REVERSE ISEKAI'D IN AN OFFICE ROMANCE? chapter eight! (Patreon)

synopsis: who'd wanna trade a fantasy world for a studio apartment and a shitty job? well, you when you've got a ridiculously hot coworker you're sure is your new prince charming! it's just, uh, you didn't think you'd get caught up in a love triangle when your new neighbor starts noticing your new behavior!

pairing: dorky!coworker x isekai'd!reader x grumpy!neighbor

content: smut and fluff, reverse isekai, slow burn, (POTENTIAL SPOILER FOR THE UNNAMED EXTRA SO MAKE SURE YOU ARE CAUGHT UP HERE FIRST) reader is the og priestess from tue in that reader's body, tension, domestic fluff, crushing hard, pining, kissing, oral sex (f!receiving), jealousy, teasing

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“You suck at this.” 

“I’m trying my best,” you muttered, holding your breath as you struggled to change the gear shift. 

“Your foot has to be on the brake-” 

“I know,” you huffed at him, even though your foot wasn’t actually on the brake. 

“Don’t crash my car, please,” your neighbor sarcastically grunted, arms folded tight across his chest as if it wasn’t his dumb idea to teach you how to drive. 

“We’re in an empty parking lot,” you mumbled. “There aren’t even any other cars.” 

“You almost hit the light pole.” 

“But I didn’t,” you argued back, pushing out your bottom lip as you put the car back in reverse, foot tapping the pedals slowly as you turned the wheel. 

Driving, as it turned out, was more difficult than you anticipated. A lot fucking scarier too, trying to operate a beat-up car that kept stuttering if you pressed the gas too fast or hit the brakes too hard. 

You did your best though, attempting to memorize all the instructions he grumbled at you. 

A few times a car passed through the empty parking lot, and he made you slam on the brakes until they were back out of it. 

For both of your safety, he hissed. 

Maybe you should’ve just paid someone to show you properly. Or perhaps you could try to get the hang of public transit. 

But he had gotten the lady downstairs to watch his son to help you, so you sucked it up and focused for the rest of his lesson. 

“Does it get easier?” You mumbled, leaning forward as you pulled the car in between the painted white lines on the pavement, one hand switching from the wheel to the gear shift, switching it to the P. 

“Most people learn when they’re younger,” he grumbled, mouth twitching as the car shuddered to a shaky stop as you tapped the brake a few times before finally easing off once you were sure you actually parked the damn thing. 

“So I’m screwed?” You asked, leaning your head back on the rest. It was a little funny, with him, you didn’t really feel like you had to pretend to be anything at all. Not inclined to put the best version of you on display, or keep up any kind of appearance. Your hair was half up, a ratty t-shirt you pulled from a drawer out and little shorts that were easy to move around in. 

Work had left you drained, and you didn’t feel bad about choosing comfort over looks when he still looked at you the way he always did when he knocked on your door earlier. 

He made a low sound that wasn’t quite a scoff, opening his car door a crack and peering outside. 

“You parked crooked.” 

“You’re so annoying,” you murmured, pressing your lips together as you pulled down the visor to get the sunset out of your face. 

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” he grumbled, his sharp canines catching the fading light as his dark green eyes squinted at you. 

“Is that why you keep staring at it?” You retorted, cocking your head to the side – just for a brief flash of regret to sink in. Self-conscious and unsure. 

The old you wouldn’t have. But the old you wouldn’t have ever let yourself be in a position like this. Having fun freely. Learning something so far out of your comfort zone. Not concerned with what anyone else would think about you or how you’d be perceived and if it was aligned with the person you were meant to be. 

You paused, sucking in a short breath, about to take it back, or change the subject just for him to lean in. 

And before you could process what he was doing, he was kissing you. 

His lips pressed against yours, a little chapped, but tasting like spearmint as a calloused palm cupped your cheek. 

What the hell were you doing? 

The thought crossed your mind, but you didn’t stop him. Didn’t push him away. 

It actually felt good. 

Surprisingly so, your throat going dry as his tongue slipped past your mouth to trace your teeth. He kissed you like he’d been planning on it. As if it had been on his mind for far longer than just a car ride. 

Truthfully, you thought his flirting had just been that. 

He seemed like the type to take interest in a woman then throw her away. Who only had interest in a single night before slipping into the dark. And frankly, you’d been too focused on your coworker to pay him much mind past his momentary teasing. 

You pulled back first, putting a hand on his chest as you let out a low huff, still feeling the ghost of his lips on your own. 

“Did you invite me here just to get me alone in your car?” You asked, absentmindedly reaching up to touch where his mouth had just been. 

“What? No, fuck, that’s not-” He blinked, jaw unlocking like he just realized what a creep he sounded like when you put it like that. “I didn’t-” 

“You kissed me,” you swallowed hard, not entirely sure how you felt about it. 

Flustered? Flattered? 

“I thought you wanted me to,” he grumbled, dark brows knitting together. Readjusting in the passenger seat, a bulge pressed against his jeans, a defined outline that made your mouth water just a little. 

God, it had been basically forever since you’d gotten off. 

And he was ridiculously attractive.

“I didn’t say I didn’t,” you muttered. 

Would it be wrong to have a few minutes of fun? 

To enjoy his attention while you had it? 

It wasn’t like he wanted something serious. You doubted he even knew the definition of serious. 

He gritted his teeth, trying to decide what you meant before slowly speaking, “So can I kiss you again?” 

“I guess,” you shrugged.

“You guess?” 

You sorta liked him exasperated. 

It was entertaining. 

A little enthralling to see how hard you could make the vein across his forehead throb and watch him still try to reign himself in just because he wanted to get in your panties. 

“Well, are you going to kiss me or not?” You asked, refusing to give him a straight answer. 

He hesitated for a second, but then he was crashing his mouth against yours, harder than before. You could tell by the way he kissed that he had experience. That you were probably pretty far down the list of girls he loved before. 

Love wasn’t really the right word though. 

Lust was probably closer. 

He was doing everything right. 

Fingers caressing your cheek, thumb ghosting over your cheekbone, lips expertly navigating with each breath. You allowed yourself to get a little lost in it. Tracing his defined jaw with your own fingertips, skimming your hand down his muscled chest, feeling the ridges and divots of his well-trained body. 

But the moment he pulled away for air, you were still squinting at him anyway. Trying to see through the show he was putting on for you. 

“Did you brush your teeth for this?” You questioned, tilting your head to the side appraisingly. 

“Jesus, is my breath that bad?” He grunted, bringing his hand up to his mouth and blowing on it before sniffing. 

“No, it’s pretty minty,” you admitted. 

He stared at you all dumbfounded, but then his hand was slipping down to his jeans, maybe assuming your makeout session was about to lead to something more just because you touched his chest. 

Watching with wide eyes as he pulled down his zipper and freed his cock from the confines of his pants. 

You wanted to know how the hell he managed to make it fit in there. 

“What do you want me to do with that?” You blinked, mouth twisting up as you stared at it. The thick swollen tip, cum leaking out on his hand as you reclined back in your seat. 

He laughed, his jaw going slack like he still managed to find a way to be surprised by your audacity. 

“You’re not like any woman I’ve met before,” he grunted, running his tongue over his teeth like he was trying to figure you out. 

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” You wryly asked, and he kissed you instead of offering an actual answer.

Instead of irritating him, or making him mad, he was just accepting all of it. Your bad driving. Your (sometimes) feigned cluelessness. Your refusal to make anything easy for him. 

Heat was starting to coil in your stomach, warmth spreading the longer his lips lingered on your own. Excitement tingling down your spine as one of his massive hands grabbed your waist, pulling you in as he leaned halfway across the center console just to be closer. 

You didn’t expect to feel a tiny twinge of disappointment when he pulled away for the third time. 

He put his cock back up, pre-cum smearing along the hem of his shirt as he shoved it back in his underwear. 

“Get in the backseat.” 

“The back-”

He huffed before you could finish questioning it, shoving open his door and half-stomping around to your side. Your mouth parting as he yanked yours open next, his hand outstretched as he impatiently waited for you to get out. 

“I could’ve climbed back there,” you muttered. 

“You took too long,” he grunted, grabbing your wrist and tugging you out the second your seatbelt was undone.

What? 

Was he going to cum before you got back there? 

You stared at the backseat when he opened one of the doors, belatedly realizing he must have taken his son’s carseat out before bringing you here. 

Did he seriously think you were that easy? 

Your mouth parted, but then he was nudging you inside – and twisting you around so your back was pressed against the opposite window. 

“What are you-” 

“When’s the last time someone took care of you?” He grunted, climbing in and shutting the door behind him. He looked sorta silly, his massive frame half-hunched to fit as he slid your little shorts and panties down your thighs at the same time.

“It’s been a while,” you admitted, mouth going dry as he appraised you this time.  

“Can I fix that?” 

You wondered if he usually had to ask.

Or if anyone else had ever hesitated over the answer before. 

“If you want to,” you mumbled, all your earlier boldness disappearing at the prospect of what he was actually about to do. 

“I want to,” he bluