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Hello! This is my first time asking so please go easy on me, but can you do Robert x Magical Girl! Reader? Like Glitter Lucky or Precure Happy
hello love! unfortunately, i don’t write for dispatch anymore! if you’re talking about a different robert then feel free to send in another ask, but the fandoms im currently writing for can be found in my intro 🩶
Actually obsessed with the thought of ex-boyfriend!Daryl carrying around a picture of you from before. Especially if it's just one that was definitely taken with a shitty disposable camera on some random day while you were doing some mundane task. He'd take it out at night when no one was watching and just stare at it. There would he a little worn spot near your face from where he rubbed his thumb over it while he tried to remember what it felt like to be loved. Not in the fucked off way Merle did or the way the other survivors saw usefulness in his abilities but for real. And if he cried a little because he missed you well before the world ended and even more since? Well, that's his business
was at the pool today and couldn't stop thinking about daryl bugging you while you're by the poolside because he wants your attention
Everything was good: the sun crashing down onto your skin, no one else around, just you, the sun, and the soft sounds of the pool water moving around. Then, suddenly, the sun was blocked and it was no longer just you.
"Hell are ya doin'?"
You don't even have to open your eyes and move to know that it's Daryl, your boyfriend, blocking the sun from you. "It's a nice day out, just enjoying the sun."
"I was lookin' for you inside." Daryl, as usual, doesn't offer any sort of context as to why.
"I'm here now," you offer, seeing if he would decide to give you any context. When he doesn't, just looks you up and down and looks around the pool, you speak up again, "Wanna go in the pool with me?"
Daryl scoffs and shakes his head, "I ain't playin' in the damn pool. You jus' wanna see me shirtless."
"Who says I can't want both? But if you really won't go in the pool with me, move so I can feel the sun again."
"Oh, so the sun matters more?"
"I could be having both, but someone is being stingy."
As much as Daryl acts like things are corny or not in his comfort zone, he always ends up by your side. In this case, by your side in the pool, shirtless.
thinking about how daryl would choose to show his love for you since he‘s not too big on words of affirmation
daryl would always be on the lookout for things you may like during runs. yeah, he’s making sure he’s staying alert and getting what the group needs, but any trinkets he thinks you’d like are immediately taken with him
daryl would make sure you got the hotter bowl whenever he fetches dinner for you both
daryl would always make sure your guns are clean and unlikely to jam, and make sure your knives aren’t dull
daryl, who doesn’t accept physical affection lightly, would let you run your hands through his hair when it’s not too crowded because your hands don’t make him curl in on himself
daryl who pushes himself out of his comfort zone to be present with you. you’re out gardening? not what he typically does, but he‘ll learn. you’re out teaching the kids something? he‘ll stay close by, taking note of how gentle you are with the kids and how they naturally gravitate towards you
daryl who is so enamored with you that he sometimes forgets why he was so scared to love in the first place
will die on this hill. the dad best friend fanfics that go into detail about how they have known you since your were 4 are disgusting and borderline disturbing. like your talking about having sex with a girl you literally watched grow up. ew. it’s creepy. like… no.
satoru gojo with a baby who looks exactly like you.
his genes didn't even try. not a speck of white in his baby girl's hair, not a sliver of crystal blue in her eyes. she's all you—from the eyes to the nose to the laugh. good lord, satoru has been blessed by the gods.
he fell in love with her the moment the doctor handed you the little bundle of joy. and when he first carried her? you just laugh at the way he almost melts to the floor.
everytime he gets home from missions, he goes straight to where you're playing with mini you. his daughter giggles upon seeing her dad. he crashes on top of the two of you, careful not to squish neither of you. first and foremost, he kisses you. then, the baby. then back to you, then back to her—it goes on and on until you go and tell him to shower.
at night when your daughter makes a fuss, it's satoru who gets up and soothes her. he carries her over to your shared room, lays her in the space between, and talks to her about anything—his latest mission, his students, her big brother megumi, how the two of you met, his bestfriend suguru, her uncle nanami, her aunt shoko.
all the while, his baby listens earnestly, eyes wide and curious like yours. she even responds sometimes! no, she can't talk yet, but she's already a good listener.
"maybe we should take you to see uncle suguru. do you miss him? who do you miss more, him or papa?"
"ah."
"there's only one answer to that. why are you hesitating?" he pokes her cheek, and holds back the urge to bite and chomp.
"ba.."
"papa? yes! that's right. you miss papa more, right?"
"ma!"
satoru gasps dramatically, "mama? you're already with her 24/7!" your baby grins, and he's in awe by how much of you he sees in her.
he picks her up with ease, and settles her on top of him. he glances at your sleeping form, "you look like your mom, you know?"
your baby also glances at you, one hand reaching out before satoru grabs her little wrist and holds it to his chest. "mama's sleeping. she's tired, we need to let her rest."
your daughter babbles, "ma-ma-ma."
"yes, mama. you look like mama. that means you're also pretty and beautiful." he kisses her cheek.
"pi. pi!"
satoru nods in understanding, acting like your baby just said something revolutionary. "yes. pretty. that's you," he pinches her nose, she huffs. "and mama. my pretty girls."
"when you grow up, you need to marry someone who'll preach your beauty like how i do to your mom, okay? never date a boy who doesn't tell you how beautiful you are every passing day." satoru whispers, eyes locked onto an identical pair to yours.
his daughter only yawns in response, dropping her head into his sternum. satoru adjusts her so she's laying on her back in the middle of you two. instinctively, your baby wiggles around, searching for your warmth in her sleep. satoru only sighs with a smile. what a velcro baby he's raising.
from jade: self-indulgent dad gojo fic bcuz im ovulating and im sleepy and i got crazy baby fever from spending a few days at my aunt's and her two month old baby boy and i also wrote this instead of stressing out over my groupworks so enjoy tehe
Series summary: During the last semester of your masters degree program, you decide to move in with your uncle in order to save money and have space to figure things out regarding your career. You end up helping your uncle run his bookstore and get to learn more about the town. While working, you meet a man named Joel, who's a regular along with his daughter, Sarah. You didn't come to this town for romance, but who are you to say no?
Warnings/notes: adult content. i am not responsible for what you consume, you have been warned, not beta-read, profanity, your uncle has no name he's just uncle, author has no clue how to fight writer's block, explicit oral sex (f receiving), implied p in v sex, praise, joel is whipped lol, petnames (darling, sweetheart)
A/N: i have officially completed one year of college and am going into my junior year now! finals are over and life isn't as busy anymore, so i'm getting back into writing this summer. thanks so much for y'all's patience. it means the world that even a few of you are enjoying this series!
Word Count: ~4.6k
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | TLOU Masterlist
You were still in sweatpants, but your hair was done, your face felt fresh, and you were wearing a nice shirt– blouse? You’re unsure what to call it.
Eyes frantically moving back and forth between the time (12:58 P.M.) and your reflection in the camera, you can’t help but get more and more nervous with each passing minute. The Zoom waiting room window stares back at you tauntingly, like it knows you’re nervous.
You had told your uncle about the interview the moment after you scheduled it and he was just as ecstatic as you were, if not even more. He had even wished you luck this morning. He hasn’t said it outright, but you can tell your uncle wants you nearby. Not because he thinks you need to be supervised, but because he enjoys your company.
Similarly, Poppy had sent you an encouraging text in the morning and offered to grab dinner after work finished for the both of you. Since your interview is during your lunch break, you eagerly agreed since you knew you’d be hungry.
You know your uncle would just let you have lunch later in the day, but you already told him you’d work for the day. Honestly, “it’s best if you work immediately afterwards so you don’t dwell on the interview too much,” is what you had thought.
Besides your uncle and Poppy, you hadn’t told anyone else about the interview. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell Joel. What if he gets his hopes up and you don’t even get the job? You wouldn’t be able to handle the embarrassment.
Pulling you out of your nervous spiral, you see the waiting room window change to a “loading…” window. A woman with a bright smile, a simple turtleneck–wow, you don’t know the last time you saw someone pull off a turtleneck as well as your interviewer–and fantastic hair greets you.
“Hello! I’m so happy you could join me today,” your interviewer introduces herself and her position with the company with a smile you can’t tell is fake or not. Could she really love her job that much?
You reciprocate her energy and give her your name even though she probably knows that already. You glance at yourself in your camera to make sure you look alright and that it isn’t noticeable that you’re fidgeting under the table your laptop is on.
Tell us about yourself.
What’s something you learned while…?
What would you do if…?
How have you previously dealt with…?
Every question she asks is one you’ve heard hundreds of times, but it’s just as nerve-wracking to answer as all the times before. Between questions, as she writes your answers down probably, you’re lost in thought. You catch yourself a few times, hoping that she hadn’t noticed.
Suddenly, she wraps up the interview. You hadn’t even realized how much time had passed until she said something, “Thank you for your time today, we’ll get back to you towards the end of the month!”
“Thank you so much as well, I look forward to it,” is all you can think of. Was that too cocky? Was your tone fine? God, you hadn’t realized how stressed you were about finding a job until now.
The universe is on your side, because the routine post-interview pleasantries don’t drag out and your interview is now over. You immediately stand up and take a breath as you try to calm your nerves.
By the time you change and make your way down to the front desk of the shop, your uncle is waiting behind the desk. “How’d it go?”
Honestly, you had no clue. “I don’t know. I think my answers were good, maybe… but I was really nervous. I got lost in my head a few times.”
Your uncle rubs your back in an attempt to soothe you, similarly to how he did when you were much younger and had just gotten your first bad grade on an assignment. “I wouldn’t worry ‘bout it too much. I mean, not many kids get a job right outta school.”
“I guess so, but this is grad school. Isn’t that supposed to be different?”
Your uncle shrugs, “I guess we’ll have to see, won’t we? None of us went that far, you’re like the test subject.”
His bluntness was honestly what you needed, it made you laugh. He didn’t feed any delusions and he kept you grounded, “Thanks for that… I’ll work the desk the rest of the day.”
“You sure? You know I did everything before you moved in, I can handle it.”
You shake your head, “Doesn’t mean you have to do everything, besides, I need to keep busy right now.”
“Okay, you know where to find me,” like clockwork, your uncle leaves to go do paperwork. You wonder if he even has that much paperwork to do, or he just sleeps upstairs.
—~—
“So, how’d it go?”
Now, Poppy is sitting in front of you. The two of you just closed up shops and headed to a sandwich spot not too far. She’s as go-lucky as usual, eagerly waiting for your updates on all aspects of your life. In fact, she’s in an even better mood today than most, she even paid for your sandwich.
“Good, maybe, I was really nervous. I don’t know.” You relay the same information you gave to your uncle to her.
“It’s okay, I’m sure you killed it. I hope you get this job.”
“Me too,” you laugh.
“I mean, if you don’t get this job who’ll peer review my writing assignments?”
“Wow,” Poppy has you laughing again, “Is that all I am to you? Someone to read your writing?”
“No!” Poppy joins in on the laughter, “You’re more than that. You’re also someone to beat me in Scrabble and someone I get my sources of entertainment from–,” Poppy gasps, which confuses you. “Speaking of, what’s going on with… Joel?”
“Yes, his name is Joel, good job,” you say sarcastically, which causes her to roll her eyes before urging you to continue. “Things with Joel are good, he’s really sweet.”
“And…?”
“And… he makes me happy?” You’re trying to dodge her underlying question. You feel really immature, but what else can you do?
Poppy just stares at you, “Really? Nothing else?”
“Nope.” Please don’t ask, this is so embarrassing I feel like a teenager.
Unimpressed and seeing right through you, she just asks outright, “No sex?”
You immediately bring a hand to your face, both to rub your forehead and to cover your face, “No.”
“What!? Are you serious? You have a man who is sweet to you, is a girl-dad, is humble, and has forearms the size of my entire arm and haven’t had sex with him?”
Thankfully, you two are the only people in the sandwich shop at this hour. If that weren’t the case this conversation would be even more embarrassing.
“No…” you admit, face feeling warmer.
Noticing your hesitance, Poppy backs off, “Can I ask why? If not, I’ll tell you about this really weird chick I met while picking coffee the other day.”
Her offer is so confusing that you can’t help but laugh, “I don’t mind sharing, but I still want to know about ‘this weird chick’.”
Smiling, Poppy nods and waits for you to say something.
“I mean, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to have sex with him. Like you basically said, he’s really attractive and he’s sweet to me.”
She jumps in, “I’m telling you! Who the hell has big forearms? If he has big forearms then imagine–”
“Poppy!” You cut her off, laughing, knowing exactly what she was about to say.
“What!?”
“Anyway, I want to, but I know I’d regret it if I did. I like him a lot and the sex would mean something to me, but I can’t just have sex with someone and leave. What if I don’t get this job, or another one in Texas, and end up in New York or something? That’s mean.”
Poppy sighs, “Are you sure you’re just putting things for him?”
“What do you mean?”
“You say that “It’s mean” or you can’t do that to him. Is that it, or are you scared too?”
She’s right, you know she is, but you’ve been scared to admit it. “I guess so, yeah. It’d be like admitting something serious is… going on. I don’t know if I could leave after that.”
“So, like,” Poppy pauses, thinking to herself, “self-preservation?”
“Exactly! Which is why I didn’t tell him about my interview either.”
“What!?”
You meekly explain to Poppy why you didn’t tell Joel and she shakes her head at you. Not willing to hear your, in her not-voiced opinion, interesting choices and also not wanting to push you any further, she starts telling you stories about weird encounters she’s had lately.
You both notice that the sandwiches are gone, having been eaten, so you wordlessly clean your trash and start walking home, Poppy’s storytelling not stopping once even as the time passes and you reach your uncle’s bookstore.
“But yeah! That’s why she’s been on delivered for like… four days.”
You shake your head and laugh, “How you manage to get yourself in these situations is beyond me.”
Laughing along with you, Poppy agrees. “I don’t know either, but today was fun. Let’s hang out again soon.” You agree and let her know you’ll text her to make plans, but she calls out to you again before you walk inside. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”
“I will, thank you, really.”
—~—
After work, Joel only had enough time to get home and shower before it was time for him to leave and pick Sarah up from soccer practice. As he’s picking up his keys, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. Panic floods through him, was it Sarah? Did he get the time for practice wrong?
Relief washes over him and a dopey smile appears on his face when he sees that he (1) is on time and (2) just received a text from you.
Are you busy right now?
Without answering, Joel calls you as he’s closing the door to his house. After just one ring, he hears you answer the call, “Hey darlin’, what’s going on?”
“Hi Joel,” he hopes it’s not just wishful thinking, but he swears you speak especially soft with him. “Nothing’s going on, I just wanted to talk to you for a bit and figured you’d be off work by now.”
“That I am, but I hate to tell ya I’m on my way to pick Sarah up from soccer practice. It’s about 15 minutes away,” Joel sighs as he settles into the driver's seat and sets his phone down.
“Oh I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have called if I knew you had limited time.”
Joel can’t help but chuckle, “You don’t have to worry about that, I’d call you if I had five minutes to spare.”
“Wow,” he can hear you giggling lightly through the phone, “That might be one of the most romantic things a guy has said to me.”
“Sounds like you’ve been seeing some losers, no offense.”
“None taken, but you’re right. College boys are… interesting. Haven’t really seen anyone since then.”
Your admission makes Joel relax. If you two were to start dating—he hopes—then there wouldn’t be any unrealistic competition, good for him. “Well, good thing for you I graduated from loser status years ago.”
“Oh yeah,” you can’t help but laugh, “I forgot you’re like really old.”
He knows you’re joking, but he has to defend himself through the laughter anyway, “Just to remind you, I’m only seven years older than you!”
“Only!? Sounds like a long time to me,” Joel hears you laughing even harder now.
“Anyway, how was that dinner with your friend?”
“It was good, she even paid for my sandwich.” Joel noticed that you paused before answering, but he decides not to mention it.
“Yeah? What’s your go-to sandwich order?”
You hum before answering as if you’re thinking, “You’ll just have to find out whenever you take me to get sandwiches.”
Chuckling, Joel says, “Bold of you to think I wasn’t going to take you out to get some.”
“Were you?”
“Nope.”
“Well what are we going to do when you take me out next?” You say as both of you are laughing.
“If you let me pick you up after work on Friday you’ll find out.” Joel hears you agree, but doesn’t answer right away once he realizes he’s less than five minutes away from picking Sarah up. “I’m sorry darlin’, but I gotta go. I’ll text you about Friday, okay?”
“Alright Joel, looking forward to it.”
After saying bye and hanging up the phone, Joel is overwhelmed with the silence. Dating or not (yet), you’ve taken up space in his life. Space he’s willing to give and space he wants you to take up more than you already are.
There’s nothing about you that hasn’t had him completely enamored. Your confidence and boldness to make the first move hooked him in and he hasn’t even tried to unhook himself. Every date he takes you on, every kiss you steal from him, every time you make yourself at home next to him on his couch just leaves him wanting more, more of you.
Joel already decided that if you get a job in Texas, hell, even a neighboring state, he’s asking you to be his. He can’t do long distance with a kid, because of course Sarah is his priority, but something close enough he would make work.
The nights spent thinking about you, the showers spent with his hand wrapped around his dick after making out with you and feeling you tugging on his hair, and even the phone calls and dates spent with you all make him want you more. You can reject him, but if the opportunity presents himself he won’t forgive himself for not trying.
Not even a minute passes after he parks before Sarah knocks on the window to get Joel to unlock the door. “Hey kiddo, how was practice?”
Sarah sighs before she sits down, “It was fine, we had to run laps.”
“Whose fault was it this time?” Joel makes sure to stifle his laughter.
“Ellie’s…” Sarah says it quietly, like she’s hoping Joel will miss it.
Unfortunately for her, Joel did hear her. “Of course. How about this, you shower as soon as we get home— ‘cause you stink,” Sarah rolls her eyes but her laughter betrays her, “and while you shower I make you some food.”
“Sounds yummy.”
It’s silent for a bit, no chatter or music playing. Joel hadn’t realized he didn’t put music on, but it checks since he was on the phone with you. The silence is comfortable, but Sarah breaks it nonetheless, “Dad?”
“What’s up kiddo?”
“Are you… dating someone?”
Joel’s brain buffers for a moment and confusion floods his thoughts: What the fuck? There’s no way she saw us out anywhere? Someone from school, maybe? “No, why do you ask?” It’s not technically a lie. You two aren’t dating right now.
“You’re not like… a sad guy, but you still seem happier lately.”
“Well, happiness isn’t always linked to dating. Just been feeling good lately,” Joel explains.
“So, if you were dating somebody you’d tell me, right?”
Guilt is piling onto Joel and suffocating him. He keeps reminding himself that you’re not dating yet, so he’s technically not lying. “I would. Would’ya be okay with me… dating someone? You can say no, you know you come first.”
“I’d be okay with it… as long as she’s nice.”
Joel can’t help but laugh, “”Nice,” got it.”
Sarah turns on the radio and Joel spends the rest of the short ride home deciding what to cook.
—~—
A month had passed and Sarah’s words replayed in Joel’s mind constantly. Every time he took you out, whenever you two were on the phone, and even the few times Joel and Sarah went to the bookstore. Stolen glances, fueled kisses, and dates between the two of you only entice you both more.
Tonight, Sarah’s staying at Ellie’s house until dinner time tomorrow. Having just qualified for the mini-league soccer championships, Joel’s letting her celebrate with friends.
Now, Joel’s driving the two of you to his house after a drive-in movie with the promise of dinner. “Do you think stuff like that actually happens?” You ask.
“Stuff like what?”
“Like hanging out on the fire escapes in New York. There was a whole scene where they were just eating pizza on the fire escape.”
“Well, I don’t see why they wouldn’t. Pizza’s supposed to be good there an’ it’s not like they have that much space to hang out.”
Joel hears you start to laugh in the passenger’s seat, “I guess that’s true. Apartments as small as theirs you might as well eat on the fire escape. Have you ever been?”
“Nah, haven’t gone too far out of Texas. Have you?”
Joel hears you hum in acknowledgement before answering, “Yeah, but just for a work conference. I’ve never been on my own.”
“Would you work there?”
“I mean,” you sigh, “yeah, but it’s definitely not my first choice.”
“Yeah?” Joel questions, smirking, “Why not?”
“Reasons,” Joel can already tell you’re smiling.
Pulling into his driveway, Joel gets out to open the door for you and let you in the house. “Do you want any help cooking?”
“I’m okay darlin’, just keep me company.”
You open the spice cabinet and pull out some containers, pushing them towards Joel and sitting on a stool near the counters. When Joel turns towards where you’re seated to thank you, you’re absentmindedly looking through your phone.
Before he even starts cooking, just barely having everything set on the counters, you gasp loudly which is quickly followed by, “Oh my god.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh my god!” You hand your phone to Joel, letting him read what you’re looking at.
Congratulations! After conducting all of our scheduled interviews and going through candidates, we at really cool company would like to offer you a position as something really cool.
If you are currently still interested in this position, please respond to this email to schedule a phone call to discuss the onboarding process. Any candidate who has not responded to their offer email within 10 business days will automatically have their offer rescinded.
We look forward to having you,
Random ahh employer
Recruiting Department
012-345-6789
Random Address, Dallas, TX
—
Joel is in shock, Dallas? Really? That’s a two or three hour drive, that’s nothing compared to what he was willing to make work. “Dallas?” he says it out loud, as if just reading it wasn’t enough to make it real.
“Dallas.” You confirm, a hand over your mouth as if you’re in shock.
Joel wants to say so much but his words fail him. All he can do is pull you into a kiss and wrap his arms around you. When you two break apart, he rests his head atop of yours. “I’m so happy for you,” Joel finally manages to get words out.
Your hand reaches up to the back of his head and you gently move his face to look at you, “I want to give this a try. A serious one. I want you.”
“Darlin’, you don’t know how much I’ve wanted you these past few months. I was gonna ask ya to make things work… more romantically.”
Your hands move from the back of his head to hold his face, “Ask me romantically later.” You don’t give Joel a chance to respond because you’re already pulling him towards you in another kiss.
How you’re holding his face so gently feels so intimate, but it’s such a stark difference from how you’re kissing him. You’re kissing him with such force that he can feel the passion flowing between you two and can’t help but melt into you.
Joel’s hand lay on your waist, gripping you as if you’d leave at any moment. He pulls away from you, both of you breathing heavily, “Do you want to stop here? I can keep cookin’.” His voice isn’t above a whisper, like he’s scared to burst the bubble around you two.
“No Joel, I want you tonight I’m not waiting for the damn onboarding. I’m staying here.” You yelp as Joel picks you up and leads you to what you assume is his bedroom. How easy it is for him to pick you up sends arousal straight to your core.
He can’t believe this is happening. You’ve never even been in his bedroom, never going past a makeout session in his truck or on his couch, now he’s laying you onto his bed? It’s unreal to him, you’re unreal to him.
Once he lays you down on his bed he shrugs his shirt off and throws it over his head to land somewhere on his floor. When he looks back down to you your shirt is also gone. One of Joel’s hands comes out to reach towards you, rubbing up to where your bra band is doing to where your pants still lie on your hips.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” Joel says as he leans down to kiss across your neck. The first skin to skin contact other than kissing and holding onto each other sends a shiver down his spine.
You giggle, from both the feeling of his facial hair tickling you and his compliment. “You’re not too bad yourself.” Joel was built, not from lifting weights but from real work. All those days lugging wood around, building things, and doing the heavy lifting has definitely paid off. You’d be lying if his big arms and little stomach weren’t a huge turn on for you.
“Not ‘too bad?’” He chuckles before continuing, “You ain’t gonna be able to joke so easy once I’m through with you.”
Joel’s not a particularly cocky man, you know that, so if he’s saying that he means it. “Fuck–,” you breathe out. The feeling of his lips and hands on you as well as his words is getting to your head.
As if reading your mind, Joel pulls away from you and you feel cold without his body against yours. You feel him starting to unbutton your pants, “Lift your hips up for me.” Of course you lift your hips up, eager to feel any kind of contact. “Atta girl,” You hadn’t thought Joel would be so vocal in bed– and you definitely thought about how he’d be in bed.
With your pants gone, clad in only your bra and panties, you felt especially vulnerable under his gaze. As if testing the water, Joel starts to rub you through your panties. An embarrassing noise leaves you and you reach out to place a hand on his, “Wait.”
Joel’s movement stops immediately, “You okay darlin’?”
“I’m okay, but,” you look down and see Joel’s pants still on, “aren’t you gonna take your pants off.”
Joel chuckles and leans down to kiss you, “You’re the one who’s been workin’ so hard, and it finally paid off. You deserve to feel good first.”
You nod and mumble an “okay,” unable to form full sentences. “Just let me know if you need me to stop.” One final kiss and he leans back to make himself at home in between your legs. You feel kisses along the insides of your thighs and hands rubbing circles along your hips.
Leaning back on your elbows, you can’t help but feel wetness pooling in your core. Your imagination hadn’t done the image of Joel’s face in between your legs justice. Joel moves his face to kiss you through your panties, the jolt of arousal causes you to groan and throw your head back.
