i wanna beg joel to slap me and proceed to cry when his heavy hands do it too hard🙂↕️🙂↕️🙂↕️
warnings: fauxcest, reader calls Joel Dad, Joel calls reader kiddo/kid, face slapping, overstimulation, sizekink, dacryphilia, hint of breeding kink, hand kink, age gap obviously, mention of it being too much for reader, Joel is kinda mean but loving, he laughs at her a little, Joel is big and strong and heavy and reader can’t move under him, I need him so fucking bad holy shit
notes: a drabble a day keeps the doctor away! I’m sick in bed so I have nothing to do but write. Keep the requests coming 🩷
“Where’d you hear about that anyway?” Joel asks, his eyebrows raised. He puts another log into the fireplace, where a crackling fire is warming your living room. You shrug, your cheeks hot and red.
“I…didn’t.”
Joel looks over his shoulder, wipes his hands on his jeans, and gets up. He looks so big from your spot on the couch, tall as a skyscraper when you look up at him.
“You came up with that all by yourself, kid?”
You shrug again. You’re pushing it, you know you are. It took Joel weeks to finally fuck you after you begged him to, to see past the fact that you’ve been calling him Dad for the past six months, ever since you came to this place.
“C’mon,” he says softly, walking over to you and looping one thumb through the belt loop of his jeans. “Spit it out.”
“When you…took me on patrol. And we found that raider, and you thought he might have information on who tried to blow up the gate…you slapped him.”
Joel doesn’t answer for a couple of seconds, then he sighs.
“Kiddo, I tortured that man for information. You want me to stick a knife in your knee, too?”
You blush further, and shake your head, but keep looking up at him, expression hopeful.
“Christ almighty, you’re serious, huh?”
Another nod, and Joel sits down next to you, pulls you against his broad and warm body.
“You want me to slap your pretty face?” His voice is low and quiet, an undeniable tenderness laced through it. “Sweetheart, it’s gonna hurt.”
“I like your hands,” you mumble, and wrap your fingers around two of his, your thumb tracing the lines on his big palm. “I like how strong they are.”
Joel chuckles, and lets his hand drift up and down your thigh.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, kid.”
***
“Please, Dad,” you say, eyes wide, and Joel thrusts into you again, a low grunt falling from his lips.
“You’re too pretty to hit,” he argues, and places his hand on your stomach, applying pressure gently until you see stars. He fucks into you deep, and not gently, but slow. He’s thorough. Taking his time, pressing his fat cock into you until it’s on the brink of painful, his full body weight on top of you.
“Please,” you beg again, and wiggle your hips impatiently when Joel stills inside of you. He stares down into your face, his breath coming in huffs.
“You mean it?”
You nod frantically.
“You want your old man to hit you?”
A hint of disbelief in his voice, but something else, too. Anticipation, maybe. You know Joel likes his strength, especially compared to your lack of it.
“Yes,” you breathe, eyes wide and glued to his. He clears his throat, his cock still deep inside of you. You know you’re fluttering and squeezing around him, you can’t help it.
“Alright, kiddo. Alright.”
His hand leaves your stomach, he slides it up your sternum and over your throat, then grabs your jaw.
“Bite down,” he orders, “don’t want ya to accidentally bite your tongue.”
You obey, and he nods. Then his hand is gone from your face, and you close your eyes in anticipation, but Joel speaks again.
“Look at me.”
You do, your hips twitching upwards involuntarily. He chuckles at your impatience, and you whine, needy and desperate for him to start rutting into you again.
Then, his palm collides with your face, hard. The impact knocks your head to the side, and all the air in your lungs leaves your body with a wheeze.
“Oh fuck,” Joel groans, and his hips push you further into the mattress, as he tries to fuck you deeper. His brain catches up, realises he’s already all up in your guts, and he drags his cock out of you, then slams back into you. Your cheek burns and stings, but the shock of the impact is somehow worse. Joel has never fucked you like this before, so uninhabited and out of control. You register your own moans and whines, as you lay under Joel’s heavy and big body, and simply take it.
He slaps you again, and your pussy spasms around him, your body unable to keep up with all the sensations you’re feeling. You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, from the delicious pain, but also the sheer amount of stimulation. They roll down your cheeks, and Joel chuckles.
“I told you, baby, didn’t I? Y’don’t know how to handle a beatin’.”
He picks up the pace, his cock hitting your cervix with each thrust, and suddenly it’s all too much. A sob wrecks your body, because you feel so good, so much, because Joel is everywhere, and you can’t help it, you start to cry.
“Oh baby,” Joel coos, never stopping, “you need a break?”
You move your head, half head shake and half nod, and Joel laughs quietly, his body pressing you into the mattress as he thrusts in and out of you.
“How about you come for me, see if you feel better then? All wound up, kiddo.”
“Yeah,” you breathe, your hand digging into Joel’s biceps.
“Yeah,” he agrees, “you just let go, sweetheart.”
And you do. It feels like your whole body tenses up, and you whine, as Joel presses his cock into you repeatedly. Erratically, your hips move upwards to meet his, but it doesn’t matter you’re not meeting his thrusts, he’s too strong anyway. Just keeps fucking into you, as you twitch around him, your eyes wide but unseeing.
He almost never comes at the same time as you. He likes to wait it out, watch you twitch from the overstimulation. But today he grunts as soon as you’re done, and you feel his thick ropes of seed spill deep into you, your hands going limp with satisfaction and sliding down his arms.
“There ya go, kiddo,” Joel mutters, his cock still spurting and twitching inside of you. “There you go.”
His movements still, and he’s breathing heavily, his heavy body resting on top of you. It’s hard to breathe, but you don’t mind it, your eyes fluttering closed. You’re exhausted, satisfied, plugged up with Joel’s cock, and used. His lips find your cheek, and you make a soft, satisfied sound.
summary: The only cardio you enjoy is sex with Joel, and even if it's not quite what the doctor ordered, he'll oblige to keep his little girl healthy.
warnings: dd/lg, reader calls Joel Dad, incest play (explicitly stated they're not related), big age gap (50s & 20s), discussion of body image, reader has a strained relationship with her physique, Joel is patient and sweet but stern, Joel calls reader kiddo, praise kink, orgasm delay, shy reader, please read the author's note bc I do not have the energy to get cancelled
note: hey, so. I don't know what the fuck this is, but I dedicate it to the girls who got picked last every single time when the kids were choosing teams in P.E. class...just please be aware that although reader's body type isn't technically being described (except for her having long-ish hair), I don't know how to write for another body type than mine, and I'm super scrawny in the non-athletic, 9 year old boy way, so if that might not be relatable or even triggering, it's okay to skip this one! There'll be more stories soon, including these kinds of kinks. If you're not into calling Joel Dad, that's understandable and probably very sane of you, but no reason to insult any of the people who are <3 now, enjoy reading!
"I don’t wanna go."
Joel furrows his brows at your petulance and crosses his arms in front of his broad chest. You wrap your arms around your legs and dig your toes into the soft sofa cushions. It would be so easy to just stay on the couch all day and make Joel watch some shitty reality tv show with you.
"The doctor said twice a week minimum."
You huff and don’t meet his eye.
"Sweetheart?"
You can’t help it, your eyes flicker upwards at the pet name, and although Joel’s expression is stern, you detect gentleness, too.
"I just…I hate running."
Joel walks over to you and squats down in front of you, his face still almost the same height as yours. He wraps his fingers around your ankles and massages you gently with his thumbs.
"’N why’s that?"
You shrug, look away, rest your chin on your knees, look at Joel again. He’s waiting patiently for an answer.
"I’m not…you’ve never seen me do sports. I’m awful at it."
Joel hums, and presses a kiss to your knee.
"You’re not s’posed to run a marathon, baby, just get your lungs up to speed again."
Of course Joel Miller wouldn’t get it, not with a biceps and frame like his. There is no way he was ever picked last to be on a volleyball team. Or soccer. Or softball.
"It’s embarrassing," you admit, "I don’t want people to see me. And I really really hate it. It’s no fun at all, just makes me ache all over and feel like a...like a weakling or a grandma."
You words are childish and you know it. It’s not supposed to be fun, it’s supposed to expand the volume of your lungs again after a bad case of pneumonia struck you down during the summer. What you should do is grit your teeth and start training like any responsible adult, but you just can’t bring yourself to feel like you did at twelve years old, embarrassed for your chest to be aching so much sooner than anybody else’s while running. Joel’s eyes are watchful, and you sigh.
"Fine," you mumble, "fine, fine, fine, fine. I’ll fucking go run, and then proceed to feel bad about myself for three to four weeks."
But Joel’s hands are unrelenting and don’t slip from your ankles, don’t allow you to put your feet on the floor like you intended.
"Want me to come with you? ’M not as fit as I used to be either. You can laugh at me ’f ya want."
He’s so sweet about it, you almost smile, but the idea is still mortifying.
"I could never look you in the eye again if you saw me all sweaty and out of breath."
Joel cocks an eyebrow.
"I enjoy seein’ you sweaty and out of breath, kiddo."
There seems to be a palpable shift in the air between you, and your breath hitches slightly.
"I-that’s…it’s different."
You can tell Joel is slightly amused now, and the way he rubs your ankles seems to be with slightly more intent, a little more sensual than before.
"No difference at all, baby. ’S both cardio."
That makes you smile against your will, and Joel is visibly satisfied by your bad mood lifting.
"If it’s both cardio, why do I have to go running? Might as well…"
Your voice trails off. Even after all this time with Joel, all the filthy things he has had you say and do, you can’t bring yourself to call what you two do fucking, not in casual conversation.
Joel considers you for a moment, your propped up knees to keep the world at bay, your slightly pink cheeks, the petulant way your arms are crossed.
"Alright," he says, "no runnin’. But you’re doin’ all the work, baby, ’s not supposed to be a picnic."
You frown at him – you might enjoy getting on your knees for his pleasure whenever he wants you to, but you’ve never liked being on top – he calls you babydoll, doesn’t he? Might as well treat you like one.
"Your choice, kid."
You mumble something incoherent that Joel would chastise you for if he had caught it, then take a deep breath and nod.
"Fine," you agree, "but only if–"
"I don’t think you’re in any position to bargain, sweetheart. What d’you think the doctor’s gonna tell me if you’re still having problems at your next appointment, hm?"
He knows his words make your insides twist with want, you can see it in his eyes. The doctor wouldn’t tell Joel anything at all, and you both know it – but you enjoy this game just as much as Joel does, this play-pretending of him being more of a guardian than most people would deem morally right. Whenever you think about it too hard, the tingle in your stomach turns into guilt, but now, with Joel hovering over you, broad and sure and old enough to really be that guardian, you only feel the familiar flame of desire starting to lick at your insides. Joel clocks the way your legs shift slightly, and he smiles.
"There we go, sweetheart. You gonna talk back again?"
"No, Dad."
There it is, that name that would make anyone faint if they listened in. Already, you feel your stomach start to pull tight. Joel gets up and pushes your knees down gently, so that your feet are planted on the floor. You reluctantly obey his touch, still not entirely convinced of this plan. Still, you let him pull you to your feet, his eyes drifting over your form, half assessing, half hungry. You like the clothes you’re wearing, but they’re distinctly un-sporty. Lace and bows and buttons.
"Don’t look at me like that," you grumble, all of a sudden irrationally worried Joel is doing this to shape you into someone he deems more desirable, but his fingers under your chin are gentle when he lifts it up to have you look at him.
"You’re as pretty as they come," he says in that gentle way of his that simultaneously feels so stern, "’s not about looks, sweet girl. You gotta work those little lungs of yours, and when you’re all healthy again, we’ll find you a sport you enjoy, hm? I’ll take ya horseback ridin’, or swimming’. Whatever you’d like."
That thought cheers you up slightly. You don’t enjoy flying balls and angry teammates, but floating through nothingness on your own or having a horse let you guide it is something you think you can get behind. Much more than any of the things the doctor recommended.
"Okay," you agree, and finally you can’t hear that terrible attitude you were giving Joel in your voice anymore, finally you’re back to being the sweet girl he likes you to be. Your stomach flutters looking up into his warm face lined with wrinkles, both from sorrow and joy you never got to see, because you had not been born yet. The thought shouldn’t be arousing. This game you play isn’t really about pretending to be related, it’s not even about control or a discrepancy of power. It’s about a certain lack of conditions that comes with loving Joel, and him loving you. The way you’re able to let him hold your fears and worries for you, and trust him to turn them into something else.
"Up," Joel says softly, and you lift your arms, eyes not moving from his face as he starts to pull your top over your head. Even after all this time, you still get a little insecure whenever Joel sees you naked. You know he likes the way you look, he makes sure to tell you as often as possible, but there is a well of hate for your own body inside of you, fostered in your teenage years, that you never quite managed to get rid of. You think that every girl might feel like this, might be made to feel like it, as if this body isn’t what has carried you through your life for more than two decades now.
You once whispered your confession of insecurity into Joel’s ear, sitting on his lap not long after he first swept you off your feet, and his genuine surprise was more healing than any words of affirmation could have been, though he offered them to you more than willingly. Joel didn’t understand how you could hate something that was your home, your vessel, and this inherently and sweetly masculine naivety was what made you really question your outlook on yourself for the first time. That Joel could love your body simply because it was yours, that this mere fact was enough for him to groan and get hard whenever you blinked right and played with the shoulder-strap of your top – it felt so paternal. That night you called him that name for the first time, and there was the same surprise on his face, as he came so hard inside of you, you don’t know how he didn’t knock you up to this day.
After that it was an easy dynamic to sink into, you letting him take care of you, him reveling in the trust and intimacy. Nobody knew about it, or your relationship would have been picked apart even more than it already was. But here, on Joel’s couch, under Joel’s palms, you get to let all pretenses fall, and bare yourself to Joel in any way he’ll have you, just as much as he does for you.
So you let out a shaky breath when he smoothes his palms over your ribcage, his hands so large it feels like everything alive inside of you fits into them. You watch him smile when goose pimples erupt on your skin, always pleased by the effect he has on you. The tips of his fingers slip under the strap of your cotton bra, just to tease, just to hint at getting it off, but then he slides them down and over your hips.
"Let’s get this pretty skirt off, hm? ’S no outfit to work out in."
You move your head in agreement, something between a nod and a head-shake, and Joel pulls the fabric down and over your thighs, exposing your soft skin and panties. A twinge of insecurity twists your stomach, being so bare and exposed in front of a completely clothed Joel, who you’re sure never once had to struggle with how sporty he is. Not when his muscles are bulging like that, not when he seems to love how much you love his belly. You envy him for it, and wish he could transfer some of his security right into your veins. Until then, you’ll have to make do by borrowing it from him whenever he has you split on his cock, letting the doubts seep from your mind when he calls you pretty as you fall apart.
He unclasps your bra, slides down your panties and you step out of them, completely naked in front of him.
"Christ," he mumbles, "if ya didn’t need to exercise your lungs, I’d fuck you right into that couch."
You feel your cheeks heat up, and look down, which earns you a rumbly chuckle.
"Oh sweetheart, ’s just me. Don’t gotta be embarrassed."
"Okay," you say softly, meeting his eye again, "okay, Dad."
Joel’s pupils dilate just slightly.
"That’s right, angel," he mumbles, and moves to unclasp his belt, "’s just your old man. Just Dad."
It’s like you can feel yourself get wet in time with his words, watching him slide his jeans over his prominent bulge. He doesn’t take them off all the way, just enough to be able to pull himself out of his boxers and pump his fist over himself a couple of times.
"You know, kiddo, when you’re done with your workout, I’ll make us the biggest hot fudge sundae you’ve ever seen. ’S all about balance."
Your lips twitch with a smile, and Joel smiles back, sitting down on the sofa in front of you.
"Come on, sweetheart, the quicker you start, the sooner you’re done."
Your belly aches with want, and you wish he would just turn you around, press your head into the cushions and fuck you deeply, but his words make it more than clear that it’s not technically about your pleasure, at least not primarily. The softness in his eyes tells you it’s all part of the game, all part of a distraction from not wanting to let him see you work out, so when you sit down on his knee, your hands on his shoulders, it doesn’t feel embarrassing anymore. You swallow, waiting for Joel’s hands on your hips, but he just puts them behind his head, looking down at you expectantly.
"You waitin’ for somethin’?"
He always helps you. He always guides your movement, because he knows it shuts off your mind to know you’re doing it the way he likes. But he’s quiet now, watching you all relaxed and expectant. You swallow, and his eyes track the movement of your throat.
"You want me to help you?"
"Yes please, Dad" you say softly, feeling the muscles of his thigh contract against your core. Almost involuntarily, your hips twitch towards him. Joel hums, as if contemplating your request, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"I’ll talk you through it," he decides after a beat, "but you’re movin’ on your own, princess. ’S still a workout."
Your eyes are wide, but you don’t argue.
"Start movin’ your hips, sweetheart, gotta get you wet first. Any athlete knows to warm up first."
You clench at his words, the practical way he describes what you’re doing, and start rolling your hips against his thigh, the rough denim dragging deliciously against your clit. Joel’s cock twitches when a soft groan escapes your mouth, and he drags his eyes down your body.
"That’s good, baby, just like that. Don’t mind the spot, I’ll do the laundry later."
The fact that you’re ruining Joel’s jeans didn’t even cross your mind, you’re entirely focused on the feeling of him right under you, the tips of your fingers digging into his shoulders.
"Good job, baby, keep goin’."
Even though you’re moving on your own, it’s easier with Joel coaching you trough it, tracking your movement and encouraging you whenever he can sense your reluctance. You know you’re soaking his thigh, that he must surely be able to feel your heat and wetness even through the fabric, and the thought makes you move your hips a little more frantically, as your head droops towards Joel’s shoulder.
"Upright, baby, think of your posture," Joel says, though he sounds a little strained himself.
"Da-ad," you whine, "’m close."
"Hold it off, we ain’t done yet."
You could disobey him. Joel wouldn’t get angry, though he wouldn’t let you off the hook either, but something about the authoritative way he’s instructing you makes you incapable of going through with it. So you slow your hips, revel in his consequential praise, and wish he would kiss you. But you’re working out, not making out, so you look up at him expectantly, and he nods.
"Go ahead, sweetheart, sit on it."
You wrap your hand around his cock, red and hot and so hard, and move so that you’re kneeling over him, aligning your entrance with the tip. You stare right into his eyes when you sink down, and Joel smiles when he sees the way your brows furrow in a mix of concentration and pain.
"That’s it, biiiig stretch, baby," he say with a groan, his eyes moving down to where you’re slowly being impaled by his cock. It’s a lot to take even when he eats you out or gives you his fingers first, but now the feeling is so overwhelming you close your eyes for a moment. You keep going, though, until you’re entirely full, and Joel lets out another breathy groan. His biceps is twitching with restraint, his fingers tugging just slightly at his own hair, but his hips stay where they are. You know on any other day, he would have flipped you around by now and given it to you himself, and you marvel at his self restraint.
"Start movin’," Joel orders, and you lift your hips upwards again, rolling them just slightly, the drag of his cock inside you overwhelmingly delicious. Little whines and groans escape you as you bounce up and down, eyes wide and on Joel, holding onto him for support.
"Feels so good, Dad," you mumble, and Joel smiles, giving you one thrust of his hips that makes your eyes roll back, but then he’s still again, only his chest is heaving.
"Look at you," he praises, his voice rough and low, "riding me like a champ. Pity I can’t enroll you in competitions for this, you’d win your Dad some medals."
Your hips stutter at his words, and Joel groans at the way you clench in response to his dirty talk, always so receptive.
"You’d like that, hm? Makin’ your old man proud?"
You nod and vaguely register a dull pain in your lower lip, as your teeth sink into it.
"Yeah," you breathe, bouncing up and down on Joel’s cock, your thighs starting to ache. Joel chuckles, and tucks a lose strand of hair behind your ear, and you wish he’d touch you properly, put his hands on your tits or hips or throat, but he just rests his arm on the back of the sofa.
"Tell you secret, angel, I’m always prouda you. ’S not about winnin’, just about feelin’ good in in your pretty little body."
You keep moving, ignoring the ache in your legs and stomach best as you can, but after a while of heavy breathing and a film of sweat building on your forehead and neck, you subconsciously slow down.
"Keep goin’," Joel says when he notices, "you can do it."
So you speed up your movements again, lips parted and air rushing through them quickly.
"Good girl," Joel praises you, his eyes trained on the place he is disappearing inside of you. A sticky white ring has started building at the base of his cock, a mixture of both your arousal. You lift your hips again, eyes unfocused.
"Dad," you whine, "I can’t–"
"Yeah you can, baby, sure you can. Know it’s uncomfortable, but you’ll feel so good when you’re all done. Keep goin’."
You remember this feeling of pushing yourself from p.e. class, but it was always mixed with shame instead of pleasure, and now, with Joel’s eyes on your body, watching your muscles contract appreciatively, you don’t have it in you to feel anything else but the pleasure – except for maybe exhaustion. You keep going as long as you can, breathing heavily and forcing yourself to continue anyways, your hands clawing at Joel’s plaid shirt.
"Please," you mumble after a while, your thighs burning with effort now, the squelching noise of Joel’s body entering yours so obscene it almost makes you come.
"Can you do five more minutes, baby? Five more for Dad?"
For Dad? Sure – you keep bouncing, your hands on Joel’s shoulder pushing you upwards, your breathing going even faster now, your heart hammering against you ribcage.
"That’s it, baby. Doin’ so good. Feel that ache in your legs?"
You nod, bouncing up and down.
"They’ll be a little sore, so I’ll do all the work tomorrow. You think you can do this twice a week?"
"No," you breathe, and Joel chuckles.
"No? Want to go runnin’ instead?"
"No, Dad," you whine and frown at him, "want you to fuck me."
Joel’s eyes are amused but kind, as he watches you ride him all on your own.
"Oh, I’ll fuck you, little girl. Don’t gotta do without anythin’, I’ll still fuck you each night. We’ll add this twice a week, hm?"
That makes you perk up. Joel meets your every need, fucks you however you want him to, every day, even though you know at his age he could go without it longer than you. On the rare occasions that it doesn’t work, no matter how hard you suck and stroke, he eats you out until you see stars, then keeps going until you fall asleep, but you rarely find the time to do it more than once a day. And even though he leaves you entirely satisfied, you like the idea of coming on Joel’s cock more than he already has you do, even if you’re the one who has to put in the work.
"Okay," you mumble, and drop your forehead onto his shoulder in exhaustion, your hips still lifting and sinking down on him, though with less energy. "Okay, Dad."
And finally Joel reaches out for you, finally he grabs your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh, as he starts lifting you up and down on his cock. He does it so effortlessly, muscles bulging when you open your eyes to watch him, and he speeds up, his hips snapping upwards as his arms force you up and down.
"Good girl," Joel mumbles, lost in pleasure himself now, "always so stubborn till my cock fixes you, hm?"
Your cheeks heat up, but he’s not wrong, and when he slams you down particularly forcefully, you mewl.
"You go ahead and come for me, kiddo. Did so good."
And that’s all it takes for your earth to shatter, stomach pulling tight and your muscles cramping up. You hear Joel groan over the sound of your blood pumping in your ears, and register his cock twitching against your cervix, spilling into you so much you feel like you’re being flooded with cum. Your breathing is quick, your insides still twitching and Joel finally catches your slack mouth in a kiss. You sigh into his mouth as both of your hips still, and he pulls you against his chest, cock still buried inside of you. You go limp, panting into the fabric of his shirt, and his hands start to stroke your naked back. A button of his shirt presses into your cheek, but you’re too exhausted to move your head away.
"You still with me, sweetheart?"
You hum contentedly, and Joel laughs quietly. He adjusts your body, but doesn’t slip out of you, just presses his lips to your jaw. You play with the hair at the back of his neck, mind blissfully lost in your exhaustion, and Joel’s hands move to your thighs. He starts to massage them gently, strong hands digging into your sore muscles, and you let out an involuntary moan. Joel kisses the side of your neck, his tongue chasing and catching your beads of sweat, sucking a hickey into your red and pulsing neck.
You try to pull away, but Joel nips your skin warningly.
"Told ya I like ya sweaty ’n out of breath, didn’t I?"
And you don’t have it in you to argue or feel embarrassed about it. You melt into him further, and shift your hips just slightly. Joel’s spent cock twitches inside of you, and you feel a bit of his cum leak out at the side. You sigh at the feeling, and kiss Joel’s throat.
"Thank God for my vasectomy, can’t have ya gettin’ pregnant with your Dad’s baby now, can we?"
You cheeks burn bright red and you hide your face in Joel’s shoulder.
"Stop it," you mumble, and Joel chuckles.
"No, you stop it, kiddo. There’s nothin’ you should feel embarrassed about with me, you hear me?"
You nod, but Joel isn’t satisfied.
"You hear me?"
"Yes," you mumble, "I hear you, Dad."
"Good."
You sit like that for a while, Joel’s hands drifting over your sweat-sticky skin and massaging your sore muscles.
"You sure you’re still up to me fuckin’ you tonight, baby?" Joel asks when you yawn. You smile into his shirt.
"I’m sure."
Joel kisses the top of your head.
"Promised my little athlete a hot fudge sundae before that, though."
"Not yet, Dad. Want you to stay inside me."
Joel tangles his hand into your hair and pulls gently so that you’re forced to crane your neck. He kisses you, his beard scratching your sweaty skin, and you sigh when he licks into your mouth surprisingly territorially. He’s gentle with you, but already you can tell he’s thinking about fucking you again by the way his cock twitches with every sound you make.
summary: One week; that's all you need to survive without succumbing to the suffocating temptation of the wellness retreat's most unlikely client, Joel Miller.
tags: 18+ MDNI. No outbreak, age gap (50s, 20s), grumpy joel, soft Joel? fluff, smut, p in v, oral sex (m&f receiving), cum eating, finger sucking, teasing, dirty talk, language
a/n: would Joel ever go to a wellness retreat? Hell no. Did I have too much fun imagining it anyway? Absolutely.
wc: ~10.8k (got a little carried away)
Day 1
It was the excessive noise that drew your attention back to the door during the downward dog. Maybe you were looking at the man upside down with your head between your legs, but boy was he something to look at.
You’d spotted him first at the airport; he was the tall, handsome gentleman who’d helped you lift your extremely heavy case off the baggage carousel with a kind, warm smile.
“Jesus, how long ya staying for?” He asked, laughing at how the suitcase was almost as big as you. You don’t remember exactly how you responded; you just remember the embarrassment you felt when you offered up a few nonsensical words as your face turned an unhelpful shade of red.
Still, you couldn’t help it; his eyes were staring into yours like he could see right into your brain and know just how fucking hot you thought he was. But it would be okay; you doubted a man like him would be going to a wellness retreat like this, so you tried to forget about the whole awkward encounter.
“What the fuck?” The man mutters as he takes in the sight of the entire room of people stretched over in front of him.
“Sir, may I remind you that this is the silent yoga class, no talking,” the instructor scolds him.
“Shit. Sorry, I’ll just go-“
“What’s your name?”
The man stands there like a deer in the headlights, not saying a word.
“Your name?” The instructor repeats impatiently.
“Oh, you said not talk.”
The instructor rolls his eyes. “Well?”
“Uhh Joel. Joel miller.”
“Well, Joel Miller, you’re here now, and seeing as though you’ve already disrupted us, you may as well take that spot over there at the back.”
Brilliant, he’s heading for the empty spot right next to you.
As you move into the next pose, you keep your head down, praying he doesn’t look over and see it’s you from the airport. When his boots clonk loudly along the floor, the instructor sighs heavily, letting the entire room know of his frustration. “Shoes!”
He bends down just beside you to remove the offending item, grunting as he does. “Jesus Christ, what’s this guy’s problem? Sarah ain’t gonna hear the last of this.”
Out the corner of your eye, you look over to watch him, just as his eyes flick up to meet yours. Fuck. He gives you that same smile he gave you at the airport; he remembers you. You stand there, stretched out before him, and he makes no effort to hide the way his eyes take in your form.
When you move into the next pose, he finally stops staring at you and attempts to replicate the same position. For a while, he really does try, and the quiet, semi-erotic groans he releases each time he stretches his body into shapes it’s probably never been into before, stir something deep within you. But when the instructor guides the room into the camel pose and a painful-sounding crack of bones comes from the man next to you, he calls it.
“Fuck this.” He sighs, dropping down with a thud to sit with his back against the window just next to his mat. “This guy is tryna kill me.”
You glance his way, trying not to laugh at his amusing comment and he smiles back at you.
For the rest of the time, he sits there, thighs parted, his soft pants as he recovers clouding your thoughts as he watches your every move. If it were any other man, you’d probably be creeped out, repulsed at the idea of a full-grown adult you don’t know ogling your body like this, but there’s something about the way he doesn’t seem to give a shit that kinda turns you on.
That afternoon, you're sipping a strange-tasting, strictly non-alcoholic juice at the outdoor bar, thinking about him. In truth, you haven’t stopped thinking about him for a second.
A voice comes from behind you. It’s him. “May I sit?”
“Sure.”
In the early evening light, his face is even more gorgeous: deep hazel eyes that shine in the sun, soft, fluffy brown curls that call to be touched, and a jawline so sharp you wish you could reach up to trace it. He’s probably twice your age and seems like he’s frustrated with the world, but still there’s something about him that intrigues you.
“Finally, something I can get behind in this place.” He nods the bartender over to him, who places a colorful drink not too dissimilar from yours in front of him. He scowls.
“It’s fruit smoothies only, I’m afraid.” You say, amused.
“Ya serious?”
“Sadly yes.”
“Jesus Christ.” He lifts the glass and takes a sip, his tongue darting out to lick his top lip clean, making your tummy flip. He winces in disgust at the sweet taste, and it makes you laugh. “Find that funny, huh?”
“A little.”
He reaches down into his backpack, taking out a small flask. Without hesitation, he pours a clear liquid into his smoothie before looking at you, offering you some too.
“Brad wouldn’t be too happy about this.” You joke, watching him pour the alcohol into your drink.
“Who the hell’s Brad?”
“The instructor, from this morning.”
“Shit, ya think I give a damn about what that guy thinks? what is he? Like 19?”
“25.”
He frowns at you.
“Sorry,” you sigh. “My friend made me read everything in the brochure before we came here. She said it would help get the most out of the experience if we knew what we were getting ourselves into.”
He scoffs. “who’s your friend?”
You look back over your shoulder to the loud group in the corner. “The pretty one over there who looks like she’s having the time of her life.”
“Ah.” He doesn’t seem to care, turning his attention right back to you, holding out his hand. “Well, I’m Joel. Joel Miller.”
“Nice to meet you again, Joel.” You take his large hand in yours, introducing yourself too.
“So ya like it here?”
“Hell no. Just being a supportive friend. Kate split with her boyfriend a month back and decided this was what she needed to help her get over him.”
He chuckles. “Right.”
“So how come you’re here? Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem to be enjoying yourself.”
He takes another sip before looking at you again. “I don’t know about that; things just got a little more interesting after bumping into you once again.”
You blush, trying not to let the reaction between your thighs show on your face.
“My daughter said this would be good for me. She said it would be a good way to destress from work. But after that class this mornin’, I’m not sure that’s possible. Anyway, she shoulda been ‘ere too, but she found herself a better deal-her boyfriend is taking her island hopping instead.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Hmm.” His eyes drop down to your cleavage. Shameless. “And they have that goddamn ‘no refunds’ policy. Might not wanna be here, but I ain’t gonna just let them take my fuckin’ money.”
“Right, exactly,” You nod sarcastically. “You paid for that fruit smoothie.”
“Sure fuckin’ did. So, your friend is newly single, and what about you? Boyfriend back home?” Wow, he doesn’t mess around.
“Nope, no boyfriend.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good to know.” He nods, looking smug.
“And you? Is there a Mrs. Miller?"
He scoffs. “Nah, definitely not.”
A hand lands heavily on your shoulder, making you flinch.
“Heyyy, we’re going to the meditation class, you coming?”
Joel looks away and you think he’s annoyed at the interruption.
“Uhh, sure.”
Reluctantly, you stand, and as you move past his chair, his hand brushes against your knee, sending a shiver through your entire body. You tell yourself for the rest of the day that he didn’t mean to do that; it had to be a mistake, right?
Day 2
You spot him in the corner of the room, his face scrunched up as he prods at the food on his plate. Not that you were looking for him (so you tell yourself), but you knew you’d probably find him here in the empty canteen in the middle of the day.
“Not a fan?” You ask, standing by his table. When he looks up and sees you, his hard face instantly softens.
“More of a steak kinda guy. Can’t seem to find an ounce of meat in this goddamn place.”
“You won’t, this entire place is meat-free.”
He sighs, rolling his eyes. “Course it is.” He stabs his fork into the slab of tofu on his plate before taking a large bite. He points to the seat opposite him. “Sit.”
You bounce your leg underneath the table, a nervous energy buzzing through you that you try to hide. “So did you take a class this morning?”
“Nah, I slept in; haven’t done that in years.” He says proudly with a mouth full of food.
“Oh.”
“That damn yoga yesterday was one class too many for me. S’pose I can tell my daughter that I tried, but I’m not built for all this fuckin’ wellness stuff.” He nods towards you. “But, if I can get through this week by keeping my head down and avoiding eye contact with anyone but you, I’ll be happy.”
Fuck, is he hitting on you? “So I take it you won’t be coming to the sound bath tonight?”
“Sound bath? Hell’s one of those?” He brings his thumb to his lips, licking the sauce off, and you do well to suppress a moan.
“Something about lying on the floor as the sun sets over the ocean, listening to some therapeutic sounds. Kate said it’s like an out-of-body experience. Type of stuff to cleanse the soul, apparently.”
He sneers. “Doubt that… you’re going?”
You shrug. “Why not? You should come along.”
He leans back from his plate. There’s not a single part of him that would ever want to go to this, but it’s a chance to spend time with you, so he gives in. “Alright. But you promise me I only have to lie there? I don’t have to mold my body into a goddamn pretzel and pretend it feels good?”
“Promise.”
“Guess I’ll see you later then.”
“Oh shit,” Kate whispers, nudging your arm.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s that guy again.”
“What guy?” You look behind to see Joel walking up towards the group, head down like he hates the world for putting him in this place right now.
“Did you see him in the yoga class yesterday? The guy had no idea what was going on. I mean, look at him; he doesn’t even look like he wants to be here.”
“Uhh, I didn’t really notice.” You lie.
“You didn’t? Girl, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. kind of a creep if you ask me.”
“Don’t be mean, Kate.”
She scoffs. “Saw you speaking to him at the bar too. What was he like? Is he here by himself?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t really say much.”
“Right…” her eyes narrow like she doesn’t believe you. “Well good luck, he’s heading right for that spot next to you.”
You glance up, meeting his gaze.
“This spot taken?” He asks.
“No.” You shuffle, making more room for him. “Please, sit.”
“Can’t fuckin’ believe I’m doing’ this,” He whispers.
“Trust me.”
As the sun begins to set, casting pinks and oranges across the ocean in the near distance, the older lady running the session begins drawing calming and therapeutic sounds from the crystal bowls around her.
Straight away you feel him fidget beside you, and he nudges the back of your hand. “The fuck?”
You try not to laugh at his horrified expression, biting the inside of your cheek in an effort to remain composed. “Just go with it.”
Once the class is fully underway you become desperate to open your eyes to look at him again. The soft, warm breeze carries the smell of his musky cologne over to you, and despite the sounds of the instruments nearby, you can hear his gentle breaths as he finally lets his body relax, trying to give the class a chance.
Eventually, your curiosity gets the better of you and you turn to look at him. With his eyes still closed, you take the opportunity to really examine him now. The strong line of his jaw, his soft, slightly sun-kissed skin, and those lips you can’t help but imagine what they would be like to kiss. You let your eyes travel down his body, noticing the rise and fall of his belly, down to his calloused hand that rests so close to yours. This class was supposed to calm you, to take your mind off all distracting thoughts, but the more you stare at his beauty, the more your head starts to race.
When it’s over, you turn to Kate but she’s focused on the man beside you. “Oh my god,”
“What?”
You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed he'd fallen asleep. It’s sweet; he seems so comfortable and peaceful. Poking his arm gently, you feel bad for interrupting his slumber.
“Joel.” Nothing. “Hey, Joel,” you poke him again.
His eyes open, and for a second you can tell he has no idea where he is; then he laughs, rubbing his palm over his face with a groan.
“Shit, don’t tell anybody, but I enjoyed that.”
“Hmmm, I could tell,” you giggle awkwardly. There’s a glimmer of sweat running down his neck, leading underneath his collar, and all you can think about is how bad you want to lean in and taste it. He notices you staring.
“Got a little hot laying there, gonna head over to the pool. You wanna join?”
No, don’t do it. “Oh, it’s getting late, I shouldn’t. My friend is-” You look around to find Kate, who’s already walking away with some guy, without even a glance back in your direction.
“Seems like your friend is preoccupied.”
“Yeah…”
Following him down the sandy trail lined with palm trees towards the quieter side of the resort, you make it to the pool, noticing the closed sign by the entrance. You watch him walk around the edge of the water, standing over on the other side to you. “Wanna get in?”
Of course you want to; the sun might have dipped below the horizon, but it’s still so warm, and the cool water seems inviting. But your shyness gets the better of you, so you take a seat on the edge of the pool, dangling your feet over into the water. “I think I’ll just watch.”
