You winced with what you imagined to come, your heart accelerating and your blood running colder than cold. “Open. Your. Fucking. Eyes, my little whor–.”
The paddles were working so hard to bring you back, but you couldn’t–.
“Y/n.” Gia’s voice rang out through the disgusting home, flowing into your ears, reassuring you. “It’s time to leave, y/n. Find your safe place.”
You didn’t have to be told twice, not with the tears streaming down your face and the way your breath was stuck in your lungs. Your chest stung from the way your heart rate wouldn’t let up. . . the way your heart raced, unrelenting and beating harder every time. . . . The pain was excruciating, making you want to keel over from the intensity.
There wasn’t a memory of leaving the room, you just knew you had left as you ran.
You ran as fast as your legs could carry you, eyes still shut to avoid being used by him–Mr. Morgan. God. You hated that man. You hated your mother.
But, you weren’t with them anymore. The rotting smell of the home and the body odor that reeked from the two people in your vision – it was all gone. You were out. So, you decided to open your eyes. You had to open them to find the place you’d created for a time just like this. . .
Your place. Your home. The field of lavender. Jake. Peaceful serenity, awaiting you amongst the birds chirping and the light blue skies. . .
So, with eyes open and tears streaming down your cheeks, you decided you needed to be there now. Now now now now. . .
And before you could request it any further, your feet were touching the lush grass and the skies were clear and powdery blue above you. . .
“Are you safe, y/n?” Gia asked, her voice much clearer when you were in the field, surrounded by nature. Your sanctuary.
“Yes,” you breathed, voice cracking just a little on the word. You hadn’t spoken for a while. . . Too scared to do so. Clearing your throat, you tried once more. “Yes. Yes, I’m safe. I’m in my safe place. The lavender. The beautiful, tall trees filled with green leaves. The breeze is perfectly warm against my face. . .”
“Wonderful,” Gia said, sounding relieved and stoic all at once. “You are okay, girly. You are okay. It’s not your current reality. It’s not right now. This is right now. You are safe.”
Yes. I’m safe.
Your breathing was coming much easier and your heart wasn’t pounding in your ears any longer.
Your hands found your belly, the sweetest little round bump. But where was. . .?
Then, you felt him. Jake.
Solid and sure behind you, his chest meeting your back. His arms, coming to wrap around you, cradling you and the belly that held his baby. Your head, falling of its own accord to lay back on his shoulder. . .
You were finally able to relax. Let go. The tears poured from your eyes, wetting your cheeks with steady tracks.
“Shhh,” Jake shushed you, the minty smell of his toothpaste lingering on his breath as it washed over your features. The sandalwood-vanilla of his cologne was reminiscent of heaven, you were sure of it. “It’s okay, baby.”
He swayed you a little, your eyes falling closed in peaceful surrender to him and this moment. . .
“Y/n, I want you to think of your box,” you heard the words, knowing it was Gia. But, you felt Jake saying it. Even if she was the one saying the words, you wanted him to help guide you, too. Your mind was a funny place.
His voice kept soothing you, “Think of the box and open it. Open it and place the memory you stepped into today inside of it. Secure that memory inside of the box.”
So, with one fleeting glance at the disgusting past you’d had to re-experience today, you mentally opened the lid to the box. And, as the lid opened, you let the people and the stingy place flow quickly into the sturdy wooden structure of the box.
You could have spit on the people and the place and the smells. . . Fuck it all.
The sureness of the box truly calmed you as the last little bit of the memory faded into the box.
“Tuck it away in your box. Just keep it there until you’re ready to revisit it again. . .,” Gia counseled, her words yet again came through as if Jake were saying them. His breath was warm against the column of your throat, lips near to your ear. “You have control of it, y/n.”
Once you knew it was all inside, you let the lid click shut. The little pieces of lavender you imagined to be skillfully painted atop the box assured you that it would all be over soon.
Beep beep beep beep. The beeping again. Familiar. You’d heard it momentarily at the disgusting, decrepit house. What was it?
“Y/n,” you heard Gia again, her words no longer masked by Jake’s voice. “Are you ready to come back to the office?”
As much as you wanted to never leave the man who still held you, you knew that the sooner you left the safe place, the sooner you could actually see him. He was waiting for you. In the lobby. In the present.
“Yeah,” you sighed with a sniffle, most of your tears dry after the safety you’d felt in the field of lavender. “Yeah. I’m ready.”
“I’m right here with you,” Gia assured you, her voice the closest it had been since initially closing your eyes.
You closed your eyes once more, your body feeling lighter. Letting yourself sink into real time, you felt the soft, camel leather of the couch under you, around you. Then came the smell of Gia’s essential oils, filtering in through your senses. Things were okay.
When your eyes cracked open, so tentative and slow, Gia was ready and waiting with open eyes.
But the beeping. . . It was still happening — it was incessant. And it was fully apparent now that the sound was coming from your belt bag, hanging on Gia’s office door handle.
Your heart monitor.
Shit.
“How long has that been going off?” You blanched, eyes bugged as you got off the couch to grab your bag from the handle. Though, your legs were weaker than you expected, body worn down. It forced you to sit back down to gain your wherewithal.
Noticing this, Gia stuck a hand out to get you to pause from trying again. “I will grab the bag,” she soothed. “You stay there. Give yourself time to adjust to the present time. You’ve been through it, babe.”
All you could do was nod and swallow thickly, your heart no longer beating hard enough to make the phone go off. But apparently it had accelerated at some point. . .
And then you remembered.
Mr. Morgan. He’d made your heart rate go ballistic.
When he’d approached, commanded you to open your eyes, and almost called you that horrible name. . . it had gone insane.
Your chest had been in so much pain, and you could remember hearing the incessant beeping, now. . .
“Fuck, Gia,” you combed a hand through your hair. “My heart . . . I remember. . . my chest was hurting like a bitch.”
Gia inhaled deeply. “Yeah. . . You know, how about I hold the phone that tracks it from here on out? To keep an eye on your heart rate?” She suggested, raising a brow as she walked back to you with the belt bag. Raising a brow, she eyed you as she got close enough to hand your belongings over to you. “We need to be aware of your health and the baby’s first and foremost, before anything else.”
You swallowed with a slight nod, not wanting to see where your heart had skyrocketed to. But you knew you had to see it. So, you unzipped your bag and shakily got your monitor phone out.
When you slid the screen open to check, your breath caught in your throat. Tears welled in your eyes at the very large number, flashing at you in red.
Shit. 185. What the fuck?
That could have gotten really bad, really fast if Gia hadn’t stopped you when she did.
“So. . . What had it gotten to?” Gia questioned carefully, wide eyes serious and ready to help.
You observed her for a second, not wanting to divulge just how high it had gotten for one reason in specific. . . The fear that Gia would make you stop EMDR if she knew just how high it had gotten — that possibility kept your lips sealed.
“Girly, I really feel it’s incredibly important that we keep track of that. I didn’t want to be invasive while you were under, but I heard it and I knew what it was. . .,” Gia tried to counsel you, taking your skeptical gaze as you finding her invasive. “I really didn’t like not knowing what your heart rate was. It’s best we stay aware of that. We have to be so careful of that, girly.”
You wanted to tell her. Duh. Why wouldn’t you want to? You told her everything else. . . The possibility of not being able to—.
“We will still continue our EMDR, y/n,” Gia grinned warmly with a wink. “I know that’s what you’re worried about. . .”
Your mouth puckered, as you took in a deep breath, gawking at the tall blonde across from you.
You couldn’t help the bubble of a laugh that spurted from your lips, in spite of your worried thoughts. You were in awe of your therapist’s intuition. “How did you know?” You questioned, already mostly knowing the answer.
The answer was: people in this profession were really very incredible. . . And Gia — she, in particular, was so empathetic and so aware of everything that mattered to you. . .
“It’s my job to tune in to that shit,” she grinned, sitting back in her rolling chair, one leg crossed over the other.
After sharing a smirk with her, you decided you might as well tell her. You were nearing the end of your time, and you assumed she still wanted to be filled in on what had happened during your time under.
“My BPM was. . . in the 180s,” you divulged, wary of her reaction. “That’s um—that’s really high,” you tagged on to the end, blowing out a breath, still shocked at the number yourself.
“Ho-ly fuck,” Gia stated, eyes wide and mouth in a straight line as she shook her head. “No shit that’s high.”
“We’ll figure it out?” you stated the question, hoping it would be ammunition for Gia to agree.
“Of course,” she nodded adamantly. Sitting up in her chair, she leaned forward. Her elbows, on the ends of her thighs, near her knee caps. “When do you turn it in? How long do we have with it?”
“I turn it in next week,” you answered, curious where she was going. “Hopefully I’ll get some results and sure answers. . .” Trailing off, you decided to shut up so she could get to her point.
“Well. . .,” she started, rubbing her palms together, eyes glancing down and back to you, “Would you be opposed to me attaching another monitor to you during our sessions? After that one is turned in?”
“That’s a great plan,” you answered, nodding with pursed lips. “Sounds safe.” Though, you paused. One more question. “And you’ll keep watch of it next time?”
“If that’s what you want from me, I’d love to be able to help you in that way,” she answered with a reassuring sureness in her tone.
“I do want that,” you replied with a sheepish grin. “I’d appreciate it.”
“Of course, girly,” Gia smiled, lopsided and full of ease. “We’ll make sure to get you through this therapy the safest we possibly can. Gotta protect you and that baby.”
-🌼🌼🌼-
After filling her in on everything from your EMDR vision, she’d given you a few more pieces of therapeutic wisdom and advice. Little things to follow if the memories came back with a vengeance.
But, you’d gone more than five minutes over your session’s time at that point, pushing her other appointment back.
So, you didn’t get long before the two of you had to bustle out. You’d been about eight minutes past session end time when you officially exited the small room, the session having just ended.
A long fucking session.
Your body was extremely weighed down by fatigue and exhaustion. So, when you finally connected with Jake, you sunk happily into his warm, safe embrace.
It seemed walking directly into Jake’s arms was exactly what your body longed for after leaving Gia’s office. You’d had little to no choice in where your body had guided you.
He had already been standing, waiting for you. His amber-brown eyes, wide open and full of readiness to help you. He’d seemed anxious to see you. You could tell as much by the tapping of his foot, the way he’d been worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, the wrinkle of his brows. . .
So, of course, as soon as you approached, his arms had widened to welcome you in.
Surprisingly, you hadn’t cried when you met his arms. . . Honestly, it was probably because you’d exhausted your tear ducts during your session. And all that you felt now was pure numbness. You didn’t know how to feel – just knew that you were tired and needed someone to be close to.
And Jake was the person you wanted most.
Once safe in his embrace, you didn’t have the mental energy to even think about how it would look to Gia – but you knew she’d understand.
You felt Gia come up behind you, even halfway heard her introducing herself to Jake.
And even though you were out of it, you still heard Jake respond kindly, hearing the smile in his voice. When he moved his hand to shake hers, you didn’t turn around, just kept your face tucked into his shoulder, one of his arms still tightly hugging you to him. The pressure was really nice – it really calmed you down to feel so secure with him.
It felt like the field of lavender, but this was really real – and that made it inexplicably better.
Thankfully since you’d quickly scheduled the next session in Gia’s office, you didn’t have to wait much longer to head home. You didn’t want to leave his embrace, but you ended up turning out of Jake’s arms to tell Gia goodbye.
When you reached forward to give her a hug, she whispered calmly in your ear. “You’re safe. Everything is okay in the here and now. I’m proud of you, y/n. You are already making great strides.”
After telling her a quiet ‘thank you’, you turned to Jake.
“I’m ready when you are,” he assured you, lips turned up in an easy grin. His eyes were soft in a way that showed you he really was ready to be whatever you needed him to be.