Joel threads a finger through your panties and pulls them to the side, licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit. “Fuck–!”
Joel holds your panties to the side with one hand and teases your entrance with his other hand while he gently licks at your clit. As his tongue becomes more consistent and one of his fingers dips inside of you, your hand immediately reaches out and threads itself in his hair.
The grip you have on his hair makes Joel groan, which you feel on your core. Joel adds another finger and harshly sucks on your clit. His fingers pumping through you, his lips wrapped around your clit and his groans vibrating through you is all so much, “Oh– Joel, don’t stop.”
The sound of his name falling from your lips only spurs him on even more, making sure to keep hitting the spots that make you the loudest. You start to feel your climax building, sudden and strong, and Joel can feel it from the way your pussy is fluttering around his fingers.
“Joel,” you breathe out, “I… I’m close.” If your heavy breathing is anything to notice, you’re bound to any moment.
Joel pulls away for just a few seconds to say something, “C’mon sweetheart, give it t’me,” before leaning back in to lick at your core. His words and the immediate stimulation pushes you over the edge, crying out as you release on his fingers and face.
Your heavy breathing is all you can hear, faintly feeling Joel’s lips and fingers pull away. You pull Joel up towards you and pull him into a kiss. When you lightly push him away he looks at you as if you’re the one who got him off instead of the other way around, “Let me ride you.”
“Fuck,” Joel can feel himself twitch in his pants, “You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
While Joel reaches into his nightstand, praying he has a condom somewhere—he honestly can’t remember the last time he had anything other than his fist, so the fact that he found one is a miracle—you’re unclipping your bra and pushing it off as well as your panties.
Joel undoes his belt and shoves his pants and boxers off before flipping you two over, him on his back and you straddling him. “You look so good like this,” Joel says, looking up at you with so much adoration.
All you can do is smile and lean down to kiss his neck and collarbone. You know you’re in for a long night.
—~—
“Do you want to stay the night?” Joel is currently draped over you, holding you close, both of you still naked but in no shape to go again. “I can drive you home early tomorrow. Sarah won’t be back until dinner time.”
“Are you sure that’s okay?”
“Wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t darlin’.”
“Okay, thank you,” You reach one of your arms out to find your phone somewhere, making sure to let your uncle know you’re okay.
“Y’know,” Joel moves his head to look at you, “We never ate dinner. Want me to make you something?”
You just laugh and set your phone back down, “No, just stay here. I’m comfortable.”
“Yes ma’am.”
It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, dinner being the last thing on your mind.
###
wow, two months with no update for this..! i hope you all enjoyed! drink lots of water, it's getting hotter in lots of places!! thank you sm for y'all's kind comments on my posts and messages in my inbox. they make my day <3
series taglist: @victoriaholland @anoverwhelmingdin
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.
joel miller followers, my finals are OVER and grades are finalized. i started chapter seven of bookworm today and am currently 1.3k words in!! it will be out this friday or saturday i promise
Will you continue Bookworm? I love this series sm ^^
hello my love! im sorry with how long it’s taking! i haven’t had much time to sit down and write anything more than a blurb and there’s still two more chapters left lol. i will be finishing it once my finals wrap up this week 🩷
i'm gonna just use this submission to make a PSA that i no longer write for dispatch. the game was really fun to play, but i'm not very interested in it anymore. if there's a season two, then i'll start writing for it again, but i'm not right now
i've been getting lovely messages about my dispatch work and some requests, so thank you for all the support but i figured i should say something. love u guys drink water today!!!!
jjk men reacting to seeing their mii on your tomodachi life island
includes: gojo, nanami, higuruma, ino, geto
warnings: not beta-read, probably ooc, established relationship, geto is an elementary school teacher because i said so, i've never written most of these characters before be nice pls
gojo
"Wow, how come my glasses instead of my blindfold?" You jump when you hear Satoru's voice in your ear. You had been playing on your switch on the couch, but you hadn't heard him walk up. He must have been watching for a bit.
"You scared me!"
Satoru just laughs and leans on the back of the couch even more so he can keep watching you play, "Don't mind me. Just wanna see what you've been doing all day."
He keeps watching you play and as you play, you explain what you're doing and what the dynamics between different miis are. He loves how excited you are over this game and listens as you explain everything without interrupting, for the most part--
"Did Suguru just throw a fridge at me?"
"Yeah, you guys are really mad at each other."
"What?"
nanami
Nanami isn't one to watch tv often, so you're usually the one using the tv in the living room. Today is no exception, but you're not watching anything or playing one of your usual games.
"What's this?" Nanami sits next to you on the couch, laying back and instinctually putting a hand on your leg just because he can.
"Tomodachi Life, I'm adding more paths right now."
"More paths?"
"Yeah!" You say it like it's the most obvious thing ever, "So my miis can get places easier and the island looks nicer." As if on cue, as soon as you close the building menu a mii with blonde hair, a tan suit, and... crooked bangs walks by on the screen.
"Is that me?"
"Of course, my boyfriend has to be on the island, obviously."
"I wear things other than my suit," Nanami tries to argue, but you just give him a not-so-assuring mhm.
higuruma
It's a rare day off for both you and Hiromi, but he feels like he hasn't seen you all day. He walks into your shared room and sees you playing on the switch in bed, "What've you been doing all day?"
"I've been playing Tomodachi Life," you don't even look away from the screen as he walks over and gets into bed next to you.
"Can I see?" he asks, and of course you oblige. Unfortunately, the game decides that now is a good time for a news broadcast.
Hiromi blinks, confused, "Am I the news reporter?"
"Well, you're not the news reporter. All of the miis switch jobs, it's random who it'll be. Sometimes you're the cashier in the grocery store."
He hums, "Overworked even on your island."
"Of course you are," you say, laughing to yourself.
He watches you play with the sound of miis talking being the only thing to fill the silence. It's a very relaxing game. He notes that your two miis are the most detailed, and then he falls asleep.
ino
Ino had just come back from a mission with Nanami, but you're already home and settled it seems. He sees you on the couch, incredibly focused on your switch. He walks up behind the couch to give you a quick hello kiss, "What're you playing?"
"Tomodachi Life."
"Oh yeah, I saw a few videos about that. Is it fun?"
"Very, wanna see my island so far?" You're already shifting to provide him a better view of the screen, knowing he'd say yes.
"Yeah, duh, but make it quick I gotta shower."