He shrugs before he proceeds to lift his shirt up and over his head revealing his broad chest. He dives into the pool, swimming under the water towards your side. When he surfaces, he stops just in front of you, pushing a hand through his wet curls.
You look away, avoiding his intense eye contact as you push your thighs together, trying to discreetly calm the heat stirring down below. At this angle, all it would take would be for you to adjust your legs slightly, and he'd have a full view of your drenched panties underneath your skirt, and with the way he’s looking at you right now, he knows that too.
“You know the pool is closed, right?” You say, trying to place your mind on anything else.
“And?”
“What if someone sees us?”
“Then we run,” He laughs. “Relax, it’s late. Ain't no one around.”
He swims a little closer towards you, not taking his eyes off you. You dare him, dare him to touch you before a voice comes from the darkness, and a worker's eyes land on Joel in the water. “Hey! You can’t be in here!”
“Shit. We gotta go!”
He pulls himself out of the pool, water dripping everywhere as he runs over to grab his pile of discarded clothes. “That way!” he runs after you.
As you run, the low light makes it hard to see where you’re going, and eventually you're faced with a dead end. Joel takes your hand without thinking, pulling you in another direction along the perimeter of a tall fence. “Where the hell are we going?”
You can still hear the worker coming after you, but your laughter at how ridiculous this is starts to become uncontrollable, making it hard to keep up with him. “Joel, hold up, I need a second, please.” You stop, resting your hand on your hips, panting quickly as your lungs begin to hurt.
He looks around for another way out of the trees, but it’s hopeless. “Yeah, we gotta jump it.”
“The fence?” Your eyes go wide at the realization.
He grins. “Yes, darlin’, the fence. Here.” He bends down, holding his hands out to give you a hand up. “I’ll help ya.”
“I can’t climb over there, Joel!”
“You wanna get caught? They’ll charge us a fee if they catch us.” He knows they wouldn’t, it’s not a big deal, but he’s just enjoying this moment and the panic on your face a little too much. “Come on.”
Panicked, you place your foot into his hand, but your grip slips on the wood, falling back down into him. Instinctively his hands come to grip your hips tightly, ensuring you don’t hurt yourself. “Whoa, careful there, sweetheart. Ya good?”
You nod, and he lifts you again, this time with his hands still on your waist and you have to focus hard on the task at hand and not the feel of his hands gripping you right there.
When you reach the steps of the cabin, the thrill of what just happened starts to wear off, and you look up at him curiously. They’d actually charge us?”
“Uhhh,” he looks away, smiling. “I kinda made that part up.”
“Wow, you’re an ass.”
“But it was worth it to see the look on ya face.”
You smile because tonight was the most fun you’ve had in a long time.
“Anyway,” you look down at your feet. “I should go inside.”
He looks disappointed. “Alright, good night.”
“Good night, Joel.”
Day 3
Today was the day you’d been looking forward to. In the brochure you’d read about a hike to one of the many stunning waterfalls on the island. You’d told yourself that if you really had to come to this retreat with Kate, you had to make it worthwhile and do a little exploring.
In typical Kate style, she’d bailed at the last minute, leaving you to go along to the hike solo. You weren’t too bothered, but everyone else who signed up for the trip had a partner, so you knew you’d either have to step out of your comfort zone or go it alone with your thoughts for the entire hike.
Almost like the universe sensed you needed rescuing, at the last minute Joel appeared, and just like you, he was all by himself. You could laugh at how typical this was becoming, like some stupid cliche romcom waiting to happen.
“Hey.” You smile awkwardly as he comes to stand beside you.
“You don’t strike me as much of a hiker.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, it’s not exactly yoga, is it? Trekking into a humid, dense forest for a few hours with all the bugs.”
“The brochure said it was an easy stroll.” You smirk, playing dumb.
“Hmmm, that's because they gotta sell these things to us crazy folk.”
“And you? Didn’t fancy the reiki instead?”
“Huh?” he frowns. “I don’t even know what that is, but a few hours away from all this seemed like a good idea.”
The guide starts speaking at the front of the group; you can’t make out a word, but then he signals for everyone to follow.
“So, where’s your friend today?”
“Cooking class, with some guy.”
“Ahh, that’s a shame.” He couldn’t look more disinterested if he tried.
You walk for a while following behind Joel up into the hills of the island, and for some time it’s just like the brochure said: easy. But soon the intensity picks up, and you're climbing through dense greenery, trying like hell not to slip down wet, slippery rocks.
“Hey, you should go ahead of me; I’ll watch your back if you slip, but take it steady alright, darling.”
“Ahh, I get it.”
“Get what?”
“You just need an excuse to stare at my ass the whole way.”
“So what if I do?"
“And here I thought you were just being a gentleman.”
“How d'ya expect me to be a gentleman when you show up wearing those tiny fuckin’ shorts? You wear ‘em just to fuck with me, or what?”
You almost choke at his words. “You didn’t even cross my mind.”
He narrows his eyes playfully. “Oh, I’m sure I did."
When you reach the waterfall after a few hours, it’s magical. The water cascades down from a tremendous height into a cave below, reflecting ripples of turquoise and green onto the rocks all around you. You're exhausted and probably look like a sweaty mess, but boy was the hike worth it.
“Now this is what I’m talking about.” Joel’s smile stretches from ear to ear as he stands, hands resting on his hips, observing the view before him.
Over on the other side of the cave, some of the other members of the group waste no time, jumping down from the cliffs into the water below, instantly making you want to join them. He looks at you, the same thought in his mind. “What d’ya say?”
“Hell yeah!”
“Atta girl.”
Forgetting about anything else, you both strip down to your underwear, occasionally sneaking glances at the other as you do. Then he takes your hand in his, and he guides you down onto the ledge.
“On the count of three…”
You jump with him, your bodies flying through the air before plunging straight into the cool, crystal-clear water below. It’s exhilarating, the water the perfect temperature to refresh after the sweaty hike.
“Oh my god!” You yell excitedly, turning in the water to find him. When you meet his stare, he starts chuckling softly. “What?”
“Nothin’. Ya just got a pretty smile.”
You blush, looking up at the sky above. “I think Kate really missed out; this is beautiful.”
“Yeah, really is somethin’.” You feel his eyes linger on you as you tip your head back, letting your body turn weightless as you float in the water.
On the hike back, you make Joel take the lead this time so you can stare at his ass instead. You're lost in the sound of his dreamy voice as he talks and talks about how he’d easily be able to survive if he lived out here in the forest when you misstep, your boot twisting down into a crevice and you cry out in pain.
“What is it?!” He turns fast, eyes big with worry as he rushes back to you. Before you can even attempt to move, he’s on his knees in front of you, reaching down between the rocks to gently pull your boot free.
You wince, trying like hell not to let the tears fall in front of him.
“Fuuuuccckk! I’m such an idiot. How does it look, do you think it’s bad?”
“It’s not broken. But you don’t wanna put any pressure on that for the rest of the day.”
“I don’t really have a choice, we gotta get back.”
He looks round for the guide and the rest of the group, who are nowhere to be seen by now. “Great. Knew that guide was a useless piece of shit.”
You start to panic, the pain pulsing through your leg. “Joel,”
“Gonna have to put in a complaint about him, what kind of-”
“Joel! please, just forget about him, he’s gone.”
He grunts, hands resting on his hips in frustration at the thought of them just leaving you behind.
“It really fuckin’ hurts.” Your eyes fill with water and you struggle to fight the tears any longer.
“I know. Just breathe alright, take some deep breaths for me.”
A few moments pass and once you calm down, you try to stand but instantly fall back down onto the rock the second you put any weight onto it, crying out from the excruciating pain that shoots straight through your body.
“Woah, easy girl!” He reaches forward, wanting to make sure you don’t injure yourself further. “Alright, that’s it. We don’t have any other option, you’re gonna have to climb on my back. I’ll carry ya.”
“What? Are you crazy? You can’t do that.”
“It’s not far now, and I can’t just leave you here, can I?”
You’re not sure now what’s worse, the pain in your foot or the sheer embarrassment. Maybe this really is a cliche movie after all, you’ve known this man for three damn days. You look up at him, face red and puffy. “I’m sorry. I should have been more careful.”
“Don’t start with that, it’s happened. Now come on, up you get.”
He turns, helping you climb up onto his back. He jumps a little, securing you firm and tight in his grip before setting off. He makes you feel so secure like this, your body wrapped around his huge frame and the smell of his shampoo consuming your senses, and you start to forget about the searing pain for a while.
Naturally, he takes you back to his cabin; it makes sense, it’s closer than yours. He’s so gentle with the way he drops you down into the chair on the balcony, but as he straightens up, he groans at the ache of his back.
“I’m so sorry, now you’re hurting too.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it darlin’, just ain’t that young any more.” He looks down at you with a kind smile. He’s sweaty, a few of his brown curls sticking to his forehead, and you can tell he’s tired. “I’ll be right back.”
When he returns from inside, he’s equipped with ice and bandages and that small flask he’d smuggled in.
“You raid the medical room or something?”
He laughs, “Nah, I just like to be prepared for anything. Sarah always gives me shit for it, but I knew it’d come useful one day.” He holds the bottle out to you. “Here, it’ll help with the pain.”
He sits in the opposite chair, lifting your foot onto his lap.
“Joel, you don’t have to do that, I can-”
“Shhh.”
“But you’ve done enough-”
“Quiet.”
You watch him remove your boot and gently remove the sock, revealing your swollen bruised ankle. Your breathing increases, the panic coursing through you again as he asses the damage.
You're so embarrassed. “Please, Joel, I can do it.”
“I won’t tell ya again. Relax.” He holds the ice pack carefully against the swelling.
“I ruined the day, didn’t I?”
“You didn’t ruin anything. Shit happens. But in fact I really enjoyed today.”
You look down at your bruised ankle, and he grins. “You know what I mean, before you slipped and almost broke your leg.”
“Right.”
“Hungry?”
“A little.”
He reaches over, digging into his backpack, and pulls out a squished bag of chips.
“Best I got, I’m afraid, but trust me, these are pretty good, better than any shit they’re serving in that canteen.”
You talk late into the night, finishing the entire bag of chips and his small flask of alcohol. And even though you’re struggling to keep your eyes open, you don’t want today to end.
“It’s late. You should get some rest. Take my bed; I’ll sleep out here.”
“No, that's fine, you’ve done enough. Let me call Kate-“
You sit forward, trying to stand, but it’s useless. He comes straight towards you, his protective instinct kicking in once again. Sliding his strong arms underneath your frame, he lifts you up and carries you inside to his bed. The mattress feels like a damn cloud compared to yours. He perches beside you on the edge of the mattress, looking down at you.
You're tired and the alcohol is making your head fuzzy, but it’s only driving your desire for him further, so you get a little brave. “My clothes are dirty, don’t wanna ruin your bed…”
He looks down at your shorts, stained with dirt from the fall. His lips part, the thoughts of how he should handle this racing through his head. Reaching down, you unbutton them, his eyes following.
“Would you mind? I could use a little help…”
He nods, unable to say a word. He turns, bending down to help you remove the offending garment. Then he traces his finger up your leg painfully slow until it reaches the hem of your shirt.
“This too?” he whispers. You nod.
He allows himself a moment to admire what’s before him, you bared to him, clad in nothing but your underwear, and you notice the tent bulging in his trousers. It’s soft and intimate. “You’re beautiful.” He whispers.
But then reality hits, and he swallows, closing his eyes as he runs a hand over his face. Fuck…” he sighs, turning away
“Joel.”
“No, we can’t, we’re drunk and tired. Get some sleep.” He strides over to the door, closing it behind him.
Day 4
The warm sun shining through the cabin window wakes you from a deep sleep. Through the door opposite, you hear the sound of water running in the bathroom; he’s in the shower.
You panic a little when you spot your ruined clothes strewn over the chair beside the bed, and you remember last night.
You sit and attempt to stand. The swelling has eased on your ankle, and it feels better than it did last night, so you wrap the sheet around you and limp over towards the window, trying to use the stunning view of the ocean to take your mind off the embarrassment you feel.
The bathroom door opens, and when you turn, you see the towel wrapped low around his waist, and you can’t seem to divert your eyes anywhere other than to the trail of hairs that leads from his belly button down underneath the towel.
He looks up, hair wet, water droplets dripping down his chest, and he lets his eyes take in the sight.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake ya.” He smiles.
“You didn’t.”
He nods to your leg. “How is it?”
“Better, thanks.”
“Good.”
There’s a strange atmosphere arising in the room that wasn’t there last night. He moves over to the pile of clothes on the dresser. With his back to you, he dresses quickly and walks over towards the door next to you, checking the time.
“Uhhh, I gotta go,” he scratches the back of his neck hesitatingly. “Take your time, water’s still hot; take one of my shirts too if you need it.”
Then he disappears out the door. With him gone, you feel strange in his cabin alone, so you shower quickly, dress in one of his T-shirts that smells just like him, and limp all the way back to your own room on the other side of the resort, praying nobody notices you.
For the rest of the day he’s nowhere to be seen, and a part of you wonders if he’s left. He hates this damn place; he was only here to get his money's worth after all.
“What the hell happened to you?” Kate asks, noticing the limp as you walk beside her down to dinner that night.
“Slipped on the hike yesterday. I’m fine.”
“I knew you shouldn’t have gone alone, I’m sorry.”
You don’t bother to tell her that Joel was with you; you love her, but she’d only have something condescending to say about him.
You don’t eat much at dinner, not having much of an appetite, and, to be honest, your mind is just stuck on the image of him in that towel this morning. It’s pathetic really, but you can’t help it.
“Are you listening? What’s going on?” Kate asks, drawing you out of your daze.
“Huh?”
“You’ve been acting strange tonight, you still in pain?”
Then you finally see him. He's sitting in the distance, only the soft brown curls of the back of his head visible, but you can tell it’s him.
“What are you looking at?” Kate turns, scanning the room, confused about what’s distracting you.
“Oh, nothing. What were you saying?”
She rolls her eyes and continues talking about her ex, the one she’s here supposedly trying to get over, but you can hardly pay attention when he’s right there. Eventually, he stands from his table and turns until his eyes land on yours. For a second, he lets his eyes linger, but you look away as the heat begins to creep up your neck, and you fear Kate will notice.
Clearing your throat, you take a final sip of your drink and excuse yourself from the table, telling your friend that you don’t feel well. Maybe it’s the retreat, maybe it’s the idea of being on vacation away from the reality of back home, but how can a guy you’ve known for an embarrassingly small amount of time be having such an impact on your mind and body?
The short walk back from the canteen to your room feels too far. As you fumble with your room key, the image of his face, his bare wet chest, and the sound of his deep voice won’t stop playing through your thoughts. When you finally manage to unlock your room door, you stumble inside, locking the door behind you and falling straight onto your bed to reach down and ease the intense pressure between your thighs.
Day 5
“Saw ya looking for me last night.” He says, nudging your arm with his as you sit side by side at the painting class, waiting for others to arrive. It surprised you that he was going to any more classes, but you suspect he’d only decide to attend a few minutes ago when you bumped into him after dinner and told him where you were headed.
“Looking for you?”
“Yeah. Don’t deny it.”
You hesitate, then shrug. “Thought maybe you’d left.”
“That’s nice.”
“What is?”
“That you were thinking about me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
He grins. “Just teasin’ ya. But ya were, right?”
You smile, rolling your eyes. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why did you run off the other night?”
“Run?”
“Yeah, after you undressed me. And then you were strange in the morning. Did I upset you?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, not at all, darlin’.”
“Then what?”
“I just didn’t know if I could control myself. You were standing there, wrapped in my bedsheet and I just didn’t trust myself not to have my way with ya.”
You swallow; you didn’t expect him to give such an honest response.
“What if I wanted you to?”
“You don’t want that.”
“Don’t tell me what I want. Think I’d let you undress me if I didn’t want you to?”
His lips part as he hesitates; he doesn’t know what to say.
Suddenly the class instructor arrives, along with another eccentric looking couple, and you hear Joel chuckle beside you. “Jesus Christ, I’m outta ‘ere.”
He starts to rise from his seat but you grab his bicep, pulling him back down. “Oh no you don’t mister, you’re here now, you’re not leaving alone with those two.”
The couple sit down beside you both, the woman practically on Joel’s knee which irritates you. The instructors eyes scan over the four of you.
“Uhhh alright, I think we can work with this.” He says. “I was expecting more people, but seeing as we only have two couples in the class tonight, how about we mix it up.”
“Oh, we’re not…” you and Joel say together, but the man cuts you both off.
“Tonight, I want you to paint your partner. I want you to really examine them, take in all their features and their quirks that you find so attractive, and get it down on the canvas.”
Joel turns, looking to you with annoying grin, he’s finding this all too amusing. “Glad you chose this class, huh?”
“Shut up.”
“So how long have you two been together?” The woman asks, gesturing between you and Joel as you all get to work on your pieces.
“Uhh…”
“6 years.” Joel cuts you off, and you kick his leg underneath the table. Is he crazy?
“Ohh wow that’s beautiful, isn’t it, babe?” She looks over to her husband, who’s taking this painting way too seriously.
“And you have kids too?” She asks.
“Hmm. Two, a girl and a boy.” he nods. “A dog too, the perfect family unit, y’know.”
The poor lady drinks in every word as Joel continues to sell her this made-up life. You think about correcting him because the woman is genuinely sweet and you’re starting to feel a little bad, but Joel’s clearly enjoying himself, so you go with it.
“And the age gap? That’s never been an issue for you guys?” The husband adds, finally looking up from his piece.
You smirks at Joel, trying not to laugh.
“Ya saying I’m old?” Joel frowns, unimpressed by the remark, his cocky demeanour now replaced with that old grumpy one.
“No,” he stutters as Joel glares at him. “Not at all.”
“Good, cause she ain’t ever had a problem with it, have you darlin’?” He looks at you, eyes suggestive.
You look back down at your painting as your cheeks turn a rosy shade of red.
When you're done, you show each other the finished results. Safe to say, your painting is the worst thing you’ve ever seen, and you feel bad because when Joel reveals his, you're slightly taken aback by his effort. “Holy shit, Joel. Didn’t have you down as an artist!”
The woman beside you gasps. “Ohhh that’s so cute, you guys, you’re still learning new things about each other even after all this time.”
Joel rolls his eye, by this point he’s had enough of this woman and you can tell, he doesn’t even bother to tease her anymore.
“You wanna keep it?” He asks pointing to his impression of you as you walk wide by side back towards the cabins.
“Really? Yeah I’d love to. Thank you, Joel.”
Then you look at the tragic piece you created, it’d just be offensive to ask if he wanted to keep yours.
“Can I have mine?” He asks.
You’re shocked he’d even consider it.
“No way, it’s awful, It’d just be rude to let you have it.”
“I mean shit, I don’t even know what that’s supposed to be, I don’t even look human,” he laughs. “but I enjoyed it, it was fun doing this with you, and it’d be nice to take home a souvenir of my time at this godawful place.” He winks.
“Okay, if that’s what you want. And I enjoyed it too, thank you for keeping me company.”
“Anytime.”
He walks you all the way back to your room, and once your both safely under the cover of the porch, he grabs your hips and guides you backwards into the shadows. You gasp as your back hits the wall and his hips grind into you, letting you feel exactly what you do to him. He leans forward, his lips so close but not quite touching yours. “I really want to kiss you.” his voice lower than you’ve ever heard it.
His words paired with the way his eyes have turned black with desire is making you crazy. There’s just something about him, his unapologetic cockiness that makes you want him more than anything, even after such a short amount of time.
“Then kiss me.”
“Nuh-uh,”
“Why?” You protest, and his finger comes to rest on your lips.
“Like the idea of teasing ya first. Making you so fuckin’ desperate for me that I have you beggin’.”
“Joel,” you sigh.
“I want you to do something for me.”
“Anything.” You hate how desperate that sounded to you, but right now you don’t care because you know he loves it by the way his eyes turn even darker.
“Take off your panties.”
“Wh…what?”
“Take ‘em off, hand ‘em to me.”
“Here?” You look around; it’s dark, the wall behind you protects you from the view of anyone who could pass by, and still your heart begins to beat out of your chest at the idea.
“Right ‘ere.”
You lift the fabric of your dress slowly up your legs until you can hook your finger into your panties. Slowly, you push them down your legs before handing the damp fabric to him. “Good girl.”
He scrunches the fabric in his palm before bringing it to his nose, inhaling deeply without taking his eyes off yours. Then he steps back from you, tucking your underwear into his pocket, and he begins to walk away.
“Where are you going?”
He looks back, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Got a little personal business to take care of.”
Day 6
“Shit.” You mutter under your breath. You didn’t even intend to meet him in the spa late that night, but of course, there he was, climbing into the hot tub you’d come here specifically for. You’d come here late after dinner in the hope of avoiding anybody else and to clear your head, but that wasn’t going to happen now.
You turn back to walk towards the door when he sees you and calls your name. When you turn, you see that glimmer in his eyes as he rests his head back against the tub.
“Ya trying to avoid me?”
“No,” you grin, walking towards him.
“Sure? I can go if you want me to.”
You shake your head, biting your lip to try to suppress the underlying giddiness starting to buzz through you. “No, I don’t want you to do that.”
Against your better judgment, you join him, slipping down into the hot water, appreciating the way it soothes your limbs.
You talk for a while, seemingly getting closer. You want him so bad it hurts. Like he can tell how desperate you are, you feel the tips of his fingers brush against your leg, slowly moving up the outside past your knee and over the top of your thigh, making you sigh.
“This okay?” He whispers, his lips moving close to your skin,
“Mmmmh.”
The back of his knuckles trace up your body, tickling against your neck. “Open up.”
You part your lips, and he inserts a finger into your mouth, your lips closing around it.
“Good girl.”
You moan around his digit, eager for more.
“You’re making me fuckin’ crazy, darlin’.”
You move your hand over to his lap, stroking up his thigh until you reach the bugle in his shorts, making him grunt as you start to stroke him over the material.
He withdraws his finger from your mouth and buries his head into your neck, peppering soft wet kisses along your skin, and you start to feel like you can’t breathe. It’s an intense combination; the hot water, his lips on your skin, and the heat building between your thighs become too much. You pull away abruptly and very ungracefully, leaving the tub in search of the showers, desperately looking for a way to cool down.
As the cooler water from the shower rains over you, you take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your mind. If you were in the safety of your room, you’d slip a hand down between your legs to soothe the overwhelming sensation down there, but you can’t, not here; you don’t dare.
Then you hear it: the sound of the door closing behind you. You know it’s him, you hope it’s him.
“You shouldn’t be in here.” You say in a weak protest.
“Tell me to go and I will.”
You don’t say a word, instead watching him slowly walk towards you, the bulge still evident. He’s in dangerous territory right now, you don’t know how much restraint you have remaining. You turn back, facing the wall, closing your eyes as he comes up close behind you, his breath hot against your skin.
The rise and fall of your chest increases, when you feel his fingertips trail up your spine, around your ribs before moving over your stomach and up to squeeze your breasts. A low grunt comes from deep within him when he brushes a thumb over your hard nipple, making your mouth fall open in pleasure. His lips come to the back of your neck, placing soft kisses on your skin. Then his hand moves down into the band of your bikini, fingers slipping down between your drenched folds, teasing. You sigh, pressing back against his raging erection.
“You like that?” he murmurs against your skin. You bite your lip, nodding desperately.
“Yeahh I can fuckin’ tell, you’re drippin’, baby.”
Your walls begin to clench around his fingers, your orgasm building.
“Don’t cum.”
“Joel.” You sigh in protest.
“Don’t.”
He continues his ministrations, pushing you closer towards the edge until you're so close. You reach up, gripping his hair as your hips move messily against him, grinding yourself into his hand. All too suddenly, he withdraws from your wetness as you gasp hard at the loss.
“Joel.” You turn, your chest heaving as you reach out for his hand. He’s already stepping away from your body. “What? Where are you going?” He walks out without even another look at you, leaving you there, frustrated and so goddamn needy for him.
Day 7
You woke up pissed; pissed that he did that to you, pissed that he gets to be so smug about last night. What an asshole.
Now, after a final day of semi relaxing classes with Kate, you lean back against the sheltered wall of your balcony, taking a drag of the cigarette you’d manage to smuggle into the resort. Kate would kill you if she knew, not only because it’s against the rules, but also because you’d promise her you’d stopped the nasty habit, and you had. But you needed a hit, just a little something to take the edge off.
The crack of a branch alerts you to his arrival, walking down the secluded, pebbled trail toward your cabin.
“Ya ain’t s’posed to be doing that.” He says, referring to the cigarette between your lips.
Exhaling the smoke, you grin at him like a teenager who just got caught. “You ain’t supposed to be out of your room; they promote bed by 9, remember.”
“Thought you would have guessed by now, I don’t follow rules.”
He comes up the few steps until he’s on your level. Reaching up, he takes the cigarette from your hand and brings it to his lips. Great, now that was really fucking hot.
“Why are you here?”
“Wanted to see you.” He smiles, but there’s a sadness behind those eyes. “You know we leave after tomorrow, right?”
“I know.” You look down to the ground.
The fact hurts. You don’t want this week to end, the escape and the time spent with him has felt so good, a small bit of excitement in your very mundane life. And you’ve enjoyed the thrill of sneaking around, crushing on a guy that’s probably too old for you, especially when you’ve only known him a matter of days. But still, the chemistry, the need, and the temptation has been unlike anything you’ve experienced before.
“Come with me.” He states, pushing himself off the balcony.
“Where to”
“You’ll see.”
He walks you down the winding trail towards the beach. It’s crazy when you think about it, you’ve been here almost a week yet haven’t even stepped foot on the sand, only seeing it from a distance during the classes that would supposedly give you the medicine that sand between your toes could bring in seconds.
He stops in his tracks, holding out his arms at the sight. “They say this is a fuckin’ wellness retreat and then ask us to be locked up by 9pm, but they’re missing the real goodness right here. I mean, look at that view, and it’s fuckin’ free too.”
You look at each other, the same thought running through both your heads. Fuck it. Feeling like you're running out of time, the invitation is too hard to refuse. Stripping down to your underwear, you run side by side fast towards the ocean, diving straight into the waves.
This is what you needed. It’s exhilarating. You swim out a little further from the crash of the waves on the shore until the ocean feels calmer and he comes up so close behind you. His lips brush against your ear, his hand, low on your stomach, pulls your ass back into his front.
Neither of you utters a word, instead just float peacefully in each other's embrace, enjoying the moment.
“No one ever has to know.” He says softly into your ear. “We leave tomorrow, we never have to see each other ever again. Just be our little secret.”
When you pull away from him, you swim back to the beach. But you don’t leave, you just stretch out on the towel, letting the sun dry the water droplets on your body as you watch him still in the water, thinking about what he just said.
Finally, he rests his wet body down beside yours and props his head up in his hand as he watches you. When you meet his gaze, you know you’re done for.
“What do ya want.” He asks quietly.
“Joel.”
“Tell me what ya want and I’ll give it to ya.”
“I want… I want you to kiss me.”
He leans in, the back of his hand brushing against your jaw before capturing your lips. He takes it slow to begin with, but you're both frustrated, and soon he pushes his tongue inside your mouth, searching desperately.
He adjusts, lifting one of his legs over your body, trapping you beneath him as he hovers above you.
“What else? I wanna hear you say it.”
“I want you, Joel.”
“Where?”
“You know where.”
He kisses your lips once more before moving down your body. His fingers graze your hip, pulling at the string of your bikini to make it loose. As you lift your hips from the towel, he peels the damp fabric down your legs before settling at your middle.
“Spread your legs.”
You don’t, and instead you give him a coy expression.
“I won’t ask again.”
His lips part when he finally sees you bared to him, your cunt glistening wet with your need for him. “Jesus, look at ya.”
You thank the universe that there’s not another soul on this beach; you’d be mortified if anyone were to emerge from the trees that line the sand and see Joel Miller with his head between your thighs. Still, the thrill that it could happen makes you even hornier, whimpering as his breath tickles against your skin.
He starts at your knee, kissing down your thigh, before licking a wet trail to the place you desire him most.
“Wait,” you cup his face with your hands.
“What’s wrong?” His dark eyes soften a little, worried you don’t want to do this.
“Nothing, it’s just… it’s been a little while.”
“Been a while for me too,” he smiles. “Just relax, alright, I’ve got ya sweetheart.”
He spits onto your cunt, his finger coming up to swirl the thick gob of spit all over your exposed pussy, playing with your folds to make it even more slick. “God, you don’t realize how pretty you are like this.”
Then his tongue is on you, slowly licking along your seam, his palm holding your hips down as you wriggle underneath him.
“Ohhhh shit.” You pant as he teases you. He moves his tongue up to flick over your clit, and the sound that comes from between your lips when he does makes his cock twitch.
“Taste so fuckin’ good.” He murmurs against you, his beard rough against your skin.
Lifting your head slightly, you look down to see the contortion of his shoulder blades as he buries his face in your pussy. Behind him, the gentle lap of the waves on the shore paired with the view of the sun finally disappearing behind the horizon makes this moment feel like pure heaven.
He snakes a hand up your body and up to your jaw until his index finger slips into your mouth. You close your lips around his thick digit, sucking hard making his dick pulse as your body withers against him.
When you feel your climax building, your thighs close around his head, desperately pulling him closer into your heat as his wet tongue laps at your clit over and over again.
“Dont stop.” you breathe.
It doesn’t take much longer for him to draw an intense orgasm from you, and when he looks up, his beard wet with your juices, he grins like he just hit the fucking jackpot.
He crawls back up your body, pushing his tongue into your mouth in a sloppy kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.
But then he stops.
“What is it?”
He sighs, irritated. “Someone’s coming.”
“Oh my god, can they see us?”
“Nah. But we should go somewhere more private.” He nods down the beach towards the unmistakable blonde curls you would recognize anywhere.
“Oh my god, Kate! We have to go now!”
He helps you up, wrapping the towel around your waist, and quickly leads you away with his hand low on your back, leading you to his cabin.
Backing you up against the wall with a thud, his palm cups the back of your head to cushion the force, the towel pooling at your feet. You sense he’s impatient by the way he grinds his hips into you, letting you feel his hard cock aching to be released from the confines of his shorts.
You reach down, stroking him over the fabric, making him groan into your neck as he kisses the soft skin there.
“On your knees now.” He barks.
You do as he says, swiftly pulling down his shorts, allowing his hard cock to spring free. Jesus, he’s big.
“Take it.” He murmurs impatiently.
He pushes his hips forward and you swirl your tongue around the tip to taste the precum that’s leaking. He groans, his pants increasing as you take him into your mouth. As you look up at him with his erection between your lips, he gathers a fistful of your hair, edging himself deeper into your mouth, testing your limits.
When he inches a little too far, you gag around him and you push at his thighs, letting him know you need a second.
But when you pull him back and give him a nod, he doesn’t hold back, his arms braced against the wall above you as he bottoms out and fucks your mouth hard. The sweet sounds of you gagging around him while thick strings of spit drip down your chin only spur him on. “Fuck, baby, yeahhh that’s so hot.”
He watches you, the rapid rise and fall of your tits as you struggle to breathe, and the way your eyes water at the stretch. When it gets too much and he knows he’s so close, he pulls out and you gasp for air.
“good?”
You nod, standing back on two wobbly feet. “Need you to fuck me, Joel.”
His jaw is rigid, and there’s a dark, devilish look in his eye that tells you he’s going to do exactly that.
Moving away from your body, he takes a condom from the nightstand, and you watch him roll it over his thick hard cock. He grips your thighs hard as he lifts you up against the wall with a grunt, and you instantly wrap your legs around his waist.
In a single swipe, he tears your bikini top off your chest, discarding it on the floor, and starts squeezing your left tit. His head dips down, allowing his tongue to suck at your nipple hard, making it all wet with his spit. “Please, Joel, I can’t wait any longer.”
He takes his throbbing erection in hand, lining himself up with your cunt before thrusting up inside your tight walls with a deep, guttural growl.
“Ahhh fuccck,” he sighs. “You’re so tight,” his nose nudges yours. “You feel like heaven, baby.”
He gives you a moment to adjust to the deep intrusion. When he can’t hold himself back anymore, he draws almost all the way out before thrusting right back into you, pushing the air from your lungs. He buries his head into your neck, biting at the delicate skin there as he pounds into you over and over.
“You feel so good,” you whimper,
“Yeah? You like me filling your pussy up, huh?”
You cup his jaw to pull his head so it rests against yours. “More, I need more, Joel.”
His nails dig into your ass as he grips you tighter, pulling you off the wall and over to the bed. Despite his eagerness, he makes sure to place you down gently, not wanting to hurt you. His body hovers above yours, waiting, teasing as he watches you squirm underneath him.
“Joel, please,"
“Please what?”
“Joel.”
“You know I wanna hear it.”
“Make me cum, Joel.”
A noise comes from the back of his throat as he pushes back inside your cunt, watching the way it makes your back arch and your mouth drop open. His eyes roll to the back of his head at the sight.
He fills you so good, better than you’ve ever had, and maybe it’s sad, but breaks your heart a little that you’ll never see him again after tonight. You bite down hard on your lip, trying hard to stifle moans as his hips speed up.
“Don’t go quiet on me now, darlin’, let me hear what I’m doing to ya.”
He hooks his arm underneath your thigh, pushing your leg up towards your chest making the angle so much more intense, almost too intense.
“Oh goddd, don’t stop.” You turn your head, laying wet kisses on his arm that’s braced next to your head.
The sound of his body slapping against yours mixed with your wet juices mixing makes it hard for him to hold out much longer. “I’m so close, gonna need you to cum for me.” His free hand slips down between your sweaty bodies, his thumb applying pressure to your sensitive clit.
Finally, you give him what he wants, crying out as your walls clench around his cock, your nails scratching sharp red marks down the expanse of his back.
“Ahhh yeahhh, just like that, you're squeezing me so fuckin’ good." He doesn’t take his eyes off you, watching the way your body jolts violently underneath him as he fucks you through it.
As you come down from your high, you notice the vein in his temple is bulging now and a layer of sweat is shining on his forehead as his thrusts start to turn messy. You cup his jaw, making him look into your eyes. “Don’t take your eyes off mine.”
He groans loud. “fuuuuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.”
He pulls out of your cunt and pulls the condom off. He strokes his cock hard until he breaks, releasing a long, primal grunt as he spurts hot, sticky ropes of his seed onto your tits.
When he’s spent, you run a finger across your nipple, collecting some of his cum and bringing it to your tongue to taste.
“Ohh yeahhh, now that image is gonna be painted in my mind for a long time.” He pants, listening to the soft hums as you suck at the saltiness of his seed.
An exerted gasp comes from him as he flops onto his back, pushing himself up against the headboard. He reaches over, opening the drawer of the nightstand to take out a pack of cigarettes. He takes one, running it along his lips before lighting it.
Standing up from the bed, you know he’s watching the sway of your hips as you pad over towards the bathroom to clean up.
“Jesus Christ, ain’t fucked like that in some time,” he laughs. “Guess I just needed to find ya, huh?”
Did he really just say that? You stare at your flushed complexion in the mirror, biting your lip hard as you overthink his meaning.
When you come back, the scene makes your insides flutter. The sheets are strewn over the end of the bed, the used condom is discarded on the floor, and the place smells like pure sex. His big naked form is bared to you, his heavy cock limp between his legs, one hand resting low on his tummy, the cigarette hanging from his mouth.
He looks at your entirely naked body at the end of the bed, a dirty grin forming.
“What?”
“You’re perfect.”
“Shut the fuck up.” You blush, coming over to your side of the bed. He holds his hand out, inviting you back to him to snuggle up into his side.
“I mean it. Ain’t met anyone like you before.”
You don’t know how to respond so you sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments as you both recover. “I wish we didn’t have to leave in the morning,”
“Hmmm, me too.” The tips of his fingers stroke slowly up and down your back, making goosebumps form on your skin.
“Thought you hated this place?”
“I did, still do; it’s insufferable and just a way to make money from sad and lonely people."
“Hey,” you poke his ribs. “I’m not sad and lonely, Joel.”
He chuckles. “Alright, but still, I think a certain someone made my time here worthwhile.”
“When you leave this place in the morning, you’ll forget all about this; you won’t even remember my name.”
“Uhhh, I don’t know about that.”
His response makes you giddy, because you know you’ll remember him too. This wasn’t just some casual one-night stand; it felt different from anything previously, it felt…real, special even.
The thought that this all has to come to an end by morning makes you realize you need to make the most of the time left. So you start kissing his chest, moving down painstakingly slow, taking your sweet time to tease him. “Mmmh, yeahhh that feels nice.” His tummy flutters as your lips brush over his abdomen. Stroking your hand lightly up his thigh, his dick starts to stir again.
“Want me again already?”
You flick your eyes up to his, your cheeks turning red at his suggestion.
“Gonna have to give me a second, sweetheart, then I’ll get right to it.”
You wake sometime in the early hours. You don’t know how long you have been asleep, but you were still tucked nicely into Joel’s side. Lifting your head, you see he’s still awake.
“Hey.” He whispers
You reach up, scratching your fingers softly through his beard. “You okay?”
“Never better. Just can't sleep.”
“Something on your mind?”
“Nah.”
You sigh. “I should head back.”
“Don’t. Just stay here like this with me a while longer… please.”
“Okay.” You smile. You adjust, turning over to face away from him, and he wraps his strong arm around your front, pulling you back into his body as he kisses the back of your shoulder softly. It's not long then until you hear his breathing change, and you know he’s finally fallen asleep.
At the airport you sit staring into thin air, unable to stop thinking about last night and the fact you’re never going to see him again. When you woke up this morning still naked in his sheets, the ache of him still very much present between your legs, he wasn’t there. Of course you were disappointed; you’d hoped to say goodbye. If only you knew when you dressed and left his cabin that he was on his way back, mere minutes away with breakfast he’d stolen from the canteen especially for you.
A note drops into your lap from above you, breaking you out of your thoughts. Looking over your shoulder, your heart skips when you see his tall retreating form disappearing into a crowd of tourists. You glance over at Kate; she’s engrossed in her phone, most likely choosing her photos for an Instagram post.
Looking down at it, you unfold the paper. There’s his number and a message:
⋆·˚ ༘ * a girl who never asks for more, and a man that’s been taking his whole life cross paths. what becomes of the two despite it all?
cw: fem reader (early 20s), small town churchy-religious vibe sprinkled in here haphazardly, age gap is alluded to thematically but never outright, porn with plot, some misogyny, inklings of a controlling mother, mentions of violent crime and general crime, attempted repressed desire, shotgunning/smoking, sneaking in sydcarmy moments cause i never gaf, bar fighting, kissing, groping, cunning linguists, car sex, loss of virginity but it's not really made a big deal, vaginal sex, female ejaculation, unprotected sex, jail calls, ‘daddy’ used in passing once.
wc: 8.6k. Proofed!
❤︎ an: long time no see lmao. joel miller girls… accept my gracious offering in tribute of my favourite authors deactivating <\3. been working on this for a minute (a year), hope you guys enjoy! requests are open, and feedback is always appreciated.
“Ten minutes.”
Months ago, you would have furrowed a brow at the untoward gruff tone, but it’s routine now. Part of the visits.
The bag searches, the lack of privacy during phone calls, the bacteria covered phones (because you know they don’t bother to clean them between visits), the sterile white lights, lightbulbs that flicker and hum and buzz, low and unsettling in the depth of your guts — all part of your life now.
You can admit that you didn’t picture yourself here, like this — ever. In fact, you’d turn your nose up at yourself had you been looking at your situation from the outside over a year ago. But, that was all before you met him.
You walk to the uncomfortable metal stool and sit in front of the thick, fortified window, riddled with scratches and eroded by years and years of touch. Your finger runs down the glass, soft and slow, but enough to feel the ridges and scrapes along the planes of it, and you smile. It never gets easier, and the constants of the rugged and trite routine help sometimes.
Your propinquity with Joel started as something humble, small, delicate at first. A secret, kept between only you and yourself. Deep in the folds of your mind he’d lay. Almost forbidden indulgence, keeping you at bay in the monotony of small-town living. You’d known about him. Everyone had known about him. You lived in a small, densely populated town. There was no escaping the gossip. In and out of jail. Violent. Petty crimes like theft and public misconduct were practically symbiotic to his name, the half to his whole. Your mother warned you good and well as a teenager. She told you time and time again that if you ignore everything she says but one thing, let it be a careful warning that you should at all costs stay away from Joel Miller. Naturally, you rolled your eyes at her words, so sure her caution was overbearing and overblown, dipped in unspoken pretenses, but deep down inside of you, her warning encroached itself into the depths of your hippocampus. Her words played over and over again in your mind late at night, when you had nothing to do but think. Stay away, stay away, stay away. He must be bad news if she got so worked up over him. So, you did as you were told and you stayed away from him.
She never said anything about simply looking, however.
You’d seen him in glimpses at the gas station before, stealing scratches, cigarettes and a case of beer before taking off in his rust-dusted blue pickup truck. A pack of condoms occasionally hanging crudely out the back pocket of his dark denim. XL Trojans. Pervert.
But then what does that make you for noticing them?
It was always in pieces you’d get to see of him, to truly be able to take in. Soft-looking and tousled brown hair, dark wash denim jeans, the broad expanse of his back in a crisp white tee — little harmless keepsakes, you’d consider them. You’d even begun to familiarize yourself with the smell of his cologne long after he’s gone, or the heavy sound of his footfalls and thick gait, ever loud even when he shouldn't be from such a distance, a testament to his cantankerous nature… all perfectly harmless moments you find yourself keeping in the deep comforts of your mind.
You were weaving up and down the candy aisle, contemplating your choice of sweet treat for the evening, when he walked past you, only to plant himself on the shelf opposite of you. It was almost disarming seeing him in person, no glimpses or pieces of him. No curtain or veil. Just him. Joel Miller. His personality and name so mythologized, a man made out to be an idea, a warning– a rather grave one at that. And yet, here he was in the same shitty town in the same shitty gas station. He almost didn’t seem real in front of you. The personified fanfare seemed almost comical looking at him now. Was he really that dangerous? He saw you see him, his scratchers, his cigarettes, his beer, all of him this time. His arms, his gruff greying beard, his scars and scratches, black ink seeded into his skin, deep and guarded eyes. All the little details you would miss from a distance. He was beautiful, which was an unfortunate fact. An air of almost-but-not-quite docility in the curl of his lips, along the expanse of tan skin stretching across the valley of his trunk of a neck, the flutter of his brown eyelashes when he harshens his stare. He manages to lull a false sense of security over you despite the explicit implicit danger. He calls out to you like a siren, waiting for the kill when you decide to wade the dangerous waters. You couldn’t help but feel your face warm, and surely he noticed. The aisle shelves were short, but compared to Joel? They were embarrassingly little. You’d guess him at a little over six feet if you had to eyeball it. You can look up his mugshots and see the exact number for yourself, your brain supplicates the knowledge gap rather pointedly, and you can’t help but breath out an amused huff before grabbing gummy worms and making it to the cash. You paid, and Joel left without. The clerk seemed unphased, he must do this all the time.
Hands clammy and crinkling the plastic gummy worm bag, you smell him before you see him. The scent of tobacco curls up and into your nose, the fetid smell triggering the knee jerk scrunch of your face. A man and his vices. To no surprise, Joel leans against the faded and chipped red brick of the convenience store, haul in tow, his eyes already finishing trailing up your figure before he makes eye contact with you. A Marlboro Red hangs between his lips, his brows hanging heavy atop his eyes, and he nods his head towards you. The siren calls. You think you feel your pupils dilate and your tongue dry. Did he just…?
You’re almost paralyzed with fear, and in the moment you decide you should have perhaps heeded your mother’s warning better. At this moment, there's no fabricated story or warning to hide behind, you have no choice but to stand in the storm you’ve been sheltered from your whole life. Still, you’re unmoving. A grouse seems to erupt from his lips and you can feel his irritation bubbling and simmering, feeling the heat of his stare climbing and clawing up your spine, heeding way to dig deep within your flesh and stake its claim. Look at me. Come to me. You cannot ignore the call. Your breath slows and your heart begins to race. Finally, you step. Your boots hit the payment heavy– the noise building consternation in the hollow deep in your chest, where your heart thrums hard and heavy, and beats until the meat and muscle and bone form a crater, between the quiet and unspoken air. It’s truly almost suffocating. The sour tobacco, the sweat that mists almost imperceptibly across Joel’s face and arms, his heavy stare, and frustratingly passive demeanour making you impervious to his innermost predilections.
Only about two feet away from him do you stop yourself, still and tensed from head to toe. You could be grimacing right in Joel’s face and you wouldn’t even know, the passivity seeming to ebb and grow into something monstrously rigid. An unmoving, heavy energy surrounds him, and it terrifies you. One inhale of a cigarette and the red cherry of the tobacco stick burns furiously bright, then an exhale, and the smoke curls and breezes up into your nose and seeps into your lungs. Disgusting. Your fear flattens from your face and turns into annoyance with the furrow of your brow and heaviness of your stare, and when your eyes flit up from the lips around the cigarette to the heavy, almost whiskey-colored eyes. Pernicious, in every sense of the word.
A small furl of his lip, the crumple of plastic, and… strawberry straws?
“Oh, you…”
It’s impossibly frustrating how easily you feel every bit of frustration drain from your veins, giving way to the vacillating heat that rushes and flows within your chest. Your mother’s words bounce around in your head, words of warning knocking against your skull in hopes that if you do one thing, it’s listen to her. He lets the candy hang between the two of you, outstretched lazily in his big and calloused hands. He stole them. He’s dangerous. He’s trouble. All reservations worn on your sleeve, you grab the candy from him. Proceeding the inhale and exhale of smoke, he kicks off the brick wall and walks away and right past you, throwing out his cigarette butt on cracked pavement, leaving you in the memory of ash and smoke, a tantalising burn despite the syncopic feeling that takes you under and grips you whole.
Long gone with long strides, the tire tracks of a pickup truck, the faint smell of burnt and combusted gas, and a cigarette butt smouldering against the pavement the only proof of his presence in front of the quaint little corner store. That, and the candy gripped in your hands still.
You huff aloud, “So annoying…” before walking back to your home, making sure to step on the cigarette, hoping it crushes your desires along with it.
Days since then pass by almost alarmingly quiet. No breaking news to report, other than local stables reporting of a new foal born on a quiet Sunday, highly anticipating its name to be revealed. The days are the same, blurring into themselves from the menial tasks. Wake up, clean the house with your mother while your father is away at work– gone from sunup to sundown. Saturdays are for Bible study, and Sundays are for Church, no negotiations. Still, you find a form of respite on Saturday at Bible study, something with the namesake but none of the values really. You and the other girls that make up the quaint group often forgo the religious discussion, preferring gossip of the town–hearing about Brent being put out on the couch, and Mary wearing lower-cut tops during errands to the butcher. Trivial things, truly, but they bring a welcome sense of frivolity to your day, little keepsakes between the boring parts.
Today, you take a backseat to the chatter, preferring to listen to everyone's anecdotes, the giggles and laughs and gasps flowing and melting into a pleasant, comfortable hum you laze on like a river. It’s content, hanging in suspended joy like this. Soon the chatter dims into a low buzz of conversation, and you halter onto every word like this.
“I just need a day to really decompress, you know?”
“Yeah, it’s been a minute since our last bar night hasn't it?”
“Hmm, I think I get what you’re putting down, sister.”
And a chorus of voices ring out at once, “Bar night!”
And so in a flurry of makeup brushes and strewn wild clothes, you find yourself along with the rest of your friends tucked in a little booth of the shitty dive bar in your town, giggling and chattering with a tipsy lilt to it. A little more brazen and louder than what should be considered acceptable conversational volume, but it melts into the rest of the atmosphere in the room. Grizzly men yelling over the pool table and darts, the thrum of the jukebox in the air, the clanking of cups and crashing of ice behind the bar. It’s all kind of nice when you think about it. You hum, lips perched on your straw of whatever fruity cocktail was in the large pitcher on the table, not sipping, but simply holding. Savouring, in more ways than one.
Your eyes fall into the natural progression of drifting from corner to corner of the dingy bar, hoping for something… someone to capture your attention. Your disinterest halts itself when your pupils widen slightly and you perch up upon hearing the little bell at the doorframe of the entrance jingle deceptively sweet, pulling your eyes to the man who’s been running around in your mind day and night, the subject of your bothersome restless interest.
Your mind is racing against itself, your thought running before your synapses can fire the request. He’s here, and you’re a nervous wreck. You hate the betrayal of your gut, as it sinks and sways at every move he makes, the nod of his head to a patron, thick leather boots bounding across the sticky beer-soaked hardwood floors — every step thumps akin to your own unsure heartbeat. You watch him sit at the bar, the stool lone in its own corner, something unspoken and sure between him and this place. The bartender drops a beer on the counter, wordlessly, leaving Joel to crack the top open with his lighter. Something cheap and convenient, the plastic paint of it visibly chipped, even from where you sat. He takes a sip, one gulp, then another, and he looks at you — a blink and you miss it kind of look, before setting the bottle down and looking away.
Your heart slams in its chest. Fuck.
“I got shots!” is followed by boisterous applause at your table, a tray of mismatched shot glasses filled with something clearly cheap and juvenile. Still, you have no choice, hauling it up to your lips and swigging the burning liquid down your throat, following a swift 3.2.1! countdown from one of the girls. The moment the alcohol meets your lips, it’s a rather dangerous thing. You can feel the warmth building in your blood, your body melting off the weight of the room for something more easy, palpable. One shot turns into two, which turns into dancing along to a heavy rock song, reminiscent of something you’ve heard before, lost in the then and the now of the night. You ride along this warmth, the confidence you feel creeping up from your toes and settling subtly in the way you laugh a little louder, crowd a moment longer.
You’re either ignorant to the stare he is giving from his claimed corner at the bar, or if some part of you knew this whole moment became something to speak to him without words. I can’t stop thinking about you. I need you. Play this game with me. Still, you dance until it’s time to go home, and then you find yourself making a conscious effort to look for him, maybe see if he was looking for you too.
“Guys, someone played for our drinks!” one of your friends says. You feel the heat bloom deep in your belly. Did he…? Still, he’s gone. You can’t even make something of yourself with a sobering effort to ask him all sweet-tongued and doe-eyed if it was indeed him.
You tell everyone you’re going to wait outside, feeling the heat of the moment finally settle on your bones. Instead of fresh air, a familiar waft of spice and tobacco hits your nose, and you know it’s him before you even see him. Your legs are following the scent before your mind catches up to what you’re truly doing until you’re planted right in front of Joel, the moment quieted under the implications of your encounters leading up to this. You look up at him, the cherry of his cigarette setting alight the mirth in his eyes as he takes you in, all of you.
“Can I try?” you ask, eyes deceitfully tracing the image of his lips wrapped around the slim tobacco stick.
Wordless, he pulls the cigarette from his mouth after a brief inhale and holds it to your lips, a crooked smile taking place on his own. You look up at him, glossed lips finding their way around the filter and pulling in a hot puff of smoke into your lungs, burning and tightening immediately at the foreign feeling. You sputter and cough, the smoke coming out in one heaping cloud, contrary to the smooth wafts you're used to seeing. The rush that accompanies your expectorating nearly has you keeling over from the dizziness, which is only amplified by the man in front of you.
“You’re shit at smoking. Quit while you’re ahead.”
You cut him a side eye, your lungs still aching as you’re bent over trying to catch your breath. “Piss off. I’ll get better.”
A curt laugh leaves him in the form of a curt chuckle, before taking a last puff of his cigarette and stepping it out. “Stupid girl,” he hums, his hand coming to pat your head once before making off again. The moment leaves you as quickly as it came, because from somewhere behind you, you hear your name being called, signaling your time to leave. You take one last look at Joel, nearly gone from your line of sight now before you turn and head back to your friends.
Your days since that encounter pass quietly, almost alarmingly so, the only grounding thing you have from it being a sore throat and lungs. You huff when you remember his words as you so embarrassingly coughed your lungs out in front of a man like Joel, and his subsequent response at your display. Stupid girl. The gall of the man. No matter the warmth that bloomed under your skin and wiggled itself into the tips of your extremities at the name, he had no right to call you that. You’d show him as much, eventually.
You spend your days doing chores and fussing over the house with your mother, as she’d always say a woman’s work is housework. But no amount of scrubbing floors or wiping away the stain of grout makes you feel better. You haven't been able to stop yourself from thinking about it, him. It’s semantics to you at this point. Your stolen strawberry straws still sit uneaten in your bedroom table drawer, the implications of what it could mean by eating it scaring you more than the idea of them going stale. (Talk about wasted effort!)
It’s not long before another Saturday turns into sticky floors and a humming jukebox, and you find yourself back in an unwilling moment of déjà vu in the booth of the bar. Tonight, the sangria and idle chatter serve as modicums of what you can’t have. A defeated look undoubtedly marks your face as your finger circles the rim of your ginger soda. Your friends, spread out by the jukebox and pool table respectively, dance to America's crooning style and haphazardly hit pool balls, leaving you in the solitude and safety of the booth. Shrouded in a dark overhead light, you feel a kinship with the mood you've experienced all night. All that's missing is…
“You here alone, pretty lady?”
You don’t even make the effort to give whoever it is that's talking to you your full attention, simply trailing your eyes up to the sad soul who decided to approach you tonight. He’s not ugly, you’ll give him that, but you simply aren’t in the mood tonight for blonde hair and cunning eyes. You're craving something more mercurial and crooked these days. “I’m with my friends, I’m not really in the mood to–” you don’t even get to finish your sentence before this stranger cuts in, and already the irritation begins to simmer up on the front burner, threatening to bubble over rather quickly already.
“C’mon, let me buy you another drink at the bar?” he prods again, and now you make the effort to look at him, face as impassive as ever.
“I’m flattered, but maybe my friends over there,” you point curtly to the corner of the bar where your friends are, “will appreciate your offer more.”
“Hey, c’mon, don’t be like that. I just want to get to know you better,” the ever dense stranger says, his hand reaching out to grab your hand.
“Touch her and I got something that you’ll get real familiar with in a second,” a voice cuts in, gruff, authoritative, familiar. Him.
You turn to angle your head to see behind the man touching you and confirm your suspicions. You blanch a little, somewhat embarrassed for this to be the way you meet him once more since your embarrassing excuse of smoking a cigarette last Saturday. Still, he seems unperturbed by whatever unspoken dance you two have been stepping around these past few weeks, focused instead on pulling the man from his proximity to you as much as possible and into his own, the two of them now chest to chest.
“Sorry man. Didn’t know this was your piece of ass to begin wi-”
Joel's fist dealt a swift blow to his jaw, wiping the smug smirk and comment from his lips, and you could only gasp at the violence he enacted in your favour. Fuck.
The bar's warm energy drains, and instead, something volatile and thick fills it, catching in your throat and punching deep in your lungs. There’s a blur of fists and swears and blood, and you hear what you’re sure is the bartender clamouring for them to take it outside or let the cops deal with them. At that, Joel steps away from the bruised mess of the man that was just standing all tall and contrived with confidence only minutes ago, having succumbed to the brawn and raw brute strength of this enigma of a man. Your heart flutters in your chest rather unwillingly, forming some twisted version of affection pulled from the act of violence. Your eyes meet Joel’s own, ever brown and ever guarded, and he leaves the bar as swift as he seemed to have shown up.
Your friends huddle, a foot or so away from the bruised man, seemingly entranced by the brutality of it all. You don’t hesitate for a moment to take advantage of their distraction to slip out and find your own distraction.
He’s leaning against his pickup truck, cigarette between his lips as always, rubbing his bruised and bloodstained knuckles. He eyes you, bordering on wariness but not quite, and you eye him back — the same sense of uncertainty reflected back at him.
“…Thank you,” you murmur, that juvenile embarrassment flooding your veins once more. You step to stand next to him, leaning against his pickup truck, just watching him smoke in the silence. A moment passes, and it’s not sharp-edged and uncertain like you’d expected it to be like the other times, but rather comfortable, familiar. A sense of mutual understanding blanketed under cigarette smoke and unspoken tension, soothing it into something softer, palatable.
“You’re welcome, kid.”
His response takes you by surprise almost, the silence lulling you almost completely. You turn to face him fully with your body, and your fingers grab the cigarette from between his lips to find its way between your own, your knuckles brushing his calloused own. A soft smile falls on his lips at your bold display. Still, he lets you take it from him and bring it to your own lips.
“Thought I told you to cut that shit out,” he hums, watching you inhale, the cherry glowing softly against your skin in a dance with the full moon above.
“Thought I told you I’d get better,” you hum back, the burn and nausea of the smoke curling into your lungs coming back to you like the last time, but you stomach it better now, certain of your own harmful intent. He laughs, the sound almost impossibly quiet, reserved only for you two. You take a drag of the cigarette once more before he’s pulling it from your own lips and trapping the smoke between yours and his, quieting your pleas before they have the chance to bloom into the night. It takes you a second to really absorb the moment before you realize what’s happening. He’s kissing you. All smoke and angst and unspoken life lived long before you, you melt against his mouth, breathing him in with every fibre of your being, taking as much as he’ll let you in this moment. Your eyes flutter shut, and a whimper leaves your mouth as he presses you against his pickup truck, sticking between his stocky body and the rusted metal. It’s a safe and slow kiss until it’s not, and it becomes something more desperate, the desire palpable in the way his tongue moves against yours and your hands find themselves gripped in his flannel shirt. You pull at him, losing yourself in the moment of his kiss, wearing your heart on your sleeve in the hopes that he can see you for your bearings in this moment. I’ve wanted this for so long.
Thick hands pull at your waist, trailing down to your hips before lifting you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist, the kiss never faltering or breaking, a testament to the nature of the man before. In the throes of passion and violence, he remains impervious despite it all. A never wavering strength, a strength for which you can only show unbridled appreciation towards. In a moment, his lips pull from yours, a whimper leaving your lips as you tuck your face into his neck.
“Fuckin’ drive me crazy. Can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers, the confession feeling like a moment of magic under a full moon. “Will you let me taste you tonight? Or you gonna keep teasing me?” he asks, steadying you in one hand as he opens the back door of his truck, setting you down on the worn leather seats to leave him standing between your knees.
His hands are incessant, toying at your waist, squeezing, grabbing, staking his claim in every way possible. He’s looking up at you, expectant of an answer, and you bite your lip under his heated gaze. You’re still reeling from his kiss, lips surely tasting of him and heavy smoke, the only admission of what you did tonight let anyone come close enough to you.
You bite your lip meekly and nod. “Y-yeah… but… here?” Your face warms, realizing that your display of affection was still rather public, no matter how contained in the moment you felt. What would your parents dare to think of you now?
“Mmm,” his nose nuzzles in the juncture of your neck where you’re sure he can feel your heartbeat, “won’t let anyone see what’s mine, baby. Promise.” He licks a warm stripe up your neck, then nibbles gently at your pulse point, causing your breath to hitch. A moan cat he’s in your throat, and you can feel your already fickle resolve melting.
“Please, Joel,” you breathe, gripping his hair tenderly as he tastes the admissions of passion all over your skin. His kisses trail up your neck to your jaw, his beard and soft lips tickling all the way up to your own, where he kisses you once. “Lay down.”
It drips of certain authority when he says it, and you can only listen, your back meeting cool cracked leather. You’re almost embarrassed at your choice of garment tonight, a simple black skirt, knowing you wouldn’t have expected the night to end with a troublesome man underneath it like this.
You can’t bring yourself to look down, simply feel as he flips your skirt up and moves to bring either of your legs up over his shoulders. You can feel his breath laced with trepidation against the notably wet gusset of your underwear, and you want to sink into the leather and never come back out from the embarrassment. He doesn’t spare you impassivity on it either, and you should have known as much.
“A kiss gets you this excited?”
“Shut up,” you groan, hands covering your face.
“Don’t be embarrassed, I’m here to take care of it now.”
With that, he presses open mouthed kisses over the moist of your underwear, sending chills up your body in the anticipation of it all. You squirm under his touch, the playful kisses and licks and bites over your intimates frustrating you beyond belief. He seemingly senses it and moves to finally give you reprieve when he hooks a finger in the gusset of your underwear and pulls it to the side. You can feel his breath ghost over your clit, and the stimulation that you’ve been begging for has you whimpering.
“Pretty fucking pussy been waiting’ for me, hasn’t she?” he coos, kissing your left inner tight. “Mhm, please…” you say lowly, supplicant under the throes of the potential pleasure. “Impatient little thing,” he hums, but his comment is in jest it seems, as he moves to taste you finally, as he asked, and it’s nothing short of explosive, your nerves working in overdrive.
He eats from you as if you were the sweetest nectar, sucking and licking every inch of your sensitive pussy, his beard giving a welcome pain to accompany your pleasure. He prods you with his tongue with an expertise that you're sure only comes with age and experience. He's incessant, despite your cries and gasps and twitching he holds strong, spreading you and keeping you still by your things with his strong hands and you can do nothing but take it.
“Oh Joel,” you moan, honeyed and delicate, clearly succumbing under the waves of pleasure sent crashing your way. Your hands grip his hair in a silent plea of encouragement to keep going, for you'd feel forsaken if he stopped. His tongue moves from circling your clit, to plunging deep into your pussy as if he was trying to devour you from the inside out. You nearly screamed when he pulled a way to lick a stripe up your wetness, starting this time at your puckered hole drenched in the residual wetness of your pussy, Joel’s sole doing.
“Oh my God,” you breathe out when you feel his tongue lick up from your ass to your clit, over and over until the pleasure that has been building in you crescendos and you go taut, mouth agape in a silent plea as you're wracked by your orgasm.
“Just like that, baby” Joel hums between licks at your clit. “Cum for me all sweet.”
And you do, left with no choice but to take as he relentlessly gives, even in the throes of overwhelming pleasure. Your hands grip his hair even harder, the stimulation of his mouth feeling like an overload for your nerve endings. It has you babbling, legs fluttering even as he holds you apart. “C-can’t,” you heave, and he relents upon hearing your desperate plea.
His mouth leaves you, but not without a final kiss to your pussy, before he moves his head from the juncture of your legs and pulls your skirt down. You whimper at your legs freeing from his grip, your muscles sore after being held bent for so long.
“Did so good for me, yeah?” Joel says, rubbing your thighs softly, as he watches you come down.
“You’re so mean,” you mumble, mustering up the strength to sit up from the backseat and finally look at Joel since he lost himself between your legs.
“You say that to everyone who gives you an orgasm?”
That fucking smirk isnt lost at he teases you back, but this time his lips are wet with you and your face warms, your eyes insisting on looking down instead. There's no mercy to be had, as you see his erection straining against his jeans when you do, and you gasp. He must be huge, considering the size of the bulge he's sporting. “You’re…” you start, and you’re not sure how to even finish.
“I am. Tends to happen when you eat pussy,” he says rather brazenly, and if you didn't have a modicum of control you're sure you'd sputter at his words. You make eye contact with him again, and his eyes are holding a newfound softness, but you're unsure if it's from the moment or a betrayal of the moonlight above you both. “Can we… keep going? But in- in a bed. Your bed, preferably,” you say, heart beating ridiculously fast at the fact that you even had the spunk mustered up inside you to ask him such a thing.
“You tryna get into my pants now?”
“I-It’s only fair…”
“Hop in the front, I hear your preferred ideas loud ‘n clear.”
The car ride to his place was quiet, but not uncomfortably. It was welcome, giving you time to watch the signs pass you by on the roads like a blink, with Joel’s hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing more affirmatively than an act of lust. It grounds you in a sense, keeping you in the moment rather than the idea of what’s to come. You drive for about twenty minutes until you’re exiting off the highway onto a quiet route, scarcely lit until it trails off into dirt, the tires crunching under the rock and soil before a quaint cabin comes into view. It was all rustic and wooden, surely built as strong and capable as the man next to you. He pulls up in front of the house, cutting the engine quick and swinging his door open, muttering a Don’t move your way and your stomach turns when you realize he’s coming around to open the door for you.
Quite the gentleman you are, Joel Miller.
He offers you a hand when your door opens, and you take it, unable to help the smile on your face as you hop down from the lifted truck. “Thank you.”
“Jus’ didn’t want you eating shit in my driveway,” he says, but the lack of playful tone in his voice lets you know he doesn't mean it. Still, you give him this nicety and spare him from any further teasing, your gut beginning to spark the smouldered embers that were there previously when the moment sets in. You’re at his house, and the pretenses are ones that you cannot ignore.
Joel walks a pace ahead of you, keys in hand to be able to open the door for you, and you watch him silently, taking in this obvious vulnerability. You admire the little chair sat on his porch, the ash tray atop the balustrade, what looked to be whittled chippings of wood scattered along the dark oak of the porch. This was the most intimate version of him, and in this moment, it’s all yours.
“Ladies first,” Joel says, breaking your concentration, and you walk past him and across the threshold of the door. His house is quaint, that is your first observation. Quaint, and messy. A man can't be helped. The cabin is lit only by the light atop the stove, making the room seem humble in a sense. The door leads straight into the living room, furnished humbly with a couch, table, and a television, with a kitchen to the left, all open concept. The door at the wall at the opposite end of you is what you can only assume leads to the bedroom, bathroom too.
“You want the grand tour or can I show you where the magic happens?” Joel says, walking up behind you with an eyebrow quirked. Your eyes roll instinctively.
“Don’t ruin the moment.”
You turn to face him, and you’re met with his chest, inciting you to look up until you’re peering up into his face. “C’mere…” he trails off, grabbing your waist before pulling you into a kiss. This one feels different than the one you shared in front of his truck. There, you felt as if the moment would escape you if you dared do anything but get lost in it, but here, the kiss demands you to be present. To savour it, taste it, take it in its entirety. The purse you’ve been carrying all night slips free from over your shoulder, hands moving to wrap around his neck and savour the feeling of his tongue against yours, his hands only granting you this moment of softness.
His lips pull away from you for a moment, just to speak softly. “Jump up.”
Hands catch your thighs when you do, and the kiss resumes, slow and deep and heavy, riddled with everything unsaid under the stars, and he’s walking you to his room like this. Still, everything is distant as you're focused on how his lips feel as though they're consuming you – mind, body, soul. A door opens, and you're moving down, plushness meeting your back. The kiss doesn't break still, his denim covered groin rutting into you and you feel the heaviness of him, giving you friction against your panties. You’re the one to break away from the kiss this time, desperate beyond relief that grinding can give.
“Please, Joel. I need you inside,” you breathe, hips canting up to provide relief to your aching clit.
“Fuck. I got you baby, I got you,” he says, and he sounds as desperate as you feel. He pulls away from you, pulling his flannel off his frame, then his wife beater, then he moves to his jeans, the hefty clink of his belt buckle making you bite your lip.
“You’re so sexy,” you whisper. You can’t help but reach a hand out to his stomach, toned but still soft with plush and dusted with soft hair, trailing up and down. You watch him pull the belt from the beltloops of his jeans, the loud clang sound of it dropping to the floor making your breath hitch.
“You just gonna watch me undress, or do I get in on this fun too?”
Yes, you're still clothed.
You make haste of your shirt and bra, thrown to the wind behind you. You don’t have a chance to rid yourself of your bottoms before calloused hands are doing it for you, pulling you shirt and panties down and off your legs in one fluid motion.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, before coming down to kiss you once more. Chest to chest, inhibitions gone and forgotten, you relish in the freedom the intimacy grants you. You let yourself grind against his hard erection, you let your hands tangle in his salt and pepper tresses. His hand teases your clit with the rigid softness of the tip of him, causing you to arch your back and bare yourself to him, a willing participant in your own debauchery.
“Gonna fuck you now, yeah? Nice an’ slow…” Joel hums against your lips, noses touching as you pant under him. You nod your head, and move to kiss him again.
His intrusion takes you by surprise despite the warning. He’s heavy and warm and unrelenting, just like the rest of him. Inch by inch, he breaks you down until there's nothing left but the melting feeling of pleasure deep within you, finally igniting the slow burning ember that you tried so hard to smother.
“Joel, move… please,” you sigh against him. He must hear the desperation your voice is dripping in as he moves to pull back his hips, thrusting in you once more to the hilt. The movement punches a whimper out of you, goading him on to keep going.
When he finds his pace, built up from the careful and slow thrusts he originally started with, you feel as if this is your divine punishment. The grunts of the man above you, laced with masculine inhibition, lust, and something you can’t name… it all sends you reeling. His heavy thrusts bring stimulation internally and externally, the sensitive walls of your pussy fluttering in enchantment of this pleasure that supersedes anything your own fingers could give you, the tuft of his bush rubbing against your clint with every stroke inside you, knocking the air out your head. Another thrust, another moan, another grunt. The flex of your foot, the mean swivel of his hips — you’re drowning in ecstasy, smothered in the unbridled pleasures of a hormonal release that’s been begging to be let go of. You’re one with the moment, only anchored by the incessant puncture of Joel’s thick cock against your inner walls, and the sweet vulgarity he lets lave against your neck between his kisses and bites, only hoping it reaches your ears.
“Good fuckin’ girl.”
“Sweetest - fuck, sweetest fuckin’ pussy.”
“You feel so good like this. Tell me how good you feel, baby.”
“Want that sweet pussy to cum ‘round me, can you do that?”
It’s all too much and not enough at once, it has you incoherent and trembling under Joel. He lifts up from his position on top of you to be able to see you take all of him, and the look in his eyes has you clenching harder than any words he’s said to you all night. This is what becomes of those who answer the call of a siren’s temptation, you take until you can no longer.
“Can feel you clenchin’ up on me, baby. Cum for me, give it to me.”
A hand moves down to thumb your clit, the other wrapped around your calf and holding it against him for leverage to fuck into you like you need. The feeling of lips kissing the sole of your foot have your eyes bursting wide open from their haze. Joel eyes you, obvious to your reaction, but is unwavered. His kisses remain constant in tune with the rut of his hips and circling of his thumb against your clit, and you feel yourself beginning to crest.
It’s all so much now.
You can't hold the whine that bubbles out of your throat nor the gasps of breath that come after, your orgasm beginning to take the reigns.
“Tha’s it, cum for me. Holy shit.”
Your entire body tenses up, an electrical symphony of nerves firing rapidly in an attempt to keep up with the sensation as you feel it. You're sure you go blank for a moment, reduced to nothing but fried nerve endings and trembling muscle. You blink, only coming to when you feel a warm cloth against your stomach and between your thighs, wiping up the collective mess you made. You only see Joel’s back as he moves around the room. Still, the exhaustion and exertion of the night digs itself in your bones, and your eyes can’t help but flutter closed again.
“Shh, I got you. S’okay, take it easy and rest. We’ll talk in the morning, sweetheart.”
The morning after doesn't grant you the same sense of ease the night before had. The sun shines brightly through the bedroom window, interrupting the heavy sleep you fell under. You wake up to an empty bed and the smell of eggs and bacon, you’re sure. Your clothes from last night are folded on the nightstand and a glass of water is waiting for you next to it. You can’t help but smile, throwing the sheets off you and stepping into a stretch. It’s only when you feel a breeze as you lift your arms that you notice your sleepwear – his shirt.
You smile again, unable to help yourself, swallowing the wince you feel from the budding soreness between your legs and follow the sweet smell of breakfast into the kitchen.
The layout of Joel’s cabin gives you no moment to creep and watch him in the unfiltered morning moment, but nevertheless you admire your view of the man plating eggs, bacon, and buttered toast on the counter.
“Good morning, sleepy girl,” he hums, not looking up from his activity.
You forget you’re still standing in the doorway as you walk up to him in the kitchen. “Hi.”
“Feelin’ okay? You knocked out on me,” he says, looking up at you finally, handing you your plate and nodding his head signaling you to move to sit on the couch behind you.
“Yeah, little sore. But um, I feel good. Last night was…” you trail off, embarrassed to finish your words and instead begin to eat your food.
“Indeed it was. Didn’t expect you to gush like that,” he says, ever crass, shovelling food into his mouth with a smirk.
“Wh- don’t say things like that!” You're so embarrassed at his words that you don't even consider them. You’ve had your fair share of self inflicted orgasms but you wouldn't describe them with the word ‘gush’, that's for sure. Surely he doesn't mean you…
“...I…I peed?” you ask, the embarrassment constricting your throat. You can’t ever look him in the eye again.
A hearty chuckle leaves his chest mid chew as he shakes his head, laughing at your embarrassment. “No, baby. It happens sometimes when women feel really good. Means I did my job right.”
“Oh… so… you’re not mad? Or grossed out?”
“Nope. S’natural.”
After that, the two of you eat in relative silence. Then, you remember in the quiet.
The bar. The fight at the bar. Joel and his truck. You and Joel and his truck. The sex. Your mother. Oh God.
You shoot up, panic taking you over as you scramble for your purse. Joel’s eyes trail your frantic blur of movement and incoherent pleas hoping to God for your mothers forgiveness.
“I guess you need a ride home, then.”
Your mother was nothing short of both frantic and furious alike, crowding you with questions and her unwavering presence, telling you off on how unacceptable and insurmountable your transgression was, how it would take a lifetime to wash your sins away.
Still, there's nothing her never ending line of questioning did to make you regret your actions. She’d be short her sanity if she’d known your virginity was lost to a man you’re unmarried to, let alone the town delinquent. Bible study on Saturday turned into endless throes of pleasure between sheets that smell like tobacco and something uniquely self assured. Morning of warm stares and heated touches, afternoons of laugh and sweet nothings as you both reel in post-orgasmic haze.
“They named that newborn Lamb. Her name is Teddy.”
“Ain’t that a boy name?”
“I think it’s cute.”
Every week, you learn a new piece of him. How he likes his coffee (black, naturally). How he snores when he sleeps on his back. How the scar against his nose seemingly is sunkissed under the summer sun. You take these moments and hold them within you somewhere deep, private. Intimate. A sacred air is born in his off-road cabin, where between mind-numbing orgasms and footrubs on Joel’s worn sofa, everything is stripped raw down to its organic matter. It’s just you and him, sans inhibition. And so, you let yourself indulge on a Saturday before your penance is sanctified on a Sunday. You let yourself stay oblivious to the bruises on his knuckles you kiss better, choose against questioning the loud mystery of the man in front of you. What do you do when I’m not around?
Still, you indulge beyond yourself even when you know better.
You’re sat atop his lap, arms tenderly hung around Joel’s neck as his money counter whirls on the table in front of you both on the couch. Your head is tucked into his chest, letting yourself lull against the noise of his heartbeat strong against his chest and whistling of the machine and money.
“Where do you even get this money from?” you mumble into his chest.
You feel the hum laced with bemusement in his throat before he answers. “Don’t matter long as I can spoil my girl with it.”
His girl.
Your heart swells in your chest at hearing that. You’ve both refrained from naming whatever situation the two of you are in, but the feeling becomes so charged when you’re around each other that you both know better than to deny it for each other's sake.
“Count this for me baby,” he says, his hands already at your hips maneuvering you to face forward. A brick of hundred dollar bills fall into your lap and you turn to look back at Joel, him already returning your pointed look with his own. Bad idea. You do it anyway, making your own white noise for Joel to lull away against as he holds you tight against him.
The carefully crafted simulacra of committed boyfriend and girlfriend falls apart in one fell swoop, an assault charge from the same man that accosted you at the bar along with a missed court appearance has Joel in the back of a cop car, hands cuffed behind his back as they haul him away. From you, from each other, from this fragile game of housewife you’ve been playing all these weeks.
They spare him no dignity, arresting him right outside of the gas station, sour straws and Marlboro Reds abandoned on the floor.
Everyone considered it degrading to everything but him. Your mother scoffed at the news, claiming to be glad the town can look away from the embarrassment of it all. And you? You internalized it all. The shame, the fury, the embarrassment, and the love.
It was decided then that you would go see him, image be damned. Your mother and father could not be placated further, because your taste of true freedom and unconditional love waited for you when he saw you, and you’d be damned if you made yourself wait.
And so that brings you here, watching all six feet something of brawn and charisma and greying hair walk up to the phone booth in his prison habit, grey pants and shirt with a white longsleeve. You're ashamed at the butterflies you get in your stomach everytime you see him like this, in a place as violent and mean as they make him out to be and still looking as unaffected and unwavered as ever.
He sits while you already press the phone up against your ear, and you smile, excited for the best part of your days here.
“Hi,” you breathe as he picks up the phone.
“Hi, baby. Look so good today, s’unfair.”
You laugh and the conversation falls into your little anecdotes of town gossip and chores you attended, yet he listens with a reverence that makes your heart soar every time.
Still, he wouldn't be himself if he didn't tease you every now and then, security guards a non-factor in his playful vulgarity.
“Promise you been good? Readin’ my letters?”
“Mhm, keep 'em in a special box and all,” you nod.
“Atta girl. Miss you like crazy every day. You miss me too,” Joel asks, and the receiver doesn't fail to pick up the lilt in his voice as he asks. Still, you let him play his games with you and you give him a meek nod, because you really do.
“Yeah? Tell Daddy how much you missed him.”
“Your eyes cut into something so sharp at his words and you hush a scold over the phone, “Joel!”
He can’t help but laugh at your face twisted up in embarrassment.
Soon, your time is up and the best parts of being in here soon becomes the worse, as you know you’ll have to leave him here in the confines of these walls until next Saturday, the cruel institution left to beat him with by his circumstance until you come again to give him a breather as you smile at him, your radiance ever effervescent despite the plexiglass between you.
Your hand rests against the glass, and he presses against it in a ritual union before you go. A gesture charged with certainty and promise.
I’ll be home soon.
And because you’re his girl, you’ll be waiting faithfully.
♡₊˚ ──── 2.4k . hot to go! masterpost | jock!ellie x vi's gf!reader . vi & reader have a somewhat open relationship ( to ellie only <3 ) because sharing with ur friends is caring , vi's absent for most of this part , reader's rly ditsy , smutty smutty smutty , dom!ellie , sub!reader , explicit pics/vids being taken & sent , ellie n vi are really cocky , some degradation , u nearly burn her lips off with lipgloss ♡, oral & strap-on sex ꒰ r.rec ꒱ , strap referred to as cock , dacryphilia , reader is hyperfeminine . minors & ageless blogs will be blocked ! reblogs 'n comments greatly appreciated ♡
𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒆'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 . . . ౨ৎ haiiiii !!!! here's part two of collab with @cinnamongirlsev <3 three's coming soon and it's abt to get even nastierrrr!
no typical campus buzz today, rather the end-of-week exhaustion settling in. fridays always seem to drag, especially by the end of the year, when freedom is near but not quite near enough.
you've slugged through it long enough, gotten through a quiet class that hardly anyone else showed for, and noon's just hit. you have just enough time to grab a bite to eat before your sorority gathers in the late afternoon.
... ugh.
you'd give anything for a rest this evening, or to be able to support your girlfriend at her soccer practise. it's been a while since you could.
the walk towards the dining hall is more comfortable than usual, no tightly packed crowds to dart through, but still, your face contorts into that of utter disappointment as you swipe your id over the door and step inside.
there is a line.
a line bigger than you have ever seen in this — usually — ghostly place.
"jesus, fuck me gently," you whisper to yourself, clutching your notebook against your chest as you begin the walk to the back of the line. "jus' wanted some food."
everyone else shares the displeasure, judging by the sunken, soulless eyes and heavy frowns that you pass. the chatter echoes off the walls, every word around you blurring into a gradient, easy to tune out but still harsh on the brain.
so when you hear the faintest call of what could be your name, you don't pay it any mind — that is, until you get just a little closer, and hear it again. this time you make out a pretty familiar voice, raspy, curling around each vowel in your name like a miracle.
she stands in the line, a lazy smile on her lips and her hands in the pockets of her jeans.
"ellie!" you give her a bright smile, approaching with a renewed pep in your step. your hand grazes the fabric barrier, clutching it as you eye the girl on the other side. your head snaps back to the front of the line, then the end of it, and you make a pretty hasty decision. "can i get in line with you?"
"what's in it for me?" ellie replies, quirking a brow at you. you fumble over words, batting your lashes like it's the only thing you know how to do anymore, and she chuckles. "yeah you can, pretty girl. i'm messing with you."
"ugh. hold this," you say, handing your notebook across the divider, where ellie quickly slides her hands out from her pockets and takes it for you.
you stretch the divider as far upwards as you can to climb under, drawing a few complaints from the people behind ellie. you don't pay them any mind, you can't, because ellie keeps her back to them and pulls you against her side to share some warmth.
"you are a lifesaver, 'cos i'm on a time crunch and i am starving," you say. your hand gravitates to one of the usual places, the string of her open hoodie, where you fiddle and play. "what's with the line?"
she shrugs, lips curving down. "your guess is as good as mine, angel. what's your time crunch about?"
"another sorority meet," you mumble. "i wanted to come watch practise tonight. i miss vi. and you. and..."
"owhh, whiny girl." ellie grins, and just like that, her hand drops from your waist to the frills along the back of your skirt. your back straightens, filling her open palm with your ass, where goosebumps rise along the skin beneath the fabric. "yeah, we miss you. you're so busy."
"my damn sisters!" you exclaim, pouty lips drawing another laugh from ellie. "just 'cos we're getting closer to the end of year, we have to have all these stupid meetings and organise stuff... like, i'm busy! with college!"
she tuts, shaking her head. "well— are you coming to watch us play on sunday? vi told you? we can't play without our little cheerleader in the bleachers."
"she did," you confirm with a nod. what a strange feeling, the rush of excitement and the endearment fluttering around your body at the mere mention of your girlfriend, all at the very same moment that ellie's sly touches are making your tummy flip. "i wouldn't ever miss a game."
"oh, i trust you," she responds. "it's an important one too. semi-finals."
before you get a word out in reply, ellie grabs you by the back of your neck, turning you forward. "watch the line."
you fill the empty space in front quickly, bashfulness running hot in your cheeks. "you could'a said something sooner."
the line moves up, slow as ever, but the buffet table is within your line of sight now, and ellie speaks up again.
"hey, you wanna get this to-go and find somewhere else to eat?"
that sounded like a good idea to you, so ellie swept you away to her and vi's favourite lunch spot; a secluded place, caged in by hedges and cypress trees, one of the nicer places on campus. not to her surprise, you've requested not to stain your clothes or knees in grass, which led to ellie reluctantly removing her hoodie for you to sit on next to her.
ellie's a great person to be around. of course, your girlfriend must pick good company, and you're the perfect example of that. but ellie is too.
vi swore to you ellie'd take care of you if you needed her to, and she does. maybe it's genuine care, an inherent need to look after the people she knows. or maybe it's that she owes it to her friend for being allowed to do what she's doing right now.
the breeze batters against her now bare arms, one outstretched towards you. her bicep tenses, and as you reapply a layer of shimmering lipgloss you eye the vein leading into her inked forearm. she's rubbing up and down your side, slow and casual, before her hand travels to your chest and squeezes confidently.
you pause before capping your lipgloss and tilt your head to the side, eyes flitting up to ellie's tongue darting over her rising smirk.
"you wanna let your girl know what i'm doing right now, huh?" she says, free hand taking out her phone. you quickly nod, humming in agreement, and she hums back. "mm. that's the rule, isn't it, angel?"
so vi receives a text in the middle of a lecture, the image of greed glaring back at her in the form of your puppy pout, upturned eyebrows, and ellie's hand cupping your left tit.
smellie: look who i ran into :)
fat hands: precious
fat hands: give her a kiss for me
ellie continues her fondling as you take in your surroundings. you watch the trees and how their leaves rock languidly in the wind, a calmness settling over you before her cold rings are on your cheek, turning you eye to eye with her again.
her lips find yours with no time wasted, swallowing your tiny gasp as she scoots closer. she is a taste you've come to love now, a force very different to your girlfriend's. vi's love is clashing teeth and your hair wrapped around her wrist; ellie's kisses are calculated, hands pushing your body into hers, sucking your lower lip.
you begin to crawl onto her when she pulls back, whining lowly at the loss of attention. "ellie—"
"ugh, your stupid lipgloss is so tingly, like— ow, goddamnit." you pout as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and she looks up at you, scoffing. "look at that face. you don't even fuckin' need this plumping shit."
"you guys both don't understand," you argue, narrowing your eyes. "i— mm!"
she kisses you again, steady yet punishing as she pushes you onto her lap. her lips travel, peppering kisses from your chin to your collarbone, and your weak grinding over her thighs draws out a chuckle that stops her from continuing her trail further down.
"if you wanted an excuse to get out of that meeting, there's a perfectly good one right here."
you fall as the backs of your knees hit the edge of ellie's bed, the mattress dipping below your quivering body. she climbs right over you, attached to your neck like a vampire and pinning you down amongst her pillows.
"ah!" you suck in a breath, head falling back as ellie nips the soft skin beneath your jaw. she licks over the spot, but continues, likely leaving a mark that might piss vi off a little. friendly fire, really.
you open up your legs, trying to draw ellie closer and get some of the indulgent friction your cunt aches for — it's as if there's no brains left in you, your pulsating need charging forth and taking over your every move.
a moan escapes you as her lips travel over a particularly tender place, kissing hard over a fading mark vi left mere days ago. you're loud, loud enough to stop ellie.
"god, you are fucking greedy," she mutters. "look at you. happy, aren't you? happy being passed around like a whore?"
your glossy pout turns upside down, a smile full of sheer pride on your face. you're preening. "well yes!" you giggle, sliding your legs around her waist. "vi says my pussy's so pretty she just had to share!"
ellie scoffs, but still, places a last kiss on your cheek. she looks down, fingers sliding up your thighs until they reach your panties. she pulls them to the side, cool air hitting the glistening wet skin.
all that pride vanishes in an instant, a slew of moans and whimpers flying out of your mouth as she glides her fingers through the sticky mess between your legs.
"fuckin' slutty princess," she says in a gravelly voice, glancing up at your half-lidded eyes. "you want me to take 'em off?"
"mhm, yes, yes," you beg, nodding as fast as possible. you don't know when you became so desperate and so greedy, as ellie put it, but you can't stop it.
"awhh, you sound so dumb right now, little miss 'pretty pussy'," she mocks.
as soon as your panties are off, ellie pushes your skirt up before getting down, lying on her stomach. her hands grasp either side of your hips, and she doesn't waste any more time. she dives right in.
"oh god," you whisper, hips bucking into ellie's mouth. she applies some more force, keeping you down, and her tongue laves over your clit with precision. the pleasure's inescapable, dragging out long moans and making your chest heave.
she glares upwards as you start to squirm more and more, soon becoming so restless at every flick of her tongue that she sits up. "get up."
and that mountainous high she was building you to dissipates within seconds.
"h-huh?" you blink, lower lip quivering. "els, i was so close— what do you mean?"
"hands and knees, angel, hurry up."
you take a second to move, shedding your cardigan as you do, and watch ellie reach into her bedside drawer.
ohhhhhhh. right!
you bite your lip as she clips the harness on over her jeans, the sight of her stroking lube over the forest green cock so enticing that you start to leak down your thighs.
and as soon as you feel the head moving through your folds, gathering up more of your juices and catching at your entrance, you mewl, arching your back into her.
ellie grabs your ass, fingers digging into the flesh. "you want it?"
"yes, isn't that fuckin' obvious, i mean—? ellie..." you whine. "stop teasing me!"
her palm meets your ass cheek with a deafening smack, heat spreading across the skin like fire. you let out a dry sob, quietly rambling something about just needing to be filled before she finally gives in.
your folds stretch around her strap as every inch disappears inside you, and your arms start to buckle beneath you already.
it's pure bliss.
she rocks her hips back and forth, a pace building steadily. your mouth hangs open, broken gasps and cries filling the air once she digs her fingertips into your hips and pulls you back into her thrusts.
"so pretty," ellie mumbles to herself, the rippling of your ass egging her on, even after you collapse and your face hits the pillows. "poor girl, you couldn't take it? it's that good? that's okay."
the cruelty of her cock kissing your cervix with every thrust starts to grow tiresome for your trembling body, tears pooling on your lower lashes. soon, they stream down your cheeks.
she slows suddenly, squeezing and groping your ass, and you think she might be giving you a break. you think she might be showing some mercy, until you open your eyes to her phone camera pointed at your ruined face.
"do you wanna say hi to vi, pretty girl? she's gonna watch this..."
"mmh," you whimper, your weak fist uncurling to try and wave. and you open your mouth to speak, only for a shriek to come out as ellie starts pounding into you again.
she laughs, tossing her phone aside after stopping the recording. she focuses, the wet sounds of your cunt clamping around the strap and your unintelligible noises coaxing her to go harder until you snap.
your body tightens, glorious pleasure washing over you. she keeps at it, the feeling of fucking you through your orgasm drawing ellie nearer to the edge as well.
"fuck," she grunts, leaning over you and pressing a soft kiss to your back once it's all said and done. "so good, angel."
light laughter hits your ears, the feeling of warm hands sliding under your body and picking you up. you peel your eyes open and try to rub the crusted mascara out of them, your girlfriend's familiar scent wrapping around you.
"jeez, with the way she acts, it seems like you're only giving her the bare minimum, dude."
you feel vi's chuckle in her chest where you rest your head. "yeah, trust me, she's just an attention whore. don't waste time getting ready, by the way, we're already running late and coach is gonna kill us."
"sure, but that's your fault for getting here late," comes ellie's annoyed reply. "don't let the door hit you on the way out, asshole."
vi carries you out of the room, feeling you begin to stir.
okokokokoko, thinking about having a really annoying fucking attitude with ellie and her telling me multiple times to knock it off. and obviously i don’t bc i find it funny 😛 but anyways, when i think i’ve gotten away with it and start walking away, she comes up from behind and spanks me. and she’d be so mean with it too. then when i’m all shaky and whimpering, she’d pull out the strap !!!! sorry i’m horny rn
low blow ⋆˙ ୨୧
♡₊˚ ──── 1k . mean!ellie , gf!ellie , femme!reader , brat taming <3 , spanking , daddy kink , strap on sex at the end , crybaby!reader giving ellie attitude hehe , mentions of stress , been meaning to write smth like this for a while so took my chance here !!! <3 minors & ageless blogs do not interact pls ! reblogs 'n comments greatly appreciated <3
you didn't know you had gotten on ellie's nerves that badly. you've never really done this before, never gotten her riled up like this. you took her warnings at face value, after all, she was laughing a little at first. she didn't seem serious, but now you know better. ellie's high on the combination of a shitty day at work and your brattiness right now, quite thoroughly pissed off.
her last straw, your lighthearted comment about how she 'could do more around the apartment every now and then', is what leads her to walk up next to you and suddenly—
you let out a broken yelp, a heavy slap against your backside diverting your attention, and you startle again at ellie's voice against your ear.
"don't know where my sweet girl went today, do i need to do something mean to bring her back?" now, usually, that would be enough to set you back on the right path. being a brat isn't common for you, and if your behaviour ever needs correcting, all she has to do is threaten a punishment — ellie knows you're a little too sensitive to handle all that.
except today, things are a little different.
"you're not mean, like, ever. you're too pussy to be like that with me," you mutter. "that spank was a bluff."
actually, she's shocked, and you know it because her brows rise to the sky and her lips part, but no words come out.
because ellie doesn't really need to use words right now, you probably won't listen to them anyway.
before you know it she's sitting on the edge of the bed and tugging on your waist with her fingertips pressing into your skin so hard they might bruise. you fall over her knee and she pulls your skirt up, then shoves your soft pink panties halfway down your legs.
you don't have even a moment to prepare, trying to fight off and wriggle away until ellie places a firm hand on your lower back, pressing you down.
"fuck, sit still, babe," she says with a scoff. "you wanna tell me something right now? you know what you have to say."
indeed, you do know, but for some reason it won't come out. she's already got back the sensitive girl she usually has, too shy to use your voice. in fact, when she looks over and sees you hanging your head and hiding behind your hands, that's just more ammunition for her.
"not one fucking word to me? now you wanna keep your mouth shut?"
you feel her hand raise in the air and kick your legs back to shield your behind by pure instinct, rushing to say something. you can't bring yourself to say much — the sound of your own muffled voice is a little humiliating right now . . . "sorry."
"that's it? god," ellie says with a chuckle. she shoves your legs out of the way, closing her legs around them to keep you from trying that again. but a subtle shine between your thighs catches her attention and as she curiously spreads your plush ass with her free hand, a wicked smirk begins to slowly rise on her face . . .
she just observes the glistening skin for a second, pulling apart the folds and humming in acknowledgement.
"i'm sorry, i've been bratty," you say, beginning to tremble, and all it does is make ellie want to say 'aww' rather than end the punishment.
"i don't think that's a very meaningful apology, i think you still gotta earn my forgiveness."
"i'm sorry!" you whine now, but no amount of adorable squirming, whining, or begging is going to weaken ellie's resolve by this point.
a sting spreads across your bare ass as she brings her hand down cruelly hard, another following right after on the other cheek.
"it looks like you should've listened when i told you you'd be crying if you kept up that attitude," she taunts, interrupting your shaky attempt at another apology with yet another smack.
she soothes them all with gentle squishes of the flesh, rubbing the now tender and hot skin after each spank. it's almost like she can't stop now that she's started, watching your skin ripple on impact and feeling you tense and squirm around on her lap. not to mention your whimpers and how hard it is to keep playing rough, ignoring them instead of cooing like she wants to deep down.
to you, it feels like heaven and hell all the same, trying to remain quiet and still while taking the punishment like you know you can. she's hit your bottom so much it might be a pain to sit on tomorrow, but the release each time is like nothing else.
sometimes, you like it when your girl's mean to you. just a little bit.
it brings tears to the surface — in a good way.
you know that even though you weren't on your best behaviour earlier, you're being very good now, helping ellie get out all that stress from work. she can't even control herself right now, can't measure how rough she's being. jheez, who knew part-time at the record store could be so stress-inducing? it's all those music snobs that make her wanna rip her hair out when dealing with, you think. they should take the blame for your current predicament.
your skin is raw, sensitive to all touch to the point where you think you really can't take it anymore, even if you'd like to. with your arms and legs feeling like jelly, you start trying to crawl away one last time.
"that's cute."
rigid fingers dig into your hips then, stopping you in your tracks.
"you're not going fuckin' anywhere, babe."
she's up now, walking around the room slowly, and your lie on your belly, watching her.
"i'm sorry, els, i learned now, m'sorry."
the harness clinks and clangs as she pulls it on over her jeans, your breath hitching the second your saw it in her hands. you lay your head down again, a pout on your lips.
"what'd you say, baby?" ellie asks, soon propping herself behind you, the shaft of her silicone cock pressing against your folds as she lays her lips onto your neck. "did i hear you right? you're sorry? you learned?"
"i learned. m'sorry daddy," you repeat, nodding your head. your eyelashes flutter with the weight of tears on them, and this time ellie can't help softening a bit. that title does lift her spirits . . .
"that's what i like to hear, good girl. you took that well."
𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒆'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 . . . ౨ৎ honestly this was kind of almost a rewrite of an old fic from about a year ago. except i changed a lot, like this is an entirely diff au lol. modern au versus the old version being farm!ellie. i jst feel like this version of the fic is cuter n hotter n better written <3 farm!ellie still the best ellie ever tho ^_^ that's my daddy
Hi, I don’t know if you accept request if you don’t I’m sorry but if you do, could you write something like this with violet and Abby (separate) and is full of love and they are girlfriends and everything and it’s just like really cute 
took me soooo long 'm sorry u.u i loved this idea for our beloved abby so much!!
abby fluff based on this reel. abby's like a gym a content creator, this is just so sweet i'm so in love with her
“Need her to bench press me,” you read aloud flatly from Abby’s latest reel comments while sitting on the edge of a workout bench. “That’s actually very original. It’s way better than the I wanna lick the sweat off of her skin ones.”
Abby snorts from where she’s adjusting the camera tripod near the pull-up rig. “Sounds like you’re jealous.”
The roll of your eyes only makes her laugh harder. It’s impossible to stay annoyed when she looks like that— an oversized gray tank top cut low at the sides, black athletic shorts, thick arms flexing every time she moves the tripod around.
A thin sheen of sweat still glows on her skin from the workout she’d finished before deciding she wanted to film “something fun for the feed”, as she said. A couple trend.
Well, you had to agree with that one comment. Licking the sweat off of her sounds a little tempting right now.
Abby checks the framing on her phone one last time before holding a hand out toward you. “C’mon, we gotta film this before I lose my pump.”
“Oh God, you sound just like a gym bro,” you mutter, setting your phone aside before sliding off the bench.
“Shut up,” Abby grins unapologetically.
She catches your wrist when you step closer, tugging you easily into her space. Her hands settle automatically at your waist, warm and steady, while you look up at her with suspicion.
“How did you even learn about this trend?”
“People kept tagging me in a bunch of different reels,” she shrugs.
Her thumbs brush absentmindedly against your hips as she positions you in front of her. Behind you, the phone is already recording, angled perfectly toward you two.
“Okay,” she taps your hips once. “Jump a little.”
Your hands find her shoulders instinctively as she guides you upwards first, helping you hook your legs around her waist. She’s steady beneath you, barely shifting from the added weight, chest pressed against yours while she adjusts her grip beneath your thighs.
“You good?”
“It’s nice,” you bite down a smile, heart hammering against your chest.
Up close like this, you can see the faint flush across her skin, blonde braid slightly messy now, eyes sparkling with joy. Yeah, her followers definitely had a point— she is gorgeous.
“Ready?” Abby asks quietly, and you nod in response.
One arm leaves your waist first, then the other, both hands reaching up toward the pull-up bar overhead. The second Abby’s body weight shifts fully into the hang, your grip around her tightens.
“Holy shit!”
Abby bursts out laughing. Her arms flex as she steadies both of you with terrifying ease, your body practically glued against hers while she hangs from the bar like this is nothing more than a warm up set.
“Hold on tight, spider monkey.”
“Who are you? Edward Cullen?” you let out a nervous chuckle. “Don’t drop me, I don’t wanna die!”
“You’re so dramatic.”
“You’re suspended in the air!”
Barely two feet off the ground, but still.
Abby’s forehead drops briefly against yours while she laughs again. The initial panic fades quickly, replaced by an overpowering peace as you realize she’s not straining at all. One of her hands even leaves the bar for a second just to squeeze your thigh reassuringly before grabbing it again.
“You’re a show-off,” you mumble, tightening your arms around her neck.
“But you love me.”
The way she says it makes your stomach flip a little, because she sounds pleased by it. Not cocky this time, just quietly fond.
Your face warms instantly. “Don’t make it emotional while I’m fighting for my life.”
Abby grins. “You’re doing great, baby.”
“You say that like you’re not the one doing all the work.”
Her laugh comes softer this time, forehead still pressed lightly against yours while she hangs there effortlessly, holding both your weight and hers like it’s nothing.
There’s something unfairly tender about the way she’s staring at you right now. No teasing, no smug grin, just blue eyes and flushed cheeks and this stupidly lovesick expression she only ever gets when she’s with you.
It hits you all at once. The thousands of followers, the thirst comments, the gym girls constantly tagging her in edits and compilations and “women in male fields” videos. None of them get this version of Abby, the one looking at you as if you hung the moon.
Your chest aches a little with it.
“Hey,” you mumble, trying to sound less affected than you are, “I love you.”
Her expression melts instantly.
“Oh, baby,” she chuckles, genuinely caught off guard. “I love you, too. And you’re so freaking cute.”
You groan quietly, hiding your face against her shoulder while Abby laughs again. Your heart stumbles over itself while Abby looks at you with a wide, loving grin on her lips.
Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the warmth of her body pressed against yours, or the fact she’s holding you so carefully despite how easy this is for her—
But you lean forward without thinking and kiss her. Soft and quick enough to make Abby go completely still for half a second. Then, she kisses you back immediately, smiling into it so hard you can feel it.
When you pull away, Abby’s looking at you with that same stupidly soft expression again.
“Yeah,” she murmurs. “Definitely posting this.”
“You’re blushing!”
Abby chuckles before finally dropping back down to the floor with ease, hands settling automatically at your waist to steady you once your feet touch the ground again.
She posts the reel later in the day, and the comments are immediate.
abbysn1fan: oh so they’re in LOVE love this is so cute 😭
benchpressbarbie: i came for gym content why am I crying??
absandsgirlies: abby anderson nation we lost her fr 😔✊✊
abbysdumbbell: both the hottest and cutest thing I’ve ever seen ❤️🔥
abby who pavlov’s you with somno so every time you get sleepy your cunt is leaking and you can’t fall asleep without her thick fingers stuffing you…
cw: CONSENSUAL somno but technically still dubcon i guess, fingering (r receiving), strap (r receiving), fem reader
cis men and minors dni!!
wc: 1.8k divider @strangergraphics
You and Abby both get nightmares; it’s one of the many things you share in common. It comes with the territory of living in a post-apocalyptic world. The things you’ve seen, the things you’ve done to live another day.
Unlike Abby, you are unable to fall back asleep after you wake up. Heart hammering in your chest, a sheen of sweat covering your body. You can’t close your eyes again without falling right back into it.
So, as the thoughtful girlfriend Abby is, she’ll make you cum on her mouth and fingers until you pass out to pacify you. On the really bad nights, she’ll fuck you with her strap for hours to the point where you both pass out due to exhaustion. Not like she’s complaining, though. She would live in your cunt if she could.
You are Abby’s only true home, your body being an extension. You have given Abby direct consent to use your body if she needs to while you’re asleep. She’ll slide under the covers to between your thighs, mouthing at your warm pussy to her heart's content. You are always so wet for her.
You’ll find her the next morning, head on your thighs and drooling. You smile to yourself, running your hands through her hair, heat coiling in your tummy at the thought of her using you in this way.
Fast forward to yet another night. Abby had a long day of patrols and training. She held your plush body in her arms and fell asleep quickly. You, on the other hand, were wide awake. You had a decent day, ate three meals, and drank enough water. But couldn’t for the life of you fall asleep. You stared at Abby’s pretty face and listened to her breathing before finally feeling even the slightest bit sleepy.
Suddenly, you felt a tingle in your lower belly as slick gushed out gently from your pussy. You sighed, annoyed. You didn’t want to wake Abby for this.
You rolled over from her, shame filling you. As you slid your hand down to the hem of your undies, cupping yourself. With a whimper, your fingers slid into your damp cotton panties. You ran gently through your sticky folds before rubbing slow circles on your clit. You whimpered in relief. After working yourself up for a bit, you slid one finger into your pulsing pussy before sliding in another. You picked up the pace, rocking your hips against your hand, hiding your face in your pillow to drown out your whimpers.
You slipped in another finger, but it was no use. They weren’t thick enough, didn’t stretch you out the way Abby’s did. They weren’t long enough either, unable to bully that sweet spot deep inside you like Abby was. It just wasn’t enough. You whined in defeat. There was no way you were gonna make yourself cum, and no way you were going to fall asleep with your sticky pussy. You had no other choice.
You rolled over to look at Abby again. She had shifted on her back, lips open slightly, hair loose on the pillow. She looked like an angel. Your clit pulsed just looking at her like this. You were pathetic.
You whispered her name, with no response. You ran a hand through her hair before touching her shoulder. “Abby,” you tried again. She hummed, eyes still closed and half asleep.
"Baby," you whine quietly. She peeked one eye open at you, “Are you okay?” she groaned, voice thick with sleep. Your cunt pulsed again. You were disgusting.
“Yeah, I just can’t sleep,” you whispered sheepishly.
“Poor baby,” she sat up slightly to caress your face, “did you have another nightmare?” she mumbled.
“…no,” you said shyly.
Abby was more alert now. “What’s wrong?” she asked fretfully. You were going to hell.
"I just..." you smushed your face into her chest.
“I’m too horny to sleep, and I tried taking care of myself, but I can’t!!” you said pitifully. words muffled by her cotton tank top.
She instinctively ran her hands through your hair, soothing you.
“I can’t hear you, angel", she said through a smile, hearing you just fine.
You whimpered, looking up at her, pouting, “I can’t sleep, I’m too worked up.”
“Aww, what’s gotten you so worked up, princess?” She teased, voice still groggy.
"You," you whine in frustration.
She laughed at you, “but I wasn’t doing anything, baby.” Abby loves to make you say you need her.
“Please abs I need it,” you whine hopelessly.
She tilts your head up, kissing you slowly and messily, taking her time with you, licking into your mouth and sucking on your tongue. You moan into her as she leaves sloppy kisses down the column of your throat.
“You need me that bad, baby hmm?” she drawls between kisses.
“Yes, please please” you chant into her hair.
Her calloused hands moved down to your soft tummy, pinching the skin there. She goes down further, cupping your leaky pussy in your ruined underwear.
"Need me here?" she smirks, kissing you again.
"Mhm!" you moan into her mouth.
Abby slides your panties to the side, gliding her fingers up your slit. Moaning as she plays with your wetness.
“Fuck baby, this pussy is so wet for me," she groans. You can only moan in response.
“You got her nice and ready, huh?” she says, continuing to swipe through your folds, teasing your hole.
“Please i-in” you whimper.
“Such a needy girl”, she smirks.
Abby shoves two of her thick fingers into you. Your eyes roll back, your mouth drops wide open, moaning like a porn star. You grip onto her broad shoulders for support. She groans at feeling your tight, silky walls grip her, deeply curling them to reach that devastating spot inside you.
“Eyes on me, baby,” she pulls your chin up to look at her, face only inches away. You're both breathing loudly into each other's mouths as she watches you take her.
“My pretty girl,” Abby coos, “that feels good, huh?” She picks up the pace as your whimpers get higher, legs trembling around her hand. fingernails digging into her freckled shoulders. She spits into your open mouth, licking your bottom lip as you swallow her.
“ah im gonna c-cum” you whimper.
“That’s it, baby cmon make a mess on my fingers,” she breathes.
You do as you're told, a loud moan ripping through the air as you arch your back. She takes her sticky fingers out of your hole, slowly bringing them up to her mouth and sucking them. She groans, eyes rolling into the back of her head, “so sweet baby,” she moans.
You whimper, eyes wide and glassy as you watch her. “Wanna taste?” she asks. You nod. Abby reaches down again to swipe your cum onto her fingers before putting them in your mouth. You run your tongue along them, tasting yourself before sucking softly.
"Good girl," she coos, curling her fingers making you gag slightly.
“You tired enough to sleep?” she asks with a knowing smile. You shake your head no sheepishly.
She smirks cockily at you, “You want my cock, baby?” she asks sumgly.
You whimper and nod your head. She takes her fingers out of your mouth.
“Nuh uh", she tsks, "You gotta ask me like a good slut.”
“Please, abs, please, I need your cock”, you whine.
She chuckles before kissing you again, “good girl,” she murmurs in your mouth.
She gets up to get her harness and strap as you take the rest of your clothing off. Moving the covers and positioning yourself on the bed on your hands and knees, arching deeply as your ass and pussy are on display for her. You brush your cheek against the soft sheets as the cool night air hits your weeping pussy, sending chills down your spine. Abby fastens the straps on quickly, placing the thick silicone cock in the ring, walking over to where you were ready for her on her bed.
Her pussy gushes out slick seeing you like this. She presses her palm flat against your back, smoothing down your spine. You jump lightly at the contact, she presses her hips flush to your ass, bending forward to kiss up your back.
Lightly fisting your hair, kissing your neck, she whispers, “Such a good girl for me, sweetheart.” You whimper, pressing your ass harder against her, feeling her hard cock brush against you gently.
“You ready for me, baby?” she mumbles into your hair.
"Mmm yes," you whine.
She slides in slowly, no need for lube when you’re this soaked. You grip the bedsheets together, feeling her stretch and fill you. She gives you a moment to adjust before pulling out to the hilt and pushing back in, hips picking up speed. Moaning into your neck as if she can feel your walls tightening around her, she swears she can.
“Fuck baby, you're squeezing me so tight,” Abby moans. She straightens up, grabbing your hair to make you arch deeper. Your face is pressed further into the sheets, drool staining them. She can hear your muffled cries as her hips pound harder.
You push your hand down to rub at your slippery clit, walls fluttering wildly, "augh gonna come ‘gain" you sob into the sheets.
"Good girl, come on my cock, baby," she grunts. Your pussy clenches and spasms around her as you cum with a loud cry. She grinds into you rougher, harness rubbing against her clit, you tremble in overstimulation as Abby uses your pussy to make herself cum.
“Fuck baby gonna fill you up,” she whines. Abby shudders as her own release takes her. The sound of your heavy breathing fills the room as she rests her front on your back.
You're unsure how much time has passed, Abby still pumping into your sensitive pussy. You’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve come. lying on your back now, your head resting on the pillow, and legs stretched around her back.
The feeling of her skin on yours and her inside of you, you didn't want it to end, but your body could not stay awake another moment. “I can’t stay awake abs," you whimpered, too tired to even open your eyes.
Abby wasn’t phased, she kissed your lips then your chin, “it’s okay, I got you, baby, you can go to sleep," “not done with this sweet pussy yet.”
You nodded, eyes still closed, "I love you abs," you mumbled sleepily. You felt yourself slip, lulled by Abby’s touch.
She smiled down at you softly, "I love you too, princess."
Abby loved you like this, so sweet and pliant for her. You trusted her so deeply to take care of you. It made her heart and cunt flutter. She watched your sleeping form. You looked so peaceful, her pretty girl. Little whimpers leaving your mouth. She groaned softly, careful not to wake you, as she kept grinding into you. She was sensitive at this point, but she couldn’t stop herself. Body tensing and shuddering again as she came.
She sighs contentedly, pushing the hair out of your face. Shifting both your bodies carefully, so as not to disturb you. Abby lay beside you, scooping you into her arms, still staying safely inside you.
Summary: The construction company your neighbors hire to do work on their house are loud, inconsiderate, and quickly get under your skin. One man in particular seems hellbent on driving you crazy until one day, all that tension comes to a head.
Warnings: language, smut (piv sex), dirty talk, praise kink, light spanking, reader being kind of pissy and Joel fucks it out of her (but he's not mean), Joel gets turned on by bossy women
Masterlist
It's your day off. You had a long month, working extra late to meet deadlines and skipping plans with friends and family to perform at your fullest and get the promotion you so badly deserved, and now that the project was done and you impressed all right people, you rewarded yourself with a singular day off. But your neighbors had other plans.
It started before eight in the morning. Power tools, yelling, laughing, car doors slamming. It ruined the peace and tranquility of the post-school bus and rush hour lull. At first, you turned over and tried to fall back asleep. When that didn't work, you grabbed your extra pillow and pressed it against your ear. But after thirty minutes of chasing sleep with the sounds outside only growing louder, you gave up, blood boiling.
Maybe you should have coffee first, but unfortunately, your rage wins out. It's way too early. They're being far too noisy. And it's your goddamn day off!
You're seeing red when you tighten your robe around your waist, not even bothering to tie it but instead you hold it closed with your fist as you storm towards the front door. Your pajamas are just a tank top and sleep shorts, it's not anything scandalous anyway, especially given how hot Texas gets in the summer, but the last thing you want is a whole construction crew gawking at you while you give them a piece of your mind.
Music had just been turned on somewhere amongst the site. Tom Petty, you think, as you make your way over. Your flip flops snap angrily against the blacktop as you cross your driveway into your neighbor's front yard to survey the scene.
There's at least eight workers getting set up. Their trucks are parked all up and down the street, taking up every open spot. None of them glance your way as they unload tools, coolers, and supplies from their flatbeds. Your arms cross tightly and your brows furrow but the noise only gets louder.
"Excuse me?" you call out to no one in particular, but they don't hear you. Your jaw tightens. "Hey! Excuse me?"
"Can I help you?"
You swivel around, taken off guard by the deep voice behind you.
"Yes! I—"
Your words falter when you lay eyes on the man who snuck up on you. He's setting a ladder down by his feet, giving you time to take in his strong arms and broad shoulders underneath the stretch of his black short sleeved shirt, which still allows you a generous view of his tanned forearms. His jeans look lived in in the best kind of way. He wears them like a man who doesn't care what they look like, so long as they're comfortable. You push down the heat crawling up your neck by the time he straightens up, but when you see his face, you lose your train of thought once again.
Deep brown eyes, sharp nose, a chiseled jawline dusted with a short, somewhat patchy beard. Then he offers a soft, crooked smile that knocks the wind out of you to the point where you nearly forget your earlier anger.
Focus, you scold yourself.
"I live right over there—" You point behind him and he slowly turns, eyes scanning your modest home. "And my bedroom window is right there," you add. His eyes flicker to your open window towards the back of the house before he gives you his full attention again, something that makes your stomach flip. "I'd appreciate it if you guys could keep it down this early in the morning. It's disruptive to the whole neighborhood."
His devastatingly dark eyes glimmer with humor and even though he's not smiling, you can sense he's not taking you seriously. He makes a show of checking his watch—a beat up old thing with a green fabric band—before looking back at you. "It's eight fifteen," he tells you, tone flat.
"Yeah, now," you say, rolling your eyes, "but this noise started earlier. It woke me up."
Now the corner of his mouth lifts and he slowly crosses his arms, which simultaneously irritates and excites the hell out of you.
"Sorry 'bout that, miss," he tells you, "but we're abidin' by city ordinance."
"I'm sure you are, but you have to admit it's disturbing the peace."
He regards you silently for a moment, his heavy gaze drifting up and down your frame. Suddenly, the thin robe you're wearing is too much and doesn't seem like enough all at once. An amused look flits across his face at one point before his eyes drop to the dirt.
"Could start at seven, technically," he finally says, "we're doin' you a favor by startin' at half past."
Your hackles raise at that. "Would you like me to thank you?"
He chuckles and shakes his head before meeting your gaze again. "Never said that. Just sayin' we're followin' the law, is all."
"I know you are," you huff, "all I'm suggesting is maybe keeping your voices a little lower."
He smirks and uncrosses his arms in favor of propping his hands on his hips, giving you a spectacular view of his wide chest.
"We could," he muses, pretending to think about your request while staring off at a fixed point somewhere over your shoulder, "if you ask real nice."
Your jaw drops at the same time your knees go weak. "Excuse me?"
He shrugs, still staring somewhere behind you in order to keep his shit eating grin from stretching across his face. "Just sayin', you came over here all hot under the collar. Had you asked nice, I mighta been able to help you out."
Your throat tightens. He's not trying to sound suggestive but your brain doesn't care. It's sending a wave of arousal right through you, causing your heart to slam against your ribs the more it builds.
"What's your name?" you demand with a clipped tone.
"Joel," he says without missing a beat.
"Joel," you repeat, "I'd like to speak with your boss."
"Ah, that'd be me."
He stretches out his hand with a grin. You ignore it and look back at the trucks until you spot a logo on the side and squint.
"Miller?" you guess. He nods. "Great. I'll be filing a complaint with the better business bureau."
You shoulder past him and try not to fixate on how good he smells, a mixture of motor oil, fresh soap, and coffee.
"Yeah? And what's your complaint gonna be for?" Joel calls after you. You ignore him and keep walking. You hear his deep chuckle before he picks up the ladder and it pisses you off even more, but you don't allow your rage to show until you're safely inside your house where you can seethe to yourself while making some coffee.
***
The rest of the week is uneventful. You have meetings downtown all week, a disruption to your usual remote work schedule, but a necessary evil you try your best to organize all at once every month. When you leave in the morning, the workers are just arriving. When you get home, they're already packed up or gone entirely. You nearly forget all about your intriguing run in with the mysterious Joel Miller until the following Monday, when you're back to working remotely.
You're an hour into emails and onto your second cup of coffee when you first hear the familiar ruckus next door. It starts with amused banter. Then truck doors slamming. Then the music kicks on. You shake your head, close your windows, and keep working.
With your television playing in the background, it's easier to block out some of the construction noise, but at around one in the afternoon you hear a repetitive, ear piercing beep, beep, beep during a work call that sets your teeth on edge.
Stones are pouring from the back of a metal flatbed. Shovels are scraping and banging loudly. And you do your best to stay focused, but when the call ends and you can't recall half the topics discussed, you can't hold back any more.
You spot Joel with his back to you, holding a shovel and shouting instructions to his crew while you approach. As if he can sense it, he turns when you're about ten feet away. His eyes sweep up and down your body and he grins before leaning on his shovel, amused by the anger currently forcing your feet forward.
"Don't tell me we woke you up again," he teases before you can even open your mouth. "It's after lunch. What's the matter now?"
You scowl at him, ignoring the way his crew sends you curious looks as they work.
"No," you snap, "I'm working. Or, at least, trying to! I have all my windows closed and I still can hardly hear myself think."
He looks at you like he's sizing you up, like he's trying to figure something out. "Thought you worked in an office somewhere."
You frown, slightly alarmed. "How would you know that?"
"Saw you couple times last week," he says hurriedly, as if he just realized how his comment sounded. "When I was gettin' here in the mornin', sometimes I'd see you gettin' in your car and drive off."
The silence that followed made Joel nervous. He shifted his weight and awkwardly scratched his beard while you tried to sort through what he just said without giving away your feelings. He noticed you? Was he looking for you, or did he just happen to see you?
"Uh, based on your spiffy clothes, just figured you worked somewhere fancy," he finished, rubbing the back of his neck before looking away.
You look down at the clothes you currently have on—denim shorts and an old, oversized shirt... far from spiffy today—before looking back up at him. To your surprise, you notice some red creeping up his neck and staining the apples of his cheeks. You have to bite your lower lip to keep yourself from smiling because despite how pleased it makes you to see the big, annoying, sexy construction guy next door all embarrassed because of you, you're here for a reason.
"Sometimes I work in an office, but most of the time I work at home," you explain, waving toward your house, "and right now, it's pretty much impossible to get anything done."
"Well, m'sorry 'bout that, but we gotta work, too."
You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. "I know. How much longer is this going to take?"
Joel clicked his tongue, making you lift your chin to look back up at him. The way he looks at you like you're something worth studying makes your heart skip a beat. Traitor.
"I'm offended you wanna get rid of us." His tone is back to teasing, and that glint in his eye confirms it. He likes pushing your buttons.
"I just want my quiet back! My—your customers are elderly! They can't hear for shit, they keep to themselves, they're the perfect neighbors! They aren't bothered by all this noise, but everyone else is!" Your voice is getting louder than you thought. People are beginning to notice, but you don't care.
"Everyone?" Joel repeats, narrowing his eyes now. "Strange, 'cause you're the only one cryin' 'bout it."
"I am not crying about it, I'm attempting to come to some sort of agreement, but you're being too... too..." Your hands flail in the air as you struggle to think of the right word.
"Too what?" Joel presses, stepping closer. You catch a whiff of his sweat mixed with sawdust and it makes your head swim. Focus.
You glare at him, blood on fire in your veins the longer he stands there looking all cocky.
"Misogynistic!" you exclaim triumphantly. Joel just blinks at you.
"What?"
You roll your eyes. "Means if a man were out here asking you to keep it down, you probably would, but instead you're giving a woman a hard time."
That seems to piss him off. His jaw sets into a tight line and he leans forward, voice low and dangerous. "Now you listen here," he says, and the way his demeanor suddenly shifted makes your spine straighten. "I'll allow for alotta shit, but I ain't gonna stand here and let you spin some wild story when you don't even know me or my crew. That's disrespectful and untrue."
You swallow tightly, unable to tear your gaze away from his eyes. They're so dark and stormy when he's legitimately mad that it's hard to look away.
"Sorry," you mumble, "but you're not taking me seriously, what else am I gonna think?"
His gaze softens then. His shoulders loosen. And the clouds clear from his eyes. The playful glimmer returns and you swear you see a ghost of a smile tug at his lips before he casually says, "I'll prove it to you. Bring out your husband or boyfriend or whoever and I'll tell him the same things I've been tellin' you."
"I don't have a husband or boyfriend," you answer before you even realize the trap you stepped in. His face lights up but he plays it off with ease.
"That's a relief." Your eyes widen and he grins. "'Cause if you had some guy hidin' in there all this time, lettin' his woman handle all the dirty work, gripin' to me while wearin' short shorts or a see-through robe? That wouldn't be much of a man."
Then he turned on his heel to join his crew, leaving you to weave through the rollercoaster of emotions he just dumped on you for the rest of the afternoon.
***
Over the next few days, something slightly changed. You found yourself going outside more, lingering around your car or taking a while to get your mail just to catch a glimpse of Joel. Usually, he'd catch your eye and give you a small smile, but that was the extent of it. Nothing overtly friendly and nothing mean, either. He was very good at being polite and cordial, which infuriated you. It made it impossible to figure out exactly what he was thinking. You replayed so many looks and conversations in your head to the point where you were paralyzed trying to pick apart every inflection and glance.
Why do you care anyway? you kept asking yourself. You never provided an answer.
It's the combination of your frustration with yourself as well as Joel's confusing signals that cause you to find more things to complain about, although you never admit it. But every interaction with Joel leaves you more aggravated and pent up than the last.
"That's not the property line. This is the property line," you had argued with him on Tuesday.
"It's just four inches."
"That's nine inches, easy."
Joel had tsked sympathetically under his breath. "Oh, darlin', if someone out there's tellin' you that's nine inches, I'm so sorry."
On Thursday morning, he had parked his truck in your driveway.
"I need to have my driveway clear!"
"I know, I know, it was only for a minute til the concrete truck comes—"
"I don't care! Park on the street!" you had yelled, but the angrier you got, the more pleased Joel looked.
"No parkin' left on the street."
"Then park on the lawn," you said, crossing your arms and jutting out your hip. His eyes had drifted down, noting you chose to wear a shirt that showed a little more cleavage than usual.
"Careful, sweetheart. Keep yellin' at me like this and I'll fall in love with you."
Every time he said something flirty like that, it sent you back to your house to obsess over whether or not he was serious or just trying to get you off his back.
The cherry on the sundae was the incident on Friday when someone accidentally dug in the wrong spot and severed your internet cable, completely derailing the latest project you had been tasked with at work. Joel had anticipated your anger before you stormed out of the house, screen door smacking loudly against the siding as you stomped down the old wood stairs of your porch, making a beeline right for Joel next door.
"Tell me it wasn't your guys who did that."
He sighed before slowly turning around to face you. He looked tired, no doubt drained from the long, hot week, but he still managed to brighten up a little when he laid eyes on you.
"Sorry, darlin'. They're comin' to fix it."
"When?" you snapped. Joel narrowed his eyes as if to silently warn you about your tone. Who the hell does he think he is?
"An hour," he said flatly.
"An hour?" you exclaimed, clearly devastated.
"Yeah. An hour. Ain't you got a lunch break or somethin' you can take til it's fixed?"
You snorted and tossed your hair over your shoulder. "I haven't taken a lunch break that didn't involve a client in more than five years."
"Well, today's the day you break that streak," he told you before turning back to the hole in the ground. "Damn inspector didn't flag the property right. Ain't our fault, it's the town's."
You bury your face in your hands with a groan. "I can't believe this," you mutter to yourself.
"If it helps, I ain't happy 'bout it either," Joel says, crouching down to inspect the spot closer. "This just set me back a couple days."
"Days?!" you exclaim, letting your hands fall back to your sides in disbelief. Joel nods, still not looking at you.
"Yeah. Gotta redo the plans now. Old plans were built 'round the cables bein' two feet west—"
"So this insanity is going to last even longer?" you ask, cutting him off. Joel sighs and drops his head between his shoulders briefly before standing with a grunt. He's tall—his shadow blocks the sun when he towers over you, a fact that never went unnoticed.
"What's the matter, sweetheart? Thought you'd be happy to know you ain't gettin' rid of me just yet." The smirk he gives you is devastating. Your gaze falls to his throat, where beads of sweat have been trickling down and soaking his collar. It's not fair this man is so fucking handsome yet so irritating.
"I'll survive," you mutter, crossing your arms tightly and looking away to clear your head.
"Yeah? Who you gonna yell at when I'm gone, hm?"
"Believe it or not, I'm actually not a yeller," you shoot back with a glare. "Guess you just bring it out of me."
His gaze darkened for a moment like he was considering how to reply. You could almost see the silent back and forth behind his eyes, the words locked and loaded on the tip of his tongue but a small sliver of logic fought to hold onto them and pull them back down.
He says it anyway.
"That right?" His voice dips lower than you've heard it before, but not out of anger. Something else. Something far more heated and dangerous. "Wonder what else I could bring outta you."
The implication falls between you like an anvil. The weight of it keeps you both still, oblivious to what's going on around you entirely. Somehow, you manage to hold his gaze, but you're swallowing hard and breathing even harder and he can see it. He tracks the movement with those dark eyes, waiting for you to come up with a retort or storm off.
Normally, you'd do the latter, but today, you're fired up. It's always Joel who gets the last flirty word in. It's always Joel who leaves you spinning while he happily carries on with his day. So this time, you close the distance between you and crane your neck up. He doesn't break eye contact but you can tell he didn't expect this. He didn't expect you to get inches away and hold the silence like a knife to his throat. His lip curls into a smile, breathlessly anticipating some flustered, snappy comeback paired with an angry look. Instead, what you say shocks him.
"You couldn't handle it, Miller."
The confidence in your voice is what makes him falter. You clock it and grin, very satisfied with yourself, before turning and heading back to your house. The world begins to wake up around him again. Sounds begin to crescendo slowly in the air: power tools, his crew's voices, cars rumbling down the street. But his eyes are fixed on you. On the way you carry yourself back up your porch and into your house without the courtesy of a single glance back.
When your screen door snaps shut, he blinks. Clears his throat. Then forces his feet to move.
After that, Joel spends the rest of the afternoon praying he doesn't get distracted enough to lose a finger.
***
The weekend is thankfully quiet, but long. You pace around trying to keep busy, but you miss it. You hate it, but you miss peeking out your window to see what Joel is up to. You miss whatever has been brewing between you over the last two weeks. You miss the excitement and electricity that crackles between you when you stomp over there for one reason or another.
By Sunday night, you decide it isn't healthy to be so fixated on this. You're not even sure what's gotten into you. Usually, your life is mundane and quiet, yet this man has burrowed his way in and found a piece of you to bring to life you didn't know existed.
He pisses you off, you remind yourself. It's not good. He's not good. Let this go, the sooner the better.
So on Monday, you force yourself to stay in your house all day. It's hard, but you know it's the right thing to do. You need to focus on work and Joel is just a distraction. A big, annoying, sexy distraction.
On Tuesday, you do the same thing. It's a littler easier this time. You get a decent amount of work done with your earbuds solidly in place. You only look up from your computer to check your window a handful of times. Once or twice you swear you catch Joel glancing expectantly towards your house, but you push down the butterflies in your belly and focus back on the project in front of you.
Wednesday is more difficult because on that day, there's a legitimate reason to be annoyed. Joel's crew is using a portion of your lawn to toss old pieces of wood from the porch next door. When you first notice, you find yourself rising to your feet, propelled by anger. But then you catch yourself and slowly sit back down.
It's fine. They'll clean it up. Don't worry about it.
You finish your workday without stepping foot outside, although you had to close your curtains so you'd stop looking at the mess.
Thursday is loud. Drills pierce the air earlier than usual. You assume it has to do with the rain clouds forming on the horizon, but it still grates your every nerve to hear metal grinding into solid wood first thing in the morning. You pop your earbuds in and turn the volume up. It works, until the rain starts. The water streaking suddenly down your windowpane catches your attention, so you pull your earbuds out and look up.
Across your driveway, Joel's crew is packing up early. They're running, getting absolutely soaked in the rain while trying to get everything valuable back into their trucks as quickly as possible.
Good, you think. Peace and quiet a little earlier today.
Then you see him. Joel. With his dark curls plastered against his forehead and his white shirt sticking to his torso like he had just jumped into a pool. Your brain buffers and your lips part at the sight. You could tell before he's strong, but now his shirt is leaving very little to the imagination.
"Shit," you whisper as you watch, unblinking, while Joel packs up his truck and then turns to help his crew. His muscles flex under his rain soaked skin, water drips furiously down the sides of his head, and you forget how to breathe.
Fuck him for being so irritating and goddamn good looking at the same time.
The image is seared into your brain for the rest of the night. It has you tossing and turning in bed until you can't stand it anymore and you give in, sliding one hand down the front of your shorts in search of relief. It's fleeting and not as good as you hoped, but at least you're able to fall asleep.
Friday is when everything comes to a head.
You're tired from a restless nights sleep and on your third cup of coffee when you notice the end of your driveway is blocked. Your jaw clenches as you push a curtain aside to get a better view and of course, it's Joel's truck.
"Son of a bitch," you mutter, narrowing your eyes like you could destroy the car with your mind if you tried hard enough.
It's fine. He'll move it. He's probably waiting on some delivery, like last time.
But this time, his truck remains parked haphazardly at the end of your driveway all day. When you manage to spot him working next door, he's all smiles, completely unbothered. At last around three you see him walk to his truck, but it's just to get something from the console. The way he strolls back to his crew like he had every right in the world to encroach on your property makes your blood boil.
That's it. You've had enough. You've kept to yourself all week long, it's almost the weekend, you did pretty good. And this isn't unreasonable. He's in your fucking driveway! He's had multiple chances to move and he didn't!
Before you could stop yourself, you reach forward, lift open your window, and lean out.
"Joel Miller!"
He stops dead in his tracks, along with half his crew, to track your voice from your office window. When he spots you, he lifts his hand to his eyes to shield himself from the sun and he grins.
"Yeah?"
"Move your goddamn truck out of my driveway or else I'm havin' it towed!"
His crew chuckles and goes back to wrapping things up for the day. Joel tilts his head at you like he's amused.
"Thought you moved," he says, "haven't heard that smart mouth all week."
"Unfortunately for me, I'm still here," you snap, "now move that hunk of junk right now!"
"She ain't no hunk of junk," Joel says with mock offense. "She's the only lady in my life that never let me down, don't talk 'bout her like that."
"Stop talking about your car like it's a woman, that's gross."
Joel whistles low and comes closer so he doesn't have to shout. "Jealous?"
"Of a car? Give me a break," you snort.
He tsks and inches closer. By now, he's halfway across your driveway. "Why don't you try askin' me real nice, then maybe I'll move it."
"Why don't you get a little closer and I'll make you do it."
The deep groan that rumbled from his chest made your thighs clench.
"Don't tease a fella now," he warns with a playful look, "'cause if you talk like that I'm gonna make you follow through."
You roll your eyes, grateful you have an entire wall between you to hide the way you're practically squirming in place.
"Will you please shut up and move the truck?"
"Don't love the shut up part, but y'did say please, so I will."
"Thank you," you reply, overly sweet with a fake smile. Still, Joel stifles a laugh, entirely enthralled with how riled up he manages to make you.
"No problem. I'll be done in an hour, then I'll get outta your hair."
The smile falls from your face to be replaced with a scowl. "An hour?"
"Yeah. An hour," he confirms, turning back to his job site. "Don't worry. Won't get in the way of your Friday night plans."
"Joel—"
"It'll be longer if you keep flirtin' with me," he says loudly over his shoulder so his entire crew can hear. Your cheeks instantly heat up but you slam your window shut before you can give him the satisfaction of witnessing your embarrassment.
You sit back down and try to focus on work, but it's impossible. Why does this man get under your skin so easily? And why do you find him so irresistible at the same time? It must be because it's been a while since the last time you've been with someone. You've been so focused on work the last several months, you can't even remember the last time you went on a date, let alone took a man home.
Your gaze drifts up against your will. Most of Joel's crew has cleared out next door. There's two guys left plus Joel, cleaning up the rest of the lawn before the weekend. You can see the relaxed smiles on their faces as they chat, probably discussing weekend plans. It makes you wonder what Joel does on the weekends. You have a feeling he's single based on his earlier comment about his truck. So what does a single man do with their spare time?
Probably pick up girls. The thought makes your stomach twist into a knot. You shake your head and focus back on your computer. That's none of your business. Who cares if he's getting laid? It doesn't matter.
Your lips press together when your eyes lift to find Joel through the window again, but now you realize the yard is empty. The remaining trucks are gone. The supplies are picked up. It's quiet.
For some reason, you're relieved when you stand and hurry to your window to find Joel's truck still idle in your driveway. You stand there staring at it while you weigh your options in your head.
It's a bad idea, you think. Joel isn't good for you. He drives you crazy. Yet you have to admit, you can't remember the last time you've felt such a spark with someone before. He's certainly not boring, you'll give him that. And he's funny, in his own way. Would it really be so bad?
Fuck it. You rush to your bedroom to change your shirt for a simple light dress and freshen up as fast as you can, all the while straining to hear for the telltale sound of his motor turning over, then you slow down.
You decide to leave it up to fate. If he's still there by the time you're ready, then you'll go for it. If he's gone, then he's gone, no big deal.
After tapping on some subtle, fruity flavored lip balm and spritzing just a tiny bit of perfume in your hair, you step out of your bedroom, mustering up as much confidence as possible as you walk to your front door. You decide not to practice what to say, that you'll just let it happen organically if it feels right. But when you swing your door open only to be met face to face with Joel, who has one fist raised in the air as if he were about to knock, all that confidence goes straight out the window.
Shit.
"Hey," he says with a crooked grin. His arm lowers to his side and your heart kicks in your chest when you notice his eyes sweep up and down your body before meeting your gaze.
"What can I do for you?" you ask, leaning against the doorframe with a small smile. His grin widens and you feel like you've stepped into yet another trap.
"That's a loaded question, sweetheart," he says, voice low. You suppress a shudder. "Wanted to tell you I'm headin' out. Looks like I got good timin', too." He gestures to your appearance and you look down.
"I'm not going anywhere."
He quirks up an eyebrow. "You got someone comin' over?"
You shake your head and try to bite back the smile that threatens to stretch across your face.
Joel makes a soft noise and casually lifts his arm to rest against the frame, right above your head. He's towering over you like this and you think it's on purpose.
"Just gettin' all dolled up to sit home alone?" he asks. You shrug and cross your arms, hoping your breasts lift when you do. His gaze flickers down quickly, confirming you're successful.
"You think this is dolled up?"
Slowly, he lets himself take in your appearance again, this time making sure you saw.
"Just used to seein' you in shorts or that little robe of yours."
"You don't like my shorts or robe?"
"Never said that."
You have to stifle a laugh and his eyes practically glitter with amusement.
"Do you have any big plans this weekend?" you ask, hoping to come across casual.
"Nothin' too crazy," he tells you, leaning in a little further. "Watch the game. Mow the lawn. Come up with new ways to get you yellin' at me."
You laugh and shake your head. "You've been doing a great job so far."
"Not so sure 'bout that," he says, swiping his palm over his chin. "Been tryin' all week. Didn't get your attention til I parked in your driveway."
The expression on your face instantly melts into one of annoyance. "You did all of that on purpose?"
His enjoyment couldn't be contained. With a huge grin, he replies, "Yes, ma'am."
"The mess on my lawn? The extra early noise?" You could feel your anger rising, flooding your chest with heat.
"That's right," Joel replies. "Parkin' in your driveway was a last resort."
Your jaw tenses as you stare him down in disbelief. "What is your goddamn problem?" you seethe. Your earlier plans to ask if he wanted to come in for a drink vanish. Screw this guy.
"Thought you were dead or somethin'. Consider it my version of a wellness check."
"I don't need you to do a wellness check on me!" you yell, throwing your hands in the air to stop yourself from pushing him. "I've put in the shittiest work this week because of you! Why are you hellbent on bothering me so much?"
"'Cause it's fun and you're cute when you're all pissed off."
"I'm cu—"
The words die in your throat as your brain formally processes what he just said. You're still angry and red in the face, your chest is still heaving from adrenaline, and yet you're frozen solid, blinking up at him like an idiot. A slow smile spreads across his face, revealing that dreadfully adorable dimple.
"Probably the only woman on earth who looks prettier when she's readin' me the riot act," he adds just to watch your mouth open and shut like a fish.
"You—"
You're at a loss for words. The emotional whiplash has you reeling. He's into you, but he's showing it like an elementary school boy. It's kind of endearing but mostly immature, so you stand your ground.
"How old are you? Because you act like you're no older than twelve."
"I'm definitely older than twelve," he chuckles without missing a beat. "But listen... I really am sorry if your work suffered 'cause of me. Lemme make it up to you."
"How could you possibly—"
"Lemme take you out to dinner tonight."
The floor practically gives out from under you. What the hell is going on? The last ten minutes has your brain scrambling and your heart racing faster than any workout. How does this man manage to drive you to the brink of insanity only to pull you back at the last second with something sweet?
"You can yell at me the whole time, if you want," he says once too much time has passed without an answer. If you could see through your rage, you'd be able to pick up on his nervousness: his hand flexes at his side and his weight shifts from foot to foot with anxious energy.
"How about I just yell at you right here?" you snap. Joel laughs.
"If that's what you want, darlin', then sure."
Frustration bubbles up with a growl. You push away from the door to pace up and down your small hallway, raking your fingers through your hair while you attempt to calm down. All the while, Joel remains where he is, planted just outside your door, watching you spiral.
"You seem tense."
"I am tense! Because of you!"
"I can help with that."
You freeze and stare at him, long and hard. All those thoughts you've had about him, those images of him working in the rain, his way of turning a phrase to just barely imply he could ruin you... all of those moments crash down over you like a tidal wave and you decide that maybe he could help, after all.
In the blink of an eye, you close the distance keeping you apart. Your hand fists his sweaty, dirty shirt and you yank him forward. He stumbles a few feet into your house with surprised huff. You see the way his eyes widen right before your mouth crashes over his and finally, for a few blissful minutes, you get your coveted silence.
Joel only needs a moment before he catches up. His lips soften against yours as you pull him deeper into your house. He kicks back one foot and it collides with your door, slamming it closed behind him, then his hands are on you, pushing you gently against the wall so he can take control.
His teeth greedily graze your lower lip and your mouth parts for him with a soft moan. Driven by the sound, his tongue eagerly slips past your lips and his hands drop to cup the backs of your thighs. He hauls you up and your legs circle his waist while your tongues tangle together, hot and angry. It's desperate and messy and exactly what you need. The broad heft of his body pressed up against yours, the heady scent of the outdoors and sweat and him invading your senses, the faint taste of coffee on his tongue... it's utterly perfect.
"Where'd this come from, hm?" he asks, voice low and rough as his lips skim the edge of your jaw. Your head tilts back and your eyelids remain closed, offering your throat up to him without a fight.
"You said you could help," you murmur, craning your neck to give him better access. He finds a spot below your ear and sucks, leaving the beginnings of a mark that will take days to disappear.
"I did," he mumbles against your skin. "Meant a drink or somethin', but I ain't complainin'."
Your chin drops, hunting for his mouth, but then his hand is there tipping your head back, cupping your cheek with his thumb pressed on the underside of your jaw.
"Ain't done," he grumbles before continuing his assault on your throat. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and let him move your head this way and that, enjoying the way he's taken control. You get the sense he's wanted this as badly as you because he seems determined to taste every inch of your skin. When his mouth travels lower to ghost over your shoulder, you shrug, allowing the strap of your dress to fall and expose more skin. Joel makes a pleased grunt before his lips explore the newly revealed territory.
"Christ, you're soft." It almost sounds like he's talking to himself, the way his voice is full of quiet wonder. A shiver rolls down your spine and you tug impatiently at his hair.
"Joel," you whine, but your thought is cut off with a gasp when he presses himself firmly against the cradle of your hips. You can feel him there, hot and hard behind his zipper. One of your hands drops to his belt and you slip your fingers past his waistband, but just as you're about to reach your target, his body jolts and he swats your hand away with a chuckle.
"Eager thing," he grins before sealing his lips over yours again.
"Bedroom," you manage to mumble when he takes half a second to breathe. "Behind you."
"Bossy," he scolds. His mouth covers yours with a deep groan before he tightens his grip around your legs. He pulls you from the wall and swings around to carry you in the general direction of your bedroom, all while never breaking the kiss.
It's kind of comical the way you stumble into your room. The door swings open too fast and knocks back against Joel's shoulder but it doesn't slow him down. He refuses to pull away to look where he's going, but when his boot collides with a half empty laundry basket on the floor, he curses under his breath and finally tears himself away.
You take the opportunity to squirm out of his grip. When your feet hit the floor, you instantly rise to your tiptoes, lips seeking out the warm skin of his throat. You moan a little when your tongue drags over his pebbled skin, tasting salt and sun that remains there. It's addicting to taste the product of his day's hard work, so you do it again and relish in the way he shudders from your attention.
"Shoulda just told me from the start what you wanted." His fingers fumble with his belt buckle after he hears the quiet sound of your zipper coming undone. "Would've saved us both alotta time, darlin'."
"Shut up," you grumble before your teeth pinch a spot next to his Adam's apple. Your dress falls into a pool at your feet, hands free to help him lift his shirt over his head.
"I need a shower," Joel says after his shirt is discarded. You just shake your head and press your mouth over his collarbone, then his sternum, mapping his body while he works on kicking off his boots and jeans.
"I like you like this," you whisper. He smirks, stepping out of his clothes as best he can with your mostly naked body pressed against his own. "You smell good," you add after a minute, and he seems pleased with that.
"Get on the bed, sweetheart. Lemme see you."
You pull away from the faint red marks you left littering his chest and look up at him through your lashes. "You first."
Joel frowns. "Wha—"
With a grin, you give him a gentle push. His back hits the bedding and he barely has a chance to register it until you're climbing on top of him, legs bracketing his hips with a giggle. He smiles so big that his eyes squint, revealing those damn dimples again beneath his beard. Then his gaze drops to your bare breasts and his eyes darken.
"Fuck, you're pretty," he mumbles, palming them greedily. When his rough thumb grazes your nipple, you lunge down and capture his mouth with a searing kiss.
"You want me like this?" he asks, words tumbling against your swollen lips. "Wanna ride me, baby?"
"Yes," you whine while tugging down his boxers with one hand. His palms glide over your thighs, squeezing and pulling you back and forth so your hips begin to grind down on his lap.
"Take these off 'fore I ruin 'em," he warns you, fingers hooking into the band of your panties. You suppress the shiver of arousal at his tone before you do exactly as he says.
When your bare cunt comes in contact with the underside of his cock, you suck in a deep breath. He's so hot and throbbing against your soaked folds, making every slide of your hips steal your breath away.
Joel watches you move with heavy lidded eyes, seemingly just as lost in the feeling as you. His chest rises and falls a little faster when the tip of his cock presses against your clit and your whole body shudders with a moan he will end up dreaming about for weeks.
Reality hits when a streak of his arousal leaks and smears across your skin, bringing him back down to earth for one second.
"Wait, my wallet—"
He extends one hand towards the floor and your eyes follow, connecting the dots and sliding off him to grab his pants. You find it tucked into his back pocket and toss it his way. He catches it and fishes out a little foil packet from its depths while you resume your spot in his lap, lips parted and heart racing with anticipation as he rolls the condom on with care.
"Alright honey, I'm all yours," he announces, smirking as he folds his arms behind his head. You roll your eyes but still shimmy forward and raise your hips, using one hand against his chest to prop yourself up and the other to guide him to your entrance. The moment you sink down, however, his lips melt into a soft circle and his eyelids flutter shut, filling your chest with pride before caving into the pleasure yourself.
You sigh and tilt your head back when you finally take all of him. The stretch is exquisite, or maybe it's just been a while, but it doesn't matter. All the static that's been electrifying your brain lately, all that stress from work, from pushing yourself too far every single day dissolves away.
"Oh, shit," he whispers, voice cracking. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips. "Feel so goddamn good."
You drop your head forward to look at him, chest and neck all flushed underneath you. Your eyes trace his body as you begin to move, just slow rolls of your hips while you take in every detail: strong arms built from work, not weights. Skin slightly sweaty and a shade lighter where his shirts protect him from the sun. Broad shoulders and a firm stomach, but not too lean. One of your hands drifts over the planes of his chest and the curves of his muscles, humming with admiration as you continue to slowly ride him. His eyes light up and you swear you can see the pleasure in his expression when he clocks your appreciation for him.
"Make yourself feel good, honey," he says, voice low. Your gaze flickers up to his and you share a smile. "Wanna see what you like. Wanna watch you fall apart on it."
Your hips lift and drop a little faster, skin slapping against skin. "Should've known you never stop talking, even when you're getting laid," you tease, and Joel chuckles.
"Bark and bite, I like that."
"Yeah, I figured that out." You gasp when he thrusts upwards, hitting a spot deep inside you can't reach on your own. He notices and files it away for later.
"Takin' notes on me?" he asks, ghosting his palms over your ribs before landing on your breasts, watching in a daze while they bounce in his hands.
"You wish," you pant. He tsks, eyes still fixed on your chest.
"I got a few things figured out 'bout you, too."
You stop moving to glare down at him and catch your breath. His dark eyes dance with amusement at your annoyed look.
"Like what?"
He shrugs but the smile still tugs at the corners of his mouth. "You work hard but don't ever blow off any steam. Don't know yet if it's cause you're too tired or you feel like you don't deserve it."
That stuns you. Even though you're naked and he's currently buried inside you, you suddenly feel very exposed. He sees he might have overstepped, so he backtracks with a joke.
"You can call me anytime and I'll be happy to help you unwind."
You snort and begin moving again, shaking off the unexpected flash of vulnerability. "Why don't you focus on making this memorable enough for me to call you again?"
Joel laughed then, loud. And despite yourself, you giggle.
"Baby, when you're done playin' cowgirl, I'm gonna flip you over and fuck you so hard, you'll feel it on Monday when you're watchin' me through that office window of yours."
Your pussy clenches involuntarily and you begin working faster, fucking yourself on his lap now like you mean it.
"That's a-a lot of big talk, Miller," you reply, breathless from the exertion. You circle your hips and moan loudly when you find an angle you like.
"Ain't just talk," he says, big hands back on your hips, helping you move. His gaze is fixed on where you're connected, on the slick smearing between your bodies, and his stomach tightens. "Been thinkin' 'bout fuckin' you every which way to Sunday, got a head full'a ideas."
"You've been thinking about fucking me?" you repeat almost shyly.
"Don't be coy, now," he tells you, grunting softly when you plant both hands on his chest for leverage. "You know you came over there that first day with these perfect fucking tits pokin' through that little robe on purpose."
"Did not," you breathe, but all the fight has left your body. You're getting close and it's all you can focus on now.
"Uh-huh," Joel says, clearly not believing you. He swallows hard and his cock twitches impatiently inside you. He could come like this, with you riding him, getting yourself off, but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want it to be over just yet, especially if you expect this to be a one time thing.
Shit, he hopes it's not just a one time thing.
"C'mon, baby, let go," he says before mouthing at your breasts. His tongue glides over one nipple then grazes it with his teeth before moving to the other one. You jolt and whine and push your chest even closer to his face.
"Joel..." you whisper. Your muscles are tired, you're slowing down. Sweat dots your forehead, collects behind your knees, and you're gasping for air.
He sits up suddenly, understanding right away what you need, and wraps one arm around your waist while the other braces himself against the mattress. He's able to fuck up into you like this and instantly your legs relax and your body slumps forward, causing him to relinquish the attention to your chest.
"That's it," he coos, "lemme help you."
You rarely accept help. The thought flickers across your mind for a moment before you push it away. This is different. This is just sex.
"M'close," you mumble shakily, fingers digging into the thick muscle of his shoulders, forehead pressed intimately against his.
"I know," he breathes, "give it to me, darlin'."
A few more harsh snaps of his hips has you falling, whimpering his name as white hot heat rolls through your limbs and soaking your brain with a drunken haze. He's murmuring to you the whole time: how tight you feel, how beautiful you look, what a good job you did, how perfectly you fit on his cock. The praise goes straight to your head and fills a much needed void somewhere inside you. Some piece of you that is always pushing you to do more, try harder, work faster... efforts that rarely give you desired results. Or, at least, the results you're after. But this—this man—he's giving you something you desperately crave without even realizing it.
Your breath stutters like you've been knocked off kilter, and maybe you have. Joel thinks it's an aftershock of your orgasm and doesn't think anything of it.
He lifts you off his lap and you gasp, eyes flying open in shock. You have about half a second before you're tossed face down onto the bed next to him, then he's climbing behind you, rough hands gentle on your hips as they pull you back up to your hands and knees.
"That's it," he grunts when you obediently spread your legs and arch your back. He smirks to himself before pushing back inside you with a heavy sigh. "Goddamn, you're warm," he says after sliding slowly all the way in, giving you a chance to adjust to the new position. You bite your lip and breathe through it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how deep he feels like this. How good he feels.
"Fuck me, Joel," you moan, pushing your ass back, encouraging him to move. He rolls his hips forward, slow and deep.
"I know," he pants, "I know what you need."
He moves a little faster. Your ass bounces with every push. He grabs it with one big hand and squeezes before giving you a playful smack and doing it again.
"No, you don't. You barely—barely know me," you remind him. Your words stumble over each other as you feel yourself losing focus again. He feels so good, it's impossible not to.
