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pedrospatch · 10 months

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someone to be thankful for

DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: It’s Thanksgiving—when dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your father’s best friend, Joel Miller.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (AU, NO OUTBREAK) non canon, DBF! Joel, AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s, i do not specify her age, but she’s a recent college grad so do with that what you will, not everyone graduates at the same specific age ya know? Joel is in his mid-ish 50’s). Reader’s a teacher, she is visiting her suburban childhood home from a big city. Reader’s parents are religious and practice traditional-ish gender norms (i.e father is head of the household kinda thing) reader’s family celebrates Thanksgiving (sorry) several mentions of food and alcohol, reader’s parents suck, she has two brothers who come with names, a lot of her relatives come with names, watch out for Aunt Ines she’s a bitch. (TW) body/weight shaming (twice) PLEASE BE MINDFUL if this could be triggering. mentions of and implications of childhood abuse (not graphic) reader’s dad gets in her face, implied infidelity (reader’s dad), implied toxic marriage (reader’s parents). soft, caring, protective Joel. Joel’s recently divorced, mention of Sarah, mentions of the ex-wife. SMUT. oral sex (female receiving) p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader states she’s on baby blockers (birth control), creampie, DADDY KINK (bc reader clearly has a few daddy issues), LOTS of pet names (darlin’, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, honey), size kink (ish?), cockwarming. think i got it all?

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, that is fine but just keep on scrolling.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 11.5k

a/n: yeah…idk. this was very delayed because it turned into a whole thing. if anyone actually reads all 11k of this, i will bake you muffins.

You take a deep breath and look in the mirror.

Skirt pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.

Hair brushed, not a single strand out of place.

Makeup done, not a blemish to be seen.

And somehow, someone will still find something.

Something to point out.

Something to comment on.

Something to criticize.

If not your appearance, it’ll be something else.

Because someone always had something to say.

“Should you be eating all of that?”

“Another year gone and still no boyfriend?”

“Don’t you want to get married?”

“When I was in my twenties, I had two children.”

Boundaries didn’t exist on Thanksgiving.

Actually, for your family, boundaries didn’t exist at all—somehow, they are still scratching their heads and wondering why you’d decided to up and leave the minute your high school principal handed over that diploma, your ticket to freedom.

“Sweetie!” Your mother’s shrill voice calls from the kitchen downstairs. “I need a hand! Our guests are going to start arriving soon and there is still plenty left for us to do before they get here!”

You groan outwardly.

There’s still plenty left to do?

How’s that even fucking possible?

You’ve been cooking and baking since sunrise.

“Don’t you think it’s too early?” you’d grumbled at five o’ clock in the morning when your mother had pulled you out of bed, declaring it was time for the big dinner preparations to begin—even though it’d be several hours before your family came over and gathered around the table to break bread. She had pulled the turkey out of the freezer a few days ago, a massive, thirty-pound whole bird that looked big enough to feed a small village. In addition, she had picked up a ham and a brisket. “Mom, why’s there so much food?” Rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the sleeve of your robe, you’d started making your way over to the Nespresso only to realize that the coffee machine was hidden behind paper bags full of groceries. “Are we cooking for all of Texas or something?”

“Very funny,” she had glared at you. “Of course we aren’t.” She started unwrapping the turkey. “We’re simply making sure we have enough food and that we have different options for everyone to enjoy, so knock it off with the wisecracks and get to peeling those carrots for me for the stuffing. There is not a single minute to waste today, you hear me, missy? We’re hosting a dozen people, so everything must be absolutely perfect. I won’t accept anything less than perfection today, do you understand me?”

Thirteen hours later, she’s still driving you insane.

You’re only home visiting until the end of the week and then it’s back to the Midwest. You can survive her for three more days, right?

You hear her calling your name and exhale a small, frustrated sigh. “I’m coming, mom!” you call back. It’s difficult to mask the annoyance in your tone of voice, but somehow you manage it. “One minute!”

Smoothing down your pleated plaid skirt, you take one last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in order—there is a loose thread on the sleeve of your brown, knitted sweater and you carefully snip it off with a pair of scissors before sliding your feet into the comfiest pair of ankle boots you’d packed and head downstairs, nose leading the way as you follow the warm, delicious scent of the made from scratch biscuits and rolls baking in the oven.

You find your mother standing at the center island counter garnishing a charcuterie board with sweet gherkins and sprigs of fresh herbs. She’s donning a festive apron embroidered with fall leaves over her designer dress, and her hair’s still up in rollers. “Finally, there you are,” she huffs out loudly the second she hears you walk into the kitchen. Down the hallway, your father and two younger brothers are shouting at some football game on the flat screen television in the living room—men don’t lift a single finger on this day, at least not in this household. “I need you to start setting the table for me. I have place cards in that bag over there. Make sure your dad’s at the head of the table. Oh and don’t forget to bring out the children’s table for all your little cousins—” She glances up, letting out a small gasp when she sees you. “What in the world are you wearing?”

Frowning, you look down at yourself. “Clothes?”

Her ruby red lips purse together in a tight thin line.

“Honey, that skirt is too short. It’s inappropriate.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “It’s like an inch above the knee, how is that inappropriate? It’s not like it’s a miniskirt, mom.” As she eyes your skirt with disapproval, you decide you’re not in the mood to argue and say, “Okay, fine. I’ll go upstairs and change into something else then—”

“No, no, forget it,” she shakes her head. “We don’t have the time for that.” Your mother whirls around, picking up the bag of place holders—she’d special ordered little turkeys carved out of wood. She also takes a marker and a notepad, shoving everything into your hands. “Here. I wrote down all the names of everyone who’s coming for dinner. The children get place holders too but make sure the little ones are sitting beside someone older to help them. Oh! Did I already mention putting your dad at the head of the—”

Tuning her out, your eyes scan down the guest list and if there’s one thing to be thankful for today it’s the fact that your mother’s given you the power to seat everybody wherever you want. Halfway down the list, you see the names of several relatives that you don’t want anywhere near you at the table. An Aunt Miriam who smells like the inside of a casino; a cousin Jennifer who refuses to acknowledge her forty-eight month old is actually four years old; an uncle Richard who always has one too many beers and winds up spewing antigovernment conspiracy theories, ranting until he’s passed out somewhere, such as on the floor of the guest bathroom.

You get to the bottom of the list and can’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Joel Miller?”

She nods, returning to her board.

“You remember Mr. Miller, don’t you, sweetie? He and your father went to college together—he’s one of his oldest and dearest friends. Don’t tell me you forgot about him? You’ve met him plenty of ti—”

“Yeah, I remember who Joel is, mom,” you mutter, cutting her off. “Didn’t he and the family move out to Arizona like, four years ago? To Phoenix, right?” You’d been away for college then. Taking a second glance at the list, you notice she had forgotten the names of Joel’s wife and daughter. Surely, it’d just been a mistake on her part, though. “I had no idea they were in town visiting. Dad didn’t mention it to me at all.”

“They’re not.” She lowers her voice, as if someone else is standing in the room listening. “Joel moved back to Austin, he’s been back for a few days now. He and Connie, they um—” Pausing for a moment, she reaches up and clasps the cross hanging from her neck before whispering, “They got divorced.”

Taken aback, your mouth parts slightly. “What?”

“I know. Joel and Connie were the last people that I ever thought would get divorced. Such a shame,” your mother remarks, shaking her head. “I ran into Mrs. Adler at the super market and she was telling me all about it. Thinks they could have saved their marriage if only those two—”

“Would get right with Jesus,” you finish, biting the tiny smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “She says that about everything, mom.”

“Well, she isn’t wrong! The sacrament of marriage is a lifelong bond that shouldn’t be broken. It’s not right.” Dropping her hand away from her necklace, she crosses her arms over chest. “Anyway, Connie stayed in Phoenix. Sarah’s spending Thanksgiving with her. Your father didn’t want Joel spending the holiday alone and invited him over for dinner. That means I need you to be on your very best behavior tonight. I don’t want you embarrassing your father in front of his closest friend. Is that understood?”

You can’t help but scoff a little. “I’m not a child.”

She narrows her eyes at you and scoffs right back, planting her hands on her hips.

“No, you’re a smart aleck. Need I remind you what happened last Thanksgiving with Aunt Ines?”

Of course she didn’t have to remind you about last year’s fiasco with her insufferable bitch of a sister.

“That’s an awfully big piece of pumpkin pie,” she’d remarked loudly, eliciting snickers from everybody sitting at the table. “Don’t forget, dear—a moment on the lips, forever on the hips. And you have quite a few forevers on your hips already, darling.”

You had smiled sweetly at her, your fingers itching to fling your mother’s fine china at her. “I wouldn’t really worry about my pie, Aunt Ines,” you had said as soon as you realized that nobody, not even your parents, would be coming to your defense. “Much less when your husband’s stepping out and eating someone else’s pie when he’s away on all those so called business trips. Worry about that instead.”

That comment hadn’t gone over all too well. Three months later, Aunt Ines and Uncle Louis started to see a marriage counselor. Whoops.

“Well?”

“She deserved that,” you say, shrugging lightly.

“She’s family.”

“She’s a jerk.”

“You crossed a line.”

“She crossed it first.”

Before your mother can respond, the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes throughout the house.

“Jesus, we don’t have time for this!” Your mother’s eyes widen when she tries running a hand through her hair and realizes she still has her rollers in. “Oh no, people are arriving and I’m still not ready!” She makes a beeline for the hallway. “Get the door and greet our guests, I’ll be down in five minutes!”

She disappears upstairs into her bedroom and you hear the doorbell ring again. Your father shouts for someone to go answer it, someone other than him or your brothers because it is the end of the fourth quarter and they just can’t possibly miss that.

You make your way through the foyer and open up the front door expecting it to be one of your family members, but it’s not.

Your throat instantly goes dry at the sight of him.

He’s broader than you remeber, so much broader.

The fabric of his sage green dress shirt is nice and snug on his frame—stretched taut over the planes of his chest and his wide shoulders. He’s holding a box of store bought something or other but you’re much too preoccupied with the way the sleeves of his shirt are hugging his biceps to notice what it is although you assume it’s some kind of dessert. He looks far more delicious than whatever sweet treat could be in that white box he’s got in his hands.

After a minute, you realize you’ve been gawking at him and the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Hello Mr. Miller,” you greet him politely. “It’s very nice to see you again. Please, come on in.”

He smiles, his brown eyes warm and sweet behind his square, black-rimmed glasses. “You remember me,” he states and the syrupy richness of his voice sends a pleasant tingle up your spine. Stepping off to the side, you allow him inside—as he steps past you over the threshold, the tantalizing scent of his cologne almost brings you to your knees. Notes of a citrus accord like tart grapefruit, fresh bergamot mixed with the woodiness of vetiver and musk; it’s intoxicating, something you could easily get drunk off of if you’re not careful. “I’m surprised. S’been a real long time since you last saw me.”

“It hasn’t been all that long,” you reply, closing the door behind you. You speak to him in the steadiest voice you can muster, with nonchalance—as if you aren’t one missed heartbeat away from feeling like a silly little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Has it?”

He thinks about it. “‘Bout four and a half years.”

“That’s really not that long.”

“S’not,” Joel admits with a chuckle. “But with how much I’ve aged in that short amount of time, I just wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me, y’know? I look a lot different than I used to.” He pauses and laughs, shaking his head. “I must look like an old geezer to you now, don’t I?”

Grays lightly pepper his thick dark brown curls, his beard and his mustache. He’s got crows feet when he smiles, he has worry lines and creases between his eyebrows—he does look a lot older, but he’s so goddamn handsome, wrinkles, fine lines, and all.

You toss him a playful eye roll, prompting a grin. “I don’t think you look like an old geezer, Mr. Miller.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell makin’ me feel like an old geezer by callin’ me that, darlin’ girl.” He gives you a little wink and you’re not quite sure if it’s that, or if it was the way he’d used a pet name that knocks all the wind out of your lungs. “Please, just call me Joel.”

You nod and shyly agree to it. “Okay, then. Joel.”

“S’much better.” His grin widens and a prominent, deep dimple appears on the left side of his cheek.

There’s a silence that follows, but it’s not awkward or weird. It’s comfortable—being in his presence is comfortable. His sweet disposition makes you feel so calm, so at ease.

Joel’s always been a nice man of course, although your interactions with him had been limited—kind, quick hello’s in passing on Sundays whenever he’d come over to watch football with your dad, maybe a polite how are you here and there if you bumped into him at gatherings like a backyard barbecue or birthday party. But you’re older now, no longer the child who greeted her father’s best friend because it was bad manners if she didn’t. You don’t want to throw him that kind, quick hello or that polite how are you and then scurry off the way you used to as a little kid. You actually want to talk to Joel Miller.

But you suddenly remember he’s not here for you.

He’s here for your father.

Joel!” Your mother screeches, five-inch high heels clacking loudly as she descends the staircase. She had ditched the apron and hair rollers—and put on one too many layers of her heaviest perfume. With a delighted squeal, she rushes up to Joel and pulls him into a bone crushing hug, almost causing him to drop the box he’s still holding. “Oh, it is so good to see you! It’s been far too long!”

You force back a small, amused snort.

As if she hadn’t been judging the man for a failed marriage just minutes ago in the kitchen.

It’s performative, too over the top to be sincere.

“S’good to see you too.” He steps back and laughs as he adjusts his glasses with one of his hands. He holds out the box to her with the other. “Picked up a pecan pie on the way over here. I would’a tried to make it myself, but the kitchen’s still all packed up in boxes.” He pauses, laughing again. “Then again, I ain’t really much of a baker. Store bought was for the best I reckon,” he admits, sheepishly. When he shrugs his shoulders, his shirt strains a bit over his frame and even your mother can’t help but stare a little.

Lightly clearing her throat, she takes the box from him and reminds him, “Didn’t I tell you that all you had to bring tonight was a nice, healthy appetite?”

Joel lightly pats his stomach. “Brought that too. In fact, I didn’t eat a thing all day long. I’m absolutely starvin’ right now. Could eat a whole horse.”

“Good! Dinner’s going to be served soon. William’s in the living room with the boys, watching football game after football game. Come with me, I’m sure you’re eager to see him.” Your mother spins on her heel and hands you the dessert. “Sweetie, will you be a gem and go put this in the kitchen for me?” It isn’t a request, it’s an order masked as a request—it’s the kindest she’s been to you all day. She takes Joel’s arm and leads him down the hallway, calling out over her shoulder, “And please set the table!”

You do set the table, and when you do, you decide to sit yourself right next to Joel Miller.

Your mother lightly clinks her knife against the rim of her wine glass and clears her throat. “Everyone! It’s time to join hands and say grace before we dig into our meal,” she announces, her voice breaking through the loud, buzzing chatter at the table. She waits until there’s complete silence and then takes her seat, the chair adjacent to your father’s. You’re on his opposite side and Joel’s right beside you. “I think you should do the honor, William. You are the man of the house, after all.”

Nodding, your father begins the prayer.

“Heavenly Father, bless this food we are about—”

You’re not listening. You’re distracted by the jolt of electricity that zips through your entire body when you put your hand in Joel’s. His hand dwarfs yours and it’s rough and calloused, but somehow it’s the most gentle, soothing touch. Heat prickles at your face and neck when you feel him sweep his thumb across the back of your hand—you open your eyes and glance over at him, wondering if that had just been an accident. You’re convinced it was, until he does it again, running his finger over each knuckle one at a time. Slowly, like he’s savoring the touch.

Biting your lip, you give his hand a gentle squeeze.

His head is bowed and his eyes are still closed, but a faint smile tugs lightly at the corner of his mouth and he firmly squeezes your hand back. There’s an unmistakable desire that’s already burning deep in your lower belly, a flame you can’t extinguish even when the angel on your shoulder reminds you that not only is Joel Miller twice your fucking age, he is also your father’s best friend. His best friend.

“…through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” your relatives chime together in unison.

You force out the declaration. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Joel murmurs, opening his eyes. He turns to you and his gaze flits to your hand in his and for a moment, it almost seems like he doesn’t want to let it go. It feels like Joel doesn’t want to let it go—and he doesn’t. He doesn’t let it go until the sound of your father’s loud, booming voice announcing it is time for him to carve the bird startles the two of you apart. Clearing his throat lightly, Joel turns his attention forward and reaches for his cabernet. He gulps down half his glass in one easy swallow.

Dinner’s fairly uneventful.

You eat in complete silence, as does Joel.

Part of you wonders if it’s because you’re sitting in between him and your father, the only person that he’s most comfortable conversing with. Assuming this is the case, you’re just about to ask him if he’d like to trade places when he turns to you and says, “Your dad told me you went to school in Chicago.”

He’s just being friendly, you remind yourself when your heart starts to flutter wildly at the notion that he wants to talk to you. He’s friendly. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Yeah. I did.” You pick up your glass of wine, taking a sip hoping it’ll ease the nerves. “I graduated over the summer and took a teaching job out there.”

“You became a teacher?”

“Yeah. I teach kindergarten.” You smile proudly.

“Can you believe that, Joel?” Your father lets out a scoff and shakes his head. “I spent thousands and thousands of dollars to send her to school. All that money and for what? For her to learn how to teach little ankle biters how to color inside the lines?” He rolls his eyes and gestures to your two brothers on the opposite side of the table. “Now my boys, they are smart. Chose good careers to pursue. Brandon starts applying to medical school in the spring. Oh and Matthew? He got early acceptance to Yale. He plans on studying law.” He shifts his attention over to you once more and shrugs. “Not too sure where I went wrong with this one.”

You stare at him in complete and utter disbelief.

“Dad.”

Chortling, he waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, come on, honey. I’m just kidding around. You know that I don’t mean it.” He then reaches out, pinching your cheek roughly. “Don’t be so sensitive,” he tells you before turning his attention back to his plate.

But he does mean it.

His comments hurt, and you hate that they hurt.

Joel nudges your arm with his. “Y’know somethin’, it takes someone real special to become a teacher, ‘specially to kids that age,” he states in a matter of fact tone. “Someone who’s real sweet and patient, someone real smart too. Someone just like you.”

Warmth radiates through your entire body. It’s not just his words, but it’s the sincerity behind them.

You shoot him a small, grateful smile.

The two of you wind up talking to one another.

Joel’s moving his contracting business, bringing it back to Austin from Phoenix to run it with Tommy, his younger brother who you vaguely remembered meeting a time or two in the past. He mentions his daughter here and there, but doesn’t bring Connie up once—perhaps it’s too painful for him? It’s hard to tell. He seems to be in good spirits and truth be told, it doesn’t appear he’s mourning his marriage; but it’s difficult to believe he’s not missing her, the woman he’d spent three decades of his life with. It shouldn’t even matter to you whether he’s missing his ex-wife or not, if there are residual feelings still lingering around. But it does matter and you don’t know why. Or maybe you do know why, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Do you like Chicago?” Joel questions, curiously.

Shrugging, you respond, “Yeah. It’s a cool city.”

“You plan on stayin’ out there permanently?”

“I’m not too sure,” you admit. “It’s too expensive. I don’t want to live with a roommate forever. Unless teachers start getting paid more, I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to afford to live alone in Chicago.”

Joel seems hesitant about his next query. “Do you ever think ‘bout comin’ back to Austin at all?”

Suddenly, you’re not too sure about that either.

You’ve been itching to go back and get as far from Austin, Texas as possible, but now, it means being far from Joel Miller. There’s a deep, sinking feeling inside of your chest at the thought.

Realizing he’s still waiting for a response, you have no choice but to tell him the truth. “I don’t think I’ll ever come back here, to be honest. Not to stay.”

“Oh. I see.” He sounds disappointed. “Are you—do you plan on visitin’ home again for Christmas?”

“I do. I’ll be here for Christmas and New Year’s.”

He’s being friendly. He’s being friendly. He’s—

“It’d be real nice to see you again then.” Flushing a deep shade of red, subtle regret flashes across his features, as if he’d said it without thinking. Picking up his glass, he drains the rest of his wine and you can swear he’s nervous. About what he’d just said, and about whether or not your parents, who are in such close proximity, had overheard him. Because what business did he have in telling their daughter it would be nice to see her again?

They’re both much too preoccupied. Your father is attempting to be slick checking his text messages underneath the table and you can tell by the smirk on his face that it’s one of his secretaries. He’s got a penchant for perky blondes in tight pencil skirts. Your mother is well aware of this. She is also aware he’s on his phone, but she turns a blind eye just as she always does and distracts herself by being the perfect hostess.

Feeling foolishly courageous, you turn back to him and nod, heart pounding against your sternum. “It would. It’d be very nice, actually.”

Relieved, he nods and murmurs quietly, “We’ll talk ‘bout it later, then. That okay, darlin’?”

Not wanting to seem too eager, you nod again and turn away from him, teeth sinking into your lip in a futile attempt to hide the giddiness in your smile—but the soft chuckle Joel elicits under his breath is a clear indication that it’s useless.

He knows how he’s making you feel. He likes it.

Your mother returns from the kitchen carrying two baskets of fresh crescent rolls, one for each end of the table. She sets one of them down right in front of you and you reach out to take one when a voice, one that sounds as awful as nails scraping down a chalkboard, remarks loudly, “Should you be eating so much bread, dear?” Ines, who’s sitting a couple chairs down, next to your grandmother, looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. There’s a smug little smile on her face, almost as if she were daring you to run your mouth like you’d done last year.

For as much as it pains you, you make your choice and decide not to take the bait. You pull your hand out of the basket of rolls and pick up your glass of wine instead, chugging it down like it’s water.

Frowning, Joel picks up the basket and takes a roll that you assume is for himself, but it’s not. Putting it on your plate, he shoots her a frigid glare. “Don’t you listen to her.” He says it loud enough for her to hear him. “You just enjoy yourself, alright?”

Your aunt bats her eyes, innocently. “Well, I’m just saying. If my skirt was that tight on me, I would be thinking twice about what goes into my mouth.”

Hushed laughter sweeps across the entire table.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You slam your empty glass down so hard onto the table that the entire dining room goes completely silent. The little ones at the children’s table stare with big and wide eyes, mouths full of food hung open because a grown up had just used a naughty word.

Your mother says your name warningly. “Don’t you start,” she hisses, shaking her head. “Be quiet.”

Angrily, you round on her. “Seriously? You’re going to let her say that to me? You don’t care that she’s making comments about my weight?” You almost laugh. Of course doesn’t care, she has never cared and she never will. “I’m your daughter! Would it kill you to defend me for once in your fucking life?”

“Shut your mouth!” Your father stands up, shoving a threatening finger into your face, so close the tip of it almost touches the tip of your nose. He hasn’t put his hands on you since you were nine, but he’s as drunk as he is angry, and you find yourself back in the shoes of the little girl who would curl up into a ball in the corner of her room as she begged and pleaded for him not to hurt her. “You hear me?”

Joel stands and walks around your chair. Placing a hand on your father’s chest, he mutters, “Hey now let’s take a step back from her, alright?” He guides him back down into his chair. “Ain’t gotta be in her face like that, Will.”

“I’m sick and tired of her ruining everything—can’t get through one dinner without her screwing it up! Always has to run that fucking mouth of hers! She still acts like a goddamn fucking child—”

You can’t bear to sit there and hear another insult.

Fighting back the hot tears that are threatening to spill over, you quickly stand up and rush out of the dining room. You make a beeline for the front door and step outside onto the porch. It’s about sixty or so degrees in Austin and the cold nips at your bare legs, but that’s the least of your worries. Without a place to go, you descend the porch steps and find yourself walking towards the swing that’s hanging from the old bur oak tree in the front yard. You had asked your father for a swing when you were three years old—it wasn’t until your brothers asked for a swing a couple years later that he’d hung one up.

You sit down, hands curling around the rope that’s so old and weathered it’s beginning to fray slightly but not so much so that you’re concerned about it snapping. You’re so busy trying to keep it together that you don’t notice the sound of crisp, autumnal leaves crunching under a pair of boots behind you. A hand gingerly touches your shoulder. You let out a startled gasp and glance over to see it’s Joel.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he says, gently.

You stare at him in surprise.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Needed to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you grit the lie through your teeth.

Joel’s expression softens. “You ain’t gotta pretend with me, sweetheart.”

His concern is genuine. It’s real.

You don’t quite know how to handle it. Accept it.

“It got real ugly in there, ‘specially with your dad.”

Tears prickle at your eyes all over again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Baffled, Joel walks around the swing and a minor labored grunt escapes him as he squats in front of you. “There’s a few people who need to be apologizin’ for what happened, but darlin’ you sure as fuckin’ hell ain’t one of them.”

It’s odd. Feels foreign, even.

You’re not used to someone being on your side—it prompts more tears to spring forward and despite your best efforts to fight them off, it’s useless. You manage to whisper his name. It’s a feeble warning, one that’s telling him to go back inside before he’s caught in the torrential downpour of emotions you are mere seconds away from unleashing on him.

But he doesn’t budge. He waits. Joel knows you’re about to break and he’s ready to catch the pieces.

Finally, a tear slips and rolls down your cheek, only to be followed by another and then another. You’re holding onto the swing for dear life now, emotions that you’ve been holding in for your whole life now coming to the surface. The rope digs painfully into the palms of your hands. He reaches out and curls his fingers lightly around your wrists.

“S’okay to let go,” Joel encourages you and you’re certain he’s not just referring to the swing. “Listen to me, darlin’ girl. I ain’t gonna let you fall, alright? I’m right here to catch you. You can let go. I’ve got you, okay?”

You allow Joel to take your hands off the rope and he guides them around his shoulders as you begin to crumble. Leaning forward slightly off the swing, you wrap you arms around him and bury your face into his neck. “Joel,” you choke out his name as he wraps his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer into him.

He feels like stability.

He feels like security.

He feels like safety.

Your entire body shudders as you cry, cry, cry.

“S’alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He repeats his reassurance over and over again.

He wants you to believe it.

And you do believe it.

Joel’s as patient as can be. It’s growing colder and his knees are begging for a change of positon, but couldn’t care less about the discomfort. He rubs a soothing circle into your back and waits until there is nothing left except little hiccups and sniffles.

“Shit,” you mumble when you pull back and notice you’d left behind a wet spot on his shirt along with light traces of mascara. You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. “I ruined your shirt.”

“S’okay. Nothin’ the dry cleaners can’t take care of for me.” Joel chuckles and lets go of you. “You feel a little better now, darlin’?”

“I do.” You glance over your shoulder at the house, then exhale a sigh and turn back to him, admitting quietly, “I don’t want to go back in there, though.”

He rises to his feet and pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his black jeans. “Well, y’dont have to go back in there,” he states. “Is there somewhere I can take you? Friend’s house, maybe?”

“My best friend Megan went to Puerto Vallarta for Thanksgiving. Most of my other friends left Austin like I did,” you explain, sighing again. “Anyone who didn’t leave is spending their time with their family tonight and I don’t want to bother them.”

Joel hums, mulling it over in his mind. “Well, don’t know how comfortable you’ll be with the idea, but my place ain’t all too far from here. Ten minutes or so. Less if there’s no one out on the roads.”

“Joel, that’s so nice of you to offer, but I’ve already ruined your dinner tonight. The last thing I want to do is put you out even more,” you say, sheepishly.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin a fuckin’ thing for me tonight. And you wouldn’t be puttin’ me out at all,” he promises. “S’gettin’ late and truth be told, I just wanna get you somewhere warm.” Holding out his free hand, he adds, “And comfortable.”

“But Joel—”

“I can be real stubborn too, y’know,” he teases you with a playful grin. “We’ll be out here all night long freezin’ our fuckin’ asses off.”

He isn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Okay,” you relent, accepting the offer.

You place your hand in his and he helps you off the swing. He doesn’t let it go as he leads the way to a sleek, black Dodge Ram that’s parked behind your grandfather’s silver Mercedes. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it. “Sorry, sweet girl. It’s a bit of a trip up into the seat,” he remarks, chuckling as he opens the passenger side door for you. He gives you a boost into the truck; the scent of new leather is mixed with that of his cologne. It is all man and couldn’t be sexier. “Good up there?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Joel closes the door and hurriedly walks around to the driver’s side of the pickup, climbing up into his seat with ease. “Seatbelt,” he tells you as he sticks the key into the ignition. The first thing he does as soon as the engine roars to life is turn on your seat warmer. He switches on the heater as well, waiting a minute before asking, “You warm enough?”

“I am. Thank you, Joel.”

“‘Course.” He nods and pulls away from the curb.

As Joel’s driving you further and further from your parents’ house, all you feel is sweet relief.

“M’sorry the place is such a mess.”

Joel leads you into his living room and touches his hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed.

Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him and say, “I’d hardly call cardboard boxes stacked neatly over on one side of the room a mess, Joel.” You take a look around his townhouse—most of his furniture’s still wrapped up in plastic, except for the black leather couch and the rustic, acacia wood coffee table. He has a flat screen mounted over the brick fireplace; he’s been sleeping on the couch, or at least, that’s what the pillow and Texas Longhorns fleece throw tells you. You turn to him. “If you want to see a real mess, you should see my apartment in Chicago.”

You watch him as he takes off his glasses and puts them down on the coffee table.

“S’it pretty bad?”

“My roommate’s a kindergarten teacher too. You’d be surprised at how many popsicle sticks two girls in their twenties can end up bringing home. Not to mention all the glitter.”

“If you’re tryin’ to make me feel better, it’s workin’ like a charm.” Joel picks up his blanket and drapes it over the armchair adjacent to the couch. “Go on and make yourself comfortable, darlin’. You thirsty at all? I’ve got water or I can make coffee. Also got a pack of beer in the fridge,” he adds, jokingly.

“What kind of beer?” you ask curiously as you sink down onto the couch.

He seems pleasantly surprised by your interest.

“Lone Star.”

“I’ll have one. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“‘Course it’s not too much trouble. Not at all.”

It’s hard not to stare as he walks away towards the kitchen. Your thighs clench together—his back, his shoulders, those unkempt salt and pepper curls of his that tuft at the nape of his neck right above his collar—this man is the epitome of utter perfection. Your mind wanders and you can’t help imagine the way your legs would look thrown over those broad shoulders. How his large hands would feel on your plush skin as they wrap around your thighs to hold them in place against his chest while he fucks y—

“Here you go, darlin’.”

Joel’s deep voice shatters your train of thought.

He’s standing beside you, holding out the bottle of beer, which he’d uncapped along with his own.

Blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you say as you accept the beer from him, trying not to lose the sliver of composure that you’re holding onto—it wavers when your fingers accidentally brush his.

“S’it too cold in here for you?” he asks. “I normally keep the thermostat pretty low.”

“It’s a little cold,” you admit. “But it’s not a prob—”

It’s too late. Joel walks over to the fireplace and he manages to strike a match and light it with just his free hand. After tossing in a couple logs, he makes his way back over to the couch and he takes a seat beside you. “That a bit better, sweetheart?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “You said it was cold.”

He takes a long, generous swig of the golden lager before setting the bottle down on one of the green ceramic coasters on the coffee table. He sits back; an arm stretches out over the back of the couch in a casual manner and his legs spread open causing your thighs to clench together once more.

“You feelin’ alright?”

“Huh?” You then realize he is referring to what had happened at dinner. “Oh. Um. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Joel peers at you, his concern evident, clear in the depths of his dark brown eyes. “You sure?”

“No. Not really,” you confess, tracing the mouth of your bottle with your index finger. “But I’ll get over it. I don’t have a choice but to get over it.” Another lump starts forming in the back of your throat and you swallow it, quickly chasing it down with a gulp of beer.

“M’guessin’ your family’s got somethin’ to do with why you decided to leave Austin?”

“Bingo,” you deadpan. “I was so sick and tired of it all. How I was talked to, how I was treated. Like I’m such a fucking disappointment.”

He frowns. “You’re not a disappointment, though.”

“My parents think I’m a disappointment. My dad’s never told me he’s proud of me, Joel. Nothing I do, nothing I have ever done is good enough for either of them, but especially not for him.” There is a dull ache that settles in your heart and all you can do is silently will yourself not to breakdown again, not in front of him, at least. You sigh. “Do you know what it’s like, not feeling good enough for someone that is supposed to love you no matter what? Someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally?”

Joel knows it’s a rhetorical question, he knows it’s not something you’re expecting him to answer.

But he does answer, because he does know.

“I do, actually. I know all too well what it feels like.”

He looks down at his left hand, which is resting on his thigh and you do too. Your eyes flicker over the fading tanline on his finger—where he once wore a wedding band. You don’t even think twice about it and reach over, sweeping your own finger over the patch of pale skin. Without missing a beat, you tell him, “You’re good enough, Joel.”

He can’t help but laugh a little. “She’d disagree.”

“She’s wrong.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know what happened.”

“That ain’t how it works, sweetheart.”

Stubbornly, you lift your chin. “I don’t care.”

Joel laughs. “Y’think you know me, darlin’? Y’think you know what kinda man I am? Hm?”

“I do know.” You place your hand on top of his and his jaw clenches. “You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I know that you’re a good man.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong ‘bout that.” There’s a brief pause and he hesitates before confessing, “A good man wouldn’t be sittin’ here just fuckin’ dyin’ to kiss his best friend’s daughter.”

You freeze and grip your bottle so tight, you would not be the slightest bit surprised if it shatters right in your hand. “You—you want to kiss me?”

“Since the moment you opened up that front door and said hello to me.” Joel shakes his head. “S’not right.” He’s riddled with guilt, with shame. He pulls his hand out from under yours. “I ain’t a good man at all. You’re half my fuckin’ age and I shouldn’t—”

You cut him off, softly uttering his name. “Joel?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounds hoarse. Strained.

“Can you—will you kiss me? Please?”

You need more than just his kiss, so much more.

You need him to unravel you in every way possible, but beggars can’t be choosers and if one kiss was all you’ll get tonight, then you’ll fucking take it.

Joel swallows dryly. “That really what you want?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to meet your sweet, innocent gaze.

“Yes,” you breathe in reply. “Please. Kiss me.”

He leans in, and there’s brief hesitation on his part and he stops mere centimeters from your face, his nose lightly brushing against yours. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.” His warm breath fans over your lips; they’re parted, eager to meet his own. “I shouldn’t let this happen. I—I should take you back home to your family before I do somethin’ real stupid.”

Your heart sinks. “That really what you want?” you parrot his own question back to him and hold your breath, knowing there’s a chance his answer could be the answer that you don’t want to hear, the one that could end up crushing you.

Joel lifts his hand, cupping the side of your face in his palm. “‘Course it’s not what I want.” His thumb strokes your cheek, his dark eyes taking in each of your features. He’s studying, memorizing them, as if he’ll never get another chance to be this close to you again. With the line he’s about to cross, you’re both about to cross, that just might be the case.

The tension seeps through your skin and into your bones.

You exhale shakily. “Then just kiss me already.”

He moves his hand and gently curls it around your chin, holding you steady as he leans further in and closes the gap of space in between you. He moves slowly and he’s gentle—too gentle. You want to tell him you’re not made of porcelain, but you’re much too preoccupied with how Joel’s mouth feels, how perfectly it molds against yours. He delicately nips your bottom lip with his teeth. It’s a silent request.

He wants more, more, more. Your lips part for him, granting him the access he’s seeking. Joel doesn’t waste a single moment and he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, eliciting a whimper from you. Without breaking contact, he takes your beer and somehow he manages to lean over to set it down on the coffee table without dropping it. He then pushes you back into the couch and the next thing you know, you’re lying on your back and he’s settled in between your legs, using one of his arms to keep himself propped up, while the other wraps itself in your hair. Your own hands clutch at fistfuls of his shirt, fingers gripping the fabric so tight, the skin over your knuckles stretches painfully thin.

You whimper out again, the noise prompting a low growl to rumble through his chest—suddenly, he’s not being so gentle. He isn’t being rough. But he is hungry, he’s possessive, and he’s letting it show in the way he’s swelling your lips with his kisses, how his fingers are gripping the hair at the base of your neck as he firmly tilts your head backwards to give himself better access to your mouth.

Your mind is racing, and yet, you can’t think at all.

It’s not until his hips buck into you and you feel his bulge through his jeans against you that you break away from him. “Joel,” you gasp his out name. You grip his shirt even harder, chest heaving as you try to catch a much needed breath of air. You can feel the arousal pooling between your legs. The flames burning in the fireplace are nothing in comparison to the ones that are burning deep in your belly.

“Fuck,” he curses, pulling back. “M’sorry—”

The last thing you want is for him to be sorry.

“No! Please don’t be sorry,” you rasp, gazing up at him. Your eyes are glazed over with a lust you have never felt for another man before. “I want this, you know I want this—don’t you?”

Joel sighs, brushing a soft kiss to your temple. You wish he could take a peek into your mind, see how badly you want to be wrapped up in his arms—you want to get lost in his embrace, feel him all around you, inside you. You want him to write his name on your bare skin with his tongue, whisper his secrets into the spot where you’re aching for him most.

He sighs again and lightly shakes his head.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

“I want this,” you repeat yourself. “I want you.”

Relaxing the death grip you have on his shirt, your hands release the fabric and move to the buttons. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo each one of them; after an embarrassing fumble or two, you manage to get them all and push Joel’s shirt off of his shoulders. He sucks in a quick, sharp breath as your greedy hands begin roaming, exploring every inch of smooth, tan skin on his upper body.

Your touch erases all the uncertainty he’s feeling.

“Wanna feel you too, baby.” Joel takes the hem of your sweater and gestures for you to sit up slightly so he can pull it over your head. Carelessly tossing it somewhere behind him, he glances down, blood rushing to his cock as he takes in the sight of your supple curves clad in sweet, delicate white lace. “Christ, you look so fuckin’ soft.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud, not until he catches the flirtatious little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You sit up slightly once again and reach behind you to unhook the lingerie and take it off, adding it to the ever growing pile of clothes on the hardwood floor. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze for just a moment before dipping his head down, wrapping them around one of your hardened nipples. “Joel,” you mewl his name as he flicks the pebbled flesh with his tongue.

Joel releases it with a lewd, wet pop and he tosses you a smirk before he moves to the other to give it the same attention. He’s a biter, you find out as he takes it between his teeth, nipping over and over.

Your throbbing center clenches around nothing.

“Joel, please. I need you—I fucking need you.”

He tears away from your nipple. “Where, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but your own gasp cuts you off as he starts trailing his lips down the length of your body until he comes to a stop at the waistband of your skirt. One of his hands finds the zipper on the side and he looks up at you, as if asking for permission. Desperate, you nod. Pulling the zipper down, he slides the skirt, along with the pair of lace white panties you’re wearing off of you and discards them, leaving you completely naked.

Your insecurities begin to trickle in, but Joel’s able to halt them right in their tracks.

“You’re too fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he says, his reassurance calming your nerves instantly. “So beautiful. So beautiful and so fuckin’ perfect.”

You watch as he makes himself comfortable—well as comfortable as he can—in between your legs. He shoots you a sheepish look.

“Knew I should’a put the damn bed together. But I been puttin’ it off and puttin’ it off all week long.”

You giggle breathlessly. “Who needs a bed?”

Chuckling, Joel feathers a kiss on your inner thigh.

Your smile is all but slapped right off of your face.

“Joel.”

Any traces of humor vanish. You’re both reminded of the next wall that’s about to be broken, the next line that’s about to be crossed.

He looks down and groans. “Such a pretty, perfect little pussy,” he remarks, his voice low, husky. “Bet she’s nice and wet for me, ain’t she baby?” He lifts his hand and drags the tip of his finger up your slit slowly, your slick coating his digit. He smirks up at you. “Oh, she’s fuckin’ soakin’, sweet girl. S’this all for me?”

Foreplay wasn’t in the vocabulary of guys your age and while part of you wishes Joel would hurry, you also find yourself enjoying the fact that he’s taking his time, teasing you—making you really want it to the point where you’re willing to fucking plead him for it. Joel Miller’s the only man you’d ever beg for.

He skims your other thigh with his nose and kisses it just like he’d done with the other. “Tell me darlin’ s’this where you need me? Right here?”

Frantically, you nod your head.

“Words, honey. Gotta use your words for me.”

“Yes!” you choke out. “That’s where I need you. So bad. Need you so fucking bad. Please Daddy—”

You freeze and momentarily, he does too. Truth be told, you wouldn’t really blame him if he just stood up, gathered your clothes and tossed them at you, demanding you put them back on and leave.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Daddy, huh?”

Your face is on fire. “I—it slipped,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to call you—I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m not even sure where that came from. I’ve never—”

You’re on the verge of panicking, then notice there is a certain glimmer in his eyes and realize he liked it when you’d called him that. You’re taken aback.

He fucking likes being called Daddy.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout. I promise. You can call me that. But on a condition.”

You stare at him, no idea what the condition could possibly be.

“Ain’t allowed to call anyone else that. Ever.” There is a possessiveness in his tone and it nearly makes you come on the spot. “That understood?”

You nod obediently. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he prompts.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. That’s a real good girl, honey.”

For a split second, you can’t breathe.

This man will surely be the death of you.

Joel plants one final kiss, this one on your mound.

“Please,” you whimper, the heat in your lower belly growing and fizzling out to the rest of your body at the feeling of his breath over your aching core.

“Please what?” he murmurs into the sensitive skin as his arms curl around your legs. “Tell Daddy—tell Daddy what you need baby, so he can take care of you.”

“Your mouth,” you beg him, desperation mounting with each passing second. Your hips buck upward; his biceps flex as he tightens his arms around your thighs, pinning you down in place. “Your mouth—I need your mouth. Please.”

Joel moves his head to the junction of your thighs, his mouth hovering right over where you needed it the most. He looks up at you with hunger, like he’s a ravenous, starved man who hasn’t had a thing to eat in days. “What a good girl,” he praises, dipping his head even lower. His mouth waters at the sight of your glistening folds. “Bet you taste as delicious as you fuckin’ look, don’t you, pretty girl?”

He flattens his tongue and glides it up your slit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gets his first taste. You gasp out when it grazes your swollen, aroused clit and your head falls back onto the couch. “Oh fuck,” you whine, reaching for his hair. You weave your hands through his graying locks and pull his face closer. Another swipe of his tongue causes your back to arch up off the leather and the edges of your vision to blur.

He pulls an arm from around your legs and drags a finger down your drenched entrance, lips securing themselves around your clit. His gaze stays locked on you as he pushes his long, thick digit into you—you feel him smirk as he curls it upwards, pressing the pad of his finger firmly against the soft spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Joel slips in a second finger and curls it along with the other to double the pleasure. He begins thrusting his digits in and out of your warm cunt, eliciting what had to be the sweetest sounds that he’d ever heard in his entire life from you. He combines it with with slow, firm, and precise stokes of his tongue on your clit.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” you encourage him, your loud, breathy moans bouncing off the bare, freshly painted walls of his house. “Yes Daddy, fuck—feels so fucking good, please don’t fucking stop—”

It’s not like you have to tell him what to do.

Joel knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows it too. He listens to every single one of your moans and feels every single buck of your hips. He is sure to pay extra attention to when your hands pull and tug at his curls; he remembers what combinations of licking, sucking, and fucking make you squeeze your plush thighs tighter around his head; reminds himself of which technique brings your body off of the couch, what makes your toes curl. Joel’s quick to learn your body’s cues, each and every last one. He already knows when to give you more, when to give you less—when he needs speed up, when it is time to slow it all down.

You sing his name over and over again, pressure of an orgasm already building between your hips. His tongue swirls around your sensitive little bundle of nerves as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt and you glance down. You almost choke when you catch a tiny glimpse of the muscles in his forearm, the way they flex underneath his skin with each of his movements as he’s fucking you. Your gaze flits to his face. His own eyes are fixed intently on you.

You’re milliseconds away from release.

“Joel, I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna come—”

His arm squeezes your thigh in encouragement.

One last, broad stroke of Joel’s tongue on your clit sends an overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing over you. Strangled cries tear themselves from the back of your throat as your velvet walls flutter and convulse, squeezing his fingers. Joel, who’s face is still half buried in your pussy, takes it upon himself to help you ride through the high. He peppers soft, delicate kisses onto your swollen clit as his fingers continue to slide in and out of you slowly. He waits patiently until your loud cries dissolve into nothing but breathless little whimpers before he crawls up, positioning himself on top of you, a hand on either side of your head. His beard and mustache glisten with a mixture of saliva and slick—and somehow it it ignites another fire and you’re ready for more, so much more.

“Sweet girl,” Joel murmurs. Leaning down, his lips meet yours and you taste yourself on his tongue

You place a hand on his chest, right over his heart, which beats strong and steady against your palm.

You start dragging your hand down his chest, your fingernails raking over his skin. It travels lower and lower, gliding over the softness of his stomach. He tenses when you brush the waistband of his jeans.

Tearing away from you, he grits out, “Baby. No.”

You immediately snatch your hand away from him.

“You changed your mind?” you question, stomach sinking at the thought of it being over already.

You’re just so fucking greedy for this man.

He offers reassurance—and an explanation.

“No, that ain’t it at all. S’just—” Joel pauses briefly and flushes a shade of red. “S’just that, well, I ain’t got condoms on me, darlin’.”

Relieved, you assure him, “It’s okay. I’m clean.”

“Me too. But that ain’t what I’m worried about,” he admits, his face going from red to maroon.

You smile, finding his embarrassment endearing.

“I’m on birth control.”

Joel clenches his hands into fists. His cock strains against his zipper at the thought of it—taking your cunt bare. “Y’sure you want this?” He rasps out. “I need you to be a hundred percent sure ‘bout it.”

“I’m a thousand percent sure, Joel. I fucking need it. More than anything I’ve ever needed in my life.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

Joel stands up, his gaze never leaving your own as he kicks off his black leather boots. You sit up, and it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to remain composed as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and pushes them down his legs. You bite down on your bottom lip and try not to stare at his bulge like it’s your first time ever seeing a dick, but if he’s as big as he looks in his boxer briefs, maybe this would end up being a lot more than what your body could handle.

He hooks his thumbs underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and slides them off, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free from its confinement.

You swallow harshly. He’s fucking massive.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Joel chuckles at the expression on your face as he kicks aside all of his clothes. His length rests on his lower abdomen and precome smears the skin there. Wrapping one of his hands around it, he gives it a couple strokes, just a hint of relief until you come into play. “Hm?”

Licking your lips, you nod and stand up. You take a couple of wobbling step towards him—Joel’s cock hasn’t been anywhere near you and you’re already fucking walking side to side. “Come here,” you say to him, taking both his hands in your own. You pull him back to the couch and gently guide him down into a sitting position. Swinging your leg over both of his, you straddle his lap. You gingerly place your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh softly when you feel him brush against your pussy; the contact makes you both moan in unsion. “This okay?” you ask him, breathily. You can’t be sure as to why you’re suddenly feeling a bit shy, like you’re not planning to ride his fucking soul out of him.

“More than okay.” Joel brushes your hair over your shoulder and then drags his hand down the length of your body, committing to his memory every one of your curves. “Gonna be a real good girl and ride my cock, baby?”

You gift him with a cheeky grin. “Yes, Daddy.”

The shyness begins to dissipate and you dive your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock, causing his breath to catch in his throat. You lift yourself slightly off his lap, teasingly gliding the head of his cock down your drenched slit, then up, letting it graze over your clit, which is still senstive to the touch thanks to his lips and tongue.

Joel’s hands find their way around you, running up the curve of your spine. “Wasn’t aware that my girl was such a little fuckin’ tease,” he remarks in a low tone. He slides his hands back down and his large, warm palms cup your ass, fingers kneading flesh.

“Your girl?” you repeat, your heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering at the idea of being his. “Is that what I am to you, Joel? Your girl?”

“S’that what you want, honey?” Joel whispers, his eyes finding your own, two hopeful gazes meeting in the deepest, most intimate moment that you’ve shared all evening. “Y’wanna be my girl?”

Leaning forward, your reply is preceded by kiss, so soft and so sweet his heart swells inside his chest.

“I do,” you mumble against his lips. “I really do.”

Still gripping your ass, Joel eases you up and lines himself up at your entrance. He bucks his hips and slides the head of his cock past your folds and into your heat. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers, his hands moving to your hips, thumbs grazing your skin. He slowly guides you further down his shaft, grunting as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. “Christ, you’re so goddamn fuckin’ tight—”

The initial stretch is almost too much for you. Your nails sink deeper into his shoulders as he pulls you down further down onto him. “Joel,” you whimper, biting back a loud cry. You’re fully seated, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his head pressing against your cervix. You’re so full of him.

One of his hands abandons your hip and slips over your lower belly.

“This where you’re feelin’ me, pretty girl?” he coos gently. “This where you feel Daddy’s cock? In your belly?”

“Yes,” you sigh out contentedly. “Feels so good.”

You lift yourself off of him, then slide back down in a slow, languid motion.

Joel’s head falls back onto the couch. “Christ.” He mutters the word, his chest heaving. Staring up at the ceiling, he takes a moment to catch his breath and silently wills himself not to explode. Once he’s managed to somewhat compose himself, he looks at you again, pupils blown so wide you can’t find a single trace of brown. “Go on, then,” he rasps. “Go on, sweetheart.”

The living room fills with the sounds of low moans and panting breaths as you move, alternating your maneuvers between rocking and bouncing on him in a frenzied, fast paced rhythm. The friction of his pelvis each time you grind into it winds up the coil between your hips and suddenly you’re desperate, so pathetically desperate for another release.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” Joel encourages, feeling the beginning of his own climax building quick—much too quick for his liking. “Jus’ like that, honey. What a good girl you are for me, so fuckin’ good for me. Just like I fuckin’ knew you would be.”

“Fuck,” you whine. “You feel so good, Daddy. Feel so fucking good inside me—”

Leaning back, you firmly plant both your hands on his thighs and arch your body, head falling back as you pick up the pace. The burning fire casts a soft, orange glow around you and his jaw falls slack. His eyes drink in every single fucking thing about you, watch you with an adoration that, for the first time in your whole life, makes you feel wanted. Actually wanted.

“Joel,” you whisper his name over and over. You’re both beginning to lose track of where you end and he begins. You can hardly hear the praises that are spilling from his plush lips over the squelching wet sounds of your cunt sliding up and down his cock. There’s no chance to warn him—your mouth parts in a silent scream as you come undone on him.

“M’so fuckin’ close,” Joel grunts. He feels his cock twitch as your pussy grips him like a vice. “Where? Where do you want it, pretty girl?”

“Inside me. Please, I need you to come inside me,” you plead him, the innocent tone of your voice the last thing to push him over the edge he’s teetering on. “Fill me up, Daddy—please, want every drop of you inside me—”

Joel reaches for your arms and yanks you forward, into him. Throwing them around his neck, his own arms wrap around you and roughly slam you down onto him, holding you firmly in place. He bucks his hips upwards, balls tightening, his cock pulsing as he comes. Strings of hissed curse words and deep gutteral groans muffle when he drops his face into your collarbone. Still holding you in place, he spills his load into you, his seed filling you to the brim.

He sags back against the couch and pulls you with him. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he lets himself stay buried inside of you, the primal in him relishing the heavenly feeling of his come dripping messily out of your pussy and all over his thighs.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks after a minute.

“M’perfect,” you mumble against his chest. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re coming down from a high or if it’s because he’s tracing patterns on your shoulder blade with his finger, but you shiver in his arms.

“Let me get the blanket—”

Joel starts to move to get up, but you stop him.

“No, please don’t,” you say, pushing him back. You put all of your weight onto him, as if he can’t move you off to the side if he really wanted to. “I—I want you inside me for a little while longer. Please.”

“But baby, you’re cold—”

You don’t bother explaining to him that you’re not.

“Just hold me. Please.”

And that’s exactly what he does.

Snuggling into him, you close your eyes and Joel’s hand strokes at your hair. Between that, the thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek and the sound of the fireplace crackling behind you, you’re nearly soothed into sleep.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I hate Thanksgiving,” you admit, smiling tiredly to yourself when you feel a laugh rumble in his chest.

“Do you, now?”

You nod. “I do. But I’m really thankful for you.”

Giving you a gentle squeeze, Joel kisses the top of your head and murmurs, “Well, m’thankful for you too, sweet girl.” He pauses momentarily. “I ain’t all too sure how I’m s’pposed to just let you go home. I know I have to but—”

Lifting your head off of his chest, you take the side of his face and cradle it in your palm. You meet his gaze, heart sinking when you see the sadness that has replaced the lust from earlier.

He doesn’t mean home to your parents’ house. He means Chicago.

You graze his beard with your thumb. “I’m coming back in a few weeks,” you remind him, gently. “I’ve only planned to spend a week out here just for the holidays, but I can visit sooner. As soon as the kids go on winter break, I can come back to Austin.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would, Joel. I’m not sure how it would work what with my parents and all, though. I don’t want them catching onto us.”

“C’mere.” Joel brushes your lips with his before he makes his promise. “I’ll figure it out, baby. Leave it all to me and I’ll figure it out.”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

#asdfghjkl BYE #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x y/n #joel miller au #dbf joel miller #dbf joel x reader #fic: someone to be thankful for

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yeonzzzn · 7 months

Text

🖤won’t give up on us: sim jaeyun

part three of the off limits trilogy

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 17.1k

synopsis: your relationship with jake has been better than ever. almost two years have passed since moving in with your brother, heeseung, sunghoon and jake, what’s even better is everyone finally graduated college. but with the new freedom of your adult life, other challenges make their way into your relationship.

genre: established relationship, older brother’s best friend!au, smut, fluff

warnings: swearing, multiple unprotective sex scenes, breeding kink, hair pulling, oral (m. & f. receiving), fingering, cum eating, alcohol, masturbating, some tags will be hidden due to not spoiling the story, MINORS DNI. lmk if I missed anything ♡

✰ this is part three to this trilogy, please see part one and two under the title before reading this one. ✰

˗ˏˋseries spotify playlist´ˎ˗

In the blink of an eye, almost two years have flown by.

Your relationship with Jake was now stronger, harder to penetrate or break. You still had fights, but never again like what happened when you broke up.

You, yourself even felt stronger coming out of that dark place you were in. Shaping a better heart that you were able to hand to Jake. And he did the same for you.

Everything on campus was different now. You and Jake both had eyes on you, yes. But Stella and her bitch squad never once spoke to you or even Jake again. You’ve walked past them on campus, she’ll give you a dirty look and you’ll respond with your middle finger.

Jake even came around with Shotaro, getting to know him better, and to his surprise, was trying to hang out with him more than you.

But one by one, everyone finally graduated college, leaving your graduation in two weeks.

Except you didn’t think you’d make it to graduation.

You lay on the couch in the living room, coughing up your lungs and sweat rolling down every inch of your body. How could you have gotten sick two weeks before graduation?

“I’m actually going to die,” you mumbled.

Your brother sat on the floor beside your head, dabbing a cool wet washcloth on your forehead, a mask covering his face. With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, he responded, “You have a terrible case of the flu, you aren’t dying.”

The three stooges stood at the end of the couch, masks also on their faces as they watched Jay take care of you.

“Doctor said you’ll be better next week, ya?” Jake said, reaching down and massaging your legs through the blanket covering your body, “Just continue taking your meds and you’ll be better soon.”

You knew they were all right, but you chose to be dramatic anyway, “I’m dying!”

Jay covered your face with the cool washcloth, “Shut up, Stinks.”

Usually, you’d fight him on the nickname, but right now all you wanted was rest.

Heeseung and Sunghoon took every opportunity to tease you. Heeseung would walk into the living room with a can of Febreze, spraying it as he walked past you to get to the kitchen. Sunghoon would walk by holding his index fingers into an X. You’d just respond either with your middle finger in the air or sitting up and fake coughing at them, making the boys scramble away in a hurried fashion.

But as they all said you recovered just in time to finish up the rest of your classes for the semester and walk the stage to get your diploma.

Jake has never looked more proud in his life watching as you crossed that stage and officially started the next chapter in your life. He had actual tears streaming down his face.

Jay was even worse of a mess. Has snot rolling out his nose and ugly crying and everything.

“Jongseong,” you snorted at seeing the state your older brother was in, embracing him into a tight hug as he continued to cry into your shoulder.

“You’re all grown up, I can’t believe it. I remember when you were just a baby,”

Your father forced Jay off you, so he and your mother could also embrace you in a hug.

Heeseung and Sunghoon were next in line for a hug, and then there was Jake for last.

You stared into his eyes, smiling so wide as he pulled you into a kiss, “I am so proud of you, my love.”

“It’s all because of you,” which is true. If it weren’t for Jake or even your brother, you wouldn’t have moved in with them and graduated with their help. You were thankful for all four boys.

Shotaro even made his way through the crowd to pull you into a hug, “You killed it, princess!”

At one point, your eyes would drift off to Jake to see him cringe at the nickname Shotaro has given you, but over the last few years, it doesn’t bother him, Jake just stands there with his puppy dog eyes and smile, joining the hug with you and your best friend, “She did! Didn’t she!!” Jake said, nuzzling his head between you and Shotaro, “Our girl did so well!!”

You blushed at all the compliments and love you were getting, you’d be a liar if you said you hated it all.

Jay threw a party for you that night. Granted it was just the five of you, along with Taro and Sunghcan, but it still felt great to be surrounded by the people you loved the most.

Everyone sat in the kitchen and living room, talking and drinking away. Jake wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling your body closer to him. His eyes traced down the side of your face and down to his necklace that even after all these years still stayed wrapped around your neck. His eyes moved down to your breasts and the way they peeked out over the drop of the dress you wore for your graduation.

Jake felt his pants tighten, his mind wandering to the thoughts of your tits in his hands, tongue shoved down your throat and dick pushing in and out of you. His hand gripped the beer can, biting his lower lip.

Normally, Jake would wait to dick you down once company has left, but since everyone is drunk and in no way going home tonight…

Fuck it.

“Hey,” he whispered in your ear so seductively that it sent chills down your spine. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was Jake wanted. With the way his lips brushed your ear and hand tightened at your waist. It made you soaked on the spot.

You leaned into him, “Hmm?”

He softly chuckled, “You look so sexy right now,”

Your eyes wander around to your brother and then your friends, seeing them all too interested in whatever card game some of them were playing at the table and whatever game the rest were playing on the Nintendo Switch. No one would even realize you’d two be gone. The music was playing loud enough in the apartment that they wouldn’t be able to hear anything anyway. They were too drunk to realize anything really.

You shifted, pressing your body to his, feeling his cock hard against your stomach, your breast pressing to his chest, making him hiss, mouth practically drooling over you.

“Keep acting up and I’ll press that pretty face of yours into the pillows in our bed.”

You stood on your tip toes and gave him a quick kiss, “What else would you do to me? Hmm?”

Jake’s head was spinning. Oh, the things he wanted to do to you. The way he’d do them. Fuck.

He took the beer can from your hands, setting it down on the counter beside his, lips touching your ear again, “I’d have you screaming my name while I fuck that sweet cunt of yours until I’m spilling into you.”

It’s all you had to hear before taking his hand and leading him to your shared bedroom, Jake closing and locking the door behind you.

You didn’t even have time to turn around, have time to kiss him let alone touch him. Jake threw you into the bed face first, one hand on the back of your neck and he pushed your face deeper into your pillows.

Your pussy was clenching already, feeling your slit pooling in your panties. Hands gripping the bedsheets. You turned your head slightly, looking Jake in the eyes, seeing nothing but desperation behind them, so lust-filled.

Jake’s cock was twitching against his pants, so angry and begging to be set free. With his free hand, he lifted your hips up higher, arching your back.

“You look so pretty like this,” he whispered, sliding his hand from your neck down your back and resting at your hips with his other hand, “Don’t move pretty, be a good girl for me, ya?”

You nodded, biting your lips. You wanted to beg him, wanting to feel his hands everywhere and his dick deep inside you. But with the way he was right now, you knew Jake would either take his time and enjoy the way you were in front of him, or get right to fucking into you.

Jake lifted your dress up and over your ass, bunching it at your hips, releasing a hiss, “Fuck YN,” he groaned, seeing how soaked your panties already were, “Want my cock that badly?”

You nodded again, “Jakey please,” you wiggled your hips, Jake’s hands immediately gripping your ass and squeezing tightly.

“I said don’t move,” he growled.

You stayed still, listening to the sound of his shirt, jeans, and boxers hitting the floor. Jake glances down at his angry cock, pulsing and red. His precum dripped down the side of the tip, aching to find its home inside your pussy.

He pulled your panties down, letting out a “Fuck,” at seeing your juices creating a string connecting to your paints, “You’re so fucking wet for me baby,” He lifted your legs one by one to pull the laced fabric off you, flinging it somewhere into the abyss of the room, then rolling your dress completely off your body, shoving your face back into the pillows.

Seeing you this wet drove him insane. Watching your cunt clench around nothing, waiting so patiently for him to fill you up.

Jake shoved two fingers inside you, ears ringing from the pleasured moans that left your mouth, scooping your wetness from you and bringing it down to his cock, rubbing it up and down his shaft. Jake suppressed the moan he wanted to let out as he pumped himself a couple of times, then adjusted himself up to your pussy, wasting no more time and shoving inside.

Your jaw went slack as he filled you up, his hand pushing your face even further into the pillows, the fabric now in your mouth.

Jake fucked into you hard, his hips snapping back and forth as if his life depended on it. Fingers gripping your hips tightly, surely to leave bruises in the morning.

“Fuck, baby,” he finally moaned out, “You feel so fucking good. Fuck,”

You were screaming into the pillows from the pleasure, chanting his name with each thrust. Your head was spinning, seeing stars.

“You know how proud I am of you baby?” he said, fingers now wrapping in your hair, pulling you up, his chest now pressed to your back, “You’re the smartest person I know. So proud. You deserve this dick, don’t you baby?”

You nodded, “Fuck yes Jaeyun and you’re being such a good boy giving it to me like this.”

Jake fucked into you harder, “Yeah? I’m your good boy huh? Dicking you down so hard and fast, being so good taking me like this.”

You reached up behind you, hands finding their way into Jake’s hair and pulling, “Fuck baby,” he practically screamed, “I’m going cum so hard if you keep it up,”

And you did, tangling your fingers even more into his hair as you pulled with all your might, Jake’s thrusts getting sloppier.

“No way I’m cumming before you,” he growled into your ear, his hand at your hip sliding between your legs, fastly circling his fingers on your clit, “Cum for me first baby, then I’ll breed this sweet cunt.”

You moaned out his name, pulling even harder at his hair.

You and Jake were filled with so much pleasure, both growing more sensitive at each other's touches. It took everything in Jake to not cum right here right now, using every bit of willpower he had to hold back from painting your walls with his seed.

But Jake couldn’t hold on much longer, his will slipping. But you beat him to it, your climax rushing you so fast as you came around his dick, “Oh fuck,” he moaned, “M’cumming baby, going to breed you, fuck, fuck. Cumming, I’m cumming.”

His hot cum filled you, his hips snapping into place against your ass, hands pulling you down onto him, making sure every ounce of cum spilled into you.

Both your bodies shaking, Jake laid you down on the bed, his body gently laying on top of you, dick still inside.

He rubbed his thumb against your jaw, placing soft kisses on your neck, “I love you. Fuck I love you so much.”

You tilted your head, catching his lips with yours, “I love you so much too my sweet, sweet Jake.”

—

You leaned your elbows to the table, fingers rubbing your temples. The room felt like it was spinning and that you were about to puke up your lunch and coffee that Shotaro just bought you.

“YN? Princess?” he called you by your nickname, snapping his fingers in front of your face until you looked up at him, “Everything okay?”

You just shook your head, “I feel like death.”

Taro leaned back into his chair, taking a sip of his coffee, “You look like death too.”

You roll your eyes, “Jeez, thanks Taro.”

Shotaro just chuckled, the jazz music playing in the background of the coffee shop you frequent was soothing and relaxing. How could you feel like shit when this amazing music is filling your ears?

You dropped your face into your palms, “I can’t really be getting sick again.”

Shotaro started thinking, “Didn’t you have the flu last time?” you nodded, “Did you change out your toothbrush and get more toothpaste? Did Jake change out all that as well? What about Hee, Hoon, and Jay?”

That was way too many questions for your brain to process, but you continued to nod anyway, “Yes to all that. Jay made sure everyone changed out everything and washed every blanket and sheets in the apartment.”

“Do all five of you really just share food and drinks like that?”

You shrug, “I’m siblings with one, grew up with them all and dating one of them, and been living with them for almost two years. I don’t think there is such a thing as not sharing in that apartment.”

Taro just nodded, “And I know they didn’t get sick after you did.”

You just nod again, too winded to even speak.

Shotaro just kept running through everything in his head, the people who’ve been sick after or before you were before graduation. Hell, even Shotaro changed out toothbrush and toothpaste after he found out you had the flu. He wasn’t taking chances and you’ve eaten after each other a couple of times.

But the more Taro tried to wrap his mind around it the more it hurt his brain, his own headache forming. The only thing he can see how you got sick is from passing some random stranger who was sick or…

Wait.

“When was the last time you had sex with Jake?”

You glance up at your best friend, narrowing your eyes, “You need to be more specific, we have sex all the time.”

Taro bit down every ounce of nerves he had and begged you with his eyes to forgive the questions he was about to ask, “I mean, when was the last time he…you know…”

You raised a brow, “Every time? I am on the pill,” you just stared at your best friend, “Taro what are you getting at?”

He started playing the timeline in his head, from the moment you got sick with the flu, to graduation, and to now. If what he’s thinking is true…then.

“It’s been about, what? six-seven weeks since you’ve graduated?” You nod, “Did you and Jake have sex that night?”

You nod again but this time more confused and getting kinda angry that Shotaro was putting his nose into your sex life, “Taro, what does my sex life with Jake have any—“

And then it hit you.

“It would make sense…” Taro whispered.

“But it can’t be?” you pull your hair back out of your face, eyes glued to your iced coffee on the table, watching as the ice floated more to the top.

“YN, last question,” he took a deep breath, “What medication did they put you on for the flu? And does it affect taking birth control?”

You just stared up at him. Every piece of the puzzle falls into place.

The medication the doctors gave you to treat your flu would have countered your birth control pill, and since you were sick and obviously not having sex you skipped the pills until you took the last bit of medicine to treat the flu before taking them again. And the last day of your medicine for the flu was…two days after you graduated.

Your eyes widened, “Holy shit.”

Shotaro sighed, “Yeah, holy shit,” and took another sip of his coffee, “You could be pregnant.”

—

Jake sat at his work desk, eyes reading over the article on the new software his company was planning on launching within the next couple of months. His boss leaves Jake to take on the project alone to fix all the major issues with it.

He leans back into his chair, thumbs rubbing over his eyes from staring at the computer screen for too long.

Why did he choose software development out of everything he could have when it came to his major? Guess it’s too late now to change it.

Jake can’t complain though, he makes BANK and the job comes so easy to him too. Plus he works the typical nine-five Monday-Thursday having Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off to do whatever he wants. Plus his co-workers and boss are great people. He has it made here.

Jake’s mind gets taken off the article by his phone vibrating in multiple texts.

Jay: did you piss off my sister? Jay: because she just busted down the apartment door before storming off into your bedroom, paced around for like ten minutes before leaving the apartment again.

Jake sighed, rubbing his eyes again.

Jake: not that I know of… Jake: I haven’t spoken to her since this morning when I left for work. She was supposed to be with Taro today Jay: She just came back, seemed calmer this time tho. She has a grocery bag, guess she needed snacks?

Jake tossed his phone onto the desk, going back to the article. As much as he loves you and his best friend, whatever attitude problem you have right now, Jay could deal with or he would deal with when he gets back home. Jake tried to think of anything he could have done to upset you, but not thinking of a single thing.

Jay: she’s pacing again. Jay: well now she locked herself up in the bathroom. Jake: dude, she’s your little sister. deal with it? Jay: your girlfriend tho buddy. you deal with it. Jake: …I am working. Jay: I’ve never seen her act like this before. something is wrong.

Jake looked at the time, he was off in an hour. He texted Jay back saying he’ll talk to you once he’s home and left it at that. Jake had half a mind to call Shotaro and bug him about what happened. You seemed fine earlier besides a small headache.

The clock ticked and chimed once it hit four o’clock, Jake jumped from his seat after shutting his PC down and practically skipping out of the building.

He couldn’t make it home fast enough, his mind was only on you and if you were okay. He called Jay the minute he got off work for an update and he said you were still locked up in the bathroom. Jake was worried.

He made his way up the steps to the apartment, fumbling around with his keys to unlock the door. Jay sat in the living room with a bowl of popcorn in his hands, a horror movie on the TV.

“Is she still in the bathroom?” Jake mouthed to his friend, earning a nod from him.

Jake walked up to the door, knocking softly, “Baby?” he called for you, trying to turn the knob to find it locked, “YN, sweetheart, baby what’s wrong? Unlock the door please.”

After a sigh on the other side, you unlock the door and slightly open it and pull him in, then shut the door behind him.

Jake’s hands were on you immediately, checking if you had a fever, runny nose, everything.

“Hey,” he whispered, cupping your face with his hands at the look of shock, “What happened?”

The first thing he assumed was Shotaro fucked up somehow. A pity really if that’s the case, Jake was just starting to like him.

You look up at your boyfriend, debating where to start.

“Remember when I got sick with the flu?”

Jake nodded, rubbing his thumbs against your jawline, “How could I forget? Your brother went all clean freak on us and made us wash everything and replace everything.”

“Do you remember the medication I was on?”

Jake thought for a second, then nodded, “Yeah? Baby that was weeks ago.”

“I had to stop taking my birth control because of it…”

Jake looked at you in confusion, “I know? It would have canceled it out anyway. YN, stop beating around the bush, what happened?”

Your eyes dart to the sink and Jake follows your gaze seeing the grocery bag, and five boxes of pregnancy tests sitting around the counter.

Jake looked at the boxes, then back at you, then back at the boxes, “I’m confused?”

You roll your eyes, “Jake, I was off my birth control for the entire time I took my flu medication. And didn’t get back on it until the last pill of the medicine was gone, which was two days after graduation.”

He just raises a brow at you, waiting for you to continue.

“We had sex the night I graduated when I was still off my birth control.”

Those words. Those exact words were all it took for Jake to swallow and feel how dry his throat had become.

“Are you sure?”

You looked back down to the boxes, “I pissed on every single stick in those boxes, and every single one of them came back positive.”

You had to be honest, you were scared to tell Jake. The two of you have always been so careful when it comes to sex. Always have condoms on standby just in case. You always made sure to take your birth control pill on time every single day. And well shit, you both even still carried around Plan B’s as a backup.

Jake was shaking and his heart was racing, “You’re pregnant?” you nod, waiting for him to get upset. Waiting for him to sink down onto the floor and laugh it off that you’re lying, to call your bluff. But he didn’t, his eyes softened, and the corners of his lips curled, “I’m going to be a daddy?”

You nodded again, your lips also moving into a smile, “You’re going to be a daddy, Jake.”

He couldn’t stop the smile that grew. Like wow, you’re pregnant? He’s going to be a father? You’re going to be a mother? Jake will get to raise a baby with you. Get to grow this little family even more.

Jake pulled you into a kiss, arms wrapping tightly around you, “I love you so much,” he whispered between kisses, “I can’t believe it.”

“Well you better believe it,” you kissed him again, “And I love you so much too.”

Jake sank down to his knees, placing his hands on your waist and kissing all over your tummy, “I am so happy right now.”

Before you could respond, the bathroom door opened, “Hey I heard laughing, is everything okay now?”

You stared wide eyed at your brother as he looked down at Jake on his knees. You could see the gears turning in your brother's brain, thinking he walked into a sexual act about to happen.

He turned to leave, opening his mouth to make a smart retort when he saw the boxes in the sink. Jay looked at every single one before going back to you, down at Jake, back to the boxes…then the light bulb lit up above his head, face now tensed as he looked at you, then at Jake again. Jake awkwardly smiled up at your brother.

“You got to be fucking joking.” was all your brother said.

—

You and Jake sat on the couch, arms crossed as you both stared up at your brother pacing back and forth in the living room.

“You’re going to cause a draft,” Jake finally said, trying hard to not laugh, but stopping his smile when Jay stopped pacing and looked at him.

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around this,” Jay said, rubbing his temples as if he had the worst headache.

You stare down at the boxes that now sit on the coffee table. Jay looked at every single piss stick in those boxes more than five times each as if the answer on it would change. You found it funny, hilarious even. Jay was acting as if he were the one growing a human life.

Jake sat forward, narrowing his eyes in confusion, “Brother what is there to wrap your head around? She’s pregnant.”

Jay slid his hands down his face, the stress showing on his face as he glared at your boyfriend, your happy mood faltered. You could read him like a book, “Jay, what’s really going on?”

Your brother let out a sigh before dropping his hands at his side, “I’m going to be an uncle?” he chuckled, his hands finding their way back to his face and then in his hair, “Like wow, my baby sister is pregnant with my best friend. I’m going to be an uncle…” Jay repeated those words a few more times before the worried look turned into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen him make, “I’m going to be a fucking uncle!!”

You smiled as wide as he did, standing from the couch and rushing to your brother and hugging him. Jay squeezed you so tight, rocking you back and forth as his laughter filled your ears, “Seongie, you’re literally going to be the best uncle ever.”

“Fuck yeah I am,” he said, laughing even more, then turning to look at Jake, “You going to just sit on the couch? Get your ass up and join this family hug.”

Family. Jay was officially his family. The term brother would mean more now than just being super close. Jay will be the uncle to his child. The big family Jake always wanted was finally within his reach and who would have guessed it would be with the people who were his second family growing up.

Jake bounced from the couch, embracing you and Jay in his arms, joining the laughter that filled the apartment and still laughing even after you three pulled away.

“God, I can’t believe you let him get you pregnant stinks,” Jay teased, flicking your forehead with his fingers.

“It was an accident!” Jake defended himself, “Not my fault your sister is like a sex goddess.”

“Dude,” Jay rolled his eyes, “That’s my sister I don’t want to hear that,” Jake just smiled at him, already loving the way he was going to tease the hell out of Jay through this pregnancy, “Anyways, when did this happen?”

Jake was the confused one now. Jay literally was just on his ass about speaking about his sex life with his little sister, but now he’s asking when it happened?

“Are you really asking me when I boned your sister that impregnated her?”

Jay shrugged his shoulders, “Well when you say it like that…”

You just looked at Jake, trying to not laugh at the obvious embarrassment on his face. Usually, the roles are reversed, but guess Jay pulled a fast one on him this time.

“It was my graduation night,” you said for Jake, “Would you like to know the details since you want to be so nosey?”

“God no shut up!” your brother scoffed, “I didn’t actually want to know I just wanted to tease Jake. Jesus fucking Christ.”

Jake awkwardly chuckled with a shake of his head, “Now we just have to tell Heeseung, Sunghoon, Shotaro, my brother, and both our parents.”

“Taro already knows.”

Jake raised a brow at you, “He knew before me? Before Jay?”

You just shrugged, “Taro was the one who suggested I might be pregnant. I was feeling sick earlier this morning, it was the only logical explanation.”

That…makes a lot of sense.

And as if speaking of the devils manifested them into existence, Heeseung and Sunghoon arrived back at the apartment, snapping at each other over the flavor of pop tarts and which one was better. Both their hands were filled with groceries.

“Oh!” Heeseung scoffed, “Nice to know you three were home and ignoring your cell phones! Would have been nice to get some help.”

Sunghoon nodded with a click of his tongue, “Yeah, would it have helped to not have been so lazy?”

You crossed your arms, eyes darting between the two of them. You glanced down at the coffee table with the pregnant test boxes, and stepped off to the side giving them both a better view, “We were kinda busy with something important.”

Sunghoon noticed what the boxes were immediately, his eyes widening and mouth slightly open.

Heeseung tossed the bags of groceries into the solo recliner chair and picked up one of the boxes, “What could have been so important you’d ignore your best friends…for…”

Heeseung looked over the box for a couple seconds before tearing it open and taking the test out (obviously holding the end you didn’t piss on), eyes widening at the positive marks.

“You’re pregnant?!” Heeseung shouted, his voice filled with so much excitement as he looked up at you, eyes sparkling with the happiness he was feeling for you and Jake.

You smiled, giving him a nod, “Yeah, I’m pregnant!”

“Holy fucking shit!” Heeseung shouted, tossing the stick and box back onto the coffee table and pulling you into a hug, “Congratulations stinks!”

Sunghoon was right beside you, dropping the groceries to the floor and pulling you into him, “You’re growing up so fast!”

“Oh, fuck off!” you pinched his bicep, and all Sunghoon could do was laugh.

“I am so happy for you, YN,” he said, eyes darting over to Jay, “You’re going to be an uncle my dude!!”

“I know!” Jay shouted with the same excitement as his friends, “I mean, you two will be uncles too, since you’re practically family.”

Heeseung’s jaw dropped to the floor, “I’d be Uncle Hee!!”

Jake watched as the most important people in his life laughed, shouted, cried out of pure happiness, and hugged each other. His heart was so full and so warm. He had the best non-biological brothers surrounding him. Had the best girlfriend who was now carrying his child. Had a good ass job that helped pay the bills and help support you and the baby. What more could he ask for?

Jake continued to watch his family, picturing a miniature you/him running around the apartment. Picturing Jay, Heeseung, and Sunghoon being the best uncles in the world as they play, laugh, love, and care for his future child.

That thought alone also sunk Jake’s heart, “Guys,” he said, everyone turning and looking at him. Jake had the realization that the apartment was made to fit four people. There are five people standing in this living room and You had a baby on the way, “This place is about to get a lot more crowded.”

—

You lay on the couch, two fingers pressed into your cunt. Your other hand slid underneath your shirt, squeezing your breast and twisting your nipple between your thumb and index fingers.

Nobody else was home, all four boys were at work and Shotaro couldn’t hang out with you.

What better way to pass the time than to touch yourself? You weren’t fortunate enough to have gotten a job after graduating and now that you were pregnant, Jay and especially Jake, were against you getting a job right now.

“You’re pregnant, you don’t need to work right now,” Jay said, taking your laptop from your hands to keep from applying to any more jobs.

“I’m pregnant, not disabled!” You snapped, “Let me do something besides sit at the apartment all day.”

“Yeah, and if you get a job you’ll be on pregnancy leave shortly after getting it. Might as well just wait.” Jay retorted back.

“Baby,” Jake said, kneeling down beside you, his hand resting on your belly, “You’re already doing enough by growing life inside of you. Please just wait until after you have the baby.”

You looked to Heeseung and Sunghoon for support, they just shook their heads, hands raised up, “Not my circus, not my monkeys,” was all Heeseung could say, with a small snicker of laughter from Sunghoon.

Traitors.

You glanced down at your belly, baby bump now fully on display as the little speck of life grew more and more every day.

You were at the end of the first trimester and the beginning of your second trimester, your baby bump was obvious that you were pregnant, but with your clothes, no one would ever know unless you told them. The morning sickness came and went as it pleased, your weird food cravings kicked in a bit, and all four boys started being more careful around you. Helping you sit down and stand up as if you all of a sudden couldn’t do that on your own, always grabbing things for you instead of you getting it yourself. You weren’t that far along in the pregnancy, you didn’t need that kind of help right now but took the help anyway. You knew you couldn’t get out of it.

You flung your head back onto the pillow, pumping your fingers faster and squeezing your breast tighter.

You breathed in harder, arching your back at the pleasure. You glanced at the clock on the wall, Jake should be coming home for lunch at any minute, bringing the takeout you requested as your food craving of the day.

But you got horny while waiting for him, and now here you are, waiting for him to come home to help finish you off and then eat your lunch.

The sound of the keys sliding into the lock made you jolt, your cunt clenching tightly against your fingers, not being able to wait any longer, you needed Jake.

“Hey baby,” Jake called from the front door, kicking his shoes off before stepping in, “I have your lunch.”

You tried to call out to him but lost your breath in a small gasp.

Jake heard the gasp, and thinking something was wrong, he quickly rushed around the corner from the hallway, stopping at the sight of you, him nearly slipping on the hard floor at seeing your legs spread with your fingers pumping in and out, Your fucked out facial expressions and other hand massaging your tits.

He was hard almost immediately, “Oh baby, fuck,” he hissed, his hand palming at himself through his jeans, “Look at you.”

“Jaeyun,” you whined, barely being able to speak, “I need you,”

Jake left the bag of food on the solo recliner chair, sliding his jacket from his body and tossing it to the floor, “Yeah baby? What do you need me to do?”

“Touch me,” you whimpered, “Please do something.”

Jake slid onto the couch in front of you, tossing your legs over his shoulders and replacing your fingers with his, using his other hand to grip the top of the couch as he hovered over you carefully. You shut your eyes and furrowed your brows, mouth opening wide and letting out a wet moan as the feeling of his fingers slid into you, “Feels good baby? Couldn’t wait until I got home to touch yourself?”

You nodded, “I needed to do something, was too horny.”

Jake bit his lip and pumped his fingers faster into you. The last thing he was expecting to see when he came home was you sprawled out on the couch so wet and ready for him. Jake has only seen you this needy a handful of times, it was a once in a once-in-a-blue-moon kinda thing but oh god was he loving it.

Seeing you so needy only made himself needy too and removed his fingers from your cunt, “Jae—“

“Shhh baby,” he whispered, “Sit up a bit for me, ya?”

You nodded, pulling yourself up into your elbows and scooting up a bit onto the couch arm. Jake laid himself between your legs, lifting your hips up a bit to give him a better angle at your pussy.

Your hands gripped the cushions of the couch at feeling his tongue flatting against your hole, “Fuck, Jake!”

His chuckles sent vibrations up your whole body and made you shiver. His tongue licked streaks up and down your cunt, twirling the muscle around your clit and back down and up again. Repeating the process a few times before sliding his tongue into your pussy, shoving the muscle so far into your hole his nose was now rubbing against your clit.

You chanted his name, knuckles turning white from the death grip you had on the couch, squeezing your thighs against Jake’s head. He moaned into your cunt, bucking his hips into the couch to feel some kind of friction on his cock, his hands gripped your hips tighter, thumbs rubbing circles at the edge of your belly.

The more you squeezed his head between your legs, the more he knew you were fixing to burst, working his tongue faster and angling his face to the side a bit in a tilt, opening his mouth wider to shove his tongue further into your pussy and wrapping his lips around your hole, digging his nose a bit harder against your clit.

“Jaeyun!” you pant, “Jake, I’m going to cum.”

Jake hummed against your heat, only removing himself to let out a “Cum on my tongue for me baby,” then reattaching himself to your cunt, eating you out like you were the last meal he’d ever get.

And it made you come undone, your cum coating his tongue. Jake took a deep breath through his nose, licking your pussy completely clean, taking all your cum into his mouth and swallowing it, “Fuck you taste so good.”

Your chest raised and fell at hitting your high, flinging your arm over your forehead, taking more deep breaths.

You look down at your boyfriend, seeing the look in his eyes as he licks his lips, still soaking up your leftover juices on his mouth, “Turn to your side,” You roll over, watching him unbuckle his belt and pants, sliding them down and off his body. Jake squeezes himself between you and the couch, “Lift your leg over mine.”

You wrapped your leg over his hip and tucked it between him and the couch. His tip lined up with your entrance, and slowly slid into you, “Fuckkkk,” he moaned in your ear as he bottomed out, “You feel so good.”

Jake thrust into you slowly, wanting to savor every ounce of pleasure he could get before having to return back to work, but that plan failed as you backed your ass into his hips and reached a hand behind you to grasp his hair, “Fuck me harder,” you begged, “Babe please.”

His body shuddered, hand gripping your hip and bucked his hips faster, the sound of skin-to-skin filling the quiet of the apartment.

Jake glances down, watching as his hips thrust into you, watching the way your body moves in sync with his. His eyes wandered higher, seeing the baby bump. He carefully places his hand on your belly and snapped his cock further inside you, holding it there to rub against your cervix, “You’re so sexy pregnant,” he growled in your ear then started fucking into you again, “Should have bred this pussy so much sooner.”

You pulled at his hair, “Yeah, you should have.”

Jake was losing his mind. Something about fucking his sexy as fuck pregnant girlfriend on the couch in such a tight space made him dizzy. He couldn’t be as rough and manhandle you as he normally would, but fuck this was still so hot and pleasuring as if he was being rough with you.

Your grip on his hair yanked harder, sending Jake over the edge and filling your cunt completely with his cum, his hand now at your thigh as he squeezed it tightly as he continued to pump his cock in and out, letting your pussy milk him completely.

Out of breath, Jake lays his head on top of yours, hand sliding from your thigh and down back to your belly, thumb drawing little circles.

You placed your hand on top of his and leaned more into him, “You really think I’m sexy pregnant?”

Jake chuckled, “Of course I do, I’ll always find you sexy.” And it was true. He’ll never not find you sexy.

He continued to run his hand over your belly, yours following on top of his, tracing the outline of your naval then sliding down on the underbelly then your hips, and back up.

“I still can’t believe you’re growing a life,” Jake whispered, “Growing our baby.”

You lifted your head up to look at him, smiling at him and pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “And it’s all thanks to your sperm that got past all the female's defenses to find the egg.”

Jake softly giggles at your medical terminology and presses his lips back to yours.

He was really still in disbelief. You went from that little girl he grew up with and would tease to his girlfriend and being madly in love and pregnant with his child. Jake was truly so blessed to have found his soulmate so early on in life.

“I love you,” he said between kisses, his hand softly squeezing your belly, “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“I love you too,” you smiled so warmly at him, sliding a finger down his jaw.

Jake pressed one last kiss to your lips, “Let’s eat, I’m still starving after my first meal.”

You giggled, being so thankful for him.

—

“What about this one?” Heeseung asked, holding up the ugliest orange shirt you’ve ever seen. You scrunch your nose, “Hard pass, got it,” he said, placing the shirt back onto the rack.

You were thankful Heeseung came along with you to do some much-needed shopping. Your baby bump was no longer easy to hide and all the clothes you’d normally wear no longer fit. Well, they did but felt way too tight.

You practically tore your and Jake’s bedroom apart trying to find any piece of clothing that would fit comfortably that wasn’t one of Jake’s hoodies or sweatpants. Heeseung just so happened to be walking out of his bedroom and crossing the hall and almost got hit in the face by a pair of flying jeans. Which is how you now ended up at the mall with him doing much-needed clothing shopping.

“You need some more color in your closet though,” Heeseung said, shifting through all the shirts on the rack, “You can’t just keep having white, black, and red, YN.”

You pouted, “I have other colors!”

Heeseung glared at you, “The few blues, purples, and greens don’t count. You have more black shirts than anything else, you little emo. Even Jake has more colors than you.”

You wanted to fight back but knew you couldn’t. Heeseung was right.

“And check this one out,” He pulled a really pretty lavender shirt from the rack, holding it up against your chest, “I think it looks good!”

You nodded, actually really loving the color, “Put it in the cart,”

Heeseung’s eyes sparkled as he placed it into the cart with the other mixtures of jeans, leggings, dresses, bras, panties, and socks, all for you.

You watched as he moved onto another clothing rack, watching as he pushed the cart for you. You couldn’t hide the smile that was forming on your lips as you looked at him with endearment. If he was willing to do all this for you, his best friend's girlfriend, and his other best friend's little sister, while pregnant, you could only imagine how well he’d treat his future girlfriend and wife. Heeseung would make a fine husband someday.

“Seungie, you sure you don’t mind doing all this?” you felt somewhat guilty. Jake should be here too, picking out clothes for you. But unfortunately, going and watching Formula One races with your brother at the sports bar was in his deck of cards today. You even called Jake earlier and told him the plans you made with Heeseung and he didn’t even bat an eye at it.

“Why would I mind?” he questioned, taking a pink long sleeve off the rack and holding it up to you, “Yeah pink is definitely your color while pregnant,” then tossed the fabric into the cart.

“Because you literally helped me shop for bras and underwear?”

Heeseung shrugged his shoulders as he continued to flip through the clothing rack, “They are just clothes, YN. I’ve done your laundry plenty of times, and have walked in on you and Jake undressing each other enough times. We’ve grown up together, shopping for undergarments with you doesn’t bother me at all.”

Your heart filled with the love you have for him, wanting to pull him into a tight hug and kiss his cheek. Heeseung was definitely that second older brother you never had.

But you decided to use this time to tease him. You don’t get to tease Heeseung often, he was always one step ahead but this might be your chance.

“Jake might think differently after finding out you helped shop for lace bras and panties for me when it should be his eyes only.”

Heeseung chuckled, holding up a black long-sleeve and then tossing it to the cart, “Then maybe he needs to find better hiding places to smell your panties with.”

Your smile fell, “He does what?”

Heeseung let out a loud laugh, “YN, I’m joking, you can’t try to tease me and expect me to not clap back.”

Always one step ahead as usual.

“Besides, I’ve only ever caught him with your panties once and that was before you moved in with us and he was definitely NOT smelling them, that’s for sure.”

You knew about how Heeseung caught Jake rubbing one out with a pair of your dark blue panties that were Jake’s absolutely favorite pair. You saw Jake steal them from your drawer before he took that drive back home and confronted him before he could even step foot out the door of your dorm. Jake wasn’t a panty sniffer, but he sure used to be a stealer. You remember how Jake called you not even five minutes after Heeseung walked in on him. You thought it was the funniest thing.

“Jake honestly probably wouldn’t care anyways,” you shrugged, following behind Heeseung as he moved into another section of clothes, “He’d just be happy someone was here with me.”

Heeseung agreed, “He’s been so protective over you since finding out you were pregnant. He made me and Sunghoon swear to look after you if he and Jay weren’t around to do so. Never seen the man that protective, and you know how he is over his ramen.”

Getting Jake to share his ramen is a hard thing to do, even with you. He had a bowl the other night and you had to beg for him to share and even pulled the pregnancy card to get him to share it, which he didn’t do by the way, “Just because you’re pregnant doesn't mean I’ll share my ramen. Fuck off.” Asshole.

Heeseung continued, “You really make him happy, YN.” You nodded. You knew you did. Jake never goes without telling you, “You know, I was a bit jealous at first.”

You raised a brow in confusion at him, “What are you talking about, ace?”

Heeseung sighed, picking up another shirt, then placing it back on the rack, refusing to make eye contact with you, “When we first saw you again after all that time during winter vacation, you had all our hearts dropping, just so you know. It wasn’t just Jake’s.”

You knew the feeling was mutual, seeing Jake, Heeseung, and Sunghoon all grown up made your heart flutter. They were good-looking men, they still are, there’s no denying that.

“We knew from the beginning that Jake’s heart kinda dropped a bit harder than ours did,” he continued, “Don’t worry about Jake finding out about this conversation, he already knows,” you nodded, waiting for him to continue, “I woke up one night and saw Jake sneaking out of the guest room, I think it was the very first time he did so. I sat up after the door was closed only to see Sunghoon was staring at the door as well. We knew exactly where he went. We stayed up discussing it. About what we should do about it. We knew Jay would kill him and then kill us if he ever found out we knew.”

Ouch, guess you and Jake suck at hiding, “Does my brother and Jake know you two knew?”

Heeseung nodded, “They do now. The four of us had a good long talk on that drive back to the apartment, but at first no.”

Makes sense.

“Anyway, Hoon and I just decided to keep it to ourselves. Mostly because, well, our own feelings were conflicted. You weren’t completely the same little girl we grew up with. We were mostly just attracted to you, that’s how far our feelings went really. I was jealous Jake had the balls to go after you even after Jay was being his crazy protective brother self,” Heeseung laughed, “Jake was really crazy for crossing that line. Had major balls. But after he snuck back into the guest room that night and saw how wide his smile was at breakfast that following morning, you became off limits not just because of Jay, but also Jake. Hoon and I decided to drop the attraction, don’t get me wrong, you’re still as pretty as ever, but you went back to being our little sister super quick.”

You just smiled at him, you found it cute that the three stooges all had some little crush on you at some point. Funny even. Jake just happened to be your soulmate from the beginning, they all knew that too.

“Anyway,” Heeseung said again, finding a blue top with a flower graphic design, “I think we have enough clothes picked out for you,” he said as he tossed the article of clothing for you into the cart, “How about you help me find some new outfits for you now?” him giving you his heart lipped smile.

You nodded, it was the least you could do, plus you both were already here.

Heeseung continued to push the cart as you found clothes for him. It was his turn to watch you with such endearment. Heeseung doesn’t know why he decided to tell you about the small and very short-lived crush he used to have on you. Maybe it was because you looked so pretty today. With how your hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and wearing Jake’s hoodie and sweatpants. It was way too cute. You’ve worn Jake’s clothes even before he got you pregnant, but it was still cute. Made him think that this is how his future wife will look once pregnant. But looking at you made Heeseung happy because you were happy. Jake made you happy and you made Jake happy. Which obviously made everyone else happy.

Heeseung watched as you picked him out a bright pink shirt, leaning on his elbows on the cart, his eyes wandering down to your belly, his smile growing wider, “I can’t wait to become an uncle.”

—

Jake and Jay clinked their beer glasses together as they cheered for their racing team, chugging down the liquid. Then asking the bartender for another refill. They clinked their glasses again, chugged it down, and got another refill.

Jake and Jay’s phone buzzed, Heeseung texting the “and they were roommates” group chat.

Jay took a few sips of his beer, ignoring the chat so Jake looked instead.

“Hee and YN are back home,” Jake said, and Jay nodded, “Hee also said to let either him or Sunghoon know if we need someone to come get us.”

It was usually this way if any of the boys went out without the others. Everyone is always on standby if anyone gets too drunk. And if all of them went out together, one person wouldn’t drink or drink as much to be the driver home. It was a perfect system.

Jay took a few more sips of his beer then set the glass on the table, “How did YN's doctor appointment go yesterday?”

Jake brought the glass to his lips, “Everything is good. She’s healthy, the baby is healthy. That’s all I could ask for,” he took a few sips of the beer and trained his eyes back to the TV with the race on it.

“Do you know the gender yet?” Jay asked curiously. Jay has been thinking about that a lot lately. If he’ll have a niece or nephew? Will they have more of the Park genetics or the Sim genetics or an equal mixture of both? Will he be a good uncle? God, he hopes so.

Jake just shakes his head, “YN wants to wait until she has the baby, wants it to be a big surprise. Should have seen her face when the doctor tried to tell her the gender. She held her hands up so fast and straight up told the doctor to keep her mouth shut.”

Jake chuckles at the memory, he thought you were going to fight the doctor over it. Thank god you didn’t.

Jay relaxes in his seat, studying his best friend, “Are you nervous?”

Jake narrows his eyes and releases a huff, taking another sip of the beer, “Oh what? Nothing to be nervous over.”

Jay could see right through Jake. He knows his best friend like the back of his hand, he can see it all over Jake’s face that the further along you got in your pregnancy, the more nervous he got. Jay really noticed Jake’s shakiness after returning from the appointment yesterday.

“To be a dad. Nervous about wanting to take care of my sister, and wanting the pregnancy to go smoothly. Bro, I can see it all over your face. You vowed to stop drinking and partying after she got pregnant, yet you were the first one tonight to order alcohol.”

Jake just shakes his head, “I want to be the perfect dad. I want to take care of YN through the whole pregnancy. I want our baby to be healthy. I’m scared man.”

Jay nods, slowly rocking his body with the nod, “I’m nervous too.”

Jake raised a brow, clearly confused.

Jay continued, “I lived for protecting my sister, that obviously hasn’t changed, but I always tried and wanted to be the perfect older brother for her. I knew once the day came that she started popping out kids that I wanted to be a perfect uncle and protect her kids as I did her. But I also feel like I haven’t been the best or perfect brother. That I didn’t try hard enough and now I’m scared I’ll fail as an uncle.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Jake snapped, causing Jay to widen his eyes at him, “You’re not a failure of a brother. You never failed YN and you won’t ever fail her. You did perfectly to protect her, trust me, as someone who got caught sneaking around with her, you do a pretty damn good job at it. And you won’t fail our child either. I promise you that. You’ll be a perfect uncle.”

Jay tried to keep his eyes clear as he nodded, never wanting to admit that Jake’s words gave him the ego boost he needed.

So he raised his glass, “To our little family.”

Jake smiled, raising his glass as well, “To our little family.”

“Including Heeseung, Sunghoon, and Shotaro, because YN would kill us both if we left them out.”

Jake nodded in agreement, “Amen to that brotha.”

“Thank you…for helping me take care of my sister,” Jay chuckled, “She doesn’t just have to deal with me trying to protect her.”

“Trust me,” Jake rolled his eyes, “She hates it.”

“Well YN gotta deal I guess.” Jay shrugged but also laughed.

Jay had to admit he finally and fully was able to accept Jake in your life. He always accepted him, it just took a little bit longer to be one hundred percent okay with it. To be completely used to seeing you wrapped in Jake’s arms. Because now when you weren’t by Jake, it was weird and didn’t sit right. Jay honestly was so thankful you chose Jake. Because if you chose any other loser male out there, Jay wouldn’t be as accepting. No one is good enough for his sister besides Jake. Point blank. Plus, you were pregnant with Jake’s baby, and Jay kinda had no choice but to fully accept Jake into the family.

They chugged down their drinks and got another refill, paying back attention to the race and knocking their sad attitudes away.

“You know,” Jay said after some time, “We’re both fucked if you have a girl.”

Jake groaned and dropped his face into his hands, “Don’t fucking remind me, I’ve already thought about it.”

Jay chuckled some more, chugging down his alcohol. If you did have a girl, he already knows his protection level will skyrocket. And since Jake will be the baby’s father…oh all hell would break loose. That baby wouldn’t just have to deal with an overprotective father, but an overprotective uncle. Maybe that’s why you didn’t want to know the gender yet, you knew what would happen the minute everyone found out.

And honestly, it wouldn’t just be him and Jake losing their brains over you having a girl. Heeseung and Sunghoon would also protect that child with their lives. The two of them are already helping you around the apartment and watching your every move. It’ll just be worse once the baby is here.

Jay shook Jake’s shoulders, “Come on man, lighten up! Just focus on the fact you’re going to be one kick-ass of a dad!”

That lifted Jake’s spirits, “Yeah? Think so?”

Jay nodded, “Yeah. Because if you aren’t I’ll beat you myself. YN will be right behind me too.”

Jake just rolls his eyes, “Whatever man.”

The two of them laughed and continued to watch the race and enjoy each other's company.

Heeseung had his arm wrapped around Jake, and Sunghoon had his arm wrapped around Jay, helping the two of them walk out of the bar.

You had your arms crossed as you leaned against the car, watching for your boyfriend and brother to come into view. Your heart relaxes once the sight of Heeseung and Sunghoon dragging them out comes into view.

“Damn, how much did they drink?” You asked, your eyes glancing back and forth between the two drunks.

Sunghoon scoffed, “Who knows, but we told them to not get so fucking hammered.”

“But our racer won!” Jake smiles, letting out a hiccup then his eyes focused on you, “Baby!”

Jay looked up at you, realizing Hee and Hoon left you outside, his protectiveness and rage coming in, “You left my pregnant sister outside by HERSELF?!”

Jake then realized it himself too, “You left my pregnant girlfriend outside by HERSELF?!”

“Oh shut the fuck up!” Heeseung snapped, “I tried to usher you both out of the bar by myself but I needed help. YN was told to stay INSIDE the car.”

You just shrugged, “I can hold my own.”

“You’re pregnant!!” Jake and Jay both said in unison.

“Yeah! Pregnant! Not disabled!”

Jake lifted himself from Heeseung and walked to you, taking your chin between his fingers and his other hand resting on your tummy, “You and this baby are the most important things to me, if something were to happen to you two…I…”

You relaxed your body and placed your hands on your boyfriend's face, you knew he was just being protective. Same with your brother. You knew you were the most important thing to them, the least you could do was respect their wishes when it comes to protecting you.

“I am okay,” you reassured him, looking at your brother and repeating the words, “Heeseung and Sunghoon wouldn’t have left me alone if they didn’t think it was okay.”

“Trust me,” Sunghoon said, trying to keep Jay from slipping out of his hold, “We didn’t want to leave her in the car.”

“Can we discuss this at home?” Jay said, hanging his head low, “I think I drank way too much.”

“You don’t fucking say?!” Heeseung scoffed, helping Sunghoon with Jay.

“I’ll drive Jay’s car back,” Sunghoon said, “Help me get him in then we can head back. I think YN has Jake fine.”

You nodded, eyes darting to your brother, “Take care of him.”

You got Jake in the car, him laying his head on your shoulder, cuddling up to you.

Heeseung returns quickly and jumps in the driver's seat of his car, “Let’s get home guys, I’m exhausted.”

You watched Jake’s hand through the street lamps and moonlight as his thumb rubbed your thigh then shifted up and placed his whole hand on your pregnant stomach.

“I can’t wait to meet you,” he says softly, taking a deep breath and snuggling more into you. You rest your head against the top of his, smiling. You could already tell Jake would be a fantastic father.

You kissed his forehead, whispering, “I love you.”

—

You moaned softly into Jake’s mouth as he slowly pumped into you.

The early morning sun beats down onto the bed, making his skin shine beautifully.

Jake slides his tongue down your mouth, his hand moving up and down your bare back, stopping to squeeze your ass, moving down to your leg wrapped over his hip, and squeezing your thigh before moving back up and repeating the process.

You were now about halfway done with your pregnancy. Your little sprout of life grows perfectly and healthy every single day, which made having sex with Jake a bit harder now that the baby has grown so big.

But that didn’t stop you two, obviously.

Jake woke you up this morning with kisses to your neck, and his fingers sliding down your shorts, “I need you so bad right now.”

The sex wasn’t rough but filled with so much love. It was soft, lazy, passionate, and just so so much love.

His hand stopped at your hip and squeezed it tightly, “I want to get so rough with you, fuck,” he whispers, “I need to cum.”

You remove yourself from him, sliding his cock out and rolling over to your other side, backing your ass into his hips, “Then get rough with me babe.”

Jake hissed, quickly shoving his cock back into your cunt, snapping his hips fast against your ass.

“Fuck baby, can never get enough of this pussy.”

You could tell Jake was losing himself in your heat. He hasn’t been able to be rough like he normally wanted to, being too afraid that he would hurt you.

Jake leaned more into your back, pressing you into the sheets as he fucked into you at a primal rate. His fingers slipping between your legs and rubbing your clit at the same pace.

You bit into the fabric of your pillow to suppress your moans, not wanting to wake anyone else up in the apartment. Your hands gripped the sheets, knuckles turning white.

You missed how rough Jake could get. Missed him pressing your face into the pillows. Even though this wasn’t the full extent of roughness that he could do, you still ate up every ounce of what he was giving you right now.

“That’s it, baby,” he cooed, “You’re doing so good for me, taking my cock so well even though you’re pregnant.”

You felt your climax reach its peak, Jake groaning at feeling you cum on his cock. He was literally on cloud 9. And the fact you’re letting him get even the smallest amount of rough with you was driving him crazy.

Jake would be lying if he said he didn’t google sex positions to use while being pregnant and read plenty of articles on it too. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you or make you uncomfortable.

Jake also read how some girlfriends/wives completely took sex off the table when they found out they were pregnant. He was so fucking blessed that you had just as high a sex drive as he did. Jake would lose his mind if you wouldn’t let him have a taste of that sweet pussy of yours for nine months. His hand would only get him so far before his crumpling at your feet begging you to let him fuck you. So again yeah, he thanked god you were just as addicted to his cock as he was to your pussy.

Not to mention the position he has you in right now was so sexy to him. He was still able to press your face into the pillows and rail you from behind, getting to see how his cock moves inside you, watching how your cum wraps a white ring around his cock. Get to see every facial expression you make while hitting your G-spot. What’s not to love about it? Plus you’re comfortable and it wasn’t affecting your belly at all.

“Hmm I’m fixing to cum baby,” he growls, “Going to fill this cunt to the brim.”

“Pleaseeee,” you beg, wanting nothing more than to feel his cum stain your insides.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, licking the shell of your ear and then biting the lobe as he came. His strings of white rope filled you completely, “Fuck…fuck,” he moaned, trying to catch his breath.

Jake kissed your temple before pulling out and removing himself from the bed. You rolled over and watched his naked figure dig in his dresser for a clean pair of boxers and socks, slipping them onto his body then grabbing his favorite pair of jeans that he wears to work, along with his white striped button-up.

You sat up in bed, pulling the covers over your naked body, now cold from the loss of your boyfriend pressed against you.

“You should call out,” you softly said.

Jake chuckles as he sits on the edge of the bed, pulling his sneakers onto his feet, “I would if I could my love, I need every time saved up to use once you give birth.”

You groaned and pouted but knew it wouldn’t get you your way. Knowing he couldn’t actually call out. Mostly when he wanted to take off a couple of days around your due date just in case he needed to rush you to the hospital. And then there’s the first few weeks he wants to spend with you after the baby arrives. He couldn’t take off at all and the only reason his leave got approved by his boss was because he promised to show up every single day before you gave birth no matter what. Yet you still pouted anyway.

“What will I do while you’re gone?”

“Why don’t you see if one of the other guys can hang out with you?” Jake wanted to call out. Wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with you all day. But he has a future child and a girlfriend to feed and spoil, he kind of needed to work.

“I already asked them,” You cross your arms, “Heeseung also has to work, Sunghoon is spending the day with his sister, and Jay is too busy finishing up his culinary degree online to step away.”

“Have you called Shotaro? I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

Your eyes lit up, remembering that Taro had the day off today, “Yeah I’ll give him a call.”

Jake smiled at you, “Just make sure to be careful okay?” he asked, placing his hand over your growing belly, “Don’t do anything you know you can’t do, let Shotaro help.”

You rolled your eyes, being as stubborn as ever.

“I’ll call and tell himself—“

“Okay!” you said, “I’ll behave.”

“Good,” Jake pulls you in for a couple of kisses, then kisses your forehead, “I’ll see you when I get off. I love you.”

“I love you too meanie head!”

Then you watched him walk out of the bedroom.

—

“What do you mean you don’t want a baby shower?” Taro asked, brows furrowed as his fingers rapidly pressed the buttons on his PS5 controller, the sounds of the boss he was fighting and killed on Elden Ring filled his sound system, “Yes!!!”

You slouched down onto his couch, watching as his character now ran out of the castle, “Didn’t you beat this game already?”

“Hmm,” he hummed, still focused on the game, “But I am doing a different build this time.”

You just sighed, continuing to watch your best friend play his video game, the ice in his coffee on the table to his right slowly melting away.

“Are you going to answer my question?”

You groaned, “Ughhh Jay was on my ass about this too the other day,” you pouted, and decided it was time to sit up. Taro quickly set the controller down to his set and helped you sit up, “I don’t want a baby shower because I don’t really have any girlfriends, and even so I don’t know the gender of the baby, so I don’t want to get a bunch of pointless gifts. Jake and I decided we would just probably have a small get-together after our child is born and we all go shopping for stuff then.”

Shotaro nodded, making sure you were sitting up comfortably before grabbing his controller again, and going back to the game, “I guess that is a bit easier and less planning out. Totally sounds like a you thing to do though. Why would Jay get onto you for it?

You shrugged, “I think he’s more nervous than I am and wants an excuse to drink.”

Shotaro laughed, “Yeah, I’ve noticed the lack of Lee, Parks, and Sim at parties.”

Which Taro understood completely. Everyone was an adult and you were pregnant, none of the four men wanted to leave you alone at the apartment while they went out. Even if they wanted to, Taro always offered to sit with you, but I think the reality check hit each of them hard after finding out you were pregnant, kinda sending them to a more sober life.

“Those four really took attached at the hip seriously huh?”

You scoffed, “Yeah, it’s probably worse now than what it was when we were kids, and they were super annoying as kids.”

Shotaro sometimes wished he knew you five back then. From the stories he’s heard from Jake, Jay, Heeseung, Sunghoon, and yourself, the five of you were a blast to be around. You five, at least to Shotaro, were the sole definition of what friendship/family is and what it meant. He’s happy that he’s a part of the family now, but man he would have loved to see you all in your prime.

Shotaro closed out Elden Ring, “Want to play anything? I feel bad just having you sit here.”

You shook your head, “Taro I feel perfectly fine just sitting here and watching you play games. Your company is everything and much needed.”

Taro just smiles, opening up Elden Ring again and leaning back on the couch. He knew you just wanted some company, but he still didn’t want to let you feel left out either.

From what Jake said, you used to be super independent, not needing anything from anyone or needed anyone who wasn't Jay. That you grew up so headstrong and unbreakable, probably due to having Jay as your brother and the three stooges as your friends. Even when you went off to college you were independent, only ever spending time with your roommate and a few other friends but mostly did your own thing.

But something changed after that winter break and moving into town. You got used to relying on others, always having one of the four boys at your side so when they are all busy, you feel lost. That’s where Shotaro came in. He knows you two are best friends and that you love him and know when you need him, and you need him right now. Things got a lot crazier after finding out you were pregnant, but Taro still was filled with endearment each time you asked to hang out.

You slid back onto the couch too, leaning your head against his shoulder. Shotaro leaned more into you as well, letting the two of you be comfortable with each other's space.

“Actually, can I learn to play? Jake plays this at home all the time too.”

Shotaro nodded, “Of course, princess.”

He hands you the controller, “Are you sure? I don’t want to mess up your progress.”

“It’s just a game, YN,” he chuckles, “Plus I know what I’m doing, I can fix any mistake you make.”

You smiled, letting him teach you what each button does and how it works, and then taught you the basics of the game. Before you knew it you were running around and slaying the lower level enemies.

“Figured out names yet?” Taro asked, taking a few sips of his coffee.

You shrugged, “We honestly haven’t really discussed it. Jake and I have been really going about this blind, besides you know, reading the parenting books and doing your basic research. Plus I’ve been attending my doctor appointments and everything seems to be going well, so we are doing something right.”

“As long as you both and the baby are happy and healthy, that’s all that matters. Maybe it’s one of those things that once you see your child for the first time, the name will come to you almost immediately.”

You nodded, “That’s what we are going for.”

You were then killed in the game and Taro teased you to no end that you got his character killed even after he said it would all be okay.

But you were happy, laughing, and enjoying your time with your best friend. You could see it now, Shotaro being another non-biological uncle to your child. Teach him or her to play video games and tease them to the point they are crying from laughter.

You were truly blessed to have been surrounded by the right people.

—

Jake rolled his eyes as he shoved his gloved hands into his puffy jacket pockets, “Is there any reason why I need to be here right now?” he scoffs, a shiver going down his back, “I could be at home cuddling my girlfriend.”

And rightfully getting my dick wet.

You woke up super touchy this morning, pressing your chest and belly against his back, leaving a trail of kisses down his neck and shoulder, sliding your hand down his boxers, and pumping his long hard length slowly.

Jake could be buried balls deep inside you right now. Whether that means your hand, mouth, or cunt. He didn’t care, he just wanted to fuck you slowly.

Sunghoon skated passed him quickly, taking Jake’s mind out of the multiple positions he could already have put you in by now.

“Man, we just want one last bro day before YN has the baby,” Heeseung tucked his hands into his pockets, “She’s ready to pop open any day, ya?”

Jake just nodded, staring down at the ice underneath him, “Within the next few weeks yeah.”

Jay patted his shoulder, “Don’t look so nervous, everything will be fine.”

Jake knew everything would be fine. But you’ve been staying in bed or lounging around on the couch more often than doing anything else these days. With you finally being in the last leg of your pregnancy, Jake just wanted to take care of you. And obviously, get his dick shoved so far up your cunt that it makes you see stars.

Jake just rolled his eyes, “That’s not the point, I want to be at home with her right now.”

“You just want to get your dick wet,” Sunghoon said as he slid across the ice in front of his friends, “I heard the fooling around that was happening this morning.”

Jake glared at his best friend, “Really man?”

Jay was also glaring, but not at Sunghoon, “Yeah really man?” Jay might have fully accepted Jake as family and his relationship with his little sister, but he still didn’t want to hear about the sexual acts the two of you do.

Jake was now glaring at Jay, “I got her knocked up, I don’t see why you’re giving me the death stare right now. It’s kind of obvious at this point that I have sex with your sister.”

Heeseung and Sunghoon could honestly eat popcorn and watch Jay get mad about Jake railing against you every single time. But Jay was just being a big brother protecting his baby sister, even though you were literally so close to giving birth.

Jay just waves his hands in the air, “Nah nah I don’t want to hear it.”

“Anyways!” Sunghoon interrupted, skating back in front of his friends, “We are going to have a bro day and ice skate on my old stomping grounds from hockey days. YN is with my sister having a girls' day, she’s fine.”

Jake knew once the baby was here that having a guy's day would be less often, mostly up until you’re able to take care of the baby alone after much-needed rest and care. So he shrugged his shoulders, knowing you were with Yeji and perfectly safe, and smiled up at his friends.

It’s been a while since the last time the four of them ice skated together. It was probably before college. Because once Sunghoon was accepted onto the hockey team, it became hard to skate together again.

The four boys raced around the rink, trying everything they could to outrun Sunghoon but failing terribly.

Jake’s heart was so full. He felt like a kid again being with his best friends. With the way everyone laughed, teased, and talked without a care in the world brought all of them back to their high school days. When they’d sneak out of the Park’s house and climb onto the roof and look at the stars until you got annoyed at hearing them talk above your bedroom.

The memories didn’t stop there. Jake started to remember his soccer days in high school. Remember seeing Jay, Heeseung, Sunghoon, and you cheering him on from the bleachers. Remembering how his parents threw a big party for when his team won the championships for the school district, everyone’s parents drank and laughed in the kitchen while the five of you along with Heeseung and Jake’s older brothers, and Yeji. How you all played around outside until the sun went down.

Jake rounded the corner of the ice rink, his smile up to his ears as the images of his friends once as children came into mind, then turning them back into who they are all now.

It’s crazy how fast time can change, but how the four of them never did. They continued to grow together, learn together, and still had each other's backs.

Jake was truly lucky to have these guys, mostly now that he has you. Jake will never have so much trust in anyone else with his child as he will with the three men standing before him.

Jake pulled his friends into a hug, “I really needed this today guys, thank you,” His friends pulled each other closer, their smiles never fading, “I truly do love you guys.”

—

You lay in bed, scrolling through the latest TikTok trends and giggling softly to yourself, using your thumb to swipe to the next video, your other hand gently resting on your belly, fingers tapping lightly as if to tell your baby that you’re here and ready for them.

You were nearing the due date, counting down the actual seconds until it was time to finally meet the little sprout of life that you and Jake created. To finally grow this small family into something bigger. You were excited, Jake was excited. Same with Jay, Heeseung, and Sunghoon.

Sunghoon even went out and bought a small hockey jersey of his favorite team for the baby to wear. Heeseung bought baby Legos, and Jay bought a small baby guitar to teach his nephew/niece the love of music so early on.

Sometimes you think the other three are more excited about you giving birth than you and Jake were.

But nevertheless, it made you more than happy to see the three of them excited for the baby.

The only con to being pregnant and being at the due date is everyone has been more on edge. All four of the boys have started picking up more hours and longer shifts at work to pile in that extra money. Mostly because you can’t work and Jake will be taking a leave to help take care of you and the baby. So the other three decided to pick up those hours to help pick up the slack from Jake not working to help pay the bills. You were grateful and hated that you could pitch in, but you loved them all dearly for it. Jake also was working himself to death recently, wanting to get every last penny possible to put into savings for the hospital bills you’ll have and to get clothes and food that everyone else will need.

You set your phone down at your side, staring up at the ceiling. Grateful and love aren’t big enough words to describe how happy you are to have those four men.

As if on cue, the front door to the quiet apartment opened, an obvious sign that someone returned home.

Today was one of the rare days you were left alone. Mostly because Shotaro also had to work and wasn’t able to call out or get a replacement. But you promised to stay in bed all day to help ease the boys' minds.

You sat up in the bed, listening carefully on who could have come back home, then heard the sigh of your boyfriend and the sound of him dropping himself onto the couch.

Your heart raced as you swung your legs over the bed and stood up, making your way to the bedroom and opening it slowly, peaking out to see Jake hunched over on the couch, face in his hands.

You walked out of the room, the sound of your bare feet walking on the floor had Jake lifting his head, giving you a small smile, “Hey baby, you resting okay?”

You nodded, taking note of the bags under his eyes. How tired he looked, how he seemed to barely keep his smile up.

“Jake, are you okay?” you asked him, taking his hand into yours, and rubbing your thumb into his palm.

Jake just nodded, leaning back onto the couch, “I’m just exhausted. They sent me home early because I almost fell asleep on a computer tower I was working on.”

You bit your lip as you squeezed his hand. Jake has been working so hard for you. Barely getting enough sleep. If he wasn’t at work, he was at home helping to take care of you. You couldn’t help but feel guilty.

Jake could see the worry in your eyes, quickly trying to blink away the sleep and sat back up, taking both of his hands to your belly and resting his forehead against the middle, “Don't look at me like that,” he whispered, “It’s all for you, for us. It’s going to be worth it once this little one is here.”

You tangled your fingers into his hair, taking a deep breath in. Jake is almost as stubborn as Jay when it comes to putting his mind to something. You knew no matter how much you told him to rest or not worry about you, he was going to do everything anyway.

Jake’s hand moved to your hips and softly squeezed, leaving a few kisses on your clothed belly, “Even when you’re fixing to burst open you’re still so sexy, YN.”

A heat wave went through your body, and you started acting on instinct.

You placed your hands on his shoulders, slowly pressing him back onto the couch. Jake looks up at you, seeing the lust that filled your eyes now. Seeing the want to take care of him.

He had to admit, it got his cock hard so fast.

Jake watched as you sank down to your knees, crossing your legs underneath you for better balance, hands now at the button of his jeans.

“Baby—“

You cut him off, “Let me take care of you,” you said it more as a warning than anything else, making him know damn well he better sit back and relax, “You’ve been taking such good care of me, let me repay it.”

Jake didn’t even attempt to start arguing, not after you slid his jeans and boxers down to his ankles, his cock slapping against his abdomen from being set free. The tip already red and angry and leaking with precum. Jake bit his lips, any exhaustion he had was out the window as he watched you take his length in your hands, extending your tongue and licking him from his balls all the way up his shaft and to the tip. Flattening your tongue over the top and pressing the precum, mixing it with your saliva.

Jake couldn’t hold his moans back, mostly not after you placed the tip between your lips, slowly sucking it as your tongue wrapped around it then releasing it with a pop.

You fluttered your eyes up to him, seeing the way your boyfriends pupils were already so blown out. Loving how furrowed his brows were and how his mouth opened a gap. You smirked at him, keeping eye contact as you stretched your tongue out again and licked up his shaft.

“Fuck, baby,” he hissed, hands gripping the cushions of the couch, “Fuck fuck fuck, stop teasing me.”

You hummed against his cock, placing soft kisses up the shaft and at the tip then finally taking him completely in your mouth.

Jake flung his head back as he felt your mouth slide down him, the tip hitting the back off your throat and squeezing around him, a wet moan leaving his plump lips.

You squeezed your thighs together, the moan Jake let out sent chills down your spine and to your heat. You had to be dripping out of your panties after that moan, because fuck it was hot.

You bobbed your head up and down, taking every inch of him as your hands squeezed his thighs. Tongue working its magic as it wrapped around him, giving that extra pleasure.

Jake set his head back up, looking down at you all pretty between his legs, sucking him off like the good girl you are, taking such good care of him.

Jake was losing his mind, seeing the way you sucked his dick, with how you gripped onto his thighs. Wearing that pretty blue sleep dress to help keep the comfort while pregnant. It was so fucking hot to him.

Here you were, knocked the fuck up and still down on your knees for him. Sucking him like your life depended on it. Jake could cum just from watching you.

His cock twitched and he hissed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to last much longer.

“Baby,” he cooed, running a finger down your jaw and your eyes fluttered up to him, still not slowing down your movements, “I’m fixing—fuck—to cum,” he flung his head back, but then quickly set it back up, “I wanna cum in your pussy.”

You released him from your mouth, using his thighs, with the help of his hands pulling you up.

Jake carefully laid you down on your back against the couch, hands lifting up your blue dress until it was now on the floor, hands flicking back to your hips and removing your panties, leaving you completely bare to him.

You reached for his shirt, hands gliding up his body, fingers tracing over his abs and chest as he helped you remove that last bit of clothing from him.

Jake lined his cock to your entrance, hands resting on your knees, looking to you for the nod of approval then sliding himself in.

You gasp as he bottoms out, then pulls himself halfway out, then slams back into you.

Jake bit his lips as he watched the way your body reacted to him deep inside you, watching as you moaned and whimpered under him. Even though you did all this to take care of him, Jake wasn’t going to let himself finish without you getting some taken care of too.

So his fingers got to work on your clit as he pounded into you. Jake was already close and knew he was going to bust before you did, but he didn’t care. He continued to fuck into you until his seed spilled in you, his hips staggering as he did two last hard thrusts then held his hips in place, making sure every last drop of his cum stayed inside you. His fingers are working faster now.

Your moaning got louder. The sensation of Jake pressed up against your cervix with his fingers on your clit was driving you mad. You couldn’t form any sentences, could barely even think of a sentence.

“Oh? Fucked you dumb?” Jake cooed, licking his bottom lip, and slowly started moving his hips again, “All you know is my cock right now? Right baby?”

You nodded, feeling your climax fast approaching.

Jake thought he would be finished after cumming, but seeing how fucked out you were made his dick twitch and wanting more. He couldn’t help it, you looked too sexy laying there under him to not move his hips again. Regardless of how overstimulating he felt right now. It just added to the moment.

“Fuck I love you so much,” he whispered, snapping his hips faster, his cum now leaking out of your hole and dripping down onto the couch, “Here you are fixing to give birth and still caring more about taking care of me and my needs? God, what did I do to deserve you?”

The knot snapped and your orgasm washed over you. Jake pumped into you faster now, both hands being back on your knees, mixing your cum together.

“Thank you,” Jake groaned, “Thank you for never giving up on me,” he ran his hands down to your thighs, gripping the plush tightly, “Even after everything we’ve been through, after the shit I put you through. You stayed by me, continued to love me—fuck—thank you, baby, for never giving up on me, on us. And I promise you,” Jake reached his second climax faster than expected, but he didn’t care, letting the white ropes shoot deep inside your cunt, hips pinning so hard against your thighs you’re sure bruises will be there in the morning, “I won’t give up on us, I’ll never give up on us, on you, or this family.”

You exhaustedly smiled up at your boyfriend, looking at him with endearment as you reached both arms up to his shoulders and pulled him down to you. Jake hovered carefully, his hand gripping the back of the couch as his lips connected to yours.

He rests his forehead against yours, smiling and chuckling as he struggles to catch his breath after cumming twice.

How did he actually get so lucky to call you his?

—

You woke up in a pained sweat, your body sitting up quickly as your hands reached for your lower stomach.

It was only five pm, and the apartment was quiet except for the sounds of Jake’s soft snores as he slept beside you, the other three being at work.

“Jake,” you barely were able to mumble out, reaching a hand from your stomach to tap his bare back, “Jake.”

Jake sniffled and hummed, not moving.

You sat up more, feeling the wetness soaking the bed sheets.

“Jake,” you cried out, shoving his shoulder the best you could, sending his head shooting up and looking at you, “Jake.”

All it took was one look and Jake knew what was happening.

“Shit!” he cursed, jumped from the bed, and ran to the closet, grabbing a pair of clothes for you and himself.

Jake helped you dress as fast as he could before dressing himself and helping you to your feet and out of the apartment.

You still weren’t due for another few days but Jake never has been so happy to already have his time off from work.

Crazy how the small nap the two of you decided to take would end with your child deciding to gift the world its presence. Even though nerve-racking, Jake wouldn’t help the excitement.

Jake was speeding down the street, fumbling with his phone to call Jay while telling you to keep breathing.

Jay answered on the second ring.

“What’s up, man? I am in the mid—“

“Her water broke,” Jake interrupted.

“What?” Jake could hear the panic in your brother's voice.

“YN’s water broke!”

“Oh fuck,” there was fumbling around in the background and the sound of Jay’s shoes hitting the pavement to show he’s running, followed up by a “My sister’s water broke, I gotta go!” more running then a car door being shut, “Please get her to the hospital safe, I’ll be there shortly.”

“Call Hee and Hoon and all our parents too,” Jake was barely able to say, the nerves settling in even more, “I need to focus on YN. Can you also go back to the apartment? I forgot the extra bag of things for her night stay.”

Jay agreed, “Get me sister there safe,” and then the call ended.

Jake tossed his phone onto his lap, reaching his hand over onto your stomach, rubbing it gently, “Just keep breathing baby, okay?”

You nodded, feeling lightheaded and like you were about to pass out.

Before you knew it, you lay on the hospital bed with nurses and doctors surrounding your lower half. Jake stood by your side squeezing your hand tightly and sending words of encouragement that you could barely hear over the sound of your ears ringing from pushing.

This was the most painful thing you’ve ever felt, but you knew once your baby was out, it would always be worth it.

Jake leaned his head against yours, placing kisses on your brow, and continued his words of encouragement, “That’s it, baby, you’re doing great. Keep pushing.”

You gave one final push, and the pain was easing up. Jake’s head whipped to your lower half as the sound of crying now filled the room.

You took some deep breaths and relaxed your body, but you noticed Jake’s hand was still squeezing yours. You tried to call him, but eyes never once left your baby as the doctors and nurses took them to a small table, bathing your child clean, their little cries getting louder.

One of the nurses noticed Jake’s stare, her smile growing wide after the other nurses finished wrapping your baby in a blanket.

“Want to come meet your daughter, dad?” the nurse said.

Daughter. He had a daughter.

Jake opens his mouth to speak, hands trembling.

“Babe,” Jake hears you call to him, “Go meet our daughter.”

He finally looks down at you, only seeing how big your smile is even after the exhaustion of pushing out a whole human being.

So he nodded, finally letting go of your hand, and with shaky legs walked over to the table.

Jake fell to his knees. One look was all it took. One look at his daughter and everything in life made sense. One look and his life finally had even more purpose than before. One look and that sweet baby girl became the center of his world.

Oh, he was fucked.

The nurses helped Jake back to his knees, teasing him about being a first-time dad, and encouraged him to hold his baby girl.

Tears filled Jake’s eyes as he picked her up, her cries finally disappearing the moment she locked eyes with him as if she knew she was safe and sound in the arms of her father.

The tears fell down his cheeks, smiling big as he let out a soft chuckle, turning to face you as he rocked her in his arms, “She has the Park nose.”

You let out a small giggle because of course she does. You’ve never heard the end of how people knew you and Jay were related by similar noses. But you were glad she did have the Park nose.

The longer Jake stared down at his little girl, the more he saw himself in her. Mostly her eyes, the same beautiful brown that he has.

“We created this,” Jake cried, finally walking back to your side, “We created this beautiful piece of life.”

You reached for your daughter, Jake slowly and carefully placing her in your arms. And oh the sobs that escaped your mouth.

She was so beautiful. Everything about her was beautiful. She was a spitting image of Jake, with small hints of you.

Jake pulled a chair up to the bed, sitting as close to you as he could, wrapping his arm over your arms that held your daughter, his thumb grazing the back of your hand.

Her small eyes looked back at him and gave a small yawn. His heart nearly stopped, mouthing opening and voice speaking before he realized.

“Hwa Young,” he softly said.

You didn’t take your eyes off your daughter to know what Jake meant, “Beautiful Little Flower,” you whispered.

“Beautiful Little Flower,” Jake repeated, his smile growing again.

“Hwa Young Sim,” you smiled, finally turning to face your boyfriend, “Babe, it’s the perfect name.”

Jake quickly leaned over to kiss you, not being able to get enough of your lips on his at this moment. Hwa was finally here in both your arms, your little family finally completely together.

Hwa’s soft yawn had you two pulling away from each other, eyes filling with endearment at how her nose scrunches when she yawns.

You gently traced your fingers over her face, wanting to outline this moment in memory.

Jake watched as you did it, eyes going back and forth between you and Hwa. Knowing this is what he wanted for the rest of his life.

“YN?”

You looked up at your boyfriend, giving him a smile, “Hmm?”

“Let’s get married.”

You stare at him, tears filling his eyes once again as he leaned back in to kiss you more then slowly fell back into his seat.

“Let’s get married,” Jake repeated again, “Marry me.”

You cried again, nodding and chanting out strings of “Yes yes yes.”

This might have been Jake’s happiest moment of his life and knew this happiness was never going to fade. He has you. He has Hwa. He has Jay, Heeseung, Sunghoon, his older brother, and his parents. There’s nothing else Jake needed. He has it all now.

You started to ask where your brother was when the door to the hospital room flew open and everyone’s eyes went to the door.

Jay stood in the doorway, your duffle bag in hand.

“I came as quickly as I could, Heeseung and Sunghoon are…on the way.”

You smiled up at your brother as his eyes were locked into Hwa in your arms.

“Jongseong, my big brother, want to come meet your niece?”

Jay almost lost his balance, dropping the duffle bag to the floor and gripping to the wall. Jake couldn’t help but laugh.

“My niece?” Jay’s heart was pounding. He has a niece. He’s an uncle. Oh my god, he has a niece.

“We’re both fucked, brother,” Jake teased, “We are done for.”

Jay slowly walked over to your bedside, watching as you slowly lifted his niece up and into his arms. Jake was right, they both were fucked. Because the moment Jay fully held her in his arms and looked into those eyes, he was done for. Jay became putty in this little girl's hands. She has him wrapped around her finger and his entire world. The protection Jay felt for her was on the same level he had for you, and you could see it in his eyes as he held Hwa. That big brother protection spell overflowing onto her. It made you smile, knowing she would be so loved and protected like you are.

Jay fought to hold back his tears as he rocked her in his arms, “My sweet niece…”

“Hwa Young Sim,” Jake said with a big smile, “Beautiful Little Flower.”

Jay chuckled, “It fits her so well…Little Hwa. Oh my god, she has the Park nose.”

Everyone in the room laughed as Jay continued to coo over Hwa. Kissing her forehead softly and whispering how he’ll be the best uncle for her, to protect her with everything. It made tears swell back into your eyes.

Jay chuckled again, “She is a spitting image of you, Jake. An exact copy and paste, it’s crazy.”

Heeseung, Sunghoon, and even Shotaro rounded the corner of the door frame, the three of them immediately crumbling the moment they laid eyes on Hwa.

Baby girl has only been born for twenty minutes and she already has everyone in the room wrapped around her fingers and falling to their knees.

“We’re uncles!!” Sunghoon cheered, taking Hwa from Jay.

Jake and you watched as your parents pulled in one by one, everyone taking turns holding your daughter and showing her all the love she deserves.

Jake rests his forehead against yours, tangling his fingers around yours, “Baby?” he hummed, “Let’s have another one, ya?”

‧₊˚✧THE END✧˚₊‧

—tags: @ikeuverse @slutforsjy @hanjisunginc @alvojake @lhsvibez @wonsbaer @zeeloveshee @jjknoir @jaeyunq @jaklvbub @woniebae @jeongingf1 @haelahoops @willgrysn @in-somnias-world @lovelyikeu @ilikekpop-c @moonrachas @misssparklyprincess @eddieeddiesblog @kaykay11sworld @tasnim10 @kangnina @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @mymemoriesandmelodies @iselltulips @jooniesbears-blog @shawnyle @brownsugarbaybee @woahsehun @laurradoesloveu @citylightsdoll @simjyunnie @cmoundiamante @caramelcandescence @lavenderiridescence @niniissus @hearts4elle @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @fried-bread071696 @coolwitu @kyeoluvr @crimnalseung @jwnghyuns @woninluv @fakeuwus @simhinata

#jake bby #sim jaeyun #sim jake #reader x jake #jake x reader #reader x sim jake #sim jake x reader #enhypen #enhypen x reader #reader x enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #sim jake smut #established relationship #yeonzzzn writing #off limits trilogy

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barcaatthemoon · 2 months

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in your corner || barcelona x teen!reader ||

the team shows up to your graduation when your parents don't.

it didn't feel right sitting in the back of a taxi. you should have been riding to your graduation with your family, but they had deemed your brother's track meet more important. they believed that one day, he'd be an olympian, despite the fact that you already were. it had always been like that in your family though, your brother's accomplishments outshining yours no matter the difference.

today, you graduated from school, which you had attended while also easing your way into soccer full time. anybody else would have thought that was a marvel in and of itself except for your parents. because it was you, they only questioned why you weren't top of your class. any bit of excellence on your part looked like the pinnacle of mediocracy in your parents' eyes.

in hindsight, yelling at them to just forget about you was not your best idea. it was why after this, you were packing up your things and moving them into a new apartment. there had been an opening in bruna's building, so you took it. you could easily afford the apartment with your salary at the club, especially not that you'd be getting starter time.

the taxi came to a stop, and you were careful in picking your facial expression for the day. this was a happy day, and you couldn't let your peers know how disappointed you were about your parents abandoning you. you kept a happy face on during the ceremony, one that was fake until you looked out into the crowd while you accepted your diploma to see your teammates.

it was unmistakablely every single one of them sitting there, including girls who you had briefly played with on the b and youth teams. your heart swelled with joy, and for the first time that day, your tears were happy ones. suddenly, you couldn't wait for the ceremony to end so you could go see them. each of those girls had become like family for you, and it was your first taste of what family was supposed to be like. they were your support system, always cheering you on no matter what endeavor you pursued.

"no more homework!" mapi exclaimed as she scooped you up into a hug. you laughed as she spun you around and around. her least favorite part of every practice was when alexia made you sit with vicky while you studied or finished up your school work. in mapi's mind, that was always during prime goofing off time. "come on, my mami wants pictures."

you let yourself get pushed around for several sets of pictures with your teammates. none of them mentioned the absence of your parents, most likely thanks to a briefing from alexia and patri. slowly, they all began to shuffle out and disperse, leaving you to catch a ride with aitana and keira for lunch. it was a team thing, so more of the girls would be there, but keira had quickly claimed the spot to drive you there.

"i'm proud of you kiddo," keira said as she wrapped her arm around your shoulders. there had been a lot of changes during the season, and while the change scared you, keira had been like your rock. she was the biggest help to you learning english and solidifying your spot in one of the best midfields in the world. "i've got a surprise for you when we get to the restaurant."

"a surprise?" you perked up instantly. it was somewhat childish, but you loved surprises. usually, they were good when it came to your teammates. you knew that keira would never do anything to hurt you, having taken you under her wing like you were her child. both of your english teammates had, but lucy had departed from spain a couple weeks ago.

you had been more than a bit bummed out by the news, but you understood. lucy had done what she felt she needed to at barcelona. you were also going to be on your way out temporarily. you had spoken with your coaches and management about going to college, and they had signed off on you taking a gap year to play the next season before you went off to america. you were committed to a school, but you had yet to tell your teammates which one.

lunch was nice, despite the fact that you couldn't focus because you kept trying to figure out what keira's surprise was. it wasn't until you noticed several of your teammates filming you that you got a bit nervous. luckily, you didn't have to wait too long after the cameras were brought out. alexia mentioned something about dessert, and when you turned around expecting to see the waiter, you saw lucy standing there in a tarheels shirt.

"i didn't tell anybody," you mumbled, unaware of how they could have known where you were going.

"sorry that i missed your graduation, but i'm so proud of you. i can't wait to watch you next year in carolina," lucy said as she wrapped one arm around you. the little plate with a slice of cake was set in front of you, but you didn't pay it any mind. you wrapped your arms around lucy's body in a tight hug. "score some goals for me, okay?"

"i'll try for more than what i score against you." everybody at the table laughed at your joke, except for lucy, who knew that you were serious. she could be the best in the world, and you'd still managed to get one or two past her. the whole team would work to make sure that you did. they wanted the world to know how good you were, which lucy knew would make for an interesting champion's league with her new team.

"we'll see about that," lucy mumbled as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. you glanced around you at your teammates and friends surrounding you. it was the happiest that you'd ever been, but something told you that there was only going to be more to come with them in your life.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni imagine #barcelona x reader #barcelona imagine #teen reader #platonic fic

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mggsv · 10 months

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CHEER FOR ME CAPTAIN !! ☆

f!reader x perv!gojo satoru (18+) | not proof read | reblog please!

summary : Satoru who’s hated you since he first laid eyes on you freshman year of highschool…Satoru who started teasing you then. Satoru who can’t stand the fact that you’re in college together- with you being captain of the cheer team and him a basketball player. Gojo who can’t stand that he didn’t fuck you before you gained a reputation.

warnings : reader is poc coded, pervy!gojo, bet making, porn with plot, reader’s nipples are pierced, degrading, hair pulling, gojo’s tongue is pierced, lots of dirty talk, slight spanking, mutual masturbation

“She’s a stuck up cunt.” Satori’s voice rang out, filled with disgust as he watched your soft skin move in the small red skirt. “Not to mention a slut. I’ve heard the rumors.. of course she’s easy.” He scoffs. But his blue eyes said differently. His brows furrowed, concentrating on how easy you made it look. How your ass jiggled with every step. To say he was hard would be an understatement: he wanted to fuck, and every time he asked you said no.

The first time was graduation. You went to high school together and he finally noticed you. Freshman year, you were nothing more than another obstacle in his way in the halls. He never apologized for shoving you out of the way, or when he’d bump into you and ultimately knocking your things out of your hands.

But graduation…oh graduation. How cute you were wearing those little glasses and wide smile sported by your plump lips. It couldn’t get any better, but then you walked. Oh you walked…those smooth legs striding to get the well deserved diploma. Satoru hated that he didn’t see you before- all this time such a thing was lying in front of him….innocent and untouched. Trapped in baggy clothes and good grades. He wanted nothing more than to rub his long fingers in that small space between your legs and cup your juicy cunt until his fingers were coated in your slick. He wanted his face buried between your legs, tongue deep into your pretty pussy while you moaned his name. He wanted his cock deep in your heat, feeling your pussy tightening around his big dick.

Geto stifled out a small laugh as he watched you along with Gojo. “She’s a slut for not fucking you but everyone else?” They’re best friends- inseparable at that. Geto knew of Gojo’s little infatuation with you- He’s fucked you , so Geto’s commentary made it no better. Gojo gave him a side glare before standing, sighing dramatically as he ran a hand through his hair. “Invite her to the party later.”

“You know I am. Probably still won’t fuck you though.” Geto stands up with him. “That’s not what I-!” Blue eyes flicker at the sound of laughter. He almost moaned seeing you touching your toes..stretching, your ass in the air. Fuckkk he had many regrets, but you? His biggest. “Just- make sure she’s there. This time I will fuck her. Maybe we’ll date too~ think she’ll be open for marriage?” He had a little smirk as the pair left the gym.

Word of the party spread fast as it usually did. Knowing Geto threw the best parties. He was a sorority leader after all. What made the knees even better was Gojo being there. The all-star player, Geto’s best friend, the best fuck around. You yawned and stretched, looking at the text from Geto, and the unopened ones before that. He bugged you every other week about getting his dick wet again, it wouldn’t happen, though. Even when you guys did it, it was a one time thing and he knew that- Stil, he liked bothering you. You look at the text under it, ‘Wear your uniform too.’, and groan. You knew for a fact it was another little thing to try and get Gojo and you together. You didn’t like him much..he picked on you, and you hated people who did that. That being said, you never missed the slick touches he made when you passed him by. The way he came to your practices and watched you stretch. When during the basketball games he pointed at you before ultimately winning the game.

At some point people assumed you dated on the low. That was quickly shut down whenever he did ask you out, which was often.

“Oh come on..i’ll be all alone tonight.” Satoru had whined, arms wrapping around your waist, chin on your shoulder. He was sweaty, having just won the game. “It’s the weekend princess..cmon cheer for me again? G..O..Let’s go Gojo~!” He mocked your voice. Gojo’s face tucks into your neck, teeth grazing the tired skin.

“Fuck off Satoru.” you had pushed him off, ignoring the whistles from the team.

And it only started from there. It was strange how he wanted your attention now that you were someone worth something. But you couldn’t deny how hot it felt, perhaps it was just the rush of cheering on your feet for hours.

The party was no better. You walked through the crowd of people in different outfits- suddenly feeling better that you showing up in your cheer uniform wouldn’t be humiliating. This time you wore it with different accessories. Your curly hair in a half up style, wearing a pair of red thigh high socks to cordinate with the short skirt that showed the bottom of your ass per usual- this time without the shorts underneath.

“Look at you..” You hear Geto’s voice. Glancing up, you see him in nothing but a pair of sweatpants with his sorority’s symbol on his stomach. “Damn.” he coughs, nodding and grabbing a red cup. “Drink?”

“You know it.” frowning at the fact that he was alone. It was unusual. He and Satoru were always together. You glance down at the clear liquid in the cup before taking a sip. “Where’s the idiot?” You look around the room. Geto’s chuckles, bending down to your ear. “You want the truth or a lie?” It sent shivers down your spine, his hair tickling your shoulder. Scoffing, you move away from him a bit. “See, now you’re acting weird.” You begin to walk away, but didn’t get far. You jump right into someone, spilling the alcoholic drink on the both of you. “Shit! I’m sorry-“

“Damn Captain…I just washed my jersey and now look..tsk tsk~” Your stomach turned at the sound of Satoru’s voice. He had grabbed your hands, pulling you into him more. “So what are you gonna do about it?” He whispers lowly. His eyes were on you and you only. “Get off of me-“ You huff and push against his chest. He chuckles and lets you go, holding his hands up. The wet stain visible in the material of his jersey. You were silently thanking the universe that basketball season was over. “Sorry, Gojo.” you cough, staring up at him in a slight embarrassment. It reminded you of too much..it reminded you of highschool, and then you felt disgusted. Scoffing, you turn away from him.

“Oh come on- what’s your problem with me huh?” Gojo whined as he follows you. You wanted to be out of the house and quick as possible, not feeling the vibe anymore. Instead trying to get away from Gojo lead you anywhere but out. Pretty soon you were both in an isolated area in the frat house. You cross your arms, the alcoholic smell on your uniform starting to make you sick.

“My problem? My problem is you! It’s always been you. You’ve picked on me since high school and now I’m actually someone you see you want to fuck me! You’re weird!” Your face was flushed. Gojo’s little smirk turned into a small frown. You didn’t realize it but your eyes had watered, your arms tightening around yourself.

“And i can’t stand knowing that I wanna say yes.” you murmured to his surprise. He took a step forward, backing you against a door. Gojo’s face was close to yours. “Well shit princess if that was all you could’ve said that two “can i fuck you?”s ago.” Snorting his hand crept down to your skirt. You felt hot between the legs, the air around you both becoming insufferable. “Fuck this.” you grumble, opening the door to a bathroom. You both stumble inside, your hand hurriedly taking off your top. Your nipples sprang free.

“Holy fuck this is real.” Dumbass had said , his cock hard in his pants. you rubbed your thighs together, hands moving to tug at the pierced buds. “Stop standing there before I change my mind.” You rushed out, feeling a bit embarrassed. Gojo had muttered something along the line of not having to tell him twice..

“F-Fuck- fuck princess~! That’s it..ride that dick like I know you can..fuck that’s it-“ Gojo whines out a breathy moan, hand forcing your head back as he pulled your hair. Your wet cunt spitting out around his thick cock. Loud wet sounds mixed with your moans was music to Gojo’s ears. He was in a bliss. He didn’t care about the cold bathroom floor he sat on while you rode his dick- no he couldn’t give less of a fuck. He didn’t mind the way the tears ran down your face either while you begged..and begged for him to let your hair go.

“Mmpf~ T-Toru..Toru wait-“ You mewl out feeling his thumb press on your lower stomach, you didn’t think he could slip any further into you but he did. “FUCKK!” Your pussy gushes over his thighs, splashing against your stomach but you didn’t stop, no, you rode him the way you would’ve the last time he asked..and the time before that, and many many times before that. Your legs shook, a harsh smack landing on your ass while Gojo became a moaning mess. His eyes rolled as he started to meet your hips halfway, “Don’t stop,” He pants, “don’t fucking stop princess…fuck—- fuck fuck fuck..oh fuck that’s it. Gonna cum so hard baby.”

“Pussy was made for me wasn’t it? My pussy.” He groaned, leaning down to catch your sensitive bud into his mouth. You gasp, slowing down, grinding your hips against his while the cool metal of your piercing collided with Gojo’s tongue piercing. “Tell me it’s mine baby.” His teeth pulled at the bud, earning a slap on the chest from you as you clench around his thick shaft. Your clit throbbed at the feeling of him abusing your nipples. “I..It’s yours—mm, ahh-! It’s yours Toru baby..” You saw white, your breathe trembling as he started to rock you against him. You felt all of him too, he went in raw. “It’s mine?” he groans again, feeling his cock twitch inside of you.

“..y-yes. Oh Toru’ mgonna cum..mgonna cum Toru! Please..please..” oh! he loved every bit of you. he loved hearing you just beg for the long awaited orgasm. He wanted to be your everything, the best dick you’ve gotten, the best orgasm you’ve ever had, better than anyone else, better than Geto. You felt your hands ride up his chest. He pulls back, sticking his tongue out to show off the metal ball on his tongue, a shitty grin on his lips while your hand goes to choke him. You but your lip, eyes staring into his as he lets go of your hair. He sets his hands on your hips instead, giving you another harsh smack. Such a slut.. you moan at the sight. “You want this?” You eggs you on. You nod eagerly. “want it..want it bad Toru..” You bounce with the help of his hands guiding you. His cock feeling deeper than before.

“I hope you’re on the fucking pill then.” He says, pumping another thrust or two before you’re clenching around his cock. You felt the wind leaving your body as you stared into his blue eyes, cumming with a loud cry. His eyes flutter, filling you up as promised. “Take it..fuck take it all princess. That’s it…good fucking girl princess.” You whimper, hand squeezing around his neck while you enjoyed the buzz of your high.

Once you were down enough to move, you wasted no time crawling off his lap. You sat back, closing your legs and shivering at the feeling of his cum running down your pussy. “Show me that pretty pussy princess..” Gojo glacéd at you through hazed eyes, panting softly as he stroked his now soft cock. Shyly you opened your legs…. “Fuck..” he moans, the last bit of cum dripping over his fingers. Your fingers start to rub your sensitive clit, jerking at the sensation. You watch him carefully while he did the same to you, blushing. Your fingers slip into the leaking hole, curling slightly as your back arched. “Shit..” Gojo moans at the sigh, feeling his cock twitch and the start of another round…

Neither of you knew how much time had passed when you bother returned to the still booming party. Gojo’s arm was around you- while you embarrassingly enough let him. You yawn softly, putting your head on his chest when you both finally found Geto with a blunt in his mouth.

“You both owe me.” You glanced at Geto and rolled your eyes.

“What? Owe you for what?” Gojo looks down at you and then back to his best friend. “I bet you’d fuck her tonight and I bet her she wouldn’t be able to stop denying you. I win, pay up.”

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axiscolleges · 3 months

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Why This College is Considered the Best B.Tech Institution in UP

Uttar Pradesh (UP) is home to numerous prestigious universities that provide excellent B.Tech programs. Axis Colleges is one of the best options for prospective engineers among these. Axis Colleges, renowned for its dedication to innovation and quality, offers a supportive atmosphere for both academic and personal development. We examine the reasons Axis Colleges is regarded as one of the Best B.Tech colleges in the UP in this comprehensive guide.

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iimtgroup1234 · 1 month

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BEST DIPLOMA COLLEGE FOR CSE IN UP

The BEST Diploma COLLEGE For CSE IN UP has consistently maintained an inviting and vocation-centered environment for students pursuing engineering. Subsequent to seeking after engineering in Uttar Pradesh, understudies and students are lawfully permitted to work and send off their own organizations.

#BEST DIPLOMA COLLEGE FOR CSE IN UP

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 5 months

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Part I: The Prophecy — June 25, 2011

Part I: On her daily morning run, Y/N wonders if she’ll ever have someone who wants her simply company. Spencer promises her just that, the only catch: she has to wait seven years.

Rating: Eventual smut, fluff and longing

Word Count: 3.5K

Series Masterlist | Tell Me What You Think!

My Mind Turns You Into Folklore: The Prophecy — June 25, 2011

Running, somehow, still made her feel like a child. Perhaps there was something unadulterated and carefree about losing yourself in the pounding of pavement. When Y/N felt the wind rush in her ears and the familiar burn throughout her body, she truly felt alive.

Her entire body ached— no, screamed— as she approached her fifth mile for the day’s session. For Y/N running wasn’t about getting to the destination fastest, but about finishing the race altogether.

She wished she could apply such wisdom to very particular aspects of her life. Namely, her love life. For Y/N, relationships with men were unpleasantly predictable. From terrible blind dates with friends who she honestly can’t tell if they meant well to men with habits so strange Y/N could only plead insanity by a drunken state as to why she entertained even a second glance. Unfortunately, for her the sea of men seemed to solely be comprised of rather the unfortunate sort of men that made her skin crawl.

Her knees burned as her mind ran through the five weddings and babies that were impending. Between cousins, college friends, and even her own sister all either, Y/N never more lonely than when she was surrounded by her people. There was something particularly voyeuristic about watching those you love move along the carousel while you’re left in the dust. She was a casual observer, marooned to the sidelines. And someone where along the way she forgot to even care.

Her chest burned as she wondered where her aunt, a woman born and forged from pure spite and hefty lack of tolerance for anything progressive, would sit her at her cousin’s wedding. Y/N heaved forward imagining what would be worse; the discarded old widow’s table with wives whose husbands’ expiration date had come and passed. Or with her unruly nephews who would have to be wrestled into a tiny tuxedo and bribed with fried food and the majesty of Red40 to maintain the semblance of civility.

Being 27, husbandless, boyfriendless, and childless didn’t usually bother Y/N. She loved her peace. But somehow it put her into this plane of existence where she straddled youth and adulthood. She had one foot jammed deep into the rich, sodden earth of childhood and one toe dipping too all too calm to be safe waters of adulthood. Yet being uncoupled was as if she purchased overnight shipping to the elephant graveyard.

It was antiquated. It was downright sexist, yet there was a small part of her heart and her entire being that craved to be taken care of by a man. She wanted someone to bring her flowers just because, to hug her from behind while she stirred soup for dinner on a chilly day, to brush her hair from her face as he brought her to the brink of pleasure time and time again.

There was only so much her vibrator could do.

But a heart that ached to be loved, that problem didn’t come with a WebMD link. There wasn’t a quick and easy fix to change something that defined her on a molecular level.

She savored the sweet breeze that reminded her of summer and childhood. The houses, various shades of blue, gray, and beige blurred past as she maintained her steady pace.

Y/N rounded the corner and pounded the pavement that led to Betsy’s Cape Cod. She was the Head Librarian and took Y/N under her rather Mother Goose-like wing three years ago when she took the position at the small, sleepy library. A suburb of Quantico, many of the patrons were families in public service.

She even stumbled across someone who quickly became her best friend, Spencer. He was some sort of former child prodigy turned adult wunderkid. After racking up more diplomas than most extended families collect, Spencer worked as a special agent for the FBI. But looking at him, you would never have guessed. He was timid and shy in a boyish way that made him seem much younger than 32. He was tall and lanky, yet despite his slender frame he seemed to completely light up every single room he walked into.

Both Betsy and Spencer buried themselves into the fabric of her life. Betsy sat on the front porch, slowly swaying on the large, wooden swing. A crocheted blanket lay over her lap, keeping her warm under the brisk morning’s chill.

“Y/N!” Betsy called, as she ascended the stairs with a bright smile, “Dearie, it’s far too cold for you to run out here.”

“I could say the same about you, Bets,”

Betsy dismissed Y/N with a coy smile and a wave of her hand. “It’s good for my old bones to get a little chill. Make sure everything is in working order.”

Betsy scooted over on the porch swing, making more than enough room for Y/N to sit.

“That tall kid? Hmm, Spencer? Yes. Spencer. Was in there looking for you yesterday. Poor kid’s entire day was ruined when I told him you were on a date. Now, is there a reason why you didn’t tell me you didn’t tell your best friend?” Betsy asked, not hesitating to ask a question that went straight for the jugular.

Y/N offered Betsy a weak smile. “There wasn’t anything to tell him. He’s not interested in my love life. We talk about books. And work. And… I don’t know…”

Betsy nodded, but her pointed look pressed Y/N to continue. There wasn’t anything romantic between her and Spencer, but that wasn’t to say the connection wasn’t the most important thing in her life. When she met him three years ago he simply waltzed into her life; a tall, gangly man with a large appetite for baked goods and an excellent taste in literature.

“Besides, he has a thing for his coworker. Even though she hardly acknowledges his existence.”

From the time she met Spencer, he constantly was talking about his teammates. Growing up, Spencer didn’t have a stable family life. His mother tried her best, while his father never tried at all. He grown up not knowing what it was like to belong anywhere and now he finally found something resembling a family.

JJ was blonde and skinny and perfect and Spencer was completely enamored with her. Y/N met her only a couple of times, the first after a football game. She shared a plate of cheese fries and gravy with Spencer’s other coworker, Penelope as Spencer attempted to spout an almanac’s worth of facts about football to JJ.

“Hmm,” Betsy murmured, swinging back and forth. “Well, he said he has to talk to you about something. Maybe he’s getting to his senses, finally.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, sipped some of the ice cold lemonade Betsy handed her, and gave her a pointed smile.

“This isn’t a romance novel, Bets. You’ve been sneaking too many of those bodice rippers.”

She stood up and felt some relief as her weary muscles stretched. Betsy waved another annoyed hand.

“Quiet down, Missy. I’ve had my chance at love. And I fully intend on you and Spencer being an item. My Arnold, may that old bastard rest in peace, never gave me children, so you and that boy are my only chance to fill this house with grandkids.”

“Oh my God, Betsy,” Y/N groaned, her head tossed back, “It’s not like that between us. And I promise you, it never will be.”

Y/N took off before Betsy had the chance to respond. But she couldn’t shake the funny feeling tugging at her heartstrings. She thought that maybe if she just focused her mind on feeling the wind blow her hair and her body burn as the third mile turned into a fifth, she could wash away the thoughts of one or two little children sitting on Betsy’s porch, sandwiched in between her and Spencer.

***

Gary, as it turned out, wasn’t a nice guy. First of all, he showed up precisely 23 and a half minutes late and hardly bothered to greet her as he sat down at their two seater table. He barked a drink order to the waitress, who graciously threw Y/N a sympathetic smile.

“So you work at Walter Reed?” Y/N asked, attempting to make conversation with the man seated in front of her. He was a couple years her senior and an Attending Emergency Room Doctor. On paper Gary seemed wonderful. He had a nice family; older sisters were always a green flag in Y/N’s book and seemed to have a basic grasp of personal hygiene practices.

Gary mumbled as the waitress brought him his drink: whisky on rocks. He downed it in about three minutes and signaled for the waitress to return.

“Sorry,” Gary apologized, his voice so close to resembling being embarrassed, but it, somewhere along the line, made a beeline in the opposite direction, “There was some bitch in the ER today complaining about how her boyfriend didn’t believe her when she told him she was pregnant. Took me a god damn hour to shut her up. Jesus, reminds me why I don’t date.”

Y/N felt her face freeze. It was like his harsh words poured ice water over her shoulders. Her skin practically crawled as Gary’s carelessness settled in. Wasn’t this a date? Or was this simply the means for Gary to get into her pants.

“Hold up,” Y/N said, gesturing with her hand held up to stop Gary’s rant, “I was under the impression this was a date. Is it not?”

Gary shrugged. “As long as there’s a happy ending with you, babe I don’t give a fuck.”

He was crass. Y/N was far from a prude. She enjoyed her time in college and didn’t mind the occasional quick one night stand when the opportunity presented itself, but there would be something completely debasing and revolting about sleeping with the man sitting before her.

“I think you’ve gotten the wrong impression.” Y/N said, her words clipped and stern: there wasn’t room for Gary to mix up any bit of her message. “I’m not looking for a fuck-buddy. And even if I was, it certainly wouldn’t be you. We’ve been sitting here for all of twelve minutes and you’ve already drank two whiskys, been rude to the waitress, insulted a patient, and offended me.”

Gary, in a lackadaisical way that could only be described as a fuckboy with the worst case of Peter Pan syndrome, shrugged his shoulders. He downed the rest of his second whisky, “You’re a frigid bitch anyway.”

He left.

And Y/N laughed. Then she ordered two slices of double chocolate cheesecake and asked the waitress where the closest liquor store was.

***

Silently, she cursed Spencer’s charming love of buildings with character. She bounded up the steps to his apartment, the plastic bag with the two slices of cheesecake banged against her leg. Her other hand clutched the neck of a cheap, screw top rose.

Her date, disastrous, was nearly comical, and she couldn’t wait to recount the details to Spencer.

They share a sort of sadistic penchant for relaying moments for their occasional first dates. Typically, Y/N had more than Spencer. On the rare occasion Spencer did have a date, Y/N found herself trying to explain that any girl in her right mind would attempt to flirt with Spencer, but he refused to see her points.

Not bothering to knock, Y/N opted to use the spare key Spencer gave her. She figured he’d either still be working at the office or would be too engrossed in his latest fantasy novel to bother answering the door.

Spencer’s apartment was painted a dusty, sage green. The farthest wall was lined with built-in bookshelves. A prewar relic, Spencer’s style mixed perfectly with the vintage quality embedded within the walls.

Up until recently, Spencer’s kitchen was hardly used. But Y/N had taken it upon herself to teach Spencer the basics in prepping meals. He was a quick study, as with almost everything he tried. And it gave her some peace knowing he would be able to provide himself something more satiating than granola bars and frozen lasagna.

“Spencer! Spence!” Y/N called out, dipping her head into Spencer’s second bedroom. There was a queen bed in there with a cream colored quilt splashed out on the bed.

On late nights spent watching old, black and white movies or binging episodes of The Twilight Zone and The X-Files, she would crash there. It was a fight for her to even concede to allow Spencer to purchase the queen bed. Y/N claimed that she was fine just sleeping on the couch, but Spencer insisted that she sleep in a bed.

And if Y/N had been born into a braver soul, she would’ve suggested they share his bed three years ago.

Spencer shuffled out of his bathroom, eyes red and weary. He wore a tattered Cal-Tech shirt and plaid pajama pants. He wore his glasses. They rested on the bridge of his nose and made him lose at least four or five years on his already young looking face.

“She’s pregnant.”

“I brought wine. And chocolate cheesecake.” Y/N replied, kicking her shoes off. “And you better have done laundry already because I am not sleeping in this dress. I feel ridiculous in it.”

Spencer’s eyes raked over Y/N’s frame, as if he was internally debating his thoughts on her outfit. His brow furrowed. “You’re date?”

“Asshole.” Y/N said, walking into the kitchen. She plucked two wine glasses from Spencer’s cabinet and two plates. “Arrogant and only wanted a quick fuck.”

His voice disappeared as he went into his room for a change of pajamas. They were freshly washed. She continued to listen to Spencer as she shut the bathroom door and changed behind. His voice was no longer muffled when she came out of the bathroom, but she did notice how Spencer’s eyes still were heavy with something unfamiliar when he looked over her baggy, old pajama-clad frame.

“You’re not the girl for that.” Spencer commented, reaching for the corkscrew. His large hands twisted around the device and the bottle of wine made a satisfying pop.

“You don’t know that.” Y/N countered, her defiance made a crop of red appear on Spencer’s cheeks. “Besides, that’s not the point. JJ’s pregnant. With that New Orleans guy’s baby?”

He nodded. It was as if grief washed over Spencer as Y/N changed the conversation. She knew that Spencer was harboring feelings for JJ. Jennifer was nearly perfect in every way. The only imperfect thing about her was that she didn’t realize how perfect Spencer was. He would’ve adored JJ if he got the chance. He nearly did.

“And how do you feel about that?”

Spencer groaned, pouring himself a healthy cup of rosé. “Unsure. It’s not like I’m going to confront her about this. She’s practically engaged to Will. And now there’s a baby in the picture? A baby who’s very well going to grow up seeing me as Uncle Spencer.”

He sounded exhausted. Y/N touched his hand and squeezed. She understood the pained loneliness that plagued Spencer’s voice. “I don’t love JJ anymore. It’s just, my whole life I felt like I was so far beyond my peers. And now? They all finally have caught up, this time the tables have turned. God, I’m excited when a girl smiles at me, let alone goes on a date with me.”

Weakly, Y/N smiled. She sipped her rose, “So it’s more of feeling like you’re far beyond in life? Despite having two PhDs and like three undergrad degrees? You’re one of the most accomplished men I know, Spencer. And we all move along at our own pace. Don’t compare JJ’s story to yours.”

He nodded, spooning a bite of the double chocolate cheesecake. “It’s just…I’m nearly 32. And now I’m watching JJ and Hotch and Morgan talk about babies and husbands and wives and houses. And I can’t help but wonder if I’ll be lucky enough to get that one day. Sometimes… I think I’m too me for anyone to fall in love with me.”

Y/N felt her heart shatter into a million little pieces as Spencer’s honest confession striked her entire system. She wanted to reach out and push away the stray curl that hooked itself in front of his eyebrow. She wanted to reach out and wipe away his tears. She wanted to tell her friend that if no one married him, she would.

She stalked off the to couch, needing a stable place to sit. Her chocolate cheesecake stuck to the roof of her mouth and the bitter rosé did nothing to remove it.

“Holy shit, Spencer. Do you not realize that you’d make any girl happy? You’ll find her one day, I know it. And if you don’t, we can just say fuck it and get married. I mean, I know it wouldn’t be romantic love, but we could at least live together. Through a big fancy party and get dressed up nice and getting drunk on mojitos with my best friend. My person? Sounds fun.”

“You mean that?” Spencer asked, half in disbelief and half in wonderment. “You mean that we’ll get married if neither of us have someone…say seven years from now?”

She must’ve drank more than she thought as she waited for Gary to ruin their date. “I meant it. But why seven?”

A smile toyed on Spencer lips. She noticed the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

“It’s my lucky number.”

Her lips were so loose that it threatened to crack open her heart. She had a nasty habit of wearing that on her sleeve.

She gave Spencer a sheepish look as his eyes met hers. He looked half between incredulous and hopeful. His fingers ran across the rim of his wine glass as the wine sloshed around. It mirrored Y/N’s stomach.

“Is this idea like bad shit crazy?” Y/N asked. “I mean it. I mean, why not. It’s not so different from what we do now. Just all the time. And I’d be thrilled to be spiritually required to spend more time with you.”

“Should we….shake hands or something. I’m not the biggest fan of that, but I think my wife would serve as an exception to the rule. To every rule I’ve got?”

Y/N laughed. She felt the wine creep up a nice, warm flush against her skin. It matched the light and easy way her limbs felt. It might have very well been the wine, but there wasn’t much of anything that could trump laughing with your best friend. Especially when that best friend slipped and called you his wife.

Her feet somehow ended up in Spencer’s lap. His thumb rubbed gently against her ankle, barely touching her bare skin. Yet it sent shockwaves that she didn’t quite understand.

The corners of Spencer’s eyes crinkled as he reciprocated that laugh. They shared it and Y/N had the strangest desire to bottle it up. She wanted to store this moment in her mind and come back to it. One day. Some day.

“We’ll get married,” Spencer started speaking as if it was a prophecy that he could set in stone, “if neither of us has anyone, we’ll enter this rather odd, rather complex, yet completely entirely normal and simple marriage in seven years?” His sweet, yet coy smile was boyish, it only reminded Y/N just how far away 35 was for her.

“Should we draft up a contract?”

“Have your lawyers contact my lawyers. I never sign documents without the proper legal support. In the meantime, could we settle on our first stipulation: never watching a new episode of our current favorite show without the other?”

“I agree to the terms and conditions you’ve set out.” Y/N said. She grabbed the blanket that rested on the back of the couch as Spencer turned off the lamp light.

“Oh and I washed the sheets in your room. I used the detergent you like. And your pajamas. The lavender vanilla one with the scent beads?” He flipped on an episode of The Twilight Zone.

She smiled from the way Spencer naturally called the guest room her bedroom. There was something very domestic and peaceful about him using her favorite detergent to wash the sheets in her room in his apartment. It resembled the exact something that she was craving: being taken care of.

She sipped her rose again, watching as her friend smiled at the gray scale painted on the screen. It was too bad she only had to weight over half a decade to feel it and not feel guilty and like she was lying to herself.

—

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vidyaknowledgepark · 1 year

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loganlermanstanaccount · 11 months

Text

Rigor Mortis (part 10)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 9, Part 11

summary: In the morning, Miguel reminisces.

warnings: smut! grinding, humping, alcohol, PIV, switch-y behaviour (what's new), aftercare, mentions of depression. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: soft melty mig >>>

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 4.5k

Oh! and I finally made the series' playlists (very open to requests) <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

between your bodies;

You wake up with a headache and a lump in your throat.

Bleary eyes; and you rub away sleep, rosy and warm around the edges. Everything smells like him, is your very first thought. It's the kind of thing that has you reeling, tossing and turning in unfamiliar sheets before looking up at a mottled ceiling. Light creeps in from curtains cracked open, rays spreading like wildfire on everything it touches. Miguel's bed is by the window, and you can't help but curl up what little light spills in with your hands; palm upwards, slowly balled into fists. It's warm, and your hand feels a little different.

Oh.

Like a bolt of lightning, memories of the night before run up your spine; dancing up and down between the sheets. Miguel's hand in yours, his skin pressed up against you, a room spinning in the kind of way that seems romantic. Seems romantic; you note. It could've been the alcohol, but you had felt something between you two, yesterday. Something… different . Your cheeks grow warm at the thought of last night; drunken revelations and so much light, it burns.

I like the way your eyes scrunch up when you smile. I like the way you look in the morning, squinting at labels and cereal packets. You've got the prettiest lips I've ever seen, Miguel.

You burrow under the covers as you recall it; the memory of Miguel between your thighs, his head in the crook of your shoulder. The way he had half-laughed, heady and heavy and thick with want, low groans pooling by the shell of your ear. You're not too sure if you meant it; really, really meant it; and you're scared of what that means. Casual sex was the agreement, and you didn't think you had the capacity for much else.

Sighing, you stretch your leg out from under the covers, dipping a tentative toe on the rug. Bare, except for a T-shirt whose hem kisses your thighs. Mig's t-shirt, of course, and you tug it down as you slip out of his bed. The aftermath, things tossed off shelves and awards that had clattered to the ground, lies in last night's wake. Guiltily, you root around to pick up his things.

They're more personal than the things around the house. You notice a plaque or two from undergrad, his diploma - biomechanics and chemical engineering with honours - and even a certificate from a middle school science fair. The image makes you smile: little Mig with braces and a distinct frown, handed a plastic trophy in front of a spotty crowd. 'First Place' it says, and knowing him his entry was less baking soda volcano and more miniature Hadron Collider . If he's anything like he is now; he was probably a mouthy little pain-in-the-ass, too.

You take a watch off of the floor, half hidden under his bed. A knee brushes past a clear box; that jostles and rattles around like nails in a metal can. From vague outlines, you can see a box of junk , in every sense of the word: scrap metal, wires, plastic tubing. A whole scrapyard under his bed, and you reach for it, curious. Something knicks at your hand in the process. Glass, from a broken pane of a frame slipped under the bed. Softly, you hiss, sucking at the cut that draws blood.

More careful, now, you push the frame towards you, sweeping up the glass as best you can. In the lowlight, you can't make out much. Carefully, you hold it by a corner - an intricate thing, all twisted metal and brushed bronze. From out under the bed, you see it, or rather, him: Miguel, a little younger, surrounded by a couple of unfamiliar faces. A taller man, a much older woman - and they both smile in the way he does, crows feet and with the kind of warmth that reaches their eyes. In his arms (Miguel's, but not your Miguel) is a little girl. She is small; wide-eyed, gap-toothed; looking up at him, as if the camera wasn't there. The adoration in her face makes you smile. His sister, maybe? His brother, Gabi, and his dear mama ?

Gently, you place it on the side table. You sweep up the glass into your hand, ignoring the sting that spreads to your palms. It's not a deep cut, but you head to the kitchen anyway, in search of warm soapy water and something to mop it up.

Slipping past the doorway, it is deathly quiet. Morning spills in through a window, illuminating a lone figure - broad shoulders, tan and bare save for pyjama pants, hunched over the dining table.

Miguel doesn't seem to notice as you get closer, finally able to hear slight noise and chatter from a tinny phone. Cup of coffee in hand, you watch as he scrolls, replaying the same video over and over. From over his shoulder, you can just about make it out: music that had deafened you at the time, loops with a pathetic whine. A video from last night, it seems, and you recognise the icon of Lyla's story. Bright lights, your dress sparkling and a pretty little laugh drowned out by Lyla's - he seems to replay the same couple of seconds over, and over, and–

“Mig?” He jumps, leaping almost 3 feet into the air, it seems. His phone shuts off with a clatter, slammed onto the table. Turning, he seems guilty, before flattening his face into something more socially acceptable.

“H-Hi. Morning.” He clears his throat, giving you an awkward nod.

“Morning,” Softening, you slink down to take a seat. He knows, of course: he knows that you know, that you saw exactly what he's been doing. But you're both going to ignore it, let it settle in the gaps between you - a gap that quickly shrinks, he notes.

The chair drags across the floor, almost catching at a rug on the wooden slats. When you seat yourself by him; closer, closer, oh-so close; you can't help but brush your legs to his, addicted to the way it makes him shiver. Payback, you think, grabbing at his mug and stealing a sip before he can say anything. For all the times he's fucked with your head.

Miguel knows better than to protest, crossing his arms resolutely. He sighs - not maliciously, but with a tinge of defeat. You're too pretty, and too close for him to think properly; to even muster up the energy to argue. And so he doesn't, opting to chew at the inside of his cheek.

“ Hey .” You say, hand coming up to cheekbone, stroking at it with your thumb. Miguel tries not to lean into it, to melt into the touch. “ Careful. Where'd you go?”

It makes him laugh, bitterly, ruefully - whatever you want to call it. Where'd you go? And you say it like you've got an inkling of all the shit that goes on in his head. He goes to the same place he always seems to be, these days. Somewhere that reminds him of you , of your nights together, of your nights apart–

“Did you sleep well?” You're asking, and it takes him a second to process it.

“Sure.” Shrugging, he lies, and you pretend to believe him. “Long night, I suppose.”

When he picks that moment to look at you, to bore into your soul, you take your hand away; feeling naked , feeling bare .

“What about you? Did you sleep well?”

And you hum, non-committal, in response.

“Can’t remember much.” It’s a bold-faced lie, and he knows it.

He chews at his lips, eyes dragged down to your figure. He’s shameless, lashes fluttering before he sighs - with the kind of tiredness that rattles at his chest - scratching at a 5 o’clock shadow.

He’s pinching at the bridge of his nose like he’s battling a headache - and losing miserably. Miguel; your Miguel, this time; looks so pathetic, with the countenance of a wet mop. It’s not a grimace, nor a frown, like always. It looks like melancholy - thinly veiled, bone-deep - and it makes your heart splinter.

You just… you just want to comfort him. To hold him in your arms and stroke his hair, to press kisses into the crinkles at the side of his mouth, his forehead: to be warm and soft and somewhere safe , for him.

It’s a compulsion you can’t fight, clambering over him to sit on his lap. His gaze flickers, pointedly trying to ignore you, but his hand rests comfortably on plush thigh. It sends a shiver down your spine; how tender his touch is, even when like this.

“I…” You start, tracing a hand to his scratchy jaw and gently tilting him towards you. “I remember enough.”

He can’t help it, hand travelling a little further up and eyes flitting to your lips.

“... Yeah ?” And it comes with an unceremonious squeeze at your ass, wetting his lips with pink tongue.

That gap between you shrinks even more as you press your chest to his, with a hand at his shoulder. God, his skin is hot to the touch; lean muscle that tenses under your palm. He gets closer.

“What are you doing today?” He’s trying so hard, forcing himself to look you in the eye - betrayed only by a pounding heart and a lingering look to your lips.

Coupled with the way he looks at you; kneading at your thighs, leaning into your gentle palm; it makes your throat close up.

“...U-Umm, I think–”

“It’s Friday, right?” He hums, head cocked as if deep in thought. “You’ve got… stats and lab prep, today.”

You frown. “Yeah, actually. How did you–”

“You’re always complaining about Fridays.”

“I didn’t yesterday.”

“I’ve barely seen you all week, sweetheart.”

“ And who’s fault is that? ” Muttering, you roll your eyes, trying not to show him the way it makes you melt.

“I listen.” He says, soft.

“...sometimes.” You finish, but it’s half-hearted. You know, he knows; he listens . He always has.

“I think…” You clear your throat. “T-Think m’gonna take the day off. I’m pretty–”

Tired. Exhausted. Ready to kiss your roommate if it meant he would look at you like that for a little longer.

“ – hungover .” He whispers, thumb stroking your hip as you snort; ready to bat him away.

Wriggling, his grip tightens, slotting you closer as if in a trance. You’re laughing, a sharp retort at the tip of your tongue, but his wry smile seems tinged with something else. It’s a something that makes your heart skip a beat – but it’s his next words that have you reeling.

“I’ve got the day off, too.”

You’re taken aback. “Don’t you…? I-I mean I thought you’re taking extra hours at Alchemax…”

“Nope.” Resolute, he shakes his head. “We’ve got appraisals or something, today. Upper management only. I thought I told you.”

Brows kneaded, you give him a look he’s well accustomed to. And Miguel; because he’s Miguel, of course; counters it almost immediately.

“Don't give me that … You didn’t even know I wore glasses until yesterday.”

“That’s not fair , Mig.”

“You don’t want to spend the day with me? Dios mio, hermosa.”

“Mig–”

Dramatic, he tips his head back, clutching at his chest. “Am I that bad? You can’t spend a couple hours with me–”

“Mig –”

“Just a couple, sweetheart, and then I’m out of your hair, and you can complain about me to–”

“ Mig! ” You exclaim, giggling whilst you nudge his head forward to meet your gaze.

“You called?” He flutters his eyelashes playfully, with a hint of a smile.

It looks good on him, you think; glad that he feels comfortable enough to finally let go.

There’s a gentle lull and he places hot palms at your thighs to hike you up even closer. You adjust yourself on his lap, watching the way he groans with his head in your hands. It makes you bold: the way he moves to clutch at your hand and dart under the lip of your shirt to press you closer.

A roll of your hips makes him purr , eyes fluttering as he rocks up in thin pants. Quickly hardening, he’s wearing a dopey smile - one you return as you press your forehead to his. He angles his hips just right, causing little moans to spill out from pretty lips. The hand at his jaw travels to the nape of his neck, tugging in that way you know that he likes. You know him, and that makes your chest warm: the way he purrs and rumbles as you touch him in a way only you can.

Roughly, he swallows, head tilted up to catch at your cheek.

“Do you remember what you said last night?” It’s whispered into skin, soft and barely-there. “What you asked me to do?”

Kiss me. Why won’t you kiss me?

Like something sharp and intense through your veins, the memory makes you shiver, leaning into Miguel so his clothed cock catches at your clit. Like this , you don’t want to look at him - you can’t.

Ask me tomorrow.

And so you shake your head, nuzzling into his side with a weak whimper.

There’s a pause so imperceptible you might have imagined it. If Miguel is disappointed - or relieved, or frustrated - you can’t quite tell. Unceremoniously, he latches on, taking large handfuls of your ass and sucking ugly hickies into pretty skin.

“You asked me–” He says it between wet kisses, sloppy and hungry and quickly deepening. “You asked me to fuck you .”

You gulp, hips rolling as you close your eyes.

“ Just the tip, you said.” He lifts you up slightly, rolling back plaid pants. He nips at your neck, all tongue and teeth and claws. “Do you remember now?”

He’s not even inside, teasing your bare folds with the wide head of his cock. Your head tilts to give him more access to that juncture of your jaw. A dry chuckle leaves your lips at his tone and countenance; asking if you remember as he does his best to make you forget even the simplest of things. And that’s the thing about Miguel O’Hara, saccharine-sweet, gorgeous -in-the-low-light O’Hara: he makes you feel so good, everything else falls away.

“ Fuck.” He heaves. “”J-Just the–”

Impatient, you shift your hips, slipping him inside with one delicious movement. You can taste it: pleasure , white-hot and building up just below your gut. Miguel separates with a wet pop, hands trailing up to rid you of your shirt – his shirt, you realise with a moan. Exposed, he eyes your pretty stomach and then the peak of your breast. He keeps you flush to his hips, right at the sharp cut of his v-line, tufts of hair leading to where you both meet. With the way his eyes flutter, you can tell: he wants to kiss you, slathering up your chest to collarbone, and then from collarbone to jaw. He gets close, pressing shaky kisses to the corner of your lips – threatening to break the promise you made to each other long ago. And God , with the way he pistons up into your cunt, you… you just might let him.

Then his hips shift, pubic bone at your clit in a way that brings pleasure to the burn. You’re stretched out, filled to the brim and then leaning back to press your forearms onto the grain of the dining table. Like this, his hands stay squeezing the flesh at the tops of your thighs; only able to watch as you take over. You use a bit of leverage to tilt your hips this way and that - eyes low, not leaving his.

“Feels good , Mig.” You’re whining, eyes locked onto his because you want to watch him fall apart - to watch as all his troubles melt away. “So good. Uhh –Always does. I remember… shit … remember this. ”

And you take his hand, wrapping your lips around his index and middle finger - thick and large - with the memories of how they felt inside you only making you wetter. Gushing praise as best you can, you slobber and slather over his fingers, studying every twitch and gorgeous groan that he gives. He pulls his hand away from you; gentle, but cursing nevertheless; alternating from slapping your ass to tugging at the stiff peak of your nipple. It’s your turn to stutter, hips jumping as you cum - an orgasm so hard he bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from spilling into you. There’s blood in his mouth, he notes as he studies the way you look: beautiful, always beautiful; framed in the gentle pink and purple from a rising sun.

Miguel slips out of you, painfully hard. Still heaving from your orgasm, you lean forward to press his cock between your bodies: bare and gorgeously framed in morning sun. Writhing, you kiss his neck, trailing up to the shell of his ear, whispering sweet nothings.

“Want you to cum, Mig.” And you do… oh God , you do. “You close?”

All he does is groan, nodding fervently into the crook of your neck. Diligently, you wrap him up in your arms, crooning and sweet, carefully rocking into him so his cock slides up and down your soft skin. For once, he doesn’t complain, holding you just as tight.

“M’gonna… o–ohh ffuck …”

“Cum, Mig. For me.”

You’re firm but gentle, pressing your tits up against him and making sure his cock gets that well needed friction. As such, you can feel it almost immediately; hot cum slathered over your tits and body - leaving so much glistening on your skin.

With a rough gulp, he heaves, eyes screwed tightly shut. You can’t help it, brushing away stray hairs from his face, leaving soft kisses in your wake. And maybe, just maybe, you hear him sob - muffled whimpering and whining with every slight shift of your body against his. And oh . It makes your heart melt when you realise, still carding your fingers through the nape of his neck.

He’s overstimulated. It’s too much.

Limp, he stays wrapped around you for a while, muttering nonsense into your skin.

“ Sorry. ” Shakily, he says – like he even has anything to be sorry about. “M’really— fuck. I just need a moment.”

You hum. It makes your heart heavy that he thinks he needs to be ready now , that he thinks he doesn’t deserve more than a moment to process his pleasure. You want Miguel to feel good, you always have. But with the realisation that you want him to be happy ; to feel safe, to feel loved; well…

…it scares you more than anything.

~~~

Aftercare .

Miguel admits, he’s not too familiar with the term.

It’s not something he’s proud of. With many a one night stand under his belt - even, occasionally seeing a girl more than once - he’s never been too good at it. He’s tried, definitely. Tried so very hard to stick around a little longer, to stay curled up in bed and guide his partner through their comedown. Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite come naturally to him - oft susceptible to a glass of water by the bedside and a gentle nudge to an Uber. That physicality: the cuddling , and kissing, the sappy, wholesome, relationship-adjacent thing? He’s never had that desire after sex, much too stuck in his own head for that.

So why does this feel… so good?

You’re taking care of him. He’s not stupid; knowing that your bedside manner is much better than his. You’re merely doing the right thing and helping him past such an intense orgasm: and that seems to come in the form of his head on your chest, limbs tangled up together on your beat up old couch. This doesn’t count , he’s convinced himself: all those rules and boundaries you’ve both come so close to breaking - a little cuddling doesn't even scratch that surface. And if it feels so good to have your hand playing with his hair, to ground himself with the steady thump-thump of your heart, then who is he to complain?

He’s just a man, he decides. A mere mortal, unable to resist that taste of heaven he’s been given - unable to say no . Absentmindedly, you’re humming some stupid song you’ve had stuck in your head for at least a week, now, eyes trained towards a cheesy soap on the TV. There’s a mug of coffee on the table - it tastes like shit, but Miguel is more than happy to gulp it down if it makes you feel better - hot and steaming as you tug the blanket so it covers him a little better.

Unknowingly, you’re lulling him to sleep - the very same sleep he’s been chasing for the past couple of hours. Tossing and turning at night, but barely 10 minutes in your arms and his body only seems to listen to you , for some reason. Traitorous bastard, he thinks, fighting to keep his eyes open.

You’ve cleaned the both of you up - even though he had insisted otherwise. Let me take care of you , he had slurred, and you just laughed ; that pretty, infuriating laugh, with that pretty, infuriating smile – the very same one he’s wanted to kiss off of you since the beginning. Weakly, he protested, following you into the kitchen only to make a nuisance of himself.

It’s like you're drunk, Mig.

In some ways, maybe he is. You had steered him away, and onto couch cushions. Which must have been quite the feat, he notes, able to control all 6”5 of his sleep-deprived, hefty limbs. But he supposes, yet again, his body doesn’t quite listen to him anymore. Only you.

Was it that good? Did I fuck the fine motor skills out of you?

He remembers groaning. He remembers trying not to be drawn in by that lilting giggle, covering his ears with a rough blanket. Most of all, though, he remembers the feeling of your body on his, slipping on top of him to dig him out of that heap.

Miguel? Baby, it’s a joke! I’m kidding, I promise.

He had poked his head out. Baby. He likes that, likes the way his name sounds out of your mouth. It anchors him to this mortal plane like a sharp hook, cutting through the brain fog and burying itself into his chest. You had clasped your hands around his face, steadfast despite his wriggling.

…Oh God, even worse. I think I fucked the common sense out of you instead.

He remembers wanting to kiss you. Your lips curled up into that stupid smile, clearly so pleased at a shitty joke. It makes him warm, thinking about it now. Or maybe, it’s just the blanket you’ve tried to suffocate him in.

“When did you sleep?” You ask, and he has to blink up at you to collect his thoughts.

“Late.” He says it simply.

That answer doesn’t satisfy you, and you’re poking and prodding at his face, gently pulling at slowly deepening eyebags.

“ No fucking wonder .” You mutter. “You’re turning into me. No more late nights, Mig.”

When he frowns, you stick your tongue out, gleefully watching as his grimace deepens.

“Or what?”

“Or we stop having sex.”

That makes him rocket u pwards, indignant. “ You can’t just– ”

“I can do what I want.” Slowly, your face morphs into what must be worry. At least, he thinks it does, not too familiar with someone worrying about him like this. “No more late nights, please”

You say it so softly his heart might break. He clears his throat of its cobwebs.

“That's not really up to me, sweetheart.” Thesis deadlines. Tutoring. Taking on more hours at Alchemax in preparation for a big event. Slowly, his plate mounts, and it takes everything in him to keep going.

“I know,” You settle his head onto your lap, now. Absent-mindedly, you wrap one of his curls around your finger, hand in his hair in a way that feels more intimate than the past hour, days, weeks spent together. “I just wish you'd take care of yourself better.”

It's not said to chastise him, and you don't sound disappointed ; not tinged with the same flavour of guilt that his mama has over the phone, or that Gabi has when he hits him with that deep sigh. It's pure, selfless, plain-and-simple worry. He doesn't deserve it, he thinks.

He looks up at you. Beautifully oblivious, your gaze is still pinned to the TV. It’s domestic, comfortable in the afterglow of sex. That’s what it must be: contentment and bliss settling over him like a warm blanket. The aftermath of being in your arms, of your body on his; purely physical , that follows the kind of euphoria that he imagines can only be found in a needle. Honestly, he’s still expecting a sharp decline, a rough comedown that tastes like regret, or despair, or deep, deep empty. It doesn’t come.

Always the pessimist, but Miguel can’t help it, really; he’s been chasing something just out of reach for too long.

“You’re gone again.” You say it so quietly he almost misses it. You give him a weary smile, hand clutching at the fabric that pools around him. He watches as you rearrange it by his shoulders, pinching the folds with a kneaded brow. Finally satisfied, you look him in the eye. “Like Ophelia. ”

He doesn’t sigh. He doesn’t scoff, or roll his eyes, or any of the half dozen ways he’s learnt to repress difficult emotions. Slipping under the water - the makeshift waves made of a ratty blanket - passive to his own suffering. You don’t say it, and he hasn’t even told you the half of it; but somehow, you see it . You see him.

He remembers the first time he met you. Thundering and clattering through his space; bulldozing every carefully placed wall he’s spent years putting up. And then he remembers the first time he actually met you; behind the sharp tongue and quick retorts, finding you watery and forlorn on the floor of your shared apartment. Beautiful, of course – always, always beautiful. But that time, the kind of beauty only found in a painting: tragedy captured in oils, careful brushstrokes muddied by time, by loss, by hurt. You’ve been hurting for a while, he thinks, well before any mention of shitty ex-boyfriends and missed lectures.

Miguel recalls late nights spent trying to still his heart, fixated on a sudden, betraying question that rattles around in his head. Are you like him? Do you understand ? Born with something missing, a tick-tick-tick of the count, radioactive and broken and–

Your hand drapes lazily across his chest, tapping and pointing at something on the screen. He hums, non-committal, the words out of your mouth barely registering. It feels familiar. It feels warm. It feels like nights spent on the couch trying not to laugh at your frustratingly witty remarks. He remembers holding his breath when your leg brushed against his; stealing careful glances to his side; trying not to stare at the way the gloom of the TV looks ethereal against you, snug to the slope of your features, cut this way and that.

But more than anything, he remembers wanting to kiss you. God. Maybe he always has.

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