"This is my house, this is yours-"
"What?" Ino interrupts, "Why don't we live together?"
"I can't pick that!" As you're speaking, ino's mii walks out of his house.
"Oh my god! You even got my beanie, that's so cool."
As you're explaining, you think Ino is more excited about this game than you are, if that's even possible.
geto
Suguru walks into your shared apartment confused, you usually greet him when he comes home. He calls out your name and discovers that you're just on the couch once you yell out, "Here!"
"What are you doing?"
"I'm playing my new game." Suguru hums at your response and takes a seat next to you to look at your screen.
"Tomodachi Life?"
"Yeah, how'd you know?" You eye him suspiciously.
"I had some students mention it today."
You take it upon yoursel to give Suguru a tour of your island even though he didn't ask, "I just expanded the beach."
"Looks very nice. Is that me... and Satoru?"
You start to laugh as you zoom in on them fighting, "Yeah you just threw a fridge at him."
"It looks like a threw more than that. He probably deserved it." That just makes you laugh even more.
synopsis: in which lawyer higuruma's troubled once more by a lawyer he keeps losing to in court who just so happens to be the girl he rejected back in school
contains: mdni, rivals, a little angst, reader ditches her date for a last minute “meeting,” oral (fem. receiving), he talks to the kitty, praise, explicit smut, 3.8k words
art by etceteraart on x!
The backdrop of his dreams are formed by the silhouette of your body. Your smiles are the sun that gives them light. His name dipped in honey as it pours from your mouth is what the faceless people in his unconscious mind call out to him.
Everything leads to you. It all comes back to you. The girl he met in law school all those years ago.
The memory flickers across the inside of his heavy eyelids like a camera film. Ambient lighting, laughter, the clink of glasses as patrons of the bar enjoyed the start of their weekend.
He was ushered into the booth by his classmate, frazzled as he'd just come back from shadowing his mentor at the courthouse, hair slightly disheveled, tie loosened and blazer confining.
Said classmate teased him as he introduced him to the gaggle of girls in the booth. You were all law students too. Though Higuruma admittedly took his studies very seriously and flushed when the other man ribbed him for having his nose buried in textbooks all the time. The one sitting in his bookbag felt like lead then.
You were the only one who didn't giggle at his expense, saying that being studious is good and his classmate should take a page out of his book. That's how your friendship began if you could call it that seeing as you wound up in his dorm with his nose buried between your thighs a few weeks later.
It was all so easy with you. When he confided in you about his doubts, how he felt unfit for this demanding career and how he just wanted to sleep all day—depression and burnout creeping in—you'd told him it was good that he was getting rest as he needed it, spoke to professors about extensions and made sure he was taking care of himself.
What he thought would be the end of his dream leading to failure and becoming a dropout scrapping the pots at a fast-food restaurant ended up with him bouncing back and graduating at the top of his class alongside you.
The new lawyer was floating on cloud nine until you asked the dreadful question of “What are we?” during his celebration dinner. The room wavered then, fine dining warping into a courtroom where he was standing as the defendant for the first time and you were the judge, jury and prosecutor.
He was charged with the crime of half-hearted love but why couldn't that be enough? The times you spent studying together in the basement of the library past midnight, sharing sandwiches, the coffee breaks where you laughed at the others mishaps in practicals and the quiet evenings when you sat on a bench on a hill overlooking the twinkling city talking about anything and everything endlessly.
Love asks for so much that he simply cannot afford to give right now. He had commitment issues in that he poured all his blood, sweat and tears into his aspiring career, the internships and the cold cases he was adamant on solving to give families peace of mind and bring justice to victims.
Being present, showering you in affection, giving you his undivided attention and so much more—he couldn't do it. It's why he never asked you out and was selfishly relieved when you were fine with it. But now you were at your limit.
God, he wanted to claw out the aching organ pumping in his chest at the sight of ushed tears bubbling in your beautiful eyes. Your emotions were a flurry, bouncing between heartbreak, outrage and then settling into simmering, quiet anger as you paid for the bill and left.
When he tried to apologise, he'd learned that you had left the city to pursue your dream internship. He was glad that you did, that you didn't stay and let it pass you by for a coward like him who wasn't willing to put in the work.
Years ago, you were his little piece of heaven on earth but now, you're back, older and stunning, ready to rip the rug from under his steady feet and let him plummet into a hellhole.
It seems like every case he took on recently had you on it and you went out of your way to burrow your way beneath his skin like an insidious parasite to undo him from the inside out, peeling back his flesh and unspooling the threads of his crisp suits with the precision of someone who's known him intimately.
The hum of the air-conditioning system is the only sound in the cavernous break room, save for the frantic thud of your heart against your ribs even as your expression remained bored.
Higuruma doesn't just command a courtroom, he commands the air around him. Up close, the exhaustion under his eyes doesn't make him look weak—it makes him look predatory, stripped of his usual civil veneer.
“You’ve been pushing all day,” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave as he stands in front of you, careful composure fraying now that you're alone. “Objecting to every point. Leading the witness. Trying to trip me up.”
Taking a long, lazy sip of your coffee, you loll your head to the side and regard him with abject disinterest behind your rimless specs. “It’s my job to trip you up, Hiromi,” you drawl as if tired of this conversation already.
“Is it?” He leans in, the scent of something woodsy and expensive tobacco enveloping you. Your peachy, vanilla scent with something more complex beneath it makes his head spin. “Because it felt personal. It felt like you wanted me to lose my temper. To lose my composure.”
“And it's Higuruma to you.”
A quirk at the corner of your mouth. Faint but clear enough for him to see your satisfaction as you set your cup down on the table, gazing roaming over him. The law tome under his arm is a much-needed accessory which amuses you as he's always got a book on him.
“I'll make sure the record shows,” you say, rising and brushing past him, the fabric of your blouse grazing his dress shirt with a rustle that has him tensing. “That you are currently losing both as well as this case, Higuruma.”
The click of your heels against the waxed floors drums against his skull, a throb of a headache forming there as he watches you leave, the door shutting behind you and robbing him of the sight of your swaying, confident saunter.
When it opens again, Shimizu pops her head inside, bob swishing as she looks at her boss and whistles low. “She got to you again, didn't she?”
Sighing in frustration, he waves his assistant off and yanks at the lapels of his blazer then adjusts his cuffs. “Just tell the driver to bring the car around, would you, dear?”
He needed a minute to make the traitorous erection in his slacks scarce.
Higuruma doesn't look up from his files when the office door opens, assuming it's just Shimizu trying to convince him to go home already since it's a Friday night. The bubbly assistant of his had been trying to set him up on blind dates for a while now but he can't think of such things when—
Speaking of the devil, he thinks as your peach and vanilla scent washes over him, his stomach flipping as he keeps his eyes on the paperwork he's poring over even as the source of his pent up frustrations' shadow falls across his desk in a shapely outline.
“You don't have an appointment. It's after hours,” is all he can say, not bothering with a greeting.
“Consider it a favor,” you reply smoothly. “The coroner’s report, Higuruma,” you say, dropping a thick manila envelope onto his mahogany desk. “Freshly contested and notarized. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a reservation.”
Finally, he lifts his head and looks up. His breath hitches, though his expression remained a mask of professional indifference. You, his fiercest rival since your days started at Chuo Law—the woman he had once coldly rejected to maintain his "focus"—are breathtaking.
Silk pours over your frame like the vision of a sculptor who's trying to emulate the draping on marble, your luscious hair swept up to reveal the elegant line of your throat, and your lips are painted a foxy red.
“A date?” The dark haired man with the hooked nose asks, his voice low.
“None of your business. Read the report. We’ll talk on Monday if you have any queries.”
“We'll talk now,” he counters, standing slowly. He walks around the desk, the heavy thud of his oxfords echoing in the silent office. “I need your theories before you leave."
"I’m off the clock," you snap, but he's already moving.
With a sudden, fluid motion, he catches your wrist and guides you into his swivel chair. "A lawyer of your caliber shouldn't be so eager to overlook a discrepancy.”
"I have a reservation, Higuruma," you repeat but don't move.
"And knowing you, you're about an hour early to be punctual. I'm sure you could spare ten minutes."
Torn between your commitments to your date and your passion for this career, you glance at the clock on his desk that reads 17:08 P.M. Your date is only at 18:30 P.M.
Relenting, you give a stiff nod. “I suppose we could discuss it now.”
Triumph sparkles in his dark, droopy eyes and you get a glimpse of the young man you fell in love with years ago. You almost soften but then remember his rejection and sneer.
“Excellent. And here I thought you lost your edge to a glass of chardonnay. Come now. Defend your findings."
Your eyes flash with that familiar competitive fire. Sighing, you huff out a breath of frustration as you sit back in the leather chair, reaching for the envelope.
"Fine. Ten minutes."
Higuruma doesn't sit in the other chair. Instead, he moves behind you, his hand resting on the back of your seat. “The blunt force trauma. You argued it was the secondary cause. Why?”
As you begin to explain the physics of the impact, your voice steady and sharp, the sly man slides down. You don't notice at first, absorbed in your thoughts. He doesn't return to his seat, he kneels between your legs.
“Higuruma, what are you—”
“Keep talking, Counselor,” he instructs like this is nothing more than the meeting you agreed to, his hands sliding up your thighs, bunching the silk of your dress. “Explain the subarachnoid hemorrhage. Tell me if you think my client had the intent to kill.”
Choking on a gasp as he parts your knees, you try to stand, but his grip is iron. “Higuruma, stop this. This is—”
“This is a deposition,” he whispers against the lace of your panties, pressing his lips over it in a sloppy, wet open-mouthed kiss.
“Hi, pretty girl. I missed you. Please tell her that I'm terribly sorry for scorning her back in school. I'm willing to make amends now.”
“Are you seriously talking to it like it's sentient? Ouch!” He pinches your thigh for your rude interruption.
Dotting a kiss to your pearly bud through the lace, feeling it flicker against his lips, he draws back and pats your mound. “Atta girl, I knew you'd understand.”
He doesn't wait. He hooks his fingers into the fabric and pulls it aside, exposing your skin to the cool air of his office. You're already slick, a physical betrayal of how much you still crave his attention.
Wasting no time, he dives in, his tongue swirling against your aching clit with a rhythmic, punishing pressure. You try to squeeze your thighs shut but they're barred open by his broad frame, back muscles rippling beneath his white dress shirt.
“The... the bruising patterns,” you stammer, your head threatening to fall back against the chair as he licks you from entrance to clit with the greed he had since law school. “They suggest—ah—they suggest a struggle. Not a—fuck—premeditated strike.”
Pulling back, his face glistens. He looks down at your swollen folds and leans in close, whispering directly to your cunt. “Did you hear that? She thinks he’s innocent. But she’s still holding back the best evidence, isn't she?”
He licks you long and slow with agonizing brushes of his drooling tongue from bottom to top, nose nudging your clit with each nod of his head. “Tell me the truth," he murmurs to your puffy pussy, his hot breath sending shivers through you. “Is she going to let him walk, or is she just hungry for a conviction?”
Your fingers bury themselves in his hair, tugging. “He’s guilty of—of negligence,” you moan, your hips beginning to buck against his mouth. “But the coroner... the coroner missed the toxicology. There was... oh god... digitalis in the system.”
Hiromi hums against you, the vibration thrumming through your cunt all the way up to the arousal pooling in your lower belly, making the liquid heat there ripple. Increasing his ministrations, his tongue mimics the relentless interrogation style that made him a legend in the courtroom. He talks to your sensitive flesh between laps, praising your brilliance even as he unravels your composure.
“So smart,” he mutters against your wetness. “Giving me the toxicology now because you know I'll use it to ruin you in court. You want to lose to me, don't you?”
You couldn't speak anymore. The room spun as Higuruma's tongue finds the perfect pace, his thumbs spreading you wide so he could feast. You shatter, your cry muffled by the solid walls of his office, your body trembling as you come hard against his face.
Higuruma stays there for a long moment, savoring the aftershocks. He eventually stands, wiping his mouth with a silk handkerchief. He looks down at you—flustered, ruined, and beautiful.
“I have one more report to go over. Be a dear and help me with it, will you?” he asks as if he wasn't as flushed and aroused as you are, the heavy bulge of his cock straining against his trousers as he moves to open his desk drawer and reveal another envelope.
Ten minutes passed so far as he promised but you supposed you could help a little longer. Wouldn't want the new interns at his firm pulling their hair out on Monday morning scrambling to pick it apart.
Once more, his face is buried between your thighs. “Tell me about the blunt force trauma. Does my client have the strength for it? Talk to me while I see if you’re as focused as you were in law school.”
As his tongue swipes across your dribbling hole, your head hits the headrest, sleek hairstyle coming loose. “The angle suggests a shorter attacker,” you breathe shakily, your manicured fingers knotting in his hair.
Higuruma pauses, pressing his face into your sweet pussy and inhaling your honeyed scent with a delirious groan.
“Hear that?” he whispers to your sensitive folds. “She’s still the smartest person in the room. Even when she’s coming for me.”
“Fuck off, Higuruma.”
“Hiromi,” he corrects. “Don't call me that when I'm nose deep in your cunt, Counselor.”
He surges back in before you can give a biting reply, his tongue lashing relentlessly as your back bows and a mewl falls from your pretty mouth.
“Guilty or innocent?” he demands against your skin.
“Innocent,” you gasp out, arching as he finds your release, drawing it from you like he found a string and yanked. “He’s innocent!”
“That's my fucking girl,” he growls wetly. “Now, tell me about the toxicology.”
When the report discussion is over, he comes up from under his desk only for you to grab his tie and drag him into a kiss. He groans, catching your lower lip between his teeth, a sharp, sudden nip that draws a low moan from your throat. He swallowed the sound, his tongue sweeping over the sting, tasting of bitter coffee and dark intent. It isn't the kiss of a refined lawyer, it's the kiss of a man who has been starved for a single moment of honesty in a world of lies.
His hand slides down, bunching up the hem of your dress again. His palm is calloused and startlingly hot against your bare thigh.
“You think you get to win against me all the time,” he whispers, his hand coming up to rest his thumb against your jaw. “You think you’ve dissected my strategy, but you haven't even seen me work without a robe on.”
His other hand finds your waist, pulling you flush against the sharp lines of his body. “I’ve spent hours listening to your voice across a courtroom, imagining exactly how to make it break like I used to. Tell me, Counselor—are you prepared to argue your way out of this?”
“Don't think this is forgiveness, Hiromi,” you snarl, biting the tip of his nose hard, his cock kicking in his pants, then pecking it. “I'm simply granting you the opportunity to fuck me out of your system so you can get out of whatever funk you're in and give me a real challenge.”
When his mouth crashes against yours again, it isn't a debate, it's a total surrender of decorum.
“How unbecoming of you. Do you seriously plan to bend me over this desk and take me in your office?” You scoff at the lack of professionalism.
His anger sizzles in the air and you barely have time to savor it as he lifts you up, carrying you in one arm. Gosh, he's really gotten stronger and bulkier, no longer lanky and lean like he was in law school. Your mouth waters at the feel of him.
“Where are we—”
“Shut up for once.”
Pursing you lips, you suppress a smile and oblige. For now.
Walking toward the back of his office, you give his side profile a confused look but then spot a keypad which he punches a code into and the wall slides open into…a bedroom?
The room has none of the icy, black and gray tones of his office. Instead there's greens and browns with an oakwood door leading to a bathroom and a king-size bed with a cushioned headboard. It did not suit the firm at all.
“Why do you have this?”
His ears redden as he shrugs, feigning indifference. “It was a ten years of service gift. Since I practically live at the office and have been caught asleep at my desk too many times.”
Humming, you eye him suspiciously. “Is that all you do in here? Sleep?” While you knew it isn't your place, you can't help feel a twinge of annoyance at the potential of being just another woman he fucks in here to relieve stress.
Dark eyes hooding, he responds with a flat expression. “I'm a fucking workaholic, sweetheart. What makes you think I'd bring lovers here instead of my place?”
Shrugging, you suppose that's fair enough and the unopened box of condoms he pulls out of the bedside table after dropping you onto the mattress attests to that.
“And here I was thinking that this is how you negotiate with your difficult clients,” you retort as he peels off your dress and undergarments while you help him out of his suit.
“Not at all. Only a particularly stubborn woman who won't show me mercy in the courtroom.”
Laughing at that, the amusement melts into a moan as he pushes into you with one punishing, grounding thrust. The air leaves your lungs in a sharp "Oh!" as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, hair tickling your throat.
This isn't the clinical precision of his legal mind, this was the hunger of years spent pretending he hadn't regretted walking away from you in law school.
The bed groans under the sheer force of your combined weight. Higurume grips the headboard, his knuckles white, eyes locking onto yours with a primal intensity. “You think you can just walk back into my life and outplay me?”
“I don't think, I know and I already have,” you purr a salacious sound that crawls up down his spine and makes his groin tingle, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist to draw him deeper.
He groans, a low, defeated sound, as he drives into you like a man possessed, knocking the sharp gasps and whimpers out of you, marking his territory in the only room where he isn't your opposition but your lover.
Hours pass and you're still wrapped up in each other, tangled in the sheets of the sanctuary laying behind the heavy oak paneling of his office, the hum of the midnight city just outside.
Somewhere on the bedside table, your phone buzzes with texts and missed calls from your date which Higuruma snatches and replies saying that an important meeting came up and that you're terribly sorry as if you're not clawing at his ridged abdomen and back like a feral cat.
He slows his pace, leaning back on his haunches as his hips roll against yours lazily, dizzying you with the consistent filling of his thick cock in your snug cunt. The mix of your essence and his sticks to both your sweaty thighs.
Face illuminated by the white glow of your phone, the elation in his half-lidded eyes is hard to miss as he scrolls through your texts. “Aww, he's so worried about you, baby. Asking if he should come over to yours and telling you don't stress yourself.”
Cooing, he cocks his head, eyes bowed and brows creased in mock sympathy for the man, hair flopping to the side. “Should I send him a picture to show him just how good you're doing?”
You try to scowl but his cock drags against your sweet spots deliciously so it wavers. “Fuck you, Hiromi. Leave him alone.”
With a long-suffering sigh, he tosses the phone to the bed and crawls over you, crowding you once more, eyes too soft for the hate-fucking this was supposed to be.
“You're right. I already stole you from him tonight,” he purrs, nosing your cheek sweetly as if he's not stuffing you full again, bullying his cock inside you with brutal snaps of his hips.
The amber glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds was enough to illuminate your disheveled silhouette. You're a vision—hair fanned out over his pillows, eyes glazed with pleasure, swollen lips parted on shallow breaths and whispers of his name, supple skin littered with his marks as your body bounces with his thrusts.
And Higuruma knows he's not going to let you slip through his fingers again. He's going to scoop you up, unbutton his ribs and keep him tucked away beside his heart for as long as he can.
He refuses to let you be just an illusion in his dreams again.
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