"Know you better than you think," he shoots back. He smoothes over the spot on your ass he had spanked, soothing the area before sliding his palm up and over your spine. He can feel every knot and twist, every stress point you keep locked away deep inside. His fingers seek them out with ease, like maybe he really can see more than you think.
Still, you're stubborn.
"You only know what I want you to know." Your jaw is clenched, the words escape through your teeth but your point is made. You swallow down a moan and close your eyes, giving in to the way he expertly takes you apart.
"I knew you needed this from the first time we met," he tells you, "could've fucked this out of you back then and saved us both the trouble."
"You like it," you hiss over your shoulder. His pace is relentless now, hips swinging roughly against your ass, burying his thick cock as deep as it'll go. He wants to split you open and make you scream his name. He wants your mind blank and your body satiated. "You like—ohh... f-fuck—"
"What's that?" he goads. Joel drops forward so both his arms bracket yours. His chest presses against your spine and his breath is hot in your ear. You shiver and your jaw falls open.
"You..." Your throat is dry. Heat is building behind your navel and your legs are starting to shake. You swallow and keep talking. "You like trouble. You like it... when I yell at you. Whe—when I—"
"Yeah, I know," he admits, "somethin' real sexy 'bout you when you get all pissed off."
"—Like when I tell you... tell you what to do."
He's silent for a moment but his pace never falters. The wet sound of skin on skin is deafening, addicting. Your face warms as he punches the air from your lungs with every devastating thrust.
"Yeah. Maybe I do."
You hum and breathe deep through your nose. Fuck, he's right. You're going to be sore. You can already feel it.
"So tell me what to do now," he adds. It takes you a second to process it, but when you do, you force your eyes open.
What does he want to hear?
Don't overthink it.
"Touch me," you demand, firm and clear despite how your heart is racing.
Joel doesn't hesitate.
He leans back, leaving your sweaty back exposed to the cool air, and he reaches around to play with your clit. Instantly, you gasp and buck under him.
"Like that?"
If you had any clarity at all you would have shot him back some sarcastic remark because of course the answer is yes. Your entire body is shaking, you can barely speak and he knows it.
"Mhm," you manage, "ye—yeah, just like that. Fuck, keep going—"
"Jesus Christ," he mutters when your body begins to work in tandem with his, meeting him thrust for thrust. "Shit honey, you're gonna make me come like this."
You whine and throw your head back. His fingers don't stop circling your clit. Sweat coats your skin now. Gasping breaths and the sound of his hips meeting your ass over and over are filling the room, punctuated by Joel's deep grunts and your breathy moans.
"Joel—" you whisper as your body locks up. Your muscles ache, your cunt aches even more, but you continue to take it all. Your hand feverishly finds his between your legs and you leave it there, loving the way his fingers feel while they play you like a guitar.
"Sweetheart, I'm gonna—"
But you cut him off before he could finish his thought with a sharp cry. Your orgasm washes over you, harsh and unforgiving. A moment later Joel follows you over the edge with a loud curse, then a rough, deep grunt you can feel in your bones as he empties himself into the condom.
"Oh, holy fuck," he gasps, removing his hand from between your legs. He still thrusts weakly into you as the last of his orgasm streaks through his veins. It's cut short when he feels your body shaking violently under him and just like that, his focus is back on you.
"You okay?"
"I'm—" You're out of breath. Your vision is spotty and your muscles are weak. You swallow hard and try again. "I'm good, just need to—"
You fall onto your elbows and Joel takes the hint. He eases out of you, ignoring the way his chest pangs at the loss of your body, before he collapses into bed and hauls you down next to him.
Now you can rest. You close your eyes and breathe, deep and heavy. He does the same while the sweat cools on both your bodies and slowly, your brain begins to come back online. When it does, you realize his body is loosely curled around yours, keeping you warm and grounding you. It's strangely intimate but you don't pull away. Not yet.
"How 'bout I take you for that dinner now?" he mumbles before carefully pressing a soft kiss against your neck. His sweaty chest is pressed against your back, sealing you together.
"Let's just order something instead," you sigh with your eyes closed.
"Did I tire you out, darlin'?"
"Didn't sleep well," you say, unwilling to give him any credit just yet, "the damn construction crew next door woke me up way too early."
"Uh-huh," he teases before tightening his arm around your middle. It feels nice, so you lean into him just a bit. And for a while it's quiet and peaceful. Your breath steadies, your head clears, but your muscles stay soft and relaxed. Joel doesn't say anything. His thumb rubs idly over your stomach, lips occasionally graze over your back or shoulder, and it feels good until that defensive part of your brain wakes up, right on schedule.
This isn't serious. This didn't mean anything. It was just stress relief. Don't get attached.
"So," you say, voice a little hoarse when you gently slip out of his grip. He rolls onto his back with a soft, reluctant noise and he watches you stand to pick up your clothes. "This is what it takes to finally shut you up, huh?"
You grin at your joke as you press your clothes to your front, hiding your bare body from him like he hadn't just touched every inch of it minutes ago. When he doesn't answer right away with some smart remark, you pause and meet his eye.
He's stretched out on your bed, looking at you like he's seeing something not meant for him. You swallow nervously and try not to let yourself enjoy how good he looks in your space, amongst your things, in your life.
"Yeah," he finally says, "guess that'll do it."
His voice sounds flat and you begin to feel bad, so you clear your throat and inch towards your bathroom. "Let's order something to eat before you go."
Before you go. Joel heard it and got the message. He didn't know what to expect but for some reason, it stings.
"Yeah, what are you thinkin'?" He sits up and reaches for his jeans, where his phone is still tucked into his pocket.
"I don't care. Whatever you like." Then the door to the bathroom quietly snaps shut. Joel sighs once's he's alone and rubs his face before looking around your room. It's neat and organized, nothing like his own. He chews the inside of his cheek while he thinks, but before he lets himself get too lost, he snaps out of it and looks at his phone.
Chinese is a safe bet, so he orders that before standing to rid himself of the condom and get dressed. Suddenly he feels out of place. He's rough and dirty and you're... not. And that's fine. This was fun, it doesn't have to be anything more. Yet when he wanders into your kitchen for water, he can't help but feel an empty pull in his chest at the thought of leaving.
Unknown to him, hidden inside your bathroom, you're struggling with the very same thing.
Summary: The construction company your neighbors hire to do work on their house are loud, inconsiderate, and quickly get under your skin. One man in particular seems hellbent on driving you crazy until one day, all that tension comes to a head.
Warnings: language, smut (piv sex), dirty talk, praise kink, light spanking, reader being kind of pissy and Joel fucks it out of her (but he's not mean), Joel gets turned on by bossy women
Masterlist
It's your day off. You had a long month, working extra late to meet deadlines and skipping plans with friends and family to perform at your fullest and get the promotion you so badly deserved, and now that the project was done and you impressed all right people, you rewarded yourself with a singular day off. But your neighbors had other plans.
It started before eight in the morning. Power tools, yelling, laughing, car doors slamming. It ruined the peace and tranquility of the post-school bus and rush hour lull. At first, you turned over and tried to fall back asleep. When that didn't work, you grabbed your extra pillow and pressed it against your ear. But after thirty minutes of chasing sleep with the sounds outside only growing louder, you gave up, blood boiling.
Maybe you should have coffee first, but unfortunately, your rage wins out. It's way too early. They're being far too noisy. And it's your goddamn day off!
You're seeing red when you tighten your robe around your waist, not even bothering to tie it but instead you hold it closed with your fist as you storm towards the front door. Your pajamas are just a tank top and sleep shorts, it's not anything scandalous anyway, especially given how hot Texas gets in the summer, but the last thing you want is a whole construction crew gawking at you while you give them a piece of your mind.
Music had just been turned on somewhere amongst the site. Tom Petty, you think, as you make your way over. Your flip flops snap angrily against the blacktop as you cross your driveway into your neighbor's front yard to survey the scene.
There's at least eight workers getting set up. Their trucks are parked all up and down the street, taking up every open spot. None of them glance your way as they unload tools, coolers, and supplies from their flatbeds. Your arms cross tightly and your brows furrow but the noise only gets louder.
"Excuse me?" you call out to no one in particular, but they don't hear you. Your jaw tightens. "Hey! Excuse me?"
"Can I help you?"
You swivel around, taken off guard by the deep voice behind you.
"Yes! I—"
Your words falter when you lay eyes on the man who snuck up on you. He's setting a ladder down by his feet, giving you time to take in his strong arms and broad shoulders underneath the stretch of his black short sleeved shirt, which still allows you a generous view of his tanned forearms. His jeans look lived in in the best kind of way. He wears them like a man who doesn't care what they look like, so long as they're comfortable. You push down the heat crawling up your neck by the time he straightens up, but when you see his face, you lose your train of thought once again.
Deep brown eyes, sharp nose, a chiseled jawline dusted with a short, somewhat patchy beard. Then he offers a soft, crooked smile that knocks the wind out of you to the point where you nearly forget your earlier anger.
Focus, you scold yourself.
"I live right over there—" You point behind him and he slowly turns, eyes scanning your modest home. "And my bedroom window is right there," you add. His eyes flicker to your open window towards the back of the house before he gives you his full attention again, something that makes your stomach flip. "I'd appreciate it if you guys could keep it down this early in the morning. It's disruptive to the whole neighborhood."
His devastatingly dark eyes glimmer with humor and even though he's not smiling, you can sense he's not taking you seriously. He makes a show of checking his watch—a beat up old thing with a green fabric band—before looking back at you. "It's eight fifteen," he tells you, tone flat.
"Yeah, now," you say, rolling your eyes, "but this noise started earlier. It woke me up."
Now the corner of his mouth lifts and he slowly crosses his arms, which simultaneously irritates and excites the hell out of you.
"Sorry 'bout that, miss," he tells you, "but we're abidin' by city ordinance."
"I'm sure you are, but you have to admit it's disturbing the peace."
He regards you silently for a moment, his heavy gaze drifting up and down your frame. Suddenly, the thin robe you're wearing is too much and doesn't seem like enough all at once. An amused look flits across his face at one point before his eyes drop to the dirt.
"Could start at seven, technically," he finally says, "we're doin' you a favor by startin' at half past."
Your hackles raise at that. "Would you like me to thank you?"
He chuckles and shakes his head before meeting your gaze again. "Never said that. Just sayin' we're followin' the law, is all."
"I know you are," you huff, "all I'm suggesting is maybe keeping your voices a little lower."
He smirks and uncrosses his arms in favor of propping his hands on his hips, giving you a spectacular view of his wide chest.
"We could," he muses, pretending to think about your request while staring off at a fixed point somewhere over your shoulder, "if you ask real nice."
Your jaw drops at the same time your knees go weak. "Excuse me?"
He shrugs, still staring somewhere behind you in order to keep his shit eating grin from stretching across his face. "Just sayin', you came over here all hot under the collar. Had you asked nice, I mighta been able to help you out."
Your throat tightens. He's not trying to sound suggestive but your brain doesn't care. It's sending a wave of arousal right through you, causing your heart to slam against your ribs the more it builds.
"What's your name?" you demand with a clipped tone.
"Joel," he says without missing a beat.
"Joel," you repeat, "I'd like to speak with your boss."
"Ah, that'd be me."
He stretches out his hand with a grin. You ignore it and look back at the trucks until you spot a logo on the side and squint.
"Miller?" you guess. He nods. "Great. I'll be filing a complaint with the better business bureau."
You shoulder past him and try not to fixate on how good he smells, a mixture of motor oil, fresh soap, and coffee.
"Yeah? And what's your complaint gonna be for?" Joel calls after you. You ignore him and keep walking. You hear his deep chuckle before he picks up the ladder and it pisses you off even more, but you don't allow your rage to show until you're safely inside your house where you can seethe to yourself while making some coffee.
***
The rest of the week is uneventful. You have meetings downtown all week, a disruption to your usual remote work schedule, but a necessary evil you try your best to organize all at once every month. When you leave in the morning, the workers are just arriving. When you get home, they're already packed up or gone entirely. You nearly forget all about your intriguing run in with the mysterious Joel Miller until the following Monday, when you're back to working remotely.
You're an hour into emails and onto your second cup of coffee when you first hear the familiar ruckus next door. It starts with amused banter. Then truck doors slamming. Then the music kicks on. You shake your head, close your windows, and keep working.
With your television playing in the background, it's easier to block out some of the construction noise, but at around one in the afternoon you hear a repetitive, ear piercing beep, beep, beep during a work call that sets your teeth on edge.
Stones are pouring from the back of a metal flatbed. Shovels are scraping and banging loudly. And you do your best to stay focused, but when the call ends and you can't recall half the topics discussed, you can't hold back any more.
You spot Joel with his back to you, holding a shovel and shouting instructions to his crew while you approach. As if he can sense it, he turns when you're about ten feet away. His eyes sweep up and down your body and he grins before leaning on his shovel, amused by the anger currently forcing your feet forward.
"Don't tell me we woke you up again," he teases before you can even open your mouth. "It's after lunch. What's the matter now?"
You scowl at him, ignoring the way his crew sends you curious looks as they work.
"No," you snap, "I'm working. Or, at least, trying to! I have all my windows closed and I still can hardly hear myself think."
He looks at you like he's sizing you up, like he's trying to figure something out. "Thought you worked in an office somewhere."
You frown, slightly alarmed. "How would you know that?"
"Saw you couple times last week," he says hurriedly, as if he just realized how his comment sounded. "When I was gettin' here in the mornin', sometimes I'd see you gettin' in your car and drive off."
The silence that followed made Joel nervous. He shifted his weight and awkwardly scratched his beard while you tried to sort through what he just said without giving away your feelings. He noticed you? Was he looking for you, or did he just happen to see you?
"Uh, based on your spiffy clothes, just figured you worked somewhere fancy," he finished, rubbing the back of his neck before looking away.
You look down at the clothes you currently have on—denim shorts and an old, oversized shirt... far from spiffy today—before looking back up at him. To your surprise, you notice some red creeping up his neck and staining the apples of his cheeks. You have to bite your lower lip to keep yourself from smiling because despite how pleased it makes you to see the big, annoying, sexy construction guy next door all embarrassed because of you, you're here for a reason.
"Sometimes I work in an office, but most of the time I work at home," you explain, waving toward your house, "and right now, it's pretty much impossible to get anything done."
"Well, m'sorry 'bout that, but we gotta work, too."
You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. "I know. How much longer is this going to take?"
Joel clicked his tongue, making you lift your chin to look back up at him. The way he looks at you like you're something worth studying makes your heart skip a beat. Traitor.
"I'm offended you wanna get rid of us." His tone is back to teasing, and that glint in his eye confirms it. He likes pushing your buttons.
"I just want my quiet back! My—your customers are elderly! They can't hear for shit, they keep to themselves, they're the perfect neighbors! They aren't bothered by all this noise, but everyone else is!" Your voice is getting louder than you thought. People are beginning to notice, but you don't care.
"Everyone?" Joel repeats, narrowing his eyes now. "Strange, 'cause you're the only one cryin' 'bout it."
"I am not crying about it, I'm attempting to come to some sort of agreement, but you're being too... too..." Your hands flail in the air as you struggle to think of the right word.
"Too what?" Joel presses, stepping closer. You catch a whiff of his sweat mixed with sawdust and it makes your head swim. Focus.
You glare at him, blood on fire in your veins the longer he stands there looking all cocky.
"Misogynistic!" you exclaim triumphantly. Joel just blinks at you.
"What?"
You roll your eyes. "Means if a man were out here asking you to keep it down, you probably would, but instead you're giving a woman a hard time."
That seems to piss him off. His jaw sets into a tight line and he leans forward, voice low and dangerous. "Now you listen here," he says, and the way his demeanor suddenly shifted makes your spine straighten. "I'll allow for alotta shit, but I ain't gonna stand here and let you spin some wild story when you don't even know me or my crew. That's disrespectful and untrue."
You swallow tightly, unable to tear your gaze away from his eyes. They're so dark and stormy when he's legitimately mad that it's hard to look away.
"Sorry," you mumble, "but you're not taking me seriously, what else am I gonna think?"
His gaze softens then. His shoulders loosen. And the clouds clear from his eyes. The playful glimmer returns and you swear you see a ghost of a smile tug at his lips before he casually says, "I'll prove it to you. Bring out your husband or boyfriend or whoever and I'll tell him the same things I've been tellin' you."
"I don't have a husband or boyfriend," you answer before you even realize the trap you stepped in. His face lights up but he plays it off with ease.
"That's a relief." Your eyes widen and he grins. "'Cause if you had some guy hidin' in there all this time, lettin' his woman handle all the dirty work, gripin' to me while wearin' short shorts or a see-through robe? That wouldn't be much of a man."
Then he turned on his heel to join his crew, leaving you to weave through the rollercoaster of emotions he just dumped on you for the rest of the afternoon.
***
Over the next few days, something slightly changed. You found yourself going outside more, lingering around your car or taking a while to get your mail just to catch a glimpse of Joel. Usually, he'd catch your eye and give you a small smile, but that was the extent of it. Nothing overtly friendly and nothing mean, either. He was very good at being polite and cordial, which infuriated you. It made it impossible to figure out exactly what he was thinking. You replayed so many looks and conversations in your head to the point where you were paralyzed trying to pick apart every inflection and glance.
Why do you care anyway? you kept asking yourself. You never provided an answer.
It's the combination of your frustration with yourself as well as Joel's confusing signals that cause you to find more things to complain about, although you never admit it. But every interaction with Joel leaves you more aggravated and pent up than the last.
"That's not the property line. This is the property line," you had argued with him on Tuesday.
"It's just four inches."
"That's nine inches, easy."
Joel had tsked sympathetically under his breath. "Oh, darlin', if someone out there's tellin' you that's nine inches, I'm so sorry."
On Thursday morning, he had parked his truck in your driveway.
"I need to have my driveway clear!"
"I know, I know, it was only for a minute til the concrete truck comes—"
"I don't care! Park on the street!" you had yelled, but the angrier you got, the more pleased Joel looked.
"No parkin' left on the street."
"Then park on the lawn," you said, crossing your arms and jutting out your hip. His eyes had drifted down, noting you chose to wear a shirt that showed a little more cleavage than usual.
"Careful, sweetheart. Keep yellin' at me like this and I'll fall in love with you."
Every time he said something flirty like that, it sent you back to your house to obsess over whether or not he was serious or just trying to get you off his back.
The cherry on the sundae was the incident on Friday when someone accidentally dug in the wrong spot and severed your internet cable, completely derailing the latest project you had been tasked with at work. Joel had anticipated your anger before you stormed out of the house, screen door smacking loudly against the siding as you stomped down the old wood stairs of your porch, making a beeline right for Joel next door.
"Tell me it wasn't your guys who did that."
He sighed before slowly turning around to face you. He looked tired, no doubt drained from the long, hot week, but he still managed to brighten up a little when he laid eyes on you.
"Sorry, darlin'. They're comin' to fix it."
"When?" you snapped. Joel narrowed his eyes as if to silently warn you about your tone. Who the hell does he think he is?
"An hour," he said flatly.
"An hour?" you exclaimed, clearly devastated.
"Yeah. An hour. Ain't you got a lunch break or somethin' you can take til it's fixed?"
You snorted and tossed your hair over your shoulder. "I haven't taken a lunch break that didn't involve a client in more than five years."
"Well, today's the day you break that streak," he told you before turning back to the hole in the ground. "Damn inspector didn't flag the property right. Ain't our fault, it's the town's."
You bury your face in your hands with a groan. "I can't believe this," you mutter to yourself.
"If it helps, I ain't happy 'bout it either," Joel says, crouching down to inspect the spot closer. "This just set me back a couple days."
"Days?!" you exclaim, letting your hands fall back to your sides in disbelief. Joel nods, still not looking at you.
"Yeah. Gotta redo the plans now. Old plans were built 'round the cables bein' two feet west—"
"So this insanity is going to last even longer?" you ask, cutting him off. Joel sighs and drops his head between his shoulders briefly before standing with a grunt. He's tall—his shadow blocks the sun when he towers over you, a fact that never went unnoticed.
"What's the matter, sweetheart? Thought you'd be happy to know you ain't gettin' rid of me just yet." The smirk he gives you is devastating. Your gaze falls to his throat, where beads of sweat have been trickling down and soaking his collar. It's not fair this man is so fucking handsome yet so irritating.
"I'll survive," you mutter, crossing your arms tightly and looking away to clear your head.
"Yeah? Who you gonna yell at when I'm gone, hm?"
"Believe it or not, I'm actually not a yeller," you shoot back with a glare. "Guess you just bring it out of me."
His gaze darkened for a moment like he was considering how to reply. You could almost see the silent back and forth behind his eyes, the words locked and loaded on the tip of his tongue but a small sliver of logic fought to hold onto them and pull them back down.
He says it anyway.
"That right?" His voice dips lower than you've heard it before, but not out of anger. Something else. Something far more heated and dangerous. "Wonder what else I could bring outta you."
The implication falls between you like an anvil. The weight of it keeps you both still, oblivious to what's going on around you entirely. Somehow, you manage to hold his gaze, but you're swallowing hard and breathing even harder and he can see it. He tracks the movement with those dark eyes, waiting for you to come up with a retort or storm off.
Normally, you'd do the latter, but today, you're fired up. It's always Joel who gets the last flirty word in. It's always Joel who leaves you spinning while he happily carries on with his day. So this time, you close the distance between you and crane your neck up. He doesn't break eye contact but you can tell he didn't expect this. He didn't expect you to get inches away and hold the silence like a knife to his throat. His lip curls into a smile, breathlessly anticipating some flustered, snappy comeback paired with an angry look. Instead, what you say shocks him.
"You couldn't handle it, Miller."
The confidence in your voice is what makes him falter. You clock it and grin, very satisfied with yourself, before turning and heading back to your house. The world begins to wake up around him again. Sounds begin to crescendo slowly in the air: power tools, his crew's voices, cars rumbling down the street. But his eyes are fixed on you. On the way you carry yourself back up your porch and into your house without the courtesy of a single glance back.
When your screen door snaps shut, he blinks. Clears his throat. Then forces his feet to move.
After that, Joel spends the rest of the afternoon praying he doesn't get distracted enough to lose a finger.
***
The weekend is thankfully quiet, but long. You pace around trying to keep busy, but you miss it. You hate it, but you miss peeking out your window to see what Joel is up to. You miss whatever has been brewing between you over the last two weeks. You miss the excitement and electricity that crackles between you when you stomp over there for one reason or another.
By Sunday night, you decide it isn't healthy to be so fixated on this. You're not even sure what's gotten into you. Usually, your life is mundane and quiet, yet this man has burrowed his way in and found a piece of you to bring to life you didn't know existed.
He pisses you off, you remind yourself. It's not good. He's not good. Let this go, the sooner the better.
So on Monday, you force yourself to stay in your house all day. It's hard, but you know it's the right thing to do. You need to focus on work and Joel is just a distraction. A big, annoying, sexy distraction.
On Tuesday, you do the same thing. It's a littler easier this time. You get a decent amount of work done with your earbuds solidly in place. You only look up from your computer to check your window a handful of times. Once or twice you swear you catch Joel glancing expectantly towards your house, but you push down the butterflies in your belly and focus back on the project in front of you.
Wednesday is more difficult because on that day, there's a legitimate reason to be annoyed. Joel's crew is using a portion of your lawn to toss old pieces of wood from the porch next door. When you first notice, you find yourself rising to your feet, propelled by anger. But then you catch yourself and slowly sit back down.
It's fine. They'll clean it up. Don't worry about it.
You finish your workday without stepping foot outside, although you had to close your curtains so you'd stop looking at the mess.
Thursday is loud. Drills pierce the air earlier than usual. You assume it has to do with the rain clouds forming on the horizon, but it still grates your every nerve to hear metal grinding into solid wood first thing in the morning. You pop your earbuds in and turn the volume up. It works, until the rain starts. The water streaking suddenly down your windowpane catches your attention, so you pull your earbuds out and look up.
Across your driveway, Joel's crew is packing up early. They're running, getting absolutely soaked in the rain while trying to get everything valuable back into their trucks as quickly as possible.
Good, you think. Peace and quiet a little earlier today.
Then you see him. Joel. With his dark curls plastered against his forehead and his white shirt sticking to his torso like he had just jumped into a pool. Your brain buffers and your lips part at the sight. You could tell before he's strong, but now his shirt is leaving very little to the imagination.
"Shit," you whisper as you watch, unblinking, while Joel packs up his truck and then turns to help his crew. His muscles flex under his rain soaked skin, water drips furiously down the sides of his head, and you forget how to breathe.
Fuck him for being so irritating and goddamn good looking at the same time.
The image is seared into your brain for the rest of the night. It has you tossing and turning in bed until you can't stand it anymore and you give in, sliding one hand down the front of your shorts in search of relief. It's fleeting and not as good as you hoped, but at least you're able to fall asleep.
Friday is when everything comes to a head.
You're tired from a restless nights sleep and on your third cup of coffee when you notice the end of your driveway is blocked. Your jaw clenches as you push a curtain aside to get a better view and of course, it's Joel's truck.
"Son of a bitch," you mutter, narrowing your eyes like you could destroy the car with your mind if you tried hard enough.
It's fine. He'll move it. He's probably waiting on some delivery, like last time.
But this time, his truck remains parked haphazardly at the end of your driveway all day. When you manage to spot him working next door, he's all smiles, completely unbothered. At last around three you see him walk to his truck, but it's just to get something from the console. The way he strolls back to his crew like he had every right in the world to encroach on your property makes your blood boil.
That's it. You've had enough. You've kept to yourself all week long, it's almost the weekend, you did pretty good. And this isn't unreasonable. He's in your fucking driveway! He's had multiple chances to move and he didn't!
Before you could stop yourself, you reach forward, lift open your window, and lean out.
"Joel Miller!"
He stops dead in his tracks, along with half his crew, to track your voice from your office window. When he spots you, he lifts his hand to his eyes to shield himself from the sun and he grins.
"Yeah?"
"Move your goddamn truck out of my driveway or else I'm havin' it towed!"
His crew chuckles and goes back to wrapping things up for the day. Joel tilts his head at you like he's amused.
"Thought you moved," he says, "haven't heard that smart mouth all week."
"Unfortunately for me, I'm still here," you snap, "now move that hunk of junk right now!"
"She ain't no hunk of junk," Joel says with mock offense. "She's the only lady in my life that never let me down, don't talk 'bout her like that."
"Stop talking about your car like it's a woman, that's gross."
Joel whistles low and comes closer so he doesn't have to shout. "Jealous?"
"Of a car? Give me a break," you snort.
He tsks and inches closer. By now, he's halfway across your driveway. "Why don't you try askin' me real nice, then maybe I'll move it."
"Why don't you get a little closer and I'll make you do it."
The deep groan that rumbled from his chest made your thighs clench.
"Don't tease a fella now," he warns with a playful look, "'cause if you talk like that I'm gonna make you follow through."
You roll your eyes, grateful you have an entire wall between you to hide the way you're practically squirming in place.
"Will you please shut up and move the truck?"
"Don't love the shut up part, but y'did say please, so I will."
"Thank you," you reply, overly sweet with a fake smile. Still, Joel stifles a laugh, entirely enthralled with how riled up he manages to make you.
"No problem. I'll be done in an hour, then I'll get outta your hair."
The smile falls from your face to be replaced with a scowl. "An hour?"
"Yeah. An hour," he confirms, turning back to his job site. "Don't worry. Won't get in the way of your Friday night plans."
"Joel—"
"It'll be longer if you keep flirtin' with me," he says loudly over his shoulder so his entire crew can hear. Your cheeks instantly heat up but you slam your window shut before you can give him the satisfaction of witnessing your embarrassment.
You sit back down and try to focus on work, but it's impossible. Why does this man get under your skin so easily? And why do you find him so irresistible at the same time? It must be because it's been a while since the last time you've been with someone. You've been so focused on work the last several months, you can't even remember the last time you went on a date, let alone took a man home.
Your gaze drifts up against your will. Most of Joel's crew has cleared out next door. There's two guys left plus Joel, cleaning up the rest of the lawn before the weekend. You can see the relaxed smiles on their faces as they chat, probably discussing weekend plans. It makes you wonder what Joel does on the weekends. You have a feeling he's single based on his earlier comment about his truck. So what does a single man do with their spare time?
Probably pick up girls. The thought makes your stomach twist into a knot. You shake your head and focus back on your computer. That's none of your business. Who cares if he's getting laid? It doesn't matter.
Your lips press together when your eyes lift to find Joel through the window again, but now you realize the yard is empty. The remaining trucks are gone. The supplies are picked up. It's quiet.
For some reason, you're relieved when you stand and hurry to your window to find Joel's truck still idle in your driveway. You stand there staring at it while you weigh your options in your head.
It's a bad idea, you think. Joel isn't good for you. He drives you crazy. Yet you have to admit, you can't remember the last time you've felt such a spark with someone before. He's certainly not boring, you'll give him that. And he's funny, in his own way. Would it really be so bad?
Fuck it. You rush to your bedroom to change your shirt for a simple light dress and freshen up as fast as you can, all the while straining to hear for the telltale sound of his motor turning over, then you slow down.
You decide to leave it up to fate. If he's still there by the time you're ready, then you'll go for it. If he's gone, then he's gone, no big deal.
After tapping on some subtle, fruity flavored lip balm and spritzing just a tiny bit of perfume in your hair, you step out of your bedroom, mustering up as much confidence as possible as you walk to your front door. You decide not to practice what to say, that you'll just let it happen organically if it feels right. But when you swing your door open only to be met face to face with Joel, who has one fist raised in the air as if he were about to knock, all that confidence goes straight out the window.
Shit.
"Hey," he says with a crooked grin. His arm lowers to his side and your heart kicks in your chest when you notice his eyes sweep up and down your body before meeting your gaze.
"What can I do for you?" you ask, leaning against the doorframe with a small smile. His grin widens and you feel like you've stepped into yet another trap.
"That's a loaded question, sweetheart," he says, voice low. You suppress a shudder. "Wanted to tell you I'm headin' out. Looks like I got good timin', too." He gestures to your appearance and you look down.
"I'm not going anywhere."
He quirks up an eyebrow. "You got someone comin' over?"
You shake your head and try to bite back the smile that threatens to stretch across your face.
Joel makes a soft noise and casually lifts his arm to rest against the frame, right above your head. He's towering over you like this and you think it's on purpose.
"Just gettin' all dolled up to sit home alone?" he asks. You shrug and cross your arms, hoping your breasts lift when you do. His gaze flickers down quickly, confirming you're successful.
"You think this is dolled up?"
Slowly, he lets himself take in your appearance again, this time making sure you saw.
"Just used to seein' you in shorts or that little robe of yours."
"You don't like my shorts or robe?"
"Never said that."
You have to stifle a laugh and his eyes practically glitter with amusement.
"Do you have any big plans this weekend?" you ask, hoping to come across casual.
"Nothin' too crazy," he tells you, leaning in a little further. "Watch the game. Mow the lawn. Come up with new ways to get you yellin' at me."
You laugh and shake your head. "You've been doing a great job so far."
"Not so sure 'bout that," he says, swiping his palm over his chin. "Been tryin' all week. Didn't get your attention til I parked in your driveway."
The expression on your face instantly melts into one of annoyance. "You did all of that on purpose?"
His enjoyment couldn't be contained. With a huge grin, he replies, "Yes, ma'am."
"The mess on my lawn? The extra early noise?" You could feel your anger rising, flooding your chest with heat.
"That's right," Joel replies. "Parkin' in your driveway was a last resort."
Your jaw tenses as you stare him down in disbelief. "What is your goddamn problem?" you seethe. Your earlier plans to ask if he wanted to come in for a drink vanish. Screw this guy.
"Thought you were dead or somethin'. Consider it my version of a wellness check."
"I don't need you to do a wellness check on me!" you yell, throwing your hands in the air to stop yourself from pushing him. "I've put in the shittiest work this week because of you! Why are you hellbent on bothering me so much?"
"'Cause it's fun and you're cute when you're all pissed off."
"I'm cu—"
The words die in your throat as your brain formally processes what he just said. You're still angry and red in the face, your chest is still heaving from adrenaline, and yet you're frozen solid, blinking up at him like an idiot. A slow smile spreads across his face, revealing that dreadfully adorable dimple.
"Probably the only woman on earth who looks prettier when she's readin' me the riot act," he adds just to watch your mouth open and shut like a fish.
"You—"
You're at a loss for words. The emotional whiplash has you reeling. He's into you, but he's showing it like an elementary school boy. It's kind of endearing but mostly immature, so you stand your ground.
"How old are you? Because you act like you're no older than twelve."
"I'm definitely older than twelve," he chuckles without missing a beat. "But listen... I really am sorry if your work suffered 'cause of me. Lemme make it up to you."
"How could you possibly—"
"Lemme take you out to dinner tonight."
The floor practically gives out from under you. What the hell is going on? The last ten minutes has your brain scrambling and your heart racing faster than any workout. How does this man manage to drive you to the brink of insanity only to pull you back at the last second with something sweet?
"You can yell at me the whole time, if you want," he says once too much time has passed without an answer. If you could see through your rage, you'd be able to pick up on his nervousness: his hand flexes at his side and his weight shifts from foot to foot with anxious energy.
"How about I just yell at you right here?" you snap. Joel laughs.
"If that's what you want, darlin', then sure."
Frustration bubbles up with a growl. You push away from the door to pace up and down your small hallway, raking your fingers through your hair while you attempt to calm down. All the while, Joel remains where he is, planted just outside your door, watching you spiral.
"You seem tense."
"I am tense! Because of you!"
"I can help with that."
You freeze and stare at him, long and hard. All those thoughts you've had about him, those images of him working in the rain, his way of turning a phrase to just barely imply he could ruin you... all of those moments crash down over you like a tidal wave and you decide that maybe he could help, after all.
In the blink of an eye, you close the distance keeping you apart. Your hand fists his sweaty, dirty shirt and you yank him forward. He stumbles a few feet into your house with surprised huff. You see the way his eyes widen right before your mouth crashes over his and finally, for a few blissful minutes, you get your coveted silence.
Joel only needs a moment before he catches up. His lips soften against yours as you pull him deeper into your house. He kicks back one foot and it collides with your door, slamming it closed behind him, then his hands are on you, pushing you gently against the wall so he can take control.
His teeth greedily graze your lower lip and your mouth parts for him with a soft moan. Driven by the sound, his tongue eagerly slips past your lips and his hands drop to cup the backs of your thighs. He hauls you up and your legs circle his waist while your tongues tangle together, hot and angry. It's desperate and messy and exactly what you need. The broad heft of his body pressed up against yours, the heady scent of the outdoors and sweat and him invading your senses, the faint taste of coffee on his tongue... it's utterly perfect.
"Where'd this come from, hm?" he asks, voice low and rough as his lips skim the edge of your jaw. Your head tilts back and your eyelids remain closed, offering your throat up to him without a fight.
"You said you could help," you murmur, craning your neck to give him better access. He finds a spot below your ear and sucks, leaving the beginnings of a mark that will take days to disappear.
"I did," he mumbles against your skin. "Meant a drink or somethin', but I ain't complainin'."
Your chin drops, hunting for his mouth, but then his hand is there tipping your head back, cupping your cheek with his thumb pressed on the underside of your jaw.
"Ain't done," he grumbles before continuing his assault on your throat. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and let him move your head this way and that, enjoying the way he's taken control. You get the sense he's wanted this as badly as you because he seems determined to taste every inch of your skin. When his mouth travels lower to ghost over your shoulder, you shrug, allowing the strap of your dress to fall and expose more skin. Joel makes a pleased grunt before his lips explore the newly revealed territory.
"Christ, you're soft." It almost sounds like he's talking to himself, the way his voice is full of quiet wonder. A shiver rolls down your spine and you tug impatiently at his hair.
"Joel," you whine, but your thought is cut off with a gasp when he presses himself firmly against the cradle of your hips. You can feel him there, hot and hard behind his zipper. One of your hands drops to his belt and you slip your fingers past his waistband, but just as you're about to reach your target, his body jolts and he swats your hand away with a chuckle.
"Eager thing," he grins before sealing his lips over yours again.
"Bedroom," you manage to mumble when he takes half a second to breathe. "Behind you."
"Bossy," he scolds. His mouth covers yours with a deep groan before he tightens his grip around your legs. He pulls you from the wall and swings around to carry you in the general direction of your bedroom, all while never breaking the kiss.
It's kind of comical the way you stumble into your room. The door swings open too fast and knocks back against Joel's shoulder but it doesn't slow him down. He refuses to pull away to look where he's going, but when his boot collides with a half empty laundry basket on the floor, he curses under his breath and finally tears himself away.
You take the opportunity to squirm out of his grip. When your feet hit the floor, you instantly rise to your tiptoes, lips seeking out the warm skin of his throat. You moan a little when your tongue drags over his pebbled skin, tasting salt and sun that remains there. It's addicting to taste the product of his day's hard work, so you do it again and relish in the way he shudders from your attention.
"Shoulda just told me from the start what you wanted." His fingers fumble with his belt buckle after he hears the quiet sound of your zipper coming undone. "Would've saved us both alotta time, darlin'."
"Shut up," you grumble before your teeth pinch a spot next to his Adam's apple. Your dress falls into a pool at your feet, hands free to help him lift his shirt over his head.
"I need a shower," Joel says after his shirt is discarded. You just shake your head and press your mouth over his collarbone, then his sternum, mapping his body while he works on kicking off his boots and jeans.
"I like you like this," you whisper. He smirks, stepping out of his clothes as best he can with your mostly naked body pressed against his own. "You smell good," you add after a minute, and he seems pleased with that.
"Get on the bed, sweetheart. Lemme see you."
You pull away from the faint red marks you left littering his chest and look up at him through your lashes. "You first."
Joel frowns. "Wha—"
With a grin, you give him a gentle push. His back hits the bedding and he barely has a chance to register it until you're climbing on top of him, legs bracketing his hips with a giggle. He smiles so big that his eyes squint, revealing those damn dimples again beneath his beard. Then his gaze drops to your bare breasts and his eyes darken.
"Fuck, you're pretty," he mumbles, palming them greedily. When his rough thumb grazes your nipple, you lunge down and capture his mouth with a searing kiss.
"You want me like this?" he asks, words tumbling against your swollen lips. "Wanna ride me, baby?"
"Yes," you whine while tugging down his boxers with one hand. His palms glide over your thighs, squeezing and pulling you back and forth so your hips begin to grind down on his lap.
"Take these off 'fore I ruin 'em," he warns you, fingers hooking into the band of your panties. You suppress the shiver of arousal at his tone before you do exactly as he says.
When your bare cunt comes in contact with the underside of his cock, you suck in a deep breath. He's so hot and throbbing against your soaked folds, making every slide of your hips steal your breath away.
Joel watches you move with heavy lidded eyes, seemingly just as lost in the feeling as you. His chest rises and falls a little faster when the tip of his cock presses against your clit and your whole body shudders with a moan he will end up dreaming about for weeks.
Reality hits when a streak of his arousal leaks and smears across your skin, bringing him back down to earth for one second.
"Wait, my wallet—"
He extends one hand towards the floor and your eyes follow, connecting the dots and sliding off him to grab his pants. You find it tucked into his back pocket and toss it his way. He catches it and fishes out a little foil packet from its depths while you resume your spot in his lap, lips parted and heart racing with anticipation as he rolls the condom on with care.
"Alright honey, I'm all yours," he announces, smirking as he folds his arms behind his head. You roll your eyes but still shimmy forward and raise your hips, using one hand against his chest to prop yourself up and the other to guide him to your entrance. The moment you sink down, however, his lips melt into a soft circle and his eyelids flutter shut, filling your chest with pride before caving into the pleasure yourself.
You sigh and tilt your head back when you finally take all of him. The stretch is exquisite, or maybe it's just been a while, but it doesn't matter. All the static that's been electrifying your brain lately, all that stress from work, from pushing yourself too far every single day dissolves away.
"Oh, shit," he whispers, voice cracking. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips. "Feel so goddamn good."
You drop your head forward to look at him, chest and neck all flushed underneath you. Your eyes trace his body as you begin to move, just slow rolls of your hips while you take in every detail: strong arms built from work, not weights. Skin slightly sweaty and a shade lighter where his shirts protect him from the sun. Broad shoulders and a firm stomach, but not too lean. One of your hands drifts over the planes of his chest and the curves of his muscles, humming with admiration as you continue to slowly ride him. His eyes light up and you swear you can see the pleasure in his expression when he clocks your appreciation for him.
"Make yourself feel good, honey," he says, voice low. Your gaze flickers up to his and you share a smile. "Wanna see what you like. Wanna watch you fall apart on it."
Your hips lift and drop a little faster, skin slapping against skin. "Should've known you never stop talking, even when you're getting laid," you tease, and Joel chuckles.
"Bark and bite, I like that."
"Yeah, I figured that out." You gasp when he thrusts upwards, hitting a spot deep inside you can't reach on your own. He notices and files it away for later.
"Takin' notes on me?" he asks, ghosting his palms over your ribs before landing on your breasts, watching in a daze while they bounce in his hands.
"You wish," you pant. He tsks, eyes still fixed on your chest.
"I got a few things figured out 'bout you, too."
You stop moving to glare down at him and catch your breath. His dark eyes dance with amusement at your annoyed look.
"Like what?"
He shrugs but the smile still tugs at the corners of his mouth. "You work hard but don't ever blow off any steam. Don't know yet if it's cause you're too tired or you feel like you don't deserve it."
That stuns you. Even though you're naked and he's currently buried inside you, you suddenly feel very exposed. He sees he might have overstepped, so he backtracks with a joke.
"You can call me anytime and I'll be happy to help you unwind."
You snort and begin moving again, shaking off the unexpected flash of vulnerability. "Why don't you focus on making this memorable enough for me to call you again?"
Joel laughed then, loud. And despite yourself, you giggle.
"Baby, when you're done playin' cowgirl, I'm gonna flip you over and fuck you so hard, you'll feel it on Monday when you're watchin' me through that office window of yours."
Your pussy clenches involuntarily and you begin working faster, fucking yourself on his lap now like you mean it.
"That's a-a lot of big talk, Miller," you reply, breathless from the exertion. You circle your hips and moan loudly when you find an angle you like.
"Ain't just talk," he says, big hands back on your hips, helping you move. His gaze is fixed on where you're connected, on the slick smearing between your bodies, and his stomach tightens. "Been thinkin' 'bout fuckin' you every which way to Sunday, got a head full'a ideas."
"You've been thinking about fucking me?" you repeat almost shyly.
"Don't be coy, now," he tells you, grunting softly when you plant both hands on his chest for leverage. "You know you came over there that first day with these perfect fucking tits pokin' through that little robe on purpose."
"Did not," you breathe, but all the fight has left your body. You're getting close and it's all you can focus on now.
"Uh-huh," Joel says, clearly not believing you. He swallows hard and his cock twitches impatiently inside you. He could come like this, with you riding him, getting yourself off, but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want it to be over just yet, especially if you expect this to be a one time thing.
Shit, he hopes it's not just a one time thing.
"C'mon, baby, let go," he says before mouthing at your breasts. His tongue glides over one nipple then grazes it with his teeth before moving to the other one. You jolt and whine and push your chest even closer to his face.
"Joel..." you whisper. Your muscles are tired, you're slowing down. Sweat dots your forehead, collects behind your knees, and you're gasping for air.
He sits up suddenly, understanding right away what you need, and wraps one arm around your waist while the other braces himself against the mattress. He's able to fuck up into you like this and instantly your legs relax and your body slumps forward, causing him to relinquish the attention to your chest.
"That's it," he coos, "lemme help you."
You rarely accept help. The thought flickers across your mind for a moment before you push it away. This is different. This is just sex.
"M'close," you mumble shakily, fingers digging into the thick muscle of his shoulders, forehead pressed intimately against his.
"I know," he breathes, "give it to me, darlin'."
A few more harsh snaps of his hips has you falling, whimpering his name as white hot heat rolls through your limbs and soaking your brain with a drunken haze. He's murmuring to you the whole time: how tight you feel, how beautiful you look, what a good job you did, how perfectly you fit on his cock. The praise goes straight to your head and fills a much needed void somewhere inside you. Some piece of you that is always pushing you to do more, try harder, work faster... efforts that rarely give you desired results. Or, at least, the results you're after. But this—this man—he's giving you something you desperately crave without even realizing it.
Your breath stutters like you've been knocked off kilter, and maybe you have. Joel thinks it's an aftershock of your orgasm and doesn't think anything of it.
He lifts you off his lap and you gasp, eyes flying open in shock. You have about half a second before you're tossed face down onto the bed next to him, then he's climbing behind you, rough hands gentle on your hips as they pull you back up to your hands and knees.
"That's it," he grunts when you obediently spread your legs and arch your back. He smirks to himself before pushing back inside you with a heavy sigh. "Goddamn, you're warm," he says after sliding slowly all the way in, giving you a chance to adjust to the new position. You bite your lip and breathe through it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how deep he feels like this. How good he feels.
"Fuck me, Joel," you moan, pushing your ass back, encouraging him to move. He rolls his hips forward, slow and deep.
"I know," he pants, "I know what you need."
He moves a little faster. Your ass bounces with every push. He grabs it with one big hand and squeezes before giving you a playful smack and doing it again.
"No, you don't. You barely—barely know me," you remind him. Your words stumble over each other as you feel yourself losing focus again. He feels so good, it's impossible not to.
"Know you better than you think," he shoots back. He smoothes over the spot on your ass he had spanked, soothing the area before sliding his palm up and over your spine. He can feel every knot and twist, every stress point you keep locked away deep inside. His fingers seek them out with ease, like maybe he really can see more than you think.
Still, you're stubborn.
"You only know what I want you to know." Your jaw is clenched, the words escape through your teeth but your point is made. You swallow down a moan and close your eyes, giving in to the way he expertly takes you apart.
"I knew you needed this from the first time we met," he tells you, "could've fucked this out of you back then and saved us both the trouble."
"You like it," you hiss over your shoulder. His pace is relentless now, hips swinging roughly against your ass, burying his thick cock as deep as it'll go. He wants to split you open and make you scream his name. He wants your mind blank and your body satiated. "You like—ohh... f-fuck—"
"What's that?" he goads. Joel drops forward so both his arms bracket yours. His chest presses against your spine and his breath is hot in your ear. You shiver and your jaw falls open.
"You..." Your throat is dry. Heat is building behind your navel and your legs are starting to shake. You swallow and keep talking. "You like trouble. You like it... when I yell at you. Whe—when I—"
"Yeah, I know," he admits, "somethin' real sexy 'bout you when you get all pissed off."
"—Like when I tell you... tell you what to do."
He's silent for a moment but his pace never falters. The wet sound of skin on skin is deafening, addicting. Your face warms as he punches the air from your lungs with every devastating thrust.
"Yeah. Maybe I do."
You hum and breathe deep through your nose. Fuck, he's right. You're going to be sore. You can already feel it.
"So tell me what to do now," he adds. It takes you a second to process it, but when you do, you force your eyes open.
What does he want to hear?
Don't overthink it.
"Touch me," you demand, firm and clear despite how your heart is racing.
Joel doesn't hesitate.
He leans back, leaving your sweaty back exposed to the cool air, and he reaches around to play with your clit. Instantly, you gasp and buck under him.
"Like that?"
If you had any clarity at all you would have shot him back some sarcastic remark because of course the answer is yes. Your entire body is shaking, you can barely speak and he knows it.
"Mhm," you manage, "ye—yeah, just like that. Fuck, keep going—"
"Jesus Christ," he mutters when your body begins to work in tandem with his, meeting him thrust for thrust. "Shit honey, you're gonna make me come like this."
You whine and throw your head back. His fingers don't stop circling your clit. Sweat coats your skin now. Gasping breaths and the sound of his hips meeting your ass over and over are filling the room, punctuated by Joel's deep grunts and your breathy moans.
"Joel—" you whisper as your body locks up. Your muscles ache, your cunt aches even more, but you continue to take it all. Your hand feverishly finds his between your legs and you leave it there, loving the way his fingers feel while they play you like a guitar.
"Sweetheart, I'm gonna—"
But you cut him off before he could finish his thought with a sharp cry. Your orgasm washes over you, harsh and unforgiving. A moment later Joel follows you over the edge with a loud curse, then a rough, deep grunt you can feel in your bones as he empties himself into the condom.
"Oh, holy fuck," he gasps, removing his hand from between your legs. He still thrusts weakly into you as the last of his orgasm streaks through his veins. It's cut short when he feels your body shaking violently under him and just like that, his focus is back on you.
"You okay?"
"I'm—" You're out of breath. Your vision is spotty and your muscles are weak. You swallow hard and try again. "I'm good, just need to—"
You fall onto your elbows and Joel takes the hint. He eases out of you, ignoring the way his chest pangs at the loss of your body, before he collapses into bed and hauls you down next to him.
Now you can rest. You close your eyes and breathe, deep and heavy. He does the same while the sweat cools on both your bodies and slowly, your brain begins to come back online. When it does, you realize his body is loosely curled around yours, keeping you warm and grounding you. It's strangely intimate but you don't pull away. Not yet.
"How 'bout I take you for that dinner now?" he mumbles before carefully pressing a soft kiss against your neck. His sweaty chest is pressed against your back, sealing you together.
"Let's just order something instead," you sigh with your eyes closed.
"Did I tire you out, darlin'?"
"Didn't sleep well," you say, unwilling to give him any credit just yet, "the damn construction crew next door woke me up way too early."
"Uh-huh," he teases before tightening his arm around your middle. It feels nice, so you lean into him just a bit. And for a while it's quiet and peaceful. Your breath steadies, your head clears, but your muscles stay soft and relaxed. Joel doesn't say anything. His thumb rubs idly over your stomach, lips occasionally graze over your back or shoulder, and it feels good until that defensive part of your brain wakes up, right on schedule.
This isn't serious. This didn't mean anything. It was just stress relief. Don't get attached.
"So," you say, voice a little hoarse when you gently slip out of his grip. He rolls onto his back with a soft, reluctant noise and he watches you stand to pick up your clothes. "This is what it takes to finally shut you up, huh?"
You grin at your joke as you press your clothes to your front, hiding your bare body from him like he hadn't just touched every inch of it minutes ago. When he doesn't answer right away with some smart remark, you pause and meet his eye.
He's stretched out on your bed, looking at you like he's seeing something not meant for him. You swallow nervously and try not to let yourself enjoy how good he looks in your space, amongst your things, in your life.
"Yeah," he finally says, "guess that'll do it."
His voice sounds flat and you begin to feel bad, so you clear your throat and inch towards your bathroom. "Let's order something to eat before you go."
Before you go. Joel heard it and got the message. He didn't know what to expect but for some reason, it stings.
"Yeah, what are you thinkin'?" He sits up and reaches for his jeans, where his phone is still tucked into his pocket.
"I don't care. Whatever you like." Then the door to the bathroom quietly snaps shut. Joel sighs once's he's alone and rubs his face before looking around your room. It's neat and organized, nothing like his own. He chews the inside of his cheek while he thinks, but before he lets himself get too lost, he snaps out of it and looks at his phone.
Chinese is a safe bet, so he orders that before standing to rid himself of the condom and get dressed. Suddenly he feels out of place. He's rough and dirty and you're... not. And that's fine. This was fun, it doesn't have to be anything more. Yet when he wanders into your kitchen for water, he can't help but feel an empty pull in his chest at the thought of leaving.
Unknown to him, hidden inside your bathroom, you're struggling with the very same thing.
"we're not dating!"
in which the 1a girls have a lot to say about you and katsuki's not-relationship.
secret language!
in which you and katsuki have a... special way of communicating.
anyone but you
in which there are certain things that katsuki wouldn't allow for anyone but you.
"lalalala"
yapper reader x listener katsuki. in which you finally get to see katsuki!
"don't stop loving me."
in which things were always easy between you and katsuki until suddenly, they weren't. (aka you pull back and katsuki notices and hates it) (more unofficialbf!katsuki hehe)
still holding you
in which you've been scared of storms since you were a kid but katsuki's always got you.
childhood katsuki storm comfort (pt 2 to that)
your man
^rewrite of this bc it was bad
in which you've always referred to katsuki as "my kats" or "my man." when you suddenly start using "my" to refer to other guys, rest assured that katsuki is NOT happy.
dicksuki.
in which you seek out comfort from unofficialbf!katsuki and he says something mean and it's your final straw. + katsuki can't stand seeing you cry.
soft unofficialbf!katsuki
crashout central
in which katsuki has no idea if you like him or not.
worrying abt being too clingy w katsuki drabble
so us
in which watching damian and anya reminds you of katsuki and you.
spy x family crossover ep!
say stay.
in which you're hoping you can stay and sleep with katsuki tonight.
i don't even like you!
in which katsuki destroys something he doesn't know how to hold. (aka he's a big fat meanie)
fuck, i'm in love with you. (pt two)
makeup fic for 'i dont even like you'
katsuki x reader texts
mine
in which a guy confesses to you on valentine's day. how will katsuki react?
thinking abt katsuki's tummy..
catsuki
in which katsuki loves when you get your nails done.
tired
in which katsuki starts to pull back and you wonder if he's just overwhelmed and tired, or maybe tired of you.
distant
in which you don't know when it started or why, but katsuki is distant, and your relationship is growing cold.
you are my sunshine
in which you and katsuki are so grumpy x sunshine + he’s so hopelessly in love with you ♡
one day
in which you and katsuki are unofficially married, though he plans on changing that one day.
katsuki n his golden retriever gf!!
somewhere among
in which somewhere among all the little moments, it becomes very apparent to various people in his life that katsuki bakugo is in love with you. (aka when they realize and know that he's so incredibly gone.)
mommy and daddy
in which a villain's quirk transports you and katsuki's kid from the future to the present! except you're.. not even dating?
cry for me
in which katsuki hates admitting it, but even he needs a good cry every now and then.
meansuki
in which katsuki thinks he's funny by saying something to see your reaction but it's actually not fucking funny and it makes you sad >:( basically the same thing as dicksuki.
katsuki gets mad at you when you get hurt
his laugh, a rare melody <3
lovesick
katsuki is down bad with this illness. symptoms include being overly sappy and saying way more than one usually would and more frequent random bursts of affection; it typically comes with the need to say it, too, no matter how ooc it may be.
KIRISHIMA EIJIRO
justfriends!eijiro
does he like me?
in which it's hard to tell whether kirishima is so nice that it's hard to tell whether he likes you or you're just #delusional.
playful pool day w unofficialbf!kirishima
"he holds me in his big arms, drunk and i am seeing stars"
in which you're drunk and about to trip and fall over nothing, so kirishima quite literally sweeps you off your feet. inspired by 'video games' by lana del rey!
TODOROKI TOUYA (DABI)
not too hot for you.
in which touya thinks he's too hot. too fiery, too intense, too volatile. he's a war machine for killing. he's broken and unworthy of love. you show him otherwise.
his laugh, a rare melody <3
TODOROKI SHOTO
his laugh, a rare melody <3
SHINSO HITOSHI
his laugh, a rare melody <3
𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍
"love is the most twisted curse of them all."
FUSHIGURO MEGUMI
pinning down the truth
in which after a certain little incident during training, megumi starts avoiding you! you think he might be upset with you or not like you, but little do you know, it's the complete opposite. after lots of teasing and a lot of emotion, the truth finally gets pinned down.
justfriends!megumi
mama y papa
in which you and megumi are practically married + nobara and itadori’s parents
his laugh, a rare melody <3
NANAMI KENTO
his laugh, a rare melody <3
𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊
"become the one who chooses, not the one waiting to be chosen."
CHIGIRI HYOMA
this is falling in love.
in which falling in love with chigiri hyoma is slow. it's quiet. but it's sweet, and it's easier than you could ever imagine.
princess charming
in which chigiri hyoma may not be as hard to read as you think. (aka he's clingy af DO NOT BE FOOLED)
his laugh, a rare melody <3
ITOSHI RIN
clingy
in which in your relationship with rin, you've always been the affectionate one. the touchy one. the clingy one. so one day, you pull back from touching him so much, and it kills him.
weakness
in which you're itoshi rin's only weakness.
his laugh, a rare melody <3
MIKAGE REO
codependent!reo
in which reo is so clingy and loves you to death <3 he needs you like air and water!
NAGI SEISHIRO
undercover menace nagi
in which people think that nagi seishiro is this cool, effortless, nonchalant guy. he's sort of emotionless and apathetic in a way that leaves everyone wondering. everything he does is easy for him, and he's just so cool and uncaring. he would never do something stupid like mess with his partner. they're WRONG.
ITOSHI SAE
his laugh, a rare melody <3
𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐔
"because people don’t have wings, we look for ways to fly."
KOZUME KENMA
"i love you."
in which kenma quietly realizes he's completely, utterly in love with you.
his laugh, a rare melody <3
MIYA OSAMU
you're pregnant?! (ft. miya atsumu)
in which you're pregnant with osamu's baby and need to break the news to atsumu, but he somehow spoils it.. for himself?
IWAIZUMI HAJIME
(27) athletic trainer
soft domesticity w/ him <33
in which hehehehehe shirtless iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer
AKAASHI KEIJI
that's that me espresso! (ongoing smau)
in which you spend about 23/24 hours of your day in night owl, the local 24/7 campus cafe, working tirelessly on your university assignments. you go to there for the quiet study space, the yummy coffee, the cozy ambiance, and also maybe the super-hot barista who just started working there part-time.
his laugh, a rare melody <3
KUNIMI AKIRA
his laugh, a rare melody <3
these are all female reader <3 sometimes gender is unspecified but i don't write for male reader sorry. i'm happy to take requests and ideas but i won't always write for them if i a) don't think i can or b) just don't wanna. i do not take emergency requests. (too much pressure + stress sorry!) i don't write smut (most you'll see is suggestive), incest, noncon, dark content, etc. sfw blog! thank you and happy reading! 💗
old works
dividers from @cursed-carmine and @enchanthings <3
SUMMARY: When Camie Utsushimi elopes on the eve of her society debut, scandal threatens to destroy the family’s prospects. It’s up to you, a maid, to impersonate Camie throughout the Season, long enough that her elder sister can make a match. The only trouble? Lord Shouto Todoroki is also intent on making a match—and that match, quite impossibly, appears to involve you.
TAGS/WARNINGS: regency au, class differences, hidden identity/identity porn, aged up characters, eventual smut, fem pronouns + afab reader
NOTES: Part of the Romancing the Reader collab with @ofmermaidstories and @cat-slippered. Now with mouthwatering art from the incredible @volatilematters.
LENGTH: 30k, STATUS: COMPLETE
part i : In which a debutante goes missing and a scheme is hatched.
part ii : In which a ball is attended and snacks are thrown.
part iii : In which a handsome duke appears and an escape is foiled.
part iv : In which a duke comes calling and a resolution is formed.
part v : In which sculptures are mocked and feelings are realized.
part vi : In which a gift is given and a close encounter occurs.
part vii : In which passions are exchanged and a scandal is discovered.
part viii : In which an identity is exposed and a journey is undertaken.
part ix : In which a promise is made and a future awaits.
↪ in katsuki's eyes, the little family he built was perfect, no matter what anyone else had to say. katsuki bakugo x reader
content warning: your son is mute in this!!! i thought it would be an interesting concept to explore since bakugo was so loud as a kid. also imagining him with a baby boy that's calm & quiet makes my heart singggggggg
when your son was first born, he looked identical to your husband. they both had the same pale skin and unruly blonde strands you loved threading your fingers through, and after the first few months of your little boy's life, you would come to learn that he had acquired katsuki's smile, too. it was small (uncharacteristically shy) and a sight that had your heart growing three sizes bigger whenever you saw it. you're sure your chest doesn't have enough space to harbor all the love you feel for your two favorite people.
your son was a naturally quiet baby. never fussing much and always quieting down once he was in either you or katsuki's arms. it was no surprise that so many of your friends always fawned over the adorably chubby baby that happened to be so well behaved, and he was quite often referred to as being an angel—but, there was something undeniably different about your son from other children.
while you were used to seeing funny videos of babies blabbering nonsense or the familiar chime of a child's laugh in public, you've never had the pleasure of hearing any of those sounds from your son. the most you and katsuki had gotten were breathless little fits of laughter and small huffs every now and then when he wanted to get your attention. he was... quiet, silent in a way you weren't used to after being with katsuki for so long.
he responded perfectly well to his surroundings, showed no other issues that could have you feeling concerned, and doctors initially told you and katsuki that some children are simply late bloomers. you'd soon come to learn that something had been amiss with him, but you'd also learn how to adapt.
there had been no more trying to coax your son into talking after the acceptance of his fate, just you and katsuki adjusting to the fact that your little boy's voice simply wasn't something you'd get to hear.
you try to be silent as you shift outside your son's bedroom door, using the corridor's light to get a better glimpse at the scene inside. katsuki has one knee pulled up to prop a book against, and his other arm is cradling your son to his chest. the four year old's eyes are bright and attentive, face pressed against the curve of katsuki's broad chest as he listens to his father's gruff voice read him a bedtime story.
katsuki's palm runs up and down the little boy's back, unaware of your watchful eyes in the doorway. you watch your son fight to keep his eyes open and keep listening, but it's not long before he's going limp in katsuki's hold with his lashes fluttering close. there's a few moments of silence before you hear the rustling of fabric as you watch katsuki carefully lay your son onto his bed and tuck him beneath his blanket, smoothing out the blonde strands on his forehead as the little boy's breathing slowly evens out.
katsuki doesn't turn when you wrap your arms around his waist, merely slinging an arm over your shoulder and sitting the both of you down on the edge of your son's bed
"kats, did you like his pajamas?" you question quietly, watching the corner of your husband's lip quirk up in a rare grin
the pajamas you refer to currently on your son are dynamight themed, with bright orange fabric as soft as the fluffiest of clouds. he glances back at the sleeping boy before shaking his head
"didn't think i'd like seeing him wear my merch so much." katsuki grumbles, almost like he's mad at himself for finding the sight endearing
"he got so excited when he saw them while we were out shopping." you murmur fondly
"ya think he's finally taken an interest into hero merch cause he saw me freak out over that icyhot plush I found in his toy box?"
"well, you did throw it off the balcony. totally uncalled for by the way."
"you shoulda seen his face afterwards. funniest thing ever." katsuki snorts, glancing at the peacefully sleeping boy before his eyes soften
"and i got him a bunch of toys after. i think we got even."
"sure," you smile softly. his palm, warm and steady, slips under your shirt and moves up and down the slope of your spine in that comforting manner you've come to love. katsuki eyes your son for a moment, gaze slowly moving back towards you in thought. you look up at him through your lashes curiously, and he suddenly pulls you closer
"i want another one."
"another—what?"
"you know." he grumbles, and you gasp quietly before gently slapping his arm
"katsuki!"
"what? we make cute babies." he huffs, poking your cheek as you gently swat his hand away. he grabs your wrist, raising his brows to let you know that he was serious, and you pause briefly as you stare back at him
"...we'll see." you finally settle on, and he seems satisfied by your answer as he stands and intertwines your fingers with his, pulling you along with him out of your son's room
"i get to chose the name this time around."
"you'll name it something stupid."
"her. and i won't." he sneers, pinching your cheek as you squeal
"a girl? you'd want a girl? you said you didn't care about the gender the first time around." you say surprised as he shuts your son's bedroom door, leading you down the hall
"yeah, but... i dunno. i like the thought of seeing a mini you running around the house, and i think he'd like a sister... doesn't sound so bad." he murmurs, ears tinged pink as you smile
"that's cute." you coo with an infectious giggle. his faux annoyance simmers away eventually when you squeeze his hand tightly in your own
"mama mitsuki is going to be so happy to hear you want more—i can already picture her face." you say as you imitate her expression, parting your lips in a mock shock as katsuki groans, loud and unabashedly
"she's gonna be fucking insufferable if we tell her. i'd rather not. don't you remember what she did the first time when we told her you were pregnant?"
"she invited the whole neighborhood to a cookout in her backyard and printed copies of the ultrasound to pass out in goodie bags." you recall with a laugh, and katsuki rolls his eyes
"and that is why we're not telling her. if it happens... we'll keep it between us for a little while, alright?"
his voice is uncharacteristically soft before his hand moves to cradle the back of your head, pulling your forehead closer to him before placing a kiss onto your temple and ruffling your hair.
you use the moment to take advantage of katsuki having his guard down to get on your tippy toes to peck his lips. he doesn't hesitate to wrap his hands around the back of your thighs to lift you off the ground, and you quickly wrap your legs around his strong waist with a grin
"let's leave him at mama mitsuki's for the weekend and work on getting him a sister." you whisper against katsuki's lips, and when you watch his eyebrows shoot to his hairline and a sputtered this weekend?! escape his mouth, you can't help the laugh that bubbles out straight from your belly
𑣲 summary: at 1am, bakugo saves you from the club.
𑣲 pairing: bakugo x reader
𑣲 wc: 3.0k | 𑣲 tags: college au, fluff
"Y/N, please!" Your friend begs as he practically throws himself at your feet, hands clasped together in a praying gesture. "Look, I know it sounds daunting but I promise you that clubbing is going to be hella fun!"
"A-Ah, I don't know…" You mumble, rubbing your nape awkwardly and staring down at your friend who has been hounding you to go to the club alongside a bunch of people you don't really know. He claims that college life is all about getting high on alcohol in the club but you would much rather stay in your dorm and watch a movie or two. You'd walk away from your friend right now and head back to your dorm room but you always have difficulties turning people down and your friend seems perfectly aware of this fact as he starts begging you again.
With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly give in and agree to go the club with your friend and his friends. His eyes light up immediately as he leaps to both feet with a holler of joy before patting your shoulder with a grin. "That's the spirit! Now we have enough people for their special campaign."
"Er, what special campaign?" You echo nervously, watching as your friend pulls out his phone and starts texting his friends immediately, the grin permanently sewn onto his lips.
"Oh, just some discount on bottles." Your friend answers you dismissively with a wave of his hand before he looks at you up and down. "Go get changed, Y/N. You should wear something more appropriate for a club. I'll meet you at the entrance of your dorm building in 15 minutes!"
And just like that, your friend dashes off without another word. You stare at his retreating back before looking down at your comfortable hoodie and sweats. With another heavy sigh, you trudge back to your dorm room and dig through your wardrobe for something 'club appropriate', already having a feeling that you'll heavily regret saying yes.
⋆˚౨ৎ ⋆.˚
You definitely regret saying yes when your 'friend' ditches you the moment he and his group make it past the bouncers and a beeline straight to the tables of the club.
The club is wild. The people are reckless. The ground thumps furiously from the insane bass of a remix of some hot pop music you don't really know. The functional lights are dim and you can barely find your way around, the eilepsy-inducing lights of the strobe blinding you every now and then if you look at a certain angle. The dance floor is a writhing mass of sweaty bodies glued together and you're lost in this massive club where everything is too loud and too bright but also kinda dim and you're seconds away from an episode of sensory overload.
You stumble away from the bar and towards a quiet spot, flattening yourself against the wall in an attempt to remain grounded. You look around wildly for the way out but you can't figure out where you once came from and you groan, squeezing your eyes shut to calm your rapidly beating heart and to formulate a plan in your head.
You barely manage another thought when an unfamiliar pressure looms in front of you, forcing you to open your eyes suddenly to see a man staring at you through half-lidded eyes, a wolfish grin dancing on his lips as his words come out in a tangled slur.
Oh yea, this guy is definitely drunk. You swallow thickly, your stomach curling into a tense knot as you duck in an attempt to escape from man who throws out an arm and grabs your wrist, his grin turning into a soured snarl as he tries to yank you towards him.
You scream bloody murder but with how loud the music blaring in the background is, no one hears you in this secluded corner of the club. Tears well up in your eyes immediately as you continue resisting, the stench of booze the man reeks of dulling your strength.
Another figure invades your vision suddenly, his tall frame suddenly in between you and the drunk creep as he delivers a swift punch to the creep's face, sending him hurtling somewhere that you don't even care about. You stumble backwards from the sudden freedom, your back hitting the wall, and you look up to see your classmate Katsuki Bakugo looming in front of your protectively, his jaw tense and fingers still curled into a tight fist.
"Fuckin' creep." Bakugo mutters before he growls. "Keep your hands to yourself, dumbass."
Bakugo turns to you, his eyes softening slightly. "You ok?" He questions cautiously, uncurling his fist and reaching out towards you. You flinch instinctively, overwhelmed from everything that has just happened in the span of 5 minutes and Bakugo freezes like he's been zapped with static, his hand stopping mid-air.
"You're safe now." Bakugo murmurs as he inches towards you slowly, keeping his movements as small as possible. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"I-I know." You choke out before you inhale another shaky breath. You know Katsuki Bakugo would never do anything to hurt you from how he treats the girls in the class which you've witnessed. "Sorry, I just…"
"Nothin' to be sorry about." Bakugo shakes his head as you finally look at him up and down, realising how he looks like someone who just dashed out of his dorm from the jacket, tee shirt and the sweatpants he is wearing. "Can I hold your hand? I'm going to get you out of here."
You nod, relieved, as you wipe your tears away furiously before cleaning your hands on your top and offering it to Bakugo who takes it, sharing his natural warmth with you. He leads the way out and you follow behind him closely, afraid of being separated from him.
The cool midnight air kisses your exposed skin as you shiver involuntarily, yet you've never been this happy to see the moon and the stars in the night sky. The music of the club dulls into a faded murmur in the background as you finally release the breath you've been holding, still shaken up from the entire encounter. Something soft that smells awfully like Bakugo's heat settles on you and you look up to see Bakugo pulling his jacket around your shoulders.
"It's cold." He says simply before pointing towards the end of the alleyway. "Bus stop's that way."
You nod as you pull his jacket tighter around yourself. Bakugo digs his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants before he leads the way out of the alley and onto the main road.
Silence is all there is as the two of you walk side by side towards the bus stop before you finally break it with a timid question. "How did you know I was there?"
Bakugo glances at you slightly before he sighs loudly and rakes a hand through his spiky blonde hair. "Saw you with your friends in front of the dorm building. Thought something didn't feel right so I followed after you but I lost you the moment I got into the club. Took some time before I found you."
"Something didn't feel right?" You echo quietly.
"Yea." Bakugo's voice is low and quiet which is unusually uncharacteristic of him. "You looked uncomfortable as hell. Did you actually agree to go with them to the club?"
You tighten your grip on the hems of Bakugo's jacket. "My friend asked me to go so I… said yes."
Bakugo's jaw ticks. "You can't say no?"
"I tried." You mumble in a tired and weary voice.
Bakugo clenches his teeth. "How did you end up alone by yourself?"
You don't answer, still hurt by the betrayal of your 'friend' and your silence is all Bakugo needs as he swears faintly under his breath. "Rat bastard… I'm going to fuckin' confront him. Make him get on his knees and apologise to you."
"No, don't." You turn your head quickly, offering Bakugo a strained smile. "I-I don't want any confrontations. I'm just going to cut him off silently."
Bakugo frowns slightly at you before he lets out a vexed sigh, nudging you towards the empty seat at the bus stop. "If you insist."
You sit down, relief fluttering across your face as your aching soles are momentarily spared from the biting pain of high heels. Bakugo says nothing at all as he takes a seat beside you and fishes out his phone, scrolling on the screen with a placid look on his face. The two of you wait for the bus in complete silence as the harsh gale of the midnight wind tumbles in between the two of you.
A few minutes later, the bus that goes back to the dorm pulls up to the bus stop with a quiet rumble. You stand up and wince, the pain underneath your soles flaring up once more as you get onto the bus and tap your card before plopping onto a nearby seat. Bakugo sits beside you afterwards and silence returns once more.
You turn your head towards the window as the bus moves off, streetlights catching up to you before falling behind as you fall into your own thoughts. Bakugo scrolls on his phone again, right leg crossing over his left knee as he places an arm on the back of the seat behind you. Your eyelids grow heavy, physically and mentally exhausted before they close by themselves and you start to nod off while sitting upright.
"If you're tired, you can rest on me." Bakugo says casually, typing something on his phone with one hand.
Your cheeks flush red, embarrassed that you got caught so fast. You clear your throat quietly before mumbling a soft word of thanks and you lean towards Bakugo gingerly, resting on his chest. Bakugo doesn't even flinch from the close proximity while your heart starts to prance around like a frantic rabbit.
"Do you do this often?" You murmur, the quiet rumble of the moving bus lulling you close to dreamland.
"Do what?" Bakugo's voice drift into your ears.
"Saving girls from the club." Your body gradually grows slack.
"I saved girls from other stuff, but you're the first that I saved from a creep in a club." Bakugo snorts lightly before he hums.
"Oh." You mumble, shoulders slumping. Now you just look like a damsel in miserable distress.
"How did you even become friends with the person who ditched you?" Bakugo asks, his voice holding a tinge of suspicion.
"We're from the same college club. He started talking to me out of nowhere and we became friends. But recently he only comes to me for favours or help." You sigh quietly.
"He's taking advantage of you." Bakugo's voice drops into a low growl of irritation. "You better cut him off. No point having such a stupid idiot in your life."
"I will." You squeeze your eyes shut, listening to Bakugo's heartbeat that thuds in your ears. Never in your whole college life could you have imagined that you would be spilling your problems to Katsuki Bakugo in an empty bus at 1AM in the morning, something so surreal it doesn't even feel real.
"We're close." Bakugo murmurs after a few minutes as the familiar outline of the campus springs up in view. You straighten your back, lifting yourself off Bakugo's chest with a quiet yawn. The bus stops at the back of the campus and you scrunch up your face as you get off the bus, knowing that you'll have to drag your feet trapped in those tight high heels of yours to the dorm building.
Bakugo looks at you with a raised eyebrow. "Feet hurts?" He asks simply to which you nod your head, embarrassed again.
With a quiet sigh, Bakugo presents his back to you as he kneels down. "Get on."
You blink your eyes in disbelief. "Huh?"
Bakugo looks at you over his shoulder, frowning slightly before he repeats himself and pats his back.
Oh. Katsuki Bakugo is offering to piggyback you. You're mortified at such a thought, but your feet are really dying from the high heels and you don't really want to drag yourself back to dorm barefooted. You swallow nervously and gently lower yourself onto Bakugo's back, arms draping over his shoulders as he hooks his arms underneath your knees. Slowly and carefully, Bakugo rises to his feet without even a single grunt and starts the journey back to the dorm. You rest your head on his shoulder, soothed by how naturally warm he is even in the icy chill of the night.
"Sorry." You mumble, legs dangling as you grab your wrist with one hand.
"What for?" Bakugo asks without even a break in his stride.
"For troubling you." You think about how it is only a Wednesday and how Bakugo might have morning classes tomorrow when you don't, yet he choose to follow after you for your sake and your heart squeezes itself from guilt.
Bakugo huffs as if you've just insulted him. "That's hardly something to be sorry about. Learn to apologise to yourself first. You're letting people walk all over you."
"Yea." You tighten your grip on your wrist, the sharp sting of the betrayal flaring up once more. "I guess I was desperate for... companionship. Somebody in my life that actually gives a F about me."
"Hmph." Bakugo makes a sound before he sighs loudly. "If you're that desperate, you can hang out with me."
"B-But," You stutter, heart skipping a beat at the suggestion. "I don't want to intrude on you. Or your clique."
"I wouldn't care." Bakugo snorts. "And I'll make sure the other guys will not care either. We have a class together tomorrow right?"
"Yea." You nod your head even if Bakugo cannot see you. "Right before lunch."
"Cool. We can grab lunch together then." You can almost hear the satisfied smirk on Bakugo's lips. "Don't ditch me, okay?"
You manage a giggle as Bakugo dips into the lobby of the dorm building, refusing to let you down even when you ask. It is only when he reaches the front of your dorm room that he finally lets you down onto the ground carefully, saving your feet from dying. You're quick to strip off the high heels and a sigh of relief immediately tumbles from your mouth.
You turn around, smiling warmly at Bakugo. "Thanks." You whisper before remembering that you're still wearing his jacket. "Your jacket, wait, let me give it back."
"Nah." Bakugo waves a hand dismissively, the other hand tucked into the pocket of his sweatpants before he smirks lightly at you. "Your eye bags are awful. It'll probably help you to sleep better so keep it."
"Seriously?" You utter before you laugh quietly, shaking your head in disbelief.
"Seriously." Bakugo echoes, his smirk never fading before he raises his hand to wave at you. "Go to bed. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Okay. Thanks, Bakugo. See you." You say with a soft smile before you close the door shut and lock it, the sound of Bakugo's footsteps fading into nothingness. You flick the light switch and take a quick and warm shower before doing your nightly routine and flopping straight into bed, hugging Bakugo's jacket.
You don't know if it's the natural smell of Bakugo on his jacket, or the fact that you can still feel some of his soothing heat lingering on the fabric, but Bakugo is completely right for you end up having the most restful sleep that night while cuddled up with his jacket.
—
"Alright, that's all for today." Your professor says with a smile as the lecture wraps up. You immediately start packing up your belongings with excited hands because it's finally lunch time. You're eager to eat something since you're kinda hungry and also pleased that you won't be eating alone since Bakugo has invited you to eat lunch with him.
A strangely familiar shadow falls over you as you freeze. You lift your head to see your 'friend' with a sleazy grin. "Hey Y/N, there's this bar that I wanna go to. Come with me."
You stiffen instinctively, both humiliated and angered by his lack of guilt as if he did not ditch you last night at the club. You're about to utter a firm no when Bakugo appears beside you in an instant with a venomous scowl on his face.
"Fuck off, dude. She's busy with me tonight." Bakugo snaps, putting an arm around your shoulder. "And every other night too, so stop lookin' for her."
Your 'friend' looks at Bakugo and back at you before he throws his head back and laughs, an ugly grating laugh that forces embarrassment into your system. "What, Y/N, did you pay Bakugo to be your bodyguard or some shit? There's no way in hell you could have ever bagged him!"
Bakugo's nostrils flare, his teeth gnashed together and he raises a fist for a good punch, but you're quick to tug on his shirt as you plead him silently using your eyes. Bakugo frowns at you before he slowly lowers his fist and pulls you even closer towards him.
"Ah, Y/N, you're really a joke." Your 'friend' wipes his tears away before he shakes his head at you, whether out of amusement or disappointment and chortles loudly. "You're not that rich either, so I guess you must have paid him with your body. But damn, your body's not even that nice anyway. How many times did you have to sleep with him so that he would act like a dog towards you?"
The pin drop silence in the lecture hall is astounding before it slowly dawns upon your 'friend' that everyone else in the class, including the professor, has just heard what he said. The look of horror stretching on his face has never been more satisfying as he turns around to see the rest of the class staring back at him with looks of disgust right as Bakugo raises a hand, calling for the professor. "Professor, you heard what he said right? This bastard is shit talking my girlfriend."
You whip your gaze towards Bakugo, mouth agape from the fact that Bakugo casually referred to you as his girlfriend.
When the creep is finally hauled off by your professor who is less than pleased and the other students start gossiping, you tug on Bakugo's shirt furiously. "Why did you call me your girlfriend?"
"For added effect." Bakugo says with an amused smirk before he slips into the seat next to you and gazes at you, his crimson eyes shining. "It's a shame it's not true though."
Your cheeks heat up immediately, your mind suddenly blank and empty.
Bakugo grins at your reaction before he leans in towards you and taps on your hand lightly. "Do you want to make it real with me?"
a/n: my only experience at the club was with my university friends right before COVID hit. i actually really enjoyed it, there's just something euphoric about getting that buzz, eating hotpot at 4am and then waiting for the first train back home. now i'm old and i can't keep my eyes open past 1am.
summary: a sparring session with kirishima gets a little out of hand, and being the only medic able to deal with katsuki bakugou, you’re left with the aftermath.
content: fluff + SMUT - mdni ! boxer!bkg + medic!reader. kiri feature! blood & injury. feelings!!! tension. lots of banter. clear consent. semi-public. making out. thigh riding. slight marking / hickeys. fondling. titty sucking. fingerfucking. cum eating. bkg does not get off but he is fine w that. there is a quite a bit of build up before the smut lol. wc: 5.2k.
note: #needthat
masterlist. | header art credit: @ ami_ranthao on tiktok !
In the ring, he came alive. An absolute powerhouse, brute force and flawless technique bleeding together to create Katsuki Bakugou, one of the best up and coming boxers of your time. Everyone was a little enamored— a perfect face paired with such a vulgar tongue, an ego backed with the skill to match.
His win-or-nothing attitude led him to the top, but also caused complications with his medical staff. A few too many outbursts had scared them into backing down, allowing him to keep pushing despite his injuries.
Until you were hired a few months ago.
The first day you were assigned to him, the other medics had either snickered or grimaced, having each had their own share of bad luck with him. It seemed to be some rite of passage among them. When you met him, you understood exactly what the others had meant. There was enough fire behind that stare to send anyone skittering away.
But, to their surprise, you had returned back in one piece, with a perfectly bandaged Katsuki trailing behind you; glowering with something like an irritated smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, but tended to.
You were the only medic that could handle him.
Which is why you were spending your Saturday evening with your knees drawn to your chest on a bench at the edge of the boxing gym as he sparred with his close friend, and fellow boxer, Eijirou Kirishima.
The sound of their collective panting filled the air, the thud of fists against skin echoing off the walls as they tested each other.
Quick jabs, hits to the ribs; it was push and pull as they were nearly on equal ground, two decorated professionals with national titles.
You had to keep a close eye— track his movements to take note of any injuries, run over how exactly you would deal with each one. It was your job to.
But, admittedly, you found your gaze wandering against your will lately. More often than you wanted to admit.
It was difficult to ignore the way his biceps flexed with each jab, how soft blond tufts fell over his face, stuck to the sweat lining his forehead, the low hang of his boxing shorts highlighted his abs straining with each motion.
"Fuck!"
The sharp curse broke your trance, eyes snapping up, immediately alert.
Eijirou's hands flew over his mouth, his fighter's stance softening, hesitant hands reaching out towards his friend whose head was angled down, fighting to not reel.
"Woah, man, I am so sorry—"
Katsuki slapped his hand away, wiping at the blood beginning to drip down his nose with the back of his hand, unyielding eyes meeting Eijirou's.
"Keep it goin', Shitty Hair. And you,"
He didn't bother to look at you as you approached, keeping his burning stare on his opponent while waving you off with a harsh motion of his free hand. "Get back."
His bite was nothing new. You didn't bother to fight the eye roll, stepping closer to assess the extent of the damage. "Don't be dumb. Let me look."
"You deaf or something? Beat it."
More blood trickled down, coming over the curve of his lip. You had worked with Katsuki long enough to know that he pushed himself until he was battered, had nothing left to give.
Your job was to keep that from happening.
With a sigh, you grabbed him by the crook of his elbow.
"You are gushing blood. Come on—"
"Get your fuckin' hands off me, you piece of—"
"Again, don't be dumb—"
Eijirou blinked between the two of you, watching as you wrestled to keep Katsuki's arm in your grip, ineffectively attempting to drag him away. With a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes, he began to take backwards steps towards the bench where he kept his water, knowing there was little else he could do in this situation.
"I'm gonna take five. Go with her, man."
Feeling Katsuki's resistance give in just enough, you tugged him towards the med bay, giving Eijirou a grateful look over your shoulder. You hoped he didn't feel too guilty. Sparring was never supposed to get this intense, after all. But, mistakes happened.
You offered soft apologies under your breath to the few nurses on the same late shift as you were with a tight smile as you rushed past them to guide him into the room at the very back, shutting the door behind you.
It was just you two now.
Katsuki was still panting, worked up from the fight. There was probably enough adrenaline in his system to keep him from feeling the real pain of his affliction.
You pushed him back onto the bed against the wall to your right with a hand over his chest, feeling the warm muscle rise up and down under your palm before you turned to rummage through the cabinet, fishing out a medical kit with a crease forming between your brows.
"Are you trying to get yourself put on medical leave before your match next week?"
He didn't say a word, only the sound of his heavy breathing filling the room as you felt his glare against your back.
You sighed.
"Right before I get off too..."
"Yeah," He scoffed, a mocking edge to his voice. "'Cause I did that shit on purpose."
"You kept pushing. That was stupid and you know it, the best athletes know when to call it quits."
Katsuki scoffed, his jutted lower lip pursing as you set down the kit beside him, opening it up to fish out some gauze. "Maybe we should get you in the ring. Since you're such an expert."
You pushed his thighs apart with an unimpressed look, standing between them to get as close as you could.
A hand went behind his neck, gently tilting his head down so the blood wouldn't trickle back into his nose, go down his throat.
You carefully pinched the sides of his nose bridge to stop the blood flow, wiping away at what had escaped with clean gauze.
“You love making my life harder,” you muttered under your breath. “Can’t you just admit I'm right? Say you’ll be more careful?”
“The day I say that shit you can put a gun to my head.”
You rolled your eyes, but he continued.
"I don't say shit I don't mean," he sighed out, abs flexing as he winced slightly. “If your meddling ass didn't get in the way, I would've won.”
“Or you would've gotten your ass beat, but whatever.”
“I've had worse. A fucked up nose is nothing."
"Is that supposed to be a good thing?" you raised a brow, getting a new piece of gauze. "You never know when to stop, Katsuki. That's your issue."
The room settled into silence only the hum of the AC, your shifting, and the quiet, reluctant winces that slipped past as you tended to him.
His eyes never left you.
Sometimes, you wondered why.
Why he allowed you to treat him, why he let you get close. But you shook yourself out of those thoughts, reaching down to grab an ice pack. No time to get sidetracked, not now. Especially on something that was very likely nothing.
"Bleeding stopped."
He didn't respond, eyes downcast as you alternated between pressing it to either side of his nose bridge.
When he finally spoke, his words were quick. Quiet.
"I was going for his blind spot."
Said like he had to explain himself to you, or maybe himself.
But he didn't have to. You knew that his slip ups were extremely rare, he never made the same mistake twice— he beat himself up over every error, obsessed over earned perfection, victory.
His high standards for himself were what got him so far, but you knew they got to him. That, quietly, he sometimes needed reassurance, like anyone would.
“I know you were.” you finally responded, voice gentle, without pity.
"Eijirou's right side was open and he was getting tired. That was the right move. You would've gotten him."
He blinked down at you, as if assessing your honesty before a slight smile touched his lips. He gripped the edge of the small bed a little tighter, leaning down closer.
"Knew you were starin'."
Your heart jumped in your chest, but you pushed it down.
"Well, that is my job."
"It's your job to watch for injuries. Not stare."
You couldn't help what came out of your mouth next.
"Maybe I was staring at Eijirou."
"You think you're so funny."
"I think your ego's inflated."
"Wanna say that again?"
You pressed the ice a little too harshly into the side of his nose, drawing a small groan from him.
"Save it, Katsuki."
You packed up your kit and gathered the bloodied gauze to throw away, rinsing your hands before coming back to assess your work.
Blood clean, no signs of continued bleeding. A small bruise forming under his right eye from the trauma, expected.
It took everything in you to ignore the weight of his eyes, how he looked at you with an intensity reserved for his opponents in the ring. Calculating, searching. You could feel the burn crawling up the back of your neck. Professional, keep it professional.
You nodded a little too quickly, turning on your heel. "Yep, all good. No more sparring, but you can go back now."
He tugged you by the back of your shirt collar before you got too far, pulling you back between his legs, face only inches away from yours.
"You don't want that."
The sudden proximity along with his words made your heart spike, as if caught.
What did you want? The question made you uneasy.
(Or, maybe it was the answer that you knew deep down that made you want to crawl out of your skin.)
You pushed back slightly, deflecting.
“I want you to see Dr. Tanaka as soon as you can. I'll make an appointment for tomorrow morning since he left for the day. I think your nose is broken.”
“No it's not.”
It wasn't. If it had been broken, you would've known from one look, you would have been angrier with him. But that was your out, your excuse to get away. And he had called your bluff, gaze unmoving.
"Don't play dumb right now."
“I'm not playing dumb." the words came snappy, brave; but you were just so close, that fire faltered. His hand that had gripped the back of your collar had shifted carefully to the front, so close to your neck that you were afraid he might feel your heart try to burst out of your throat.
"You're just…" you trailed off, struggling to find your words. "…difficult. You're being difficult.”
"Difficult?" a dry sort of laugh. "You're the difficult one. For someone smart you can be pretty fuckin' dense."
You bit the inside of your lower lip, eyes darting between him and the door.
You knew what he meant. This back and forth between you was nothing new. But when it got too real you had always gotten away, said something and acted like nothing had happened once you cooled down.
The sounds outside seemed to be getting louder, closer. These doors didn’t have locks. Anyone could come in, find you like this. One of the nurses checking in, a gym goer looking for band-aids.
“Or maybe you do know. Hm?”
The question pulled you from your thoughts in an instant, made your eyes snap to his— first mistake. Once his crimson stare bored into yours, you couldn’t look away.
Could you have been that obvious? You thought your moments of distraction were fleeting, imperceptible to the average eye.
He had never commented on it before, slipping back to his normal self even after your closest calls.
But you should’ve known better. Katsuki Bakugou was not average in any sense of the word.
(Of course, he noticed. Of course he did.)
You sputtered something before you could think, just wanting to hear something other than the sound of your own thoughts.
"Some…someone could—"
"No one's gonna come in." his voice flat, dismissal easy. All matter of fact as he craned his neck down closer to you.
"Unless you want Eijirou to come in. Since you were, what, staring at him, right? That what you want?"
"What?!" the word was almost a squeak, high and taken aback. "That's not— "
You fought the strange heat crawling up your face by shooting him a look, eyes narrowing.
"Katsuki. I was joking."
He hummed.
(Unbelieving? Amused? A bit of both?)
"Sure you were."
You opened your mouth, then closed it. The deflections that had once come so easy were heavy on your tongue. There was no joke, no eye roll, nothing you could say to slip away. Not this time.
You sighed, next words defeated.
"What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to be real with me." you could feel his breath against your lips; hot, charged. "Tell me you don’t want this, that you haven't thought about it.”
“Katsuki…”
It came out weaker than you wanted. Small, kind of breathless. Almost pleading.
For what— to let you go?
(To keep going?)
He kept egging, eyes not once leaving yours. “Say it. I'll stop.”
And you knew he would. Because he was being serious, you could tell by his voice— how it was low under his breath, softened.
For you, he was being intentionally careful.
Just the thought made you want to cave. But the entire reason your relationship worked, why you were able to handle him, was because you didn't give in.
"There are rules about this sort of thing—"
"You think I give a fuck about bullshit rules?"
"Yeah, I know you don't." you gave him a look. "But I do. I could lose my job, you could get me fired, or…"
You swallowed back the rest of it.
He didn't have to know how it made you afraid, testing the fragile nature of this relationship. How giving in meant that all of this could shatter, that this could all amount to one big mistake.
Katsuki blinked, taking in your expression. He looked off to the side for a beat, lips pursing in thought before, carefully, he took your hands into his.
"You know I won't let that happen. I don't see any of the other shitty medics here."
You snorted a little. Because you did know. You cocked your head to the side, a small smile tugging at your lips. "They're not shitty."
He didn't retaliate, just raised his brows slowly. The truth of his words wasn't what mattered, it was the implication behind them.
(You're the one I see. You.)
His earlier words rang in your ears.
Tell me you don't want this, that you haven't thought about it.
You couldn't, because you had.
Countless times— whenever you watched him hover over his opponents, keep them locked underneath him, the heat in his eyes, a cocky smile on his lips.
He wormed his way into your mind, more often than not, late at night. When sleep couldn't find you and your bed felt exceptionally cold. Empty.
(Him. You imagined him.)
Denying all of that was exactly what you should have done. That would have been the rational thing to do, the smart thing.
But as you traced his face, followed the soft curve of his cheeks against the otherwise harsh lines, watched the furrow of his brow deepen ever so slightly, as if he, of all people, was nervous— you couldn't fight the feeling anymore.
Because you wanted to kiss him, and you wanted him to kiss you— more than anything.
Hesitantly, you brushed your thumbs over the bruises on his knuckles.
“No, I… I do. Want this, I mean."
Something in his expression shifted. Surprise, for a brief second, before that cocky gleam in his eyes that you had seen when he was in-action settled over his face. Only, a little different. (A little sharper, hungrier.)
"Yeah?" he pushed closer, nose just barely brushing yours. "You want this?"
Slowly, you nodded.
"Yes."
His gaze darted from your eyes and lips before the sliver of space between you finally disappeared.
The kiss was tentative, careful. So unlike him that it caught you a little off guard.
Soft. His lips were so soft against yours.
He kissed you like he was trying to figure out the shape of your lips, go slow enough to savor the moment, commit the feeling to memory. The hand near your collar came up to cup your jaw, angle your face just right.
You had thought about what this would feel like for longer than you would ever admit. Did he think of you the same way? Were you what he had expected?
When he pulled back just enough to breathe, he drank in your expression; your pretty lips plush and parted, wide doe-eyes blinking up at him.
He groaned, "Fuck it."
You yelped when calloused hands gripped your arms, hoisted you up like you weighed nothing, thick biceps flexing as he pulled you down to straddle his thigh.
You planted your hands on his chest to steady yourself on instinct, unable to process it for a second. Your thighs were around his leg, his hands at your waist, holding you in a way you had only ever thought would exist in the secret fantasies you let yourself indulge in. The small bed creaking under your combined weight. His chest rising and falling under your palms.
Sometimes, you forgot how strong he actually was. How he wasn’t just some other annoying, short-tempered guy— his body was molded to his profession; brute strength and jagged lines carved from a life in the ring. His shoulders broad, a tapering waist, arms nearly the size of your head. He could probably pick you up and snap you in half if he really wanted to. Your stomach flipped at just the thought.
Before you could open your mouth to speak, he flexed the muscle of his thigh; deliberate, testing. Sharp eyes watching as your face flushed at his bare muscle pressing up against your core.
Your breath hitched, warmth pooled down between your legs, heart beating in your ears as his large hands slid down to rest over your hips, holding you steady— pulling you down closer.
"Feel good?"
Your ears burned at the mocking edge to his voice. You squirmed, caught between wanting to slap that smug look off his face and slowly seek more friction by grinding down.
You didn't have to choose, not when his hands slowly guided your hips down, back and forth against his hardened muscle. You bit your bottom lip between your teeth, clearly embarrassed, ineffectively fighting the whimpers that threatened to slip past with each movement.
His gaze never once left you, taking note of every little reaction.
Heat crawled up your face at being watched so shamelessly.
Leaning forward, you distracted yourself by pressing soft kisses up the side of his throat, staring to grind down on him yourself, your tongue darting out before gently sucking soft marks into his skin.
He let out a strained sigh, tilting his neck back just enough to give you more access.
You hooked your arms loosely around his neck, pecking across his jaw. Your fingers curled into the hair at his nape, giving it a soft tug, pulling his head back so his eyes met yours.
Pupils blown, eyes heavy with want, hair falling over them all messy and disheveled.
You didn't know how you had gone so long without this, how you could have ever wanted to keep your distance. Now that you let yourself have a taste, you didn't think you could ever get enough.
Tugging him to you by the hair, you pulled him to kiss you again.
This time, it was feverish, insatiable. Months of tension and denied desire pouring over all at once.
He kissed like he was still chasing you; like he had something to prove, like he wanted you to feel that you were his favorite taste. A clash of tongue and teeth, nipping at your bottom lip. Each time he pulled back to breathe it lasted less than a beat before he rushed back to steal the soft sounds that slipped past your lips as your hips continued to buck against his thigh.
But the fabric, it was in the way. No matter how hard you grinded down on him, there was too much between you and what you wanted, and the frustration was showing. Your slight sighs turning into small huffs, brows pinching against your will.
The next time Katsuki pulled back, you didn't let him kiss you again. The small string of saliva between your lips broke as you spoke, softly panting. "I want 'em off."
He looked down at your request, pinching the fabric of your pants between his index and thumb. Eyes looking up into yours carefully, like he was uncertain if that was something you really wanted.
You nodded, a little frantic.
"Off. Please."
He got straight to it. Getting them off wasn't pretty, but a controlled sort of desperate.
His movements were precise as always, fairly smooth, but you could feel that something was simmering under his palms as he moved you around to get them off just right, even more so when they finally rested over your bare legs, eyes slightly dazed as he gave the flesh a tentative squeeze.
You bit your lip at the feeling, skin burning under his touch, wanting it all over you.
You glanced down at your shirt.
"This too."
He scoffed, but there was something like a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "Fuckin' bossy."
His hands slid under the hem, bunching the fabric up over your chest, too impatient to get it all the way off. He reached back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor as he took in the shape of your bare chest, the way your nipples hardened at the cool air of the clinic.
For a beat too long, he just stared.
On instinct, you wondered if something was wrong, if there was something about you that was weird or unappealing, the feeling twisted in you. But before you could tug your shirt back down, he cupped your tits with both hands, feeling the weight of them, squeezing slightly.
"Been waiting for this shit for so fuckin' long, y'know that?" He groaned out, leaning forward to bury his face into them.
You whimpered as he pressed wet kisses across the skin, thumb brushing over one of your nipples while his tongue lolled out to lick over the other, sucking it between his lips.
You began grinding down on his thigh again, the feeling so much more intense with just your panties on. You shifted your hips to find the angle that felt best, rubbing yourself down against the hard muscle of his thigh beneath you, solid and perfect, the friction sending sparks up your spine, your breaths coming out in shallow pants.
Each roll of your hips made your breath come a little faster, especially as his mouth pulled off one of your tits to give the other a fair share of attention.
Your nails dug into his shoulders when he nipped at your chest, sucking harshly, catching your sensitive peak between his teeth just to hear you whine. His tongue was hot against your skin, wet and needy.
Katsuki could feel your arousal starting to coat his thigh, soaking through your panties, smearing over his leg with every drag of your hips. Smiling against your chest, he pulled back with a soft pop, looking down at the glistening mess you left behind.
He moved a hand down between your bodies, slightly nudging your hips up with his leg to give him enough space in between to feel you over your panties, the fabric evidently damp as his index and middle finger stopped right above your clothed clit, pressing against it just slightly, enough to pull a shaky sigh from your lips.
"All this from just my thigh?"
There was a smug, slightly demeaning tone to his voice, like he was surprised you were so wet, as if it wasn't his fault. It made you want to throttle him. Or kiss him. Or both.
Your brows furrowed. "Shut up."
He only chuckled, drawing a line down your clothed slit. All slow, agonizing. Self-satisfied at the soft whimper that slips out of you.
"It's a simple fucking question. Haven't even touched you properly yet."
You huffed, mustering your most serious expression to meet his eyes. "God, just quit teasing, Katsuki. You're being mean."
He raised his brows, that smile on his face only widening. "You think this is mean?"
Finally, finally, he hooked his fingers into your panties, pushing them aside. The first touch, skin-on-skin, made you gasp. He dragged his fingers between your folds, coating them in your slick, slow and deliberate, before circling your entrance.
"I can show you mean."
His eyes were locked between your legs, watching his own fingers move. "Look at you," he murmured, almost to himself. “Fucking soaked."
He pushed one finger inside, slow enough that you felt every inch. You whimpered softly, walls fluttering around him.
He groaned softly, watching your face contort, feeling himself get even harder in his shorts.
"Tight," he breathed. "Gonna add another. That okay?"
You nodded frantically, beyond words.
The second finger stretched you more, made you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning too loud. He worked them deeper, curling them slightly. Your chest heaved at the intrusion you fought to not cry out, your nails digging into his shoulder as he hit just the right spot.
"There?" His voice was rough, satisfied. "That the spot?"
You couldn't respond, forehead falling into the crook of his neck, clinging to him as he curled his fingers again, rubbing that soft patch inside you with devastating precision.
Once he found it, he didn't stop, pumping his fingers in and out, hitting it with precision each time.
You grinded down into his hand, feeling the heel of his palm press up against your clit. You chase the feeling, shameless. Lost in the sensation, the overwhelming feeling of him all around you.
You mumbled into the skin of his neck incoherently about how you were: "Almost… 'm gonna…"
You could hear his voice right by your ear. Hoarse, determined.
“Yeah?” his efforts nearly doubled. “Close?”
You could only nod, coherent thoughts gone from your mind, only a desperate haze of want.
"Yeah. Yes. Please, please more…"
He kept at it, silently savoring your desperate sounds.
You wrapped your arms tight around his neck, moans muffled into his skin as the tightly wound up knot came undone. Your breaths getting heavy in your lungs, head getting fuzzy, eyes fluttering shut, nails having left angry red lines down the skin of his upper back.
He ran a hand up and down your back as you collapsed against him, coming down from the high. He let you rest against him, breathing from a moment before pulling you back with a small kiss to the side of your head.
"Look at me."
It didn't sound like a request.
"Hm?"
You watched with hazy eyes as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, the loss making you whimper. They glistened under the harsh light of the clinic, coated with the evidence of what he'd just done to you.
He held your gaze as he brought them to his mouth. His tongue darted out first, licking a long strip up the slick-covered fingers. Then, he took them fully into his mouth, sucking them clean, eyes never once leaving yours.
Your breath caught in your throat. Heat flooded through you again, despite having just come. Tasting you off his own fingers like you were the best thing he'd ever had— it was almost too much.
When he finally pulled his fingers from his mouth with a soft pop, he smirked at your expression.
"Tastes good," he said simply, like commenting on the weather.
You clenched around nothing, already missing him inside you, feeling spent but somehow needing more.
"You're shameless."
"Last I checked, I wasn't the one humping your thigh."
Your face burned, a small, angry sort of pout settling on your lips.
He snickered, hand sliding up to your waist, giving it a small squeeze. "Little too late to get all embarrassed. Shit was hot."
"Uh huh…" You gave him a look, "Um. Thanks, by the way... that was—" You trailed off, not knowing how to express what you feel just the right way. "Good. It was good."
Katsuki snorted. "Just good?" you rolled your eyes, but leaned into his teasing with sweetness, something he didn't quite expect.
"Much better than good."
He searched your eyes for a beat, a hand coming up to brush back some of your hair. Then he pecked your lips— soft, almost sweet — before tugging your shirt back down carefully.
That was when you slowly realized, he was wrapping this up. But… he didn't cum?
He didn't cum.
"Hey, wait you didn't—"
He knew what you were talking about, the strained bulge in his shorts was nothing short of obvious.
"Does it look like I care."
His dismissal of his own need threw you off.
"Katsuki, that's not fair. I can't just—"
"Sure you can. You just did."
You turned his head towards you, pulling him into a soft kiss, parting his lips with yours, trying to not get lost in tasting yourself on his tongue. Gently trying to urge him to let you have him the way he had you.
You try to convince him, urge him to let you return the favor, do something.
You ran your hand over the bulge in his shorts, traced it gently, wanting. He groaned against your mouth, the sound strained in the back of his throat, like he was holding himself back. "C'mon, Katsuki," you palmed him over his shorts, wanting to hear more. "Let me? Please?"
He looked like he could give in, his jaw tense, eyes screwing shut as your finger hooked into the waistband of his shorts, drawing out a breathy sigh. You froze when the intercom crackled above you.
"The gym will be closing in ten minutes. Please begin wrapping up your sessions and make your way to the exit. Thank you."
You blinked. Fuck.
"…I can be quick?"
That was a lie. Ten minutes wasn't nearly enough time to do what you wanted to.
He waved you off with a snort, tugging your hand away from his throbbing cock, taking it upon himself to adjust the hem of your shirt with more care than you thought possible from someone like him.
"Relax." He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "Shit’s not a big deal. Can take care of it in the shower."
The mental image of him standing under the shower, hand wrapped around his cock, thinking about this — you — made something low in your stomach tighten.
You must have made a face, because he huffed out a laugh.
"But if you want to make it up so bad," He leaned in closer, nose brushing yours. The soft curve of his lashes was so much more apparent this close. He pressed a final, lingering kiss, grinning softly as he spoke. His voice low against your lips, promising. "We'll go for round 2."
may blabs: baby's first smut dont throw tomatoes at me.. ok
btw if u ever genuinely have a bloody nose do NOT tilt your head back. that blood will go down your throat and if it gets into ur stomach u could throw up and that is not good so do NOT do that ✌️✌️
big special thank u to the mutuals ( @updownandbatty & @cupidkats & @hushedlotus ) AND irls i bothered w this fic… u are goated ❤️🩹
again, art in the header is not mine, credits to the artist !!!
taglist: @nanakamii 𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ :
masterlist ★ taglist form ★ want to send in a request?
.✦ ݁˖ summary: you hate your boyfriend's new car, but katsuki thinks you just need to get to know each other a little more ... personally
+ hickeys, pet names, car sex, brief pussy slapping, cum eating, oral (f!receiving), pwp, katsuki refers to the porsche as his girl once... just trust me, implied kirimina (yeah boohoo)
The restaurant is loud, overlapping conversations, the sounds of cutlery clashing with stained porcelain — it's overwhelming. And so is the feeling of Katsuki fiddling with the hem of your dress.
In all honesty, you're finding it difficult to concentrate. Even as the couple in front of you poke and prod for details about your, not-so-personal lives, your mind can't help but wander to something else…
"So," the redhead starts, twirling pasta around his fork before glancing up at you, "do you like Bakugou's new car?"
Ah, yes — the Porsche.
The newest addition to the list of things Katsuki really didn't need, but bought anyway because he thought it was cool — second only to the five foot All Might figurine currently collecting dust in his office.
Your boyfriend first brought up the idea on a rainy Sunday in your shared home — limbs tangled together, skin stuck to one another as you melt into the rise and fall of his chest. It was a quiet morning — one filled with love making and breakfast in bed.
So, imagine your disdain when Katsuki ruined it with his stupid questions.
"I wanna buy a Porsche" he murmured, voice muffled against your hair, "you're cool with that, right?"
No. No, you weren't.
In fact, you expressed how "uncool" you were with it for two whole hours. Sharp words and even sharper glares thrown at the blonde in hopes it might change his mind.
An argument you were confident he'd back down from when sense was spoken into him by the person he loves most.
"Katsuki, those cars are for players. They're for guys who only think with their dick, or who only want to fuck in said car after they practically bankrupt themselves for it" you huff, shoving open the bathroom with the blonde hot on your tail. "Besides, we don't need it."
"C'mon, princess. You know I'm not like that." he mutters, arms caging you in against the counter as he watches you through the mirror, eyes locked on yours.
A low laugh escapes your lips.
"You're not gonna try to have sex with me in your car? At all?" you question.
There's a beat of silence as you wait for his answer, but the faint blush on his cheeks says enough.
"If you hate it, we'll get rid of it. Just give it two weeks."
You blink, "No sex?"
"… No sex in the car, won't even touch you when we get in there."
But that didn't happen — of course it didn't. In fact, he barely lasted three days before he was going back on his word. There was nothing Katsuki hated more than his two girls not getting along.
So, he did what had to be done.
"'Suki, fuck. Hold on a second-" you whine, nails digging into the orange leather seat as your hips stutter against his tongue. The rough hands that trail over your waist are the only thing that ground you as Katsuki laps at your slit like a starved man.
Every flick of his tongue is addictive, the soaked muscle sucking at your clit before it pokes and prods at your weeping hole. Your moans swallowed by the walls of the Porsche, leaving each sound louder than it should be.
"Feels good, huh?" he asks, as if the tears in your eyes don't say enough. He pulls away from your heat, gracing you with a sharp spank to your clit — nipping at your thighs before peering up at you with a dazed look.
Your jaw goes slack as he trails two fingers along your folds, toying with the slick before bringing it towards his lips. The tight space only makes him feel closer, his voice lower, heavier — as if Katsuki was everywhere at once.
Your hips buck helplessly as you search for the feeling of his fingers pressing inside you — but it never comes. Whining into the stifling heat of the car and fluttering your lashes to glance at the man between your thighs — windows fogging as you catch your breath.
"Kats, please" you grumble, giving light tugs to his hair as you try to guide his face back to your cunt. He only laughs at your feeble attempts, wrapping his, much larger hand around yours and bringing it to his lips.
"You still hate the car, Princess?" he questions, rushing the words out before he's pressing small kisses against your knuckles. Your skin sticks against the leather slightly, a constant reminder of where you were even when you try to ignore it. "Nothing's…changed your mind?"
A loud sigh escapes your lips, head lolling back before its met with the cool, tempered glass of the window.
Stupid fucking car.
"I'll move it to a strong dislike" you quip, shifting your gaze from his, suddenly, intimidating stare.
"You sure? Those nail marks in my seat say otherwise" he teases, trailing his fingers back along your slit before he's easing them inside you. You arch off the seat as much as the space of the car will allow, hips grinding against his tongue as he moves alongside the rhythmic thrusts of his fingers. "Wanna change your answer?"
And did you want to change your answer? Absolutely not. Then Katsuki and the car would win. But was the flick of his tongue making it harder to hold your own? Maybe a little bit.
"Mmm—fuckfuckfuck—yes, please. P-please, Katsuki." you gasp, his fingers only picking up in speed as he wipes his mouth with his free hand — you don't miss the knowing smirk on his face as he watches your body's reaction, the dim interior filled with short bursts of headlights through the tinted windows.
"There we go." he coos, moving up from his spot on the ground to hover over you, thick fingers continuing their assault on your sopping hole.
He smiles against your lips, planting a chaste kiss to them. His fingers coaxing you through your climax, as he whispers against the shell of your ear, "Doesn't it feel good to be honest?"
With the speed of his fingers, the humidity in the car and the way your mind can focus on nothing but him — you swear you see stars. Grinding against the padded leather as you ride out your high on the blonde's fingers.
The soft buzz of his phone cuts through the heated air, the brightness of the screen sending a brief ache to your irises.
He reads the message before he pockets it, already searching for where he discarded your panties not too long ago.
"What's it say?" you question, though it all comes out breathless.
A smirk ghosts on his lips before he speaks, "Eij and Raccoon Eyes will be there in 20" he says, guiding the lace onto your ankles before trailing it up to snap against your thighs. "We better get going"
…
"Hey, did you hear me? I asked what you thought about Bakugou's new whip" Eijiro smiles, giving a quick nudge to his girlfriend before finishing his sentence with a roll of bread between his teeth.
You try to ignore the flurries that creep up your body as Katsuki's fingers trail up your thighs, rubbing soothing circles on the bites he left on your skin mere minutes ago.
"Yeah," you smile, clearing your throat and bringing your glass to your lips. "...I love it."
BONUS!
kirishima: dude, you GOTTA tell me what you did.
kirishima: saw this sweeeet looking red subaru impreza the other day
kirishima: mina is NOT having it...
kirishima: any tips on how you got her to switch up like that?
a/n: i really wanted to give the porsche a name, but i couldn't think of anything ... thank you @kamislop for beta reading for me, i owe you my left labia <3 and thanks @izutwos for helping me with kiri's car 🙂↕️ also this is no shade to the porsche community here // yoohoo @lonelyfooryouonly & @satiiv-a comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! MWAH 💋
a/n: thinking abt being super sleepy and kiss drunk with katsuki
“no more.” he mumbles against your lips.
“one more kats please?” you chase after his lips as he pulls back.
“you’re fallin asleep, princess.” he kisses you again and you whine.
“kats one more.” you blink your heavy lids up at him “kiss me til i fall asleep.” you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to the bed with you.
“suppose.” he sighs and presses his lips softly to yours.
he peppers kisses across your lips, smiling with each soft sound that comes from you. he slides his tongue along the seam of your lips, slowly pushing in as he cradles your face. he deepens the kiss, thumbs stroking across your cheeks trying to lull you to bed.
your arms unravel from his neck and he pulls back to pepper the softest kisses across your face. he pulls the covers up and places a kiss on each of your eyelids before leaning back and admiring you.
“love you.” one last kiss to your lips before he curls around you.