You didn’t need to be told again. You were ready for food and sleep. So, after the two of you waved to Gia over your shoulders, Jake let you lead him out, opening the door for you from behind.
-🌼🌼🌼-
When you snapped out of your daze and found a bit of energy, you decided to divulge to Jake just how high your heart rate had gotten during the session.
You had expected him to be a little worried on your behalf, but he’d gotten. . . really, really worried. You’d go so far as to call it a minor anxiety attack.
His eyes had bugged, face had paled, and his breathing had gotten choppy. . . All signs of some serious anxiety on his end.
His care for the situation was apparent, that much was for certain. He’d babbled in a rush of words – voiced a lot of concern on your behalf and the baby’s. . . Well, that was what you could catch in his raspy, frenzied tone. You’d missed a few things as he’d rushed the words out.
It was really sweet how much he cared. You had to work to keep the tiny grin off your face in response to his obviously sincere regard for your health (and the baby’s). You’d kept your quiet smile at bay the best you could and calmly reassured him that you were wearing a heart monitor for a reason – so the doctors could track those weird things and get down to the root of why your heart sucked ass at times.
You’d explained that medical professionals had started dealing with it the night at the emergency room and would continue once your monitor got sent in within the next couple of weeks.
“I know today’s already been a lot, but do you have it in you to explain more about that night?” Jake asked, his breathing evening out as he rounded the curb, out of the office parking lot. “The night you went to the emergency room?”
“Yeah, totally,” you readily agreed, jumping at the opportunity to not think about the muddled images still flashing in your mind from your session. “Where do you want me to start?” You wondered aloud, peeking at him as you picked with a loose string on the seam of your leggings.
He cleared his throat in the way that indicated he was a little nervous. “What triggered it, exactly? Had you been okay at the bar that night? Was it because of something that had happened there?”
“It wasn’t really because of anything that happened at the bar, no,” you shook your head, looking down at the string you were pulling at, giving it a good yank to do away with it. “And I was kind of okay that night. . . Same as I’d been every other day around the time,” you laughed humorlessly, not missing those days at all.
But, you couldn’t help reflecting on the events at the bar. . . since he'd brought it up. That night, just thinking of it still gave you butterflies. . . The way he’d feasted his eyes on you as your song played. . .
Stay focused, y/n.
“Um— during those earlier days, I’d had several days where I’d been really fuckin’ dizzy. . . could hardly eat most days, always nauseous and puking. . .,” you crinkled your nose at the thought, shivering at the memories.
After getting over the thought of the constant vomiting, you stopped your train of thought to consider the fainting. All of the factors. You were not sure what to blame in particular. Though, you remembered Dr. Stevens’ opinion.
“Honestly, more than one factor triggered it. . . but. . .,” you drew in a breath, pinching your eyes shut at the worst part of the night. “I actually blacked out and fucking fainted,” you cracked one eye open to look over at him to gauge his reaction.
“You blacked— you what?!” His voice rose a little bit at the idea, the car swerving the slightest bit when he glanced at you.
“Focus on the road!” You shook your head, eyes now opened wide at his swerve. However, you did find his reaction a bit funny. “I’m fine now, Jake,” you reassured, reaching over to give his arm one squeeze.
But quickly, you placed your hand back in your lap to avoid any sort of awkwardness.
You offered him a smile as your hand moved, looking up at him from your twitching thumbs, just as he glanced down at you.
His eyebrows were still knit with worry when he faced the road again. “You’re sure?”
“Mostly,” you answered, thinking of the heart monitor’s job, peering down briefly to where it stayed on your chest. “They’re tracking my heart rate to make totally sure. And I’ve even kept an eye on my hemoglobin — which is doing much better, too. Not that you care about that part—.”
“I care about it all,” Jake interrupted, his tone insistent enough to make you pause and look over at him.
Let him care, y/n. He wants to. . . Don’t tell him what he cares about and what he doesn’t. . .
From under your lashes, you studied him. You were glad he was now stopped at a light, giving you a little time to share a look with him. His eyes were full of warmth. . . The deep brown of his irises, capturing you. His eyes held yours so tenderly, desperate for you to understand he meant what he said.
And you did understand. You understood that he truly cared for you. . . and that his patience for you was incredible. You just felt completely undeserving of the amount of chances he’d given you after you’d hurt him so badly.
The look in his eyes had you trapped, completely enamored by all of him. . . Your heart beat was pulsing in your ears, helping you to feel light as a feather under his stare.
But, when a car honked to let you both know the light had turned green, it jolted you both, effectively tearing your focus from the other. He was driving again and you were back to looking through the windshield to continue your story.
You cleared your throat to break up the air.
“We um— we checked all the boxes, you could say. The doctor was sure to put measures in place to keep an eye on all of the things that could have been a major issue to trigger that,” you spoke confidently, to give him affirmation that things were okay. “So, yes, I’m sure I’m fine now and I’m going to be fine in the future.”
Out of selfish desire, you let your line of sight float back to him. Yet again. It was just so easy to sit and admire his natural beauty. . .
Jake sucked in a breath, so deep from his chest. You could tell he was considering your words, one brow still arched in contemplation.
“Okay,” he sighed his response, relief evident in his looser posture. He eased up his grip on the wheel, leaning back in the seat. You tried not to watch the way his jeans stretched over his lap. “So,” he started, “is there anything else you found out that night? A big, prevailing reason you quite literally blacked out?”
“The doctor I spoke to thinks it’s because of this underlying condition I most likely have — called POTS.”
“POTS?” He asked, his tone curious. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that.”
“It’s just a blood circulation disorder. I think I’ve had it nearly all my life. But it can be brought on by stress and cause things like fainting. . .,” you trailed off, glancing down at your belly. “Which I was obviously feeling a lot of with the baby. I mean, talk about massive life change,” you smirked, rubbing the bump that was more and more noticeable every day.
“And I was the only one who knew this giant thing for a bit. . . then only Elsie knew. And, yeah, when Josh found out, I was feeling a little better. Felt lighter. . .,” you paused, your next words, being important to you. “But I still wanted to tell you most,” your lips lifted in spite of yourself. “But, we weren’t really talking because of all the shit that happened between u–.”
You stopped yourself at that, though. Shit. Today didn’t really seem like the time to get into all of that. It had already been such a long day.
The car stayed silent for a few beats.
Once Jake started speaking again, your eyes found his handsome profile.
“Yeah. . .,” Jake offered in response to that, his jaw clenching. His eyes were dead-set on the road. The expression on his face, hard. Yet. . .it wasn’t angry. Not angry at all, just thoughtful.
He seemed to be contemplating it all.
He proved you right with his next words, bringing you back. “I need you to know—I’m really fucking sorry for not being so present—for not noticing more. I wish I would’ve been more aware and been there for you. . . Shit, I should have noticed you weren’t eating normally and were constantly sick,” he rubbed his forehead once, jaw tight again as he spoke on the subject. “I was still just stuck in my own head over stuff — really hurt. I still am, I think. But, I also, more importantly, had no way of knowing that you were carrying my kid, so. . .,” he trailed off, clearing his throat. “So I didn’t watch too hard for things out of the ordinary — my mind was in other places.”
Other places, your mind repeated, mocking you. Like Maya. . .
Your stomach was still churning at the depressing thought of him having ignored you and still being hurt (albeit, you’d deserved it), when his voice echoed back through your train of thought.
“I did notice you weren’t home that night, though. . . After dropping Maya off at her place, I got home and you weren’t there. I. . .,” he sniffed, running a nervous hand through his hair as he looked both ways to make a turn. “I panicked, noticed your chapstick and house key were on the ground outside — it made no fuckin’ sense. I called Josh to ask him where you were — assumed he’d know. And, he did. But he told me the bare fucking minimum. I didn’t even know you were at the emergency room. He just told me not to worry and cut me off with an ‘I love you’ before hanging up on me,” Jake rolled his eyes at the memory, fists gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter. “Now I know it’s because you obviously really needed him. . . But at that point, I was so pissed. Obviously, you were in some sort of bind and there was nothing I could do to help since we were. . .,” he let his train of thought fade into nothing. Your mind was a frenzy of everything he was telling you, but you tuned back in when he began speaking again. “And then your heart monitor came in the mail. . . I didn’t even think about how they could be connected. I just knew the very little Josh had told me from that night and then I saw a damn heart monitor show up. . . I was just super fucking confused and terrified for you. . . I was trying my best to connect all of the dots.”
“Well. . .,” you started, not sure if you should say what you were thinking. But still, you did. “It wasn’t really any of your business at that point. I didn’t want to make you— it was just a lot to process for me and we. . .,” you trailed off, at a loss. Still so tired from the session. “I don’t know. . . I had reasons.”
“I know, y/n,” he responded, voice tight with masked emotion.
You didn’t know what to say after that. Your eyes were trained on what was outside the passenger side window.
The air in the car was dense, slightly awkward on your end.
It was strange how weird things could feel after a damn conversation when, just a week ago in this very car, you’d had him in your mouth.
It was slightly embarrassing that a hard conversation topic was what it took to make both of you freeze up. But, somehow, you could still find the wherewithal to have your mouth on his. . . Mhm.
That was what you got for making sex such a giant thing before. . . now you’d made that easy and everything else fucking taboo.
But the sex had just been too good to not make it something you did all the damn time. . .
God, you missed sex with him. . . Him, inside of you, his hips going at a perfect pace. . .
Thanks to your motherfucking hormones, you were back in the living room floor with him. . . So often, you went back to that one rainy morning with Aretha Franklin on the turntable. . .
The look on his face when you fucked him, one of your favorite sights. That morning, just like always, he’d watched you so closely. . . Your face, your breasts, your ass, or your pussy that was wrapped around him, so tight.
As he fucked you so slow and purposeful, a hand raising your leg to get a better angle, he hit a secret spot inside of you. Your toes had curled as you whined his name.
And just as his name fell from your lips, he’d scrunched his brows, and let his mouth fall open with certain movements of his hips. His jaw, clenched, when you’d flex around him or biting his lip when you’d let out a shaky breath. . .
“Y/n?”
“Yes?” You shook your head of the fucking delicious scene in your memories.
Now was not the time.
To show respect, you did your best to wipe the picture and put your full attention on him. You glanced at him. He looked so beautiful under the natural light of the early evening and the streetlights. And his hair looked so healthy and long. . .
“I’m not upset or anything that you kept any of it from me,” he ventured to explain, your mind coming back to the topic at hand. “I need you to know that.”
“You’ve kind of already told me all of this before,” you started with a smile, eyeing the radio for a bit.
Music. You needed music.
You began to mess with the buttons, turned down the volume, and hooked your phone up to the aux. “I know you, Jake,” you continued with a sigh, scrolling your playlists, finding a song you were suddenly craving to hear. “I know you well enough to know you aren’t upset with me for keeping it all from you for a bit. You have a good heart.”
“You give me too much credit,” he humorously laughed. “I’m not always so sure about how good I am these days — kind of always doubted that about myself and right now is no different.”
At his words and sound of disbelief, you looked over at him with a wrinkle in your brow. His own eyebrows were set with an odd, unreadable emotion. You hadn’t clicked the song to play yet. This was too important to not address.
“Jacob,” you said sternly. His eyes stayed glued to the busier street. “I don’t give you ‘too much credit’. I just see you and know you well – anyone who truly matters sees you for who you truly are. I, like all of them, love y— appreciate everything you are.”
Shit. What was that that almost slipped from your lips?! Nothing. It was nothing. Ignore, ignore, ignore. . .
You were just hormonal and emotional.
You continued with intent to make your point known, doing your best to forget the slip-up. “I’ve made my fair share of mistakes – we all have. Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m not about to hold anything against you right now.”
Cracking a smile, you decided you wanted to throw in a bit of a joke. “I mean, I would have to hold it against you if you killed someone or some shit,” you giggled, his own raspy laugh joining you.
But fuck, you couldn’t ignore that one emotion you were feeling. . .
It wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. You didn’t know why the fuck you’d said that word of all words.
But this feeling. . . It was intense like love could be. It had your heart in your throat and your tummy tied in nervous knots. . .
You’d felt a need to say the words. A need for him to know how much you. . . how much you. . . How much you what, exactly?!
This was going to drive you fucking nuts.
So, to break the nonstop, crazy wave of thought, you played the song you felt like playing at the moment.
The song was “In the Moment” by Snoh Aalegra, one of your favorite R&B goddesses.
And, of course, the lyrics matched your heart. Perfectly. Oddly. Precisely. Music was your favorite language.
Do you mind if I try to come apologize to you?
'Cause I said some things that I realized wasn't true
You couldn’t stop your movements when your head slowly turned to look in his direction. His sunglasses were off due to the darker sky, so you could see every blink of his pretty eyes, long lashes touching the dark circles under his eyes with each blink. He watched the road carefully, maneuvered around cars with an ease that had you hoping he’d be around to drive you to the hospital on a certain day in May. . .
Your heart swelled in your chest at his attention to the road. This particularly protective nature of his, as the driver, was new. . .
And I'm sorry for it
I'm emotional
This is your fault
Please listen when I say
I care about you
You tried to look away from him. Really, you did. It just couldn’t be helped. The way these lyrics kept pulling something from deep within your soul as you watched him drive. . .
But you still couldn’t figure out what was getting pulled in you, exactly. It felt weird, but only in a fulfilling way. . . Your heart ached, your head clouded with all things surrounding him.
And then, just as he stopped at a red light, his eyes met yours.
You had been caught red handed in your stare, but it didn’t seem to matter. Not to you, not to him. He smiled at you, the same, warm smile you knew all too well to be uniquely his. (And hopefully your baby’s.)
The lyrics and melody of the song were adding to your already emotionally-tangled state. You just wanted to be with him always—hold him tight so he couldn’t leave. Never wanted him to leave.
Out of pure instinct, your hands found rest on your tummy, tucking underneath the bump. His smile only grew, stretching wide on his lips as his eyes followed the movement. Your heart did a little flip in your chest.
This moment. . .
His foot let off the brake when the light turned green, pulling his eyes away from yours. The music coasting through the speakers said all the things you so desperately wanted to say. Though, Snoh sang them far more beautifully than you could ever say them yourself.
I was in the moment
I ain't really mean what I said to you
So put away your pride, baby
We can work it out if you want this, too
You hoped on every star in the winter sky that Jake was listening to the words, somehow feeling them as deeply as you were.
But if I could stay, I’d stay with you. . .
Your phone ringing snapped you out of your reverie and when you looked down to see who it was, you were not expecting the contact you saw.
The OB office.
Your heart started speeding up in your chest again, breath catching and nerves wracking your system at the most inopportune time. As you turned down the song to talk to the person on the other end, you contemplated why they were calling. . .
The appointment had already been rescheduled. . . So what else could be needed? Was something wrong?
You felt Jake’s palm splay across your thigh, fingers giving light, pulsing grips to the muscle through the fabric of your leggings. Skin heating at his touch, you looked up and over at him.
“Who?” He whispered, quietly as he could.
“OBGYN,” you mouthed back, clicking the green button to answer at the same time that he raised a brow in confusion.
“Hello?” You spoke into the phone, trying to keep your voice even-toned for whoever called you.
“Miss y/n?” Dr. Rose responded. Her Southern accent, friendly, on the other end, sounding happy as a lark.
Hearing her sound okay helped your nerves ease up – weren’t quite as frayed as they had been to begin with. Jake’s hand was still on your leg, offering reassurance. But while his touch did comfort you, it also made your heart rate speed up and head swim for another reason entirely.
Thankfully, considering the baby, your heart was slowing down. . . If Dr. Rose sounded fine, then surely things were fine, right?
“Hi, Dr. Rose,” you said, voice perking up just the slightest bit. Looking out the windshield, you focused on the pretty colors in the sky. All light pinks, oranges, and the prettiest periwinkle thanks to the winter evening’s premature setting sun. “Is everything alright?”
“Oh, more than, Sweet Cakes! Just checkin’ in to see that Friday still works for ya,” she explained, her drawl not quite as thick the more she spoke. But it was still there and it made you feel warm inside for some reason.
Admittedly, you knew it was partially due to the fact that she seemed to only be calling to confirm your appointment. According to Dr. Rose, everything was ‘more than’ alright. . . you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
“Yeah. It works for me,” you sighed, running a nervous hand through your hair, knee still bouncing with the unexpectedness of the phone call. “Let me check with Jake real quick. I’m with him right now,” you held your hand over the speaker, looking over to your handsome driver. He’d just made it onto a highway, but momentarily glanced down at you. You hushed your next question, not wanting to disturb Dr. Rose. “Does Friday still work for you? For the week 17 appointment?”
Jake’s face opened up at the question, his eyes brightening with a smile that lifted the corner of his mouth. “Of course,” he quietly responded. “I have the whole day blocked off just for that.”
Your stomach did somersaults at him being so excited for the appointment, but you still dipped your eyebrows in at him. “You didn’t have to do that,” you whispered back. “Take the whole day for it.”
Jake shook his head, and with a dimple in his cheek, he just looked back at the road. Didn’t even acknowledge what you said any further.
You closed your eyes, a small smile on your lips at his desire to be fully available – it gave you butterflies. Back to the phone call at hand, you faced the windshield again to continue the call with your OB. “Dr. Rose?”
“Yes ma’am,” she excitedly greeted back.
“It still works for us,” you said, the smile not fading from your lips. Us. You really, really loved the sound of that word coming off your tongue. “Are you sure you’re still okay doing the appointment before week 18? I know how you feel about all of that. . .”
You didn’t know why you were asking – shouldn’t have even said anything. The idea of putting it off any longer was not what you wanted, and you didn’t want to make Dr. Rose think you’d be okay with that. But, it was too late now. You’d already asked.
“Oh, yes, babygirl. I’m the one that made ya wait past week 16! I felt bad, but I didn’t want ya to have any lull period,” she boomed on the other end, sounding so genuinely kind-hearted. It made your heart feel so full. “Completely fine with me – why I offered it to ya! I gotta admit, I’m a little excited to be findin’ out the gender a week earlier than normal. Ya know I never do that for my girls, but you’ve just seemed very special to me since the day you walked in. You’re a good seed in a bag ‘a bad ones, sweetie pie. So, I just had to make an exception.”
“Thank you so much, Dr. Rose,” you gushed, a tear coming to the corner of your eye at her sentiment.
“I knew it would drive ya nuts havin’ to wait.”
“It would have,” you giggled, agreeing with a sniff to attempt to rid yourself of the tear.
She laughed heartily on the other end. “You have a beautifully passionate heart, little miss y/n,” she remarked. “You’re goin’ to be a wonderful mama for it.”
Aaand, there was no stopping the tear as it turned into a couple more, drifting down your cheek.
Jake must have looked over at the perfect time, because as soon as the tears fell, he was squeezing your thigh once more. His hand had never left your body.
But, you really needed him to stop holding you and caring because you were going to pounce on him. No questions asked. . .especially with the fluffy headspace you were in.
Emotional over a phone call or not, your body reacted to him in ways you couldn’t stop.
“How’s your heart?” Dr. Rose was in your ear again, bringing you back. She was in no rush whatsoever. You were shocked that she seemed to want to keep the conversation going. Even after the first question, she continued with another. “I know ya filled me in on it a little bit last week on the phone, but any more updates?”
“Doing alright, I think,” you responded, sniffling at her eagerness to stay updated on your wellbeing. Was she just being a good doctor? Probably. But, still. It meant a lot to you. “I will send my monitor in on the 17th. I’m so ready to be done with it,” you replied with a huff of a laugh, looking down to mess with a loose string on your oversized jacket. “And I think everything else has gotten much better since that ER visit, too. Just keeping an eye on things,” you finished, happy to explain everything to her.
This phone call was officially a highlight to your day now that you knew there was no reason to stress over it. Dr. Rose just made you feel good. You really enjoyed talking to the older Southern woman. Her heart shone through her personality. And, whether she made these efforts for all patients or not (you were sure she did), it just meant the world to you that she seemed to be so thoughtful.
She seemed to take very seriously that it was a vulnerable time in any woman’s life. Dr. Rose just seemed to do very well at her job. You were grateful for her.
“When Mount Sinai sent over that information all those weeks ago, I gotta be honest, it stressed me for ya for a bit,” she said, voice suddenly thick with a sort of concerned emotion. Not worried anymore, you could tell that much. But, it was obvious she had been troubled by it when it initially happened, from the way she sounded now.
“Although, when I read all of their tests on my end, I knew you’d be okay. Just a bump in the road, sweetie – it happens. You will be just fine!” She reassured you in her twang, the words made your head clear in a way you’d needed since the night at the hospital. “And, that sweet baby was doing so great still, in spite of it all. You’ve got a strong one, mama.”
Yeah, there was no stopping the onslaught of tears at those words. Your baby was strong. You were so proud.
“Yeah?” You sniffed. “You think so?”
“I know so. That little one was movin’ and groovin’ already that first day. . . that sure doesn’t happen with every baby! He or she is very special – just like their mama,” she emphasized, sniffling on her own end of the phone. “Well. . . . as long as this Friday still works for you, I think I can let ya go, honey bun.”
“Yes, it does,” you confirmed once more, pulling the sleeve of your jacket over your hand and patting your cheeks with it. “Thank you again.��
“No need to thank me, Sweet Cakes.” You could hear her smile through the phone, imagined her lips covered in the prettiest bright red matte lipstick. “You have a good nigh– oh! Before ya go. . . .”
“Yes?” you questioned curiously, eyebrow raising with a little grin on your lips.
“You mentioned a Jake earlier. Does this Jake happen to be the baby’s daddy?”
You blushed, looking over at him. He glanced over at you at the same time, an eyebrow raising when you caught his eye. Your cheeks heated even more when you looked into his eyes. Your baby’s daddy.
“He is the baby’s daddy, yeah,” you explained, continuing to watch him as you said the words. He had to keep his eye on the road, but you saw how his lips stretched, the smile showing his pride at the title.
“And he will be comin’?”
“He will be there,” you affirmed, your heart racing in your chest at the idea of him being there with you. It had you equal parts jittery and utterly overjoyed to have him be present at the appointments.
“Wonderful. Sounds like a good daddy already,” she gushed from her end of the phone.
And when he came to the next light, much nearer to the complex, you watched him and waited until he looked over at you. When his eyes found yours, glowing amber-brown in the nearly-set sun, your heart squeezed inexplicably in your chest.
“He is a really good daddy,” you answered, tears threatening to clog your throat.
After you said the words, you watched his eyes become wet with an unnamed emotion. A wide, slightly shaky grin on his pretty lips. With the addition of a pink blush in his cheeks, you wanted to be able to read the exact way he was feeling.
But. . . at the current moment he suddenly seemed impossible to read. There was something behind his eyes that seemed so familiar and so hazy all at once. . .
Or maybe you were just really, really tired.
-🌼🌼🌼-
“I don’t have to go to this tonight,” Jake offered, pulling into the complex.
You raised a brow, looking at him. As much as you wanted him to stay with you after today’s session, you knew that sleep was the first priority. He’d end up sitting around most of the night anyway.
If things were different, you would ask him to lay down with you. You’d keep him close. But. . . That wasn’t how things were for the two of you.
You needed a nap and he needed to be with his girlfriend. As much as it sucked, she took priority over you. He wasn’t yours.
You already felt selfish enough for taking his entire early evening away from him. You didn’t want to steal any more of his night.
“No, Jake,” you giggled, trying your best to play off the want to have him near. “I’m good. You’ve done everything you can for me tonight. Don’t need you for anything else — you’re free.”
It was silent for a little bit as Jake found his parking space. You were too tired to keep any sort of conversation going, preparing to doze against the window as he went to back into his space.
Though, when he placed his hand on the headrest behind you to back in, you couldn’t help but turn to glance up at him.
The way he held his bottom lip between his teeth as he focused on situating the Jeep into the parking space, just right. . . You felt guarded and protected by the placement of his arm above you. It made your tummy flip.
And the mustache that kept making a reappearance on his pretty face, accentuating his plush lips perfectly. . .
You licked your lips as you watched him, your eyes lazy as you let your stare wander down his body . . .
But before you could get too far, Jake’s deep, raspy tone broke through to you.
“Hey.”
Fuck. Your tiredness was quickly becoming enemy number one, exposing you.
Quickly, you flicked your eyes up to him, swallowing thickly, awaiting him with vulnerability clear on your features.
For some reason, you expected to see him grinning at you being caught. But his features were unwaveringly straight, studying your face with his eyebrows drawn in concentration.
“Are you sure?” He asked, his eyes soon finding yours to pierce through. Damn, you felt naked under his stare. No two ways about it.
Your eyes sunk into his, wishing you were naked—.
“You’ve had a long day and I want to be available—.”
“I’m sure,” you cut him off, needing to get out of the car before you made a stupid move. You just needed rest; your tiredness was making you weak.
“Please. Go have fun,” you encouraged further, looking down to observe your nails, desperate to be repainted. Shaking your head, you continued to solidify your point. “You’ve done enough for me. You have a girlfriend who’s expecting you to be with her tonight.”
And if you stay here tonight, there’s no telling what I’ll try to do with you. . .
“‘Kay,” he responded. At his short tone, your eyes floated up to check on him. You watched as he quickly grabbed his keys out of the ignition, refusing to look at you until the last second. “I’ve gotta get going pretty soon then.”
“Yeah,” you breathed with a shake of your head, unsure of what else to say. And before he could get your door for you, you were doing it yourself — didn’t want to get in his way.
Whatever this conversation had become, it was far too much for your brain to wrap around at this moment.
You needed fucking sleep.
-🌼🌼🌼-
After you’d filled your Stanley and sat it on your bedside table, your next mission was to change into looser, cozier clothes. You stripped your pants and bra, and found a giant t-shirt. And your softest fuzzy socks had been a last minute must have before finding your bed.
Finally.
Almost as soon as you landed on your bed, your eyes were fluttering closed. The softness of your sheets and duvet, the cleanliness and the comfort of your bed was too incredible for you to resist sleep for long.
At the same time, Jake was getting ready for his time with Maya, and had apparently decided to shower. When the steady stream of water sounded through the wall, you relaxed even further. You focused on the soothing sound of the shower running and imagined how near he was to you.
He hadn’t left you yet.
Admittedly, putting your mind on Jake going about his business made you feel quite at home.
And that thought had been the seemingly final step to finding rest, sleep finding you quite easily with easy thoughts of your handsome roommate.
-🌼🌼🌼-
But, to your disdain, the nap didn’t last as long as you’d hoped.
After only a couple of hours, you’d woken up and couldn’t go back to sleep to get any more rest. You tried to fall asleep again. It was all you’d wanted after your emotionally exhausting day.
The longer you laid in your bed and tried to find more sleep, you realized it was just not going to happen. The small apartment felt too big and empty and your mind raced with the scene you’d witnessed during EMDR.
To your demise, the little wooden box had somehow cracked open a little while you slept. You figured it was because you’d dreamt of what you’d seen in therapy. Your subconscious was working without your complete consent.
That man with the thick fingers and clenched fists. . . He’d come floating out of the box first as you laid underneath your fluffy, white, clean bed covers. . .
Mr. Morgan. . . Who was he? You could not place his role in it all yet. . . While you were able to remember him and his living room now, that was about where it stopped.
The smell of him had stuck with you most since the memory. The potentness of his body odor in your subconscious had been a severe trigger – a trigger to things you weren’t capable of remembering yet.
But, you knew that whenever those things did get conjured up again, you wouldn’t be ready. You just knew. The feeling alone that came associated with him and seeing him again. . . made you feel grimy – made your skin crawl like bugs were living underneath your flesh.
Then there was your mother. You hadn’t been able to recall the distinct features of her face for years. Your grandparents didn’t have pictures of her up in their home – only ones of you and Elsie through the years. It was like she hadn’t ever existed.
But today? Today she was back. Full force. You felt her. You smelled her. You saw every. single. feature.
The stringiness of your mom’s hair when she’d been with the man in the recollected vision. . .
You couldn’t help but compare the hair in the vision to the fullness of it in small memories you cherished. . . There was a certain Christmas memory you kept close, her sweater had been brand new. Her hair, naturally brown and billowing out beautifully behind her. You had a few of those moments in time. A few decent memories you’d never let go completely away. No matter how much time passed or how foggy they became, you held onto them.
What struck you as disheartening was the way the woman transitioned from one version of herself to another in the fragments of time you could grasp. You remembered, it was rare to consistently witness the same mom growing up. You’d been forced at a young age to confront the fact that you never truly knew the woman that gave birth to you.
She’d been very dirty more times than not, you could remember that much now. From what you were beginning to recall, she rarely smelled good. Showers hadn’t seemed to be her forte from the grease that had been constantly caked in her hair if she wasn’t with your grandparents. Her skin had even been oily from her lack of showers, just as greasy as her hair.
The houses she had you living in, too. . . you could vaguely picture a few of those (besides Mr. Morgan’s). The one you were in within your recollected memory today had been so filthy. The grossness of the environment was coming to you in small bits. There’d been times you’d seen families of cockroaches climb into the pantry. . . Or when an occasional rat would scurry across the stained carpet, right past your feet. . .
You shivered in your bed at the thought, toes wiggling against your soft socks and covers. The loose sheet and duvet came closer to your chin as you tried to completely envelop yourself in your current reality. Things were safe.
It was just a-fucking-lot to process alone. And the last thing you wanted to do was burden anyone else with it. So, even if Jake had stayed with you rather than Maya after therapy, you knew you’d still be swirling in circles in your mind.
You were just glad you only had to wait a week for therapy to continue digging through this with the help of your therapist.
The images of the man and your mother kept flip-flopping in your mind, not leaving you alone — each taking turns in mocking your peace. It was enough that you felt your breath become choppy and your heart begin to race in your chest. Your clammy hands were clenching and unclenching over and over again, trying to find some sort of relief and distraction from the thoughts. The smells were coming back to you, vivid as they’d been during your therapy today. . .
And the moment you began to hear that distant, haunting chuckle from your past, embedded in the new flashes of memory, you shut your eyes. You squeezed your lids together so tightly. Your fists came to cover your eyes, pushing down on them just a little to see stars alongside the black.
Yet, the sound continued to get closer and closer to you. Desperately, you thought back on Gia’s advice should this happen.
One of the small pieces of advice she’d given you, when the session’s time was five-minutes passed.
“Now, if these things come back or more memories come to you and you would rather not think of them in the moment they do: take a break,” Gia had advised, going to hold your hands in hers between the two of you. “Take a break, wherever you are, and go to your safe place.”
She’d given you a couple of other things to try, but she’d stayed insistent that you try the safe place first. Every time. Get used to the place, make it a habit to run to it in these times.
So, you tried your damnedest to shut the thoughts out like you would on her soft, camel leather couch. Your eyes closed as you tried, working to focus on the idea of traveling to a field of lavender and Jake.
Though before you could get any further, your eyes snapped open, knowing you had one more step before you went there.
You tried to even your breathing, unclenching your fists. Once you’d relaxed enough to loosen your hands, you searched for some meditation music on Spotify.
And once you’d found a dreamy playlist, you laid back to feel it. Your goal: feel it enough to let go.
This time when you closed your eyes, you did it with less force and breathed in and out, in and out. Once again, everything was black. . . but just for the first minute or so.
It didn’t take long for you to hear the birds chirping and to feel the solid chest breathing beneath you. He breathed deeply – in and out, in and out, just as you did.
Almost as soon as you felt your body settle into him and the soft ground of the earth, you heard him speak, too. It was like you were hearing him through a rush of warm wind, a breeze drifting across your face. “You’re doing great, baby,” he soothed you in his velvety tone, running a sure hand through your hair, fingers tracing your scalp. You shivered, enjoying the wonderful feeling it gave you, all the way to the tips of your toes. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”
Further, you pushed into him, wanting to be as close to him as you could be. You wrapped your arms around him the best you could while laying down, needing to feel his body tightly against your own. When you did this, he wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you into him. Your round belly, pressed between the two of you, made your heart settle into a soothing thrum in your chest.
No other words were said as you laid there, the sky blue when you finally opened your eyes to the new place. The field of lavender, so lucious and smelling heavenly around you. The purple flower surrounding you smelled clean, peaceful, and a lot like. . . love. It was a strange idea that a flower would smell like love, but you’d come to associate it with someone who–.
Knock, knock, knock, knock.
Your eyes opened at a moment’s notice when you heard a knock on the front door. Somehow, the sound against the door managed to break you from your hypnotic-like reverie. The knocks weren’t small or soft thuds by any means, but it was odd that you’d heard them all the way through to your sacred place. All the way through your bedroom door. . .
Though, thankfully, after having a bit of time to visit the safest place your mind could conjure up, you were on the path to feeling fine again. So after laying in bed for a few more seconds, you got up and padded to the door in your fluffy socks.
Before you opened the door, you peeked through the peephole.
When you did, your eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. Your breathing evened out significantly for the first time since waking from your nap. And without any hesitancy, you unlatched the chain and unlocked the knob and deadbolt.
As soon as you opened the door, you were greeted by Jake, a very apologetic smile on his face. One of his hands covered his eyes in feigned embarrassment, making a slit in his fingers to look at you through them. His other hand was tucked in the front pocket of his black slacks.
He’d changed clothes after dropping you off.
Duh, he’d showered, y/n. He wouldn’t be wearing the same dirty clothes afterwards . . .
He was now dressed very nicely, his hair looking so healthy and full. A few strands were still damp here and there, from the shower you’d heard him start as you’d fallen asleep for your nap.
And goddamn. He smelled so fucking delicious – you could’ve melted into him.
Rather than focusing on the way the hints of sandalwood and vanilla in his cologne made you feel airy, you asked the question you couldn’t help but wonder. “Where is your key?”
A hint of a laugh was present in your tone as you crossed your arms over your boobs – which you noticed were slightly less sore than normal.
Pleasant surprise.
Oh, fuck. Your boobs. No bra. Only wearing a giant t-shirt and fuzzy socks. The thong you were wearing was a poor excuse at covering your ass.
Glancing down briefly, you were reassured by the length. It was long enough to fully cover your backside, went down your thighs a bit. . . but you still felt very bare.
When you looked up, you found that Jake had noticed your lack of clothing at the same time as you. His stare burned through your t-shirt, all the way down to your blushing skin. Your chest was heaving of its own accord, nipples hardening at the attention from him. . .
His gaze soon dropped down to your lips, his own parting as his tongue went to wet his mouth.
No. You had to be the responsible one here. You could do it.
So, you forced a subtle short cough, toes wiggling in your fuzzy socks. And, thankfully, it brought him back to the current situation.
His wide, brown eyes snapped to yours, staying there momentarily. It made your cheeks pink — the way he was unashamedly sharing this moment with you. He didn’t seem embarrassed at all as he bit his lip with a grin stretched over his lips.
Fuck.
“Your key?” You tried again with a squeak. Rolling your eyes, your short cough was real this time as you had to clear your throat. Ridiculous.
Not saying anything, he responded like nothing had occurred before. He motioned with his head towards the kitchen bar behind you. Your head turned to follow his eyes. And, you found his keys, still laying on the counter, not having been touched since before he left.
“Did Maya pick you up?” You asked him, arching a brow at the keys.
“Yes.”
“How’d you get back?” Okay, y/n, now’s not the time for twenty questions.
“Uber,” he simply answered, a little hiccup following the word.
“Well. . . did you come back for them to drive yourself?” You asked, turning back around to face him, hoping he wouldn’t say ‘yes’. You selfishly wanted him to stay.
For the first time since you’d woken up, your body felt light. . . . And, you’d noticed it had happened the exact moment you saw him outside your door.
Shaking his head, he finally looked at you head-on, and you could see his eyes were the slightest bit unfocused.
Oh. . . A smirk rested on your lips as you crossed your arms once more.
He had a goofy, carefree smile on his lips. And then you smelled it — the slightest tinge of alcohol on him as he swayed a bit towards you.
Raising a brow, your lips continued to match his grin. Giggling, you pondered aloud, “Did you have a drink or two, babe?”
You didn’t say that last word. Nope.
“Maaaaybe,” he said, shrugging with both hands in his pockets now, the silly smile still plastered to his lips. “It was a party, after all,” he tagged on to the end, a bit of a British lilt falling over his words.
A party. Hm. For some reason, you hadn’t even thought of that as a possibility. Why did the fact that it’d been a party make your stomach turn a little bit?
“A party?” You inquired, tucking your arms a little closer against your chest. And there was the tenderness again.
“Maya’s baby sister— eight years younger than Maya,” he over-explained, tripping over himself a little as he made his way through the door without any warning. “Turned twenty one today.”
Oh, that explains the excessive drinking, you gathered mentally.
But, as you stood there connecting the dots, you didn’t focus enough on the fact that he was falling into you through the door frame. Thankfully, you put your arms out in time to stop him from bumping into you to the point of knocking you over. But when you put your arms out to stop his fall, he got the wrong idea and put his arms out as well, crashing into you a bit as he wrapped them around you in a secure embrace.
It took a bit for you to register what was happening as you stood in shock at the gentle gesture amidst his drunkenness. And while you were registering it all, he must’ve gotten the idea that you didn’t want him so close to you. So, very slowly, he pulled away.
Rather awkwardly, you just stood there, arms still held out in shock from the sudden hug.
Why were you surprised at all? He’d been like this recently – just today at counseling, he’d been extremely attentive, holding you when you’d needed him. . .
Was this time different? Was it because now he was doing it for virtually no reason at all? You weren’t in need of his help or his comfort (that he knew of) at the moment. And, he still wanted to hug you – that was what caught you completely off guard.
He’s drunk, y/n, a voice reminded you. Don’t overthink it. It’s just because he’s inebriated.
And while you stood in the doorway, he continued to traipse past you, body lopsided and shaky. He was being very careful to not bump into you again, turning his body in odd ways.
When you turned to observe him, as he made it past you, you noticed that in the process of trying to steer clear of you, he was losing his balance – quite quickly.
So, you did the only thing you could think to do and followed behind him to help however you could.
He wouldn’t remember it anyway.
When he started putting too much weight on one foot and started tilting a bit too far to the side, you acted on instinct.
You wrapped your arms around his midsection.
It proved to be a bit of a feat to keep him upright and on his feet, but you tried your hardest. The man was wonderfully built. . . but solid as a rock.
Has he been working out? You couldn’t help but wonder this as your arms pressed a bit more into his strong abdomen.
You realized that thought process could become a distraction to the task at hand in no time, so you put it to the back of your mind. Instead, you just put all of your concentration into helping him stay on the track he desired. . . . Which happened to be his bedroom.
While trying to keep him stable, you felt your belly press further into his back. The baby felt safer there, between the two of you. It felt right to be so close. . .
But, again, you focused on the important goal of getting Jake in bed. You just kept him pressed to you the best you could with a baby in the way. Matching his footing from behind, you walked in even step with him.
Once you were officially at his door, you reached around him to open his door for him. When your hand met the knob and twisted it, he reached forward, placing his hand over yours to open it with you. The gentle action made your skin flame.
Though, it didn’t last long. You didn’t pause, instead continuing into the room. And the moment you walked into the room, he tapped your arm, presumably to let you know he was okay on his own. So, you tentatively let go.
Your arms suddenly felt empty, but you didn’t want to overstay your welcome.
He seemed to be a little better now, sitting down on his bed. He did it with more effort than normally necessary, but he still seemed more capable than he’d been a few minutes ago.
So, without a word, you went to head out of his room. Right before you could walk out the door, though, you heard him from behind you.
“Where you going?” He asked sadly, sounding more like a neglected child than a grown man.
Turning around with a brow raised, you asked the question with your eyes before saying it aloud. “Why? You’re good now, right?”
His eyes zoned out momentarily on your face. You just blamed it on the alcohol, feeling woozy. When he came back to Earth, his eyes met yours. His eyes suddenly seemed much clearer than before. All of the air in your lungs evaporated at the look he was giving you. Desperation was the most fitting word for it.
“I’m not good without you,” he offered, his eyes darting to his feet almost directly after saying the words. He leaned down to sloppily take off his boots, but still neatly placed them next to his bed after taking them off.
It was honestly pretty funny to watch. You would’ve been more amused if your mind wasn’t still reeling a bit from his words. You zoned out on his guitar, placed neatly on its stand.
He. is. drunk, y/n, your internal heckler reminded you. Stop overthinking.
But. . . drunk words are honest –.
“Can you help?” Jake asked, sounding desperate while trying to achieve a task.
You looked over at him, finding him standing now and struggling to take off a necklace. Without argument, you left where you’d been standing, dejected and confused, by the doorway, to help him.
When you made it over to him, you tapped his hands where they struggled with the latch at the nape of his neck.
“Let me,” you insisted, replacing his hands with yours when he moved them.
Once the necklace was taken off, you made your way around him to place the jewelry on his bedside table, whose lamp bathed the room in golden light.
You glanced down at the necklace, running a finger down the face of the medallion. Medusa. That was who was etched into the gold metal.
“You into Greek mythology right now?” You questioned, peeking over your shoulder at him.
When you did, the sight that beheld you took you by total surprise. Shirtless. Shirt gone. No shirt. Jake, halfway naked.
“Oh,” you uttered the word in a moan more than anything else. You even felt your jaw drop the slightest bit. You didn’t really think anything of it. You didn’t really care to control your reactions. He wouldn’t remember any of this. You just kept telling yourself that.
And with the way the heat flooded from your head all the way to your chest, blossoming to the pit of your tummy – you didn’t think you could control your reactions. Then, when he absentmindedly adjusted himself in his pants. . . Yep.
You bit your lip, tucking hair behind your ear. Suddenly, you felt completely out of control of your body. . . Your hormones were calling the shots – they (and Jake) were making you feel unsteady in the best possible way.
The only downside was: there wasn’t anything you could do about it. Morals stood in the way of your bodies colliding and fucking it out.
You understood that the Jeep incident had happened. Of-fucking-course — there was no forgetting that shit. But a big part of you also thought it would be best to leave the other night in the Jeep in the past.
It wasn’t fair to anyone involved. Right?
So. . . You just focused on the present moment. No sex. Just Jake in front of you. Tried to ignore the surge of want for him at seeing half of him bare.
But goddamn — what a beautifully welcome sight. . .
His body had changed in the handsomest of ways. His thighs, as you’d noticed recently, were thicker than before. And he was. . . just broader than before. It started at the width of his shoulders, and worked down his abdomen to fill out with toned, tight muscle — his new addition of muscle was thick beneath the surface. There was just more of him altogether. The perfect amount of body for you to touch, kiss, lick. . . . . goddammit.
He still wasn’t looking at you, instead making his way to the laundry hamper across the room. You observed the way the muscle in his back flexed as he walked. The expanse of skin under his shoulder blades — his back was thick with new strength. . .What in the sweet hell?
When he carefully swiveled on his heel to make his way back to you, after tossing the shirt in the basket, you still didn’t take your eyes from him. Just admired the sight and the fact that watching him could be your own little secret. . .
A secret not even for Jake to know.
Though, as if on cue, his line of sight connected with yours. And when it did – damn. Your heart hammered hard in your chest. Your breath was trapped in your throat, all of it stolen from you.
His chocolate eyes, although hazy from alcohol, were so fucking dark. Dark in the same way they’d been in his Jeep last week.
He looked the same as he had right before you’d bent over his lap. The same way he’d eyed you as you’d been on top of him – licking him, sucking him, touching him. . .
So, instead of holding his eyes, you decided you had to look away before you made matters any worse than they were at the present moment.
Awkwardly, you started your next sentence without taking time to think about it. “You good now, Ja–?”
“What was your question?”
When he interrupted you, you wanted to look back at him. But you didn’t. Not with the way his voice was suddenly much fuller – deeper, raspier. . .
Coughing to mask any sort of embarrassing action, you tried your best to think back to what you’d asked. You couldn’t even remember. . . oh. Medusa. Pointless question. Didn’t matter.
“It was noth–.”
“I don’t care. Still wanna know.”
“Jake, it seriously doesn’t matt–.”
“Look at me, y/n,” he demanded, daring to be argued with. “Quit acting like we’re strangers.”
God. Your teeth found your lip, biting harder with a deep inhale. You let the plumpness of your bottom lip fall from your teeth with a tight exhale. Your tongue pressed into your cheek, eyebrows knit with frustration, when you peered up at him.
Fuck it all. This was why you hadn’t let yourself look at him.
His hungry eyes scanned your body when he got his way. He stood there admiring all of you, but his eyes were zeroed in on your ass, not leaving it.
You looked down to get an idea of what he was looking at.
And, to your horror, you noticed that the t-shirt had ridden up, completely exposing the bottom curve of your ass cheeks.
But, you didn’t move to change it. Instead, you decided to just stand there. Let him look. You wanted him to. This wouldn’t even count in the morning when he forgot it all.
You definitely weren’t offended by his staring. Not in the slightest. Just sort of made you nervous where things would lead if he didn’t stop observing the exposed skin.
Diversion.
“Jake,” you purposefully spoke his name, vying for his attention up top, rather than having his eyes on your ass.
You got your wish. Sort of. His eyes dragged from your ass to your thighs. . . Only to stop at your tits. Your skin was flushed and your skin was tingling. Your breasts, heavy under his stare and nipples tightly peaked against your oversized shirt.
Fuck. Your body really was your worst enemy — constantly gave you away. Pregnancy hormones were a pain in the ass.
So, you did the only thing you could think to do: you watched him watch you. The idea of his eyes burning into you without the ability to control it. . . It was almost too much for you to handle.
Then, he wet his lips, afterwards biting into his plump bottom lip. You might as well have been naked under his stare, completely at his mercy.
His gaze stayed consistent on your chest, residing long enough to have you feeling so desperately needy for him. . . but, eventually, his eyes moved up to your face.
You missed his stare on your body as soon as it was gone.
“You’re so fucking—goddamn,” he breathed, his expression still dazed. But, now it was from more than alcohol. Maybe not from alcohol at all. “Do you know how good you look carrying my baby?”
Your head became a flurried mess at his words, the feeling carrying all the way down to your toes.
“Jake,” you tried, not sure what else to say besides his name.
But he didn’t respond with words. No, all he did was walk closer to you, still half-dressed. Seeing so much of his body made you feel so utterly pathetic for him.
In a split second, before you could even wrap your mind around it, his hands found your waist. A soft, yet firm hold of your body. His eyes were locked on your parted lips, his face slowly leaning in and coming dangerously close to your own.
And just as he was with you, your eyes found his lips, plush and wet from his tongue gliding over them. So kissable. All you wanted, all you needed, was to feel them collide with yours. To taste him again, to savor the sweetness that you knew to be Jake.
He was so close that you could smell the bitter remnants of alcohol on his breath. His breath, that felt so warm against your flushed skin. You couldn’t help it as you slowly let yourself lean into him. All too well, you knew how wrong it was. . . Yet, you were having the worst time finding it within yourself to care any longer.
Amber-brown eyes flicked up to yours, golden flecks glowing from the dim yellow lamp lighting. Your own eyes were wide under your fluttering lashes.
The drunkenness wasn’t as prevalent in his stare as it had been before. This felt so eerily intimate — like it had happened before. You couldn’t fucking shake the feeling this moment was giving you. The dim lighting. Him so close to you—tempting you. . .
For some reason, your eyes fluttered down between the two of you to your small, rounded tummy.
Jake’s lips brushed your forehead with the action, his hand coming to tuck hair behind your ear.
Your belly—it was nestled so well in the middle of your bodies, brushing up against his firm stomach. Protected.
And then a memory, clear now, came rushing back to you. It was coming out of the shadows, having been foggy and faded, but not anymore.
The only place to go was your room, your door ajar just enough that it opened easily on its own. Jake had reached a hand behind him to close it gently– not wanting to wake anyone.
Your lamp, still left on, just as it had been earlier in the evening, shed the perfect amount of golden glow.
You’d grabbed his face, pulling him away from you momentarily to appreciate his features. Finally out of the dark you could look at him.
And, God, you loved his face. Everything about it, having been so intricately and delicately created — making the most beautiful man you’d ever laid eyes on.
A quiet smirk had graced Jake’s perfect lips, his eyes tightly locked with yours.
“What’s the matter?” He’d asked, his hushed, now-sultry voice making your need for him that much more heightened.
You thought a moment before you answered.
With all of your feelings for him finally becoming realized in your own mind, there was just so much you felt you needed to say. So much you needed him to know.
As you’d stared in his sparkling eyes, pupils pure black from the weed and his need for you, the only word your mind could conjure up was love. Over and over again. Not just the word, but the feeling; the new desire for him that went far beyond the purely physical one that you’d tried so hard to convince yourself of.
But it wasn’t new; it had been clear all along. You’d just shoved it down to the deepest trenches of your mind, only to be discovered by the most skilled explorer.
There was so much you had wanted to say, but you just couldn’t conjure the proper words.
You decided your body could do all the talking. It could say more than your voice ever could.
“Nothing,” you’d whispered against his lips as you pulled him in for the deepest kiss you were certain the two of you had ever shared with one another.
You gasped as you looked up at him. The night you’d conceived—.
“Y/n, sweet girl,” Jake’s smoky voice brought your attention back to the situation. You let your body melt into his even more, needing him near.
The reality of it all suddenly began to set in when his hands, slow and steady in their pace, moved up your waist. Strong hands now moving under your shirt, set in their direction of ascension. They came to a steady stop just beneath the curve of your tender breasts.
“You know,” he breathed, breath washing over your lips. You blinked up at him, at his mercy. “I wanna do so much more than just hold your pretty tits,” he whispered, his lips brushing ever so lightly against yours. “How do they feel?”
“H-heavy,” you stuttered, shivering against his touch while his thumbs met at your sternum, tracing delicate patterns.
His palms suddenly dropped from beneath your shirt. You sucked in a breath, whining as your breasts pushed out for more. Your skin begged for his touch, on fire for him.
Before long, though, his hands came back to their spot over the fabric of the t-shirt this time.
And, over your shirt, he cupped as much of your chest as he could, keeping you in his hold as he gently massaged.
Stars. You saw so many stars.
“But, not—not as sore tonight,” you sighed, settling into his grasp. There were no worries evident to you right now.
All that mattered was Jake and his searing hot touch.
You felt him smile as close as he was, his lips almost connecting with yours as you fought back every desire to kiss him. “Yeah?” He whispered again, raspier, while his thumbs lightly grazed your hardened nipples through your shirt, your breath catching in your throat. “What do you need right now, baby?”
The moan that escaped your lips should have been embarrassing. But it wasn’t. Not at all. It fit quite well with the way his fingers continued in their path over your nipples, circling them. He was stealing every bit of air left in your lungs, making your eyes roll back in your head.
“Tell me, baby,” he growled, lips touching yours with each word.
Closing your eyes and biting your bottom lip, you answered silently. You, Jake. I fucking need you.
He returned to his grip underneath your breasts, over the shirt still, cradling them so well. . . Your body just fit with his. The touch of his hands cured even the most uncomfortable changes in your body.
You whined, not able to help the effect he was having on you and your aching body. “Jake, I need–.” Fuck.
No. This was wrong. He was drunk. Odds were, he wouldn’t remember this. You were the one letting it happen, letting it get much further than it should have.
“Tell me, y/n,” he repeated, brushing his thumbs once again over your taut nipples with more intent this time as your body began to tremble. “Tell me what I can do for you–.”
“I’m hungry,” you muttered out of nowhere, shaking your head as you effectively interrupted him. You pulled away, getting yourself out of another situation that could turn sticky real fast. (Yes, pun intended.)
And you really were very hungry. Hadn’t eaten for hours. So, it was the perfect mood killer.
“O-oh, yeah,” he breathily spoke, eyebrows dipping in just a bit as he dropped his stare. His long hair waved out around his shoulders when he shook his head. The sound of inebriated haziness was evident in his tone still, but you could tell he was quickly coming back to himself.
And that also terrified you. The moment just now. . . Had that brought him back? You’d seen his eyes brighten when you’d leaned into him.
He went to move past you, his body nearly meeting yours. You put out a hand, millimeters away from his heaving chest. But you couldn’t touch him yet. Not yet. Had to clear your mind.
“Want me to make something for you?” He wondered, sounding ready to help even amidst his tipsy state.
“I can do it,” you assured him with a small sigh and grin. “I’m capable.”
“You sure?”
“More than.”
Your eyes held one another’s for a heavy minute. He was trying to make sure you were being honest, you could tell.
You just encouraged him to believe your statement with a little pat to his warm, bare chest. Shit.
You had to go. Get out of the room. Make some damn food.
But he was right there. . .
No.
You quickly took your hand away before he could do something like hold it there. He didn’t get the chance, thanks to your reflexes.
Your hands interlocked under your belly as you peeked up at him through your lashes. “I promise. I do things for myself all the time. Please let me.”
“You don’t have to ask for–,” hiccup, the sobriety still not fully present. He held a fist over his mouth, trying to be polite. Your smile met your eyes, so gone for him. . . “For my permission, y/n. Seriously. I just want to help you however I–,” hiccup, his eyes bugged a little. The giggle that came from you couldn’t be stopped. “ I can. Jesus.”
“Go to sleep,” you tried, wracking your brain for the best possible plan for him to feel better. “I’ll be okay.”
“Nah. Not yet. Wanna take a shower first,” he iterated, eyebrows drawn together with the sureness of his plan. “It’ll help.”
“Okay,” you smiled, inhaling a breath before shaking your head and moving to open his door.
Rather than letting you get it, he raised his arm above your head, holding the door to do the job himself. You watched as he opened it wider, seeing his bicep flex with the action above your head. He’d opened it just enough for you to exit.
You connected eyes with his, looking at him over your shoulder.
The grin that lifted your features occurred on its own. Everything he did was making you swoon. The fucker.
He snickered a bit at you, his teeth coming to show past his pretty lips. Dimples fully present with his knowing smile. “Go eat,” he motioned with his other hand before stepping towards you, planning to exit behind you. “My baby momma needs sustenance.”
-🌼🌼🌼-
About forty-five minutes passed.
You’d eaten an entire box of macaroni and cheese. The noodles and yellow-y, plastic cheese weren’t making you want to gag anymore. Thank god, because it really was quite delicious.
Now, to wash your dishes and go to bed.
You’d just heard the shower shut off about ten minutes prior to the moment you heard footsteps approach in the doorway to the kitchen.
Jake.
“Will you come sleep with me?”
You spun to give him a questioning look from over your shoulder that held a million questions.
“Wh-what?” You stilled your task of washing the bowl you’d had your quick meal of macaroni and cheese in.
But, now, you weren’t thinking of mac and cheese. No, now you were thinking of what he just said.
When you’d looked over your shoulder at him, your eyes stuck naturally on the man standing at the doorway of the kitchen. The gesture that was meant to be quick, definitely turning into a whole-ass Jake Appreciation Fest.
Just like earlier that evening, there he was. Shocking every nerve in your system.
Pajama pants, slung low on his hips. . . his handsomely tanned and toned chest, still bare. His wet hair, laying on his pecs, dripping water onto each muscle. The drops of water made their way down his hard nipples, probably chilly from his shower, down his sculpted obliques and solid abdomen. . .
. . . And down, past the waistband of his plaid pajama pants. Your favorite ones.
The pursuit you took with your line of sight was unstoppable. You had to know if he was wearing them. . . And, to your complete gladness, you saw just enough of an outline of him as he leaned his weight on one foot. . . That was all it took to know. . .
“No, I’m not wearing underwear,” he smugly remarked.
His tone and words made your heart flutter and your cheeks become the deepest shade of crimson. Fuck. He’d caught you.
Deciding to ignore his little remark, you went back to washing the dish, still being held over the sink. In a much looser grip thanks to his comment. Gripping the dish tighter, you put all of your spinning nerves into washing it properly. You fumbled a little, but hoped he didn’t notice.
“What did you mean before? About sleeping together?” You tried, working to maintain enough attention on the dish that you wouldn’t drop it against the sink and break the thin Corelle.
“Just sleep,” he emphasized with a chuckle, sounding more and more like himself the longer he stood there. “Nothing more. Cross my heart.”
“Oh,” you offered lamely, heart thumping a hundred miles an hour in your chest, boobs suddenly aching for. . . Fuck.
Why was he asking you to simply sleep with him? What the hell?
God. . .
Should you? Was it a good idea? Well, no. You could answer that. It wasn’t a good idea. At all.
But. . . should you go lay with him? Maybe fall asleep in his arms. . . Would it help you sleep easier after your short, uneasy rest from earlier in the evening?
Shit.
You knew the answer. Knew the answer very well. Even before EMDR, when the bad dreams would occur, they were always better – tamed, happy, or gone completely – when you slept in the same bed as Jake.
“Yeah,” you said, not taking any more time to contemplate. “I will.”
“Alright,” he replied, sounding relieved behind you. Why did he sound so happy? Surely it wasn’t that big of a deal to him. He still had alcohol in his system. That explained it.
You rinsed the rest of the bubbles from the bowl when you heard him speak up again.
“Want me to wash it?”
“N-no,” you stuttered nervously and shook your head, focusing on the sudsy dish. “I’ve got it.”
“Okay. You full? Get enough to eat?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he answered, the smile evident in his tone. “Don’t take too long.”
“I won’t,” you reassured, willing your pulse to return to normal.
And, seconds later, you were hearing his footfalls against the carpet as he made his way back to his room.
Well.
Finishing the job of the bowl, – taking much longer than needed – you contemplated.
You guessed his tone was still a little wavy, but you knew better than to think he was still drunk.
He definitely wasn’t.
Had the shower helped that much? Had it been the moment in his room? Both combined?
After the equally clean saucepan was put away in the drawer below the oven, you dragged your feet a bit more as you went to check on Stevie and put some more food in her dish. When her tail swished across your calves, you felt a bit of calmness return to you.
Your heart was still thrumming in your chest. But you were able to slow your thoughts down enough to feel more at peace as you took notice of yourself in your full-body mirror.
Damn. . .oooo-kay, y/n. . .
Why did you suddenly feel completely confident in your body? You turned, getting every angle.
It just felt so great to not doubt your appearance. It was just like last Monday. You could get used to this feeling.
Your boobs looked fantastic and big under your gray t-shirt, nipples peaked as they most-often were these days. Your ass looked perfectly rounded out from the way it peeked out of your soft shirt. . . And, lifting your t-shirt, you looked at the little bump of your tummy.
The best addition to the entire look. Your grin was natural as you admired your baby. . .
Your tummy was growing steadily as you still sat on the bigger side of pregnant bellies. Your bump wasn’t a little subtle thing. No, it was an obviously pregnant belly.
Small, but definitely still noticeable. And it was just cute as hell.
After rubbing a gentle hand over the expanse of skin on your belly, you pulled your shirt back down over it.
And with a final fluff of your hair, you grabbed your Stanley from the nightstand before making your way to where you’d find sleep tonight.
You were just going to get good rest for your baby. It was for the baby.
That was what you worked to convince yourself of as you walked with quiet purpose to his bedroom.
-🌼🌼🌼-
“Why did you come home?”
You were laying in his bed. Just like old times.
Except, in the past, where you would’ve most likely been naked, you were not tonight.
Everything else though? Same as always.
Your legs were tied into his, looped around his just right, playing footsie with him beneath the covers. Your head rested on his bare chest, your hand underneath your cheek as it laid so perfectly well on his exquisitely strapped pecs.
Oh, also. . . One more thing different than before: the bump. The baby, tucked snugly against his side where you were turned into him.
It was heaven. That was what it was.
A yawn emitted from deep in his chest. You knew sleep was finding him faster than you would’ve liked. Naturally, a little yawn found you as well.
Sighing heavily to follow the yawn, you felt his hand that laid above you come to comb through the strands of your hair. “I don’t like being away from you.”
Your heartbeat was heavy in your ears – did your best to ignore it.
“Was Maya mad?”
“Yeah.”
“Jake,” you scolded, for no reason. You didn’t give two shits about how she felt. But. . . you did care about his happiness – didn’t want to ruin his relationship when it made him feel happy and whole.
“She’ll get over it,” he reassured with another yawn that lifted your cheek with his rising chest. “She was drunker than I was.”
“Are you still drunk?” You pondered aloud with a yawn and a giggle, naturally emitting in his presence.
But. . . you knew better. Didn’t even have to ask. It just made all of this more understandable if he were to still be drunk. It made this easier to submit to.
You didn’t know why the prospect of simply laying beside him was harder to come to terms with than having his dick in your mouth. Just like it’d been a week ago.
Your cheeks heated at the thought. Of its own volition, your thigh came to momentarily graze past his crotch.
“Not really,” he answered, sounding a touch offended that you’d even asked. “Pretty sober now, honestly.”
The more coherent he sounded, the more intimidated you became. . .
Best to let him find sleep. You’d answer to this in the morning. . . For now, your eyelids were getting heavier and heavier by the moment.
“I believe you,” you settled with a contented yawn of your own, nestling into his chest. Couldn’t help it. Had to be closer.
You blinked, slower and slower. So sleepy — just felt so right in his arms. His hand came to hold the base of your skull as a thumb traced your head so lightly.
Goosebumps rose on your skin from his precious gesture. . . It felt so damn incredible.
“You should,” he iterated, his lips coming to meet the crown of your head, giving you a feather-light kiss.
And, within a minute, he was lightly snoring.
It took almost no time at all for you to follow him to slumber.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Just like you would’ve guessed, the bad dreams didn’t come that night.
. . .Because Jake made everything better. That was just it.
-🌼🌼🌼-
December 16, 2022
As you sat in the waiting room, you surveyed him and noticed he wasn’t wearing the Medusa medallion. The newer one you’d noticed on Monday.
“No Medusa?” You questioned, at a decent enough volume to not disturb the few other mothers and fathers in the waiting room. He flicked his amber-brown gaze over to you, caught in a trance by the beautiful, light decor of the clinic.
Once he looked at you, his eyebrows only dipped at your words, not understanding. You motioned to his neck with a slight flick of your wrist. “Your Medusa medallion. I noticed it the other night.”
He snorted, lips quirking in a small grin with a shake of his head. “That was a stupid gift I got from Maya’s little sister,” he explained, scratching the back of his head.
“Jake,” you disciplined his words, but you couldn’t help the tiny giggle that slipped past your lips. It was kind of funny that he found it stupid.
“What?!” He turned to you, a full smile on his face. You raised a faux disappointed brow at him and he contended that with his next remark, “Okay, yes, I know I shouldn’t call it stupid. Maya said it’s because of her sister’s little crush on me. . . But it was kind of funny that she showed up with it at her birthday party, for one,” he explained, crossing his legs at the knee. “And for two, Medusa? A Greek goddess? Since when is that my primary interest?”
You shrugged at that, a small smile stuck to your features. He was adorable.
He continued on, “For some reason, Maya struggles to differentiate between pirates and mythology. . . and no matter how many times I explain they’re different, she doesn’t catch on to it.”
He shook his head, tousling a hand through his long, wavy hair as he placed the other hand on his knee. His rings weren’t present today, so you got to truly appreciate the curvatures of his tanned, masculine hands.
“You should still acknowledge that Maya’s sister’s–what’s her name?”
“Kaia. K-a-i-a. . . Different from Maya’s by two letters. Sound the same, though,” he snickered.
Kaia and Maya. . . so they’re a rhyming name family. For some reason, the thought made you snort a laugh, a grin claiming your lips.
“I know,” Jake said, a little humorous in his own tone. “Kaia and Maya. Can we agree to not name our kids rhyming names?”
Our kids? As in, more than the one in your belly?
You took note of him and his reaction to his mistake, watched the way his eyes continued scanning the walls of the white and blush waiting room.
He seemed to not notice his mess up, still going about his business as usual. His foot tapped against the bamboo flooring to the beat of the classic rock radio station playing.
You decided to ignore his words. It had been a slip up. Just like your own slip up in the car the other day.
You, speaking of love.
Jake, mentioning multiple kids.
You both were just in a state of stress with the life change. . . it wasn’t anything. Just a couple mis-worded moments.
You continued on, looking down at your belly briefly, smoothing your hands down your sweater to flatten any weird lines. “. . .Kaia’s sentiment was kind. Her little crush is sweet,” you iterated, sounding more like a mom everyday. “I hope you told her thank you.”
He chuckled, raspy and light, at you. Switching your line of sight up to him, you saw his eyes read a sense of fondness as he cast his gaze on you.
“I did,” he smirked, winking at you. Your tummy fluttered with butterflies. “You are going to be a fantastic mom, y/n. I’ve known it for a long time and I know it more and more with your little coaching moments.”
Your heart went crazy at the thought of him imagining you as a fantastic mother. And he’d known it for a long time? How long? What did that mean?
“Thanks, Jake,” you blushed a light pink, matching the colors of the crepe walls. There was one more thing you wanted to say though.
“However,” you cleared your throat, glancing at him momentarily from the corner of your eye. He was heeding you, brow arched as he waited for your next words.
“I can’t say anything to excuse Maya’s non-acknowledgment at the obvious contrasts of pirates and mythology. They are two completely different beasts,” you emphasized, turning your full attention to him. He was still watching you. The flush was back in your cheeks. “I’ve seen enough of your documentaries about pirates and I’m an English major, for God’s sake. . . so I know these things.”
The way his features brightened was precious – like he was being seen.
And he was seen. He would always be seen if you had anything to say about it.
Also, you did know the difference, you weren’t lying. None of what you said was a lie. You’d said what you did because you needed him to know that you understood. His interests mattered to you and they should to Maya as well. They should matter to her more-so.
The moment was cut off quite quickly, though, as you were hearing your name being called to the back for your appointment.
You were about to see your baby again. With Jake. And you’d know by the end of the hour if it was a boy or girl. . .
The blood was pumping in your ears as Jake fell in step beside you on the way to the back. You smiled up at him, where you were met with his sparkling eyes. Both of you were obviously giddy with eagerness and excitement.
Your thoughts were filled with everything that was to come. All sunshine and pale colors – so much love.
Here we go. . .
-🌼🌼🌼-
a/n: ...i wonder if you can guess the name/gender after this chapter part... ;) see you soon (next part is almost finished, my loves) :) feel free to always come to my ask box or message box! i'm always down to talk when my adhd/anxiety doesn't attack me <3
ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts! love youuuu <3
& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)
Fill this form out if you'd like to join my taglist! <3
Taglist:
@joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssoloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend
@aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @sacredtheslay, @alienobsever, @hollyco, @age0fwagner, @raceb14, @stardustcatcher, @styles-canvas, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @peaceloveunitygvf
@torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98, @mackalah, @lek-gvf, @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini, @welllauragvf, @highway-tuna, @dont-go-home-without-me, @sarah-gvf01, @polemicandcontent, @ageofbajabule, @texas-bbq-pringles, @builtbybrokenbells, @stardustjake, @indigostreaksolo, @tripthelightfantastix, @kiszkas-canvas, @jakebrainrot, @anthemheatwave
#jake kiszka x reader#jake kiszka fic#jake kiszka fanfic#jake fic#my fics#covet#chapter 11 might be a top three fav chapter for me...#part 3 is when some shit goes downnn#ruh roh#hehe
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So I’ve been making this
So basically last night, I was listening to some music, specifically Not Gonna Die by Skillet, more specifically a version on YouTube with the intro (because I’m not the biggest fan of Good to be Alive where the intro actually is). Anyways, when it’s night, my imagination tends to be more active and I tend to have more energy. While listening to the song, I eventually got this mental image in my mind of this scene with Dark Choco, and the more it crystallized the more I wanted to draw it. I was going to go to sleep and maybe do it in the morning, but I realized that I probably would forget the vibe and not have as much energy, so instead I decided to power through and draw the idea
It was a bit difficult since I had limited references for the pose I wanted, and I suppose I can admit the sword looks a bit off anatomically, but it looks good enough I think, and lets me keep the eyes revealed
I did eventually have to stop drawing, because my iPad had been worked all the way down to 4% (and it was at 30% when I started, the poor thing), not to mention it was around 11:30 already which is pretty late for me, and my earbuds had been running nonstop for over 2 hours (yes I was listening to the same song, it’s how I keep the vibe). I was at least able to get the pose, base colors and lineart done, and I’m still pretty proud of where I left things last night
Today was mostly just doing the background and lighting, which admittedly I may have fumbled. I’m not very good at backgrounds and I didn’t know how to draw lightning. I tried my best, but honestly I don’t think I got the image in my head. Didn’t help that my brain was playing the wrong Skillet song this morning
Oh yeah and by the way, the background is supposed to be from this. That’s what I used as reference
The lightning both feels like too much and too little. Like, it’s crowding the picture, and I can’t have more because it’d be way too crowded with it, but also at the same time, it doesn’t feel like enough, like there isn’t as much power as I wanted
Actually wait, maybe I can add some small particle effects to like, enhance the lightning feel. That was in the original sketch but I omitted it in the final. If you see one with that, you know I did that
Edit: I did indeed do that
To be fair though, I don’t think I have the art skill to properly convey the image in my head. Basically the scene is that Dark Choco is using absolutely every amount of his power for this final swing down, so much that it’s too powerful and the Strawberry Jam Sword completely shatters. But also it’s too powerful that Dark Choco’s body simply can’t handle it, and he basically ends up exploding. The scene depicted would be the wind up to that final swing that destroys the both of them
This isn’t necessarily the first time I’ve come up with this scenario, and the setup would basically be that he turned on the Cookies of Darkness slightly earlier, because he didn’t want to destroy his homeland again, and he tried to get rid of them while in the kingdom but not yet at the Citadel, but he ended up failing, so with nothing to lose, he chases after them and decides to put everything into destroying them, even if it likely ends in his death. After this he probably killed Pomegranate and crippled Licorice in some way (I don’t think he’d attack Poison Mushroom), so his final act did have some effect, but he’s still dead by the end of it. And he and his father never got the chance to properly reconcile because Dark Choco thought that could never be a possibility anymore and he had resigned himself to his fate
But yeah, I just don’t know how to convey that sheer overwhelming power and emotion that this scenario suggests. I tried my best though
I also want to submit this to the Dark Cacao Forever contest, but I’m not sure if it’s good enough for it. What do you think?
#cookie run#cookie run kingdom#dark choco cookie#my art#I really did try hard and this and it does look better than most of my others#but I don’t know if it’s really that good or anything
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I have an idea for a request :) 💗 sorry if this is long but what if hamzah did one of the solo out of character podcasts and then he invited y/n but then the sexual/romantic tension between them so they stop filming to do other stuff (can be the deed if you want to take a smut route or just making out or being cuddly for a fluffy route!) or maybe 🫣 they forget about the camera and accidentally capture stuff on camera
special guest
hamzah x afab reader smut
contains : smut, oral sex (both giving and receiving), no p in v, use of y/n, cursing, sort of exhibition (they record themselves but don’t post it), munch!hamzah
a/n : I LOVE THIS SM, munch!hamzah is my new favorite thing to write, i’m obsessed. anon you’re literally a genius. thank you so much for the support on all of my hamzah posts, i love you alllll
∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗
Hamzah and I had been friends for a couple of years. Both of us had YouTube channels and lived near one another so we would hang often. There was an obvious connection between us, but Hamzah nor I were bold enough to point it out. The two of us simply enjoyed dancing around the face that we obviously had mutual feelings for one another.
I sat on my couch, editing my latest video when I felt my phone buzz beside me. I picked it up, reading “hamzah” spread across my screen and a .5 picture I’d taken of him. I swiped right to answer the call.
“Hello?”
“Hey Y/n. Are you busy?”
I shook my head as if he could see me, “No, what’s up?”
“Well, Martin is busy today and can’t record for our podcast, so I was wondering if you’d want to come record with me. Like a ‘special guest’ type thing?”
I thought for a moment. I hadn’t seen him in a while just because the two of us had busy, and viewers loved it when we made content together. We actually got shipped a lot, but Hamzah always ignored it, and I never brought it up. Part of me was glad that even the fans noticed that there was something between us.
“Yeah, why not? That sounds fun, when do you want me to come over?”
Hamzah took a beat before answering. “You could come over now, and afterwards we could order dinner or something, yeah? You’ll have to come to Martin’s apartment because that’s where we film, it’s not too far from mine. I’ll send you the address.”
“I’m on my way, see ya in a second.”
“Thanks, y/n, drive safe.” He hung up.
My heart fluttered at his last comment.
I went to my room and quickly put on something sort of presentable. The star of my outfit was none other then a small denim miniskirt.
The drive to Martin’s house was only about ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity. I was way more excited about spending time was Hamzah than I should’ve been.
Once I arrived at the apartment, I knocked on the door. I was greeted immediately by Hamzah. I couldn’t help but noticed as he looked me up and down once he’d opened the door, a small grin on his lips.
“Hey!” He said, pulling me into a hug. It surprised me a bit but Hamzah was always very affectionate with me, even as a friend. He’d play with strands of my hair on late nights after filming when we’d sit and talk about pretty much anything, and would always grab my hand when leading me places.
“Hi” I smiled into his shoulder right before he let go.
“I have everything get up in here.” Like clockwork, he took my hand and led me through Martin’s apartment. I looked around, seeing the scenes that had made appearances in many of Hamzah and Martin’s videos.
“So…” He sat down on the couch, motioning for me to sit to his right, “it’s going to real causal, just like it is with Martin. I might ask you a couple questions about your channel, if you want me to.”
I shrugged, “I’m fine with anything, just happy I could help you out.”
Hamzah smiled, handing me Martin’s microphone and looking at the camera. “Well, are you ready?”
I nodded, and he got up and began recording.
“You gotta just sit here for a second awkwardly while the intro music plays.”
A few seconds went by as we tried not to laugh at the silence. I couldn’t help but notice how his eyes flicked down to my thighs, exposed by my mini skirt, every few seconds.
“Hey guys, today I’m here with someone who is not Martin.”
Hamzah motioned to me. I lifted my hand and gave the camera small wave.
“Hi there, I’m y/n.”
“Martin decided to skip recording today to go roller skating with Mandy.”
I giggled, “Well, I think they sort of trapped you into recording without them so you wouldn’t third wheel them for once.”
Hamzah rolled his eyes. We went on and on, talking about how much better I am at rolling skating than Hamzah is, how ice skating isn’t real and it’s all just an illusion because neither of us can even stand up on the ice, and after about 40 minutes, somehow the topic of none other than Ice Spice.
“Munch is an absolute banger, but I’ve never met a dude that actually enjoyed eating it.”
Hamzah furrowed his eyebrows, “Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” I went on, “like most of them do it but they don’t like it, which makes it awkward. Like I’m yet to meet a dude that actually gets pleasure out of it too.”
There was a slight pause in the conversation, and I was scared I had made him uncomfortable.
“You’re talking to one right now.”
My cheeks flushed as his comment sunk it. I couldn’t respond, no words would come out of my mouth.
“Sorry,” he looked at me worried, “I totally just made it awkward.”
“Nah,” I shook my head, desperately. My heart thumped as I looked back at him. Maybe I wasn’t delusional about our obvious connection. Why in the world would he make a comment like that if he didn’t mean it in a flirty manner? “it’s okay, really.”
I couldn’t get the thought out of my head. Hamzah’s mouth on my heat, suckling on it like it was his last meal, rubbing my clit with his thumb. I bit my lip. The way he was looking at me showed that he was possibly imagining it too.
He shifted on the couch, looking at me desperately.
“I could show you, if you want.”
I nodded dumbly.
“Please.”
Hamzah leaned in, slowly pressing his lips onto mine. He slowly worked his mouth on mine, growing more and more passionate.
His mouth moved down my body, trailing down my neck. He paused, slipping my shirt and skirt off my body and taking a moment to stare at my breasts.
“God, you’re so beautiful, you know that?” Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. “I was so distracted, I couldn’t stop staring at you.”
He rubbed my thighs, looking down at them. It’s like he was mesmerized. “These thighs are so pretty. I couldn’t stop imagining them spread for me.”
Hamzah’s boldness surprised me, but I couldn’t say that I didn’t enjoy his praises. No matter how lewd they were.
“Can I take these off?” He curled his index finger into the band of my panties.
“Yes” I breathed out, shyly.
Hamzah chuckled to himself, “You’re so cute.”
He pulled my panties off of me, spreading my legs and looking down at my aching heat. Leaning down, he slowly kissed my core. I whimpered at the feeling.
“Tell me you want it.”
I bit my lip, looking down at him with pleading eyes. “I want it. I want it so fucking bad, Hamzah.”
Without further discussion, he dove down into my aching heat, swirling his tounge through the folds. I took his hat of his head with shaky hands and ran my fingers through his curls.
He looked up at me for a moment.
“Do you feel good?” He said quickly, wasting no time to get back to his meal.
“Yes! Yes! So good.” I moaned, my legs involuntarily closing in on his head. His hands held them back in place, spread wide for him to have the fullest access.
“You taste so damn good.” He groaned out. It was entertaining, watching how much he genuinely enjoyed this. He moved his mouth like it was his last meal. I’d never felt this much pleasure just from being eaten out, and it was so sweet.
My brain felt all fuzzy from the way his tounge worked through the folds of my heat perfectly, finding all of the sensitive places and causing my legs to shake under his hold.
“Fuck- I’m gonna cum.” I threw my head back, pure pleasure filling my head as I let out breathy moans.
“Go ahead, cum for me. Cum in my mouth, baby.”
I let myself release on his tounge, my body writhing against his working mouth.
After a few seconds, he pulled away, looking up at me with hopeful eyes, almost like he’d expected me to have had a bad experience.
I didn’t. I had the complete opposite; I couldn’t stop thinking about Hamzah’s tounge.
“Fucking wow.” Is all I could manage to get out.
“Was it good?” He asked.
“More than good. That was… can I please return the favor?”
Hamzah was quick to shake his head, “You really don’t have to. I know most girls don’t like to, and I don’t expect anything in return.”
I genuinely couldn’t let myself live knowing that I didn’t repay Hamzah back after he had me seeing stars.
“No, please, I really want to.”
I couldn’t lie, I’d imagined Hamzah’s cock plenty of times. I’d wondered how big it was, what it looked like, how it would feel in my mouth, what he was like in bed, pretty much everything. But now that I might finally get it, I felt more giddy than ever.
Hamzah slowly nodded, “Alright, go ahead.”
I reached down to his jeans, unbuttoning them as he helped me pull them off his legs, followed by his boxers. His member slapped his stomach, and it surprised me just how hard he was solely from eating out.
It was… big to say the least.
I slowly bottomed him out in my mouth, gagging slightly. He groaned, keeping his eyes on me. I bobbed my head, feeling him hit the back of my throat over and over again.
“Fuck, y/n, just like that.”
I continued these motions, occasionally pulling him out of my mouth and leaving small kitten licks on the tip. He was fighting the urge to throw his head back into the sofa, continuing to keep his eyes glued to me. He breathed out shaky praises to me.
“You’re so good at this, fuck. I- I’m gonna cum.”
“Cum in my mouth… please.” I begged, sucking his faster.
He moaned before filling my mouth with his loud. I swallowed it all before taking him out of my mouth, looking up at him shyly.
“Fuck… that was amazing.”
I giggled as we looked at each other for a few moments. It was crazy, the very things I’d been fantasizing about coming true, all because of a podcast episode.
Fuck. A podcast episode.
My eyes darted over to the recording camera, my cheeks flushing. Hamzah was still looking at me, almost in a hypnotic state.
“Hamzah…” I tried to grab his attention, he hummed in response. “The camera…”
His eyes widened as he looked over, coming to the same realization that I had.
“Fuck- sorry.” He got up, pulling his boxers on and walking over to the camera. “I’m deleting all the footage. You can check afterwards if you want. Recording us really wasn’t my intention.”
He was panicking, his fingers fumbling with the cameras buttons.
“Hamzah… relax. It’s okay. You- nevermind.”
Hamzah looks over to me, his eyebrows raised in amusement. “I what?”
“You can keep the recording if you want.” It felt so lewd to say, but I meant it. It was sort of hot, knowing he had that footage of us and could watch it anytime.
He smirked, looking down at the camera and nodding. “Alright… I will.”
I blushed, “Now can we get that food that you promised me?”
Hamzah chuckled, grabbing his phone.
It was strange, a couple of seconds ago we were performing such lewd acts for a camera we’d forgot was recording, and now we were arguing about whether we should get chinese or mexican take out.
#fanfiction#smut#fluff#praise#i love hamzah sm#hamzah headcannons#hamzah x y/n#hamzah#hamzah x reader#hamzahthefantastic#hamzahsmut#martin and hamzah#hamzah smut#slushy noobz#slushie#hamzah is a munch i swear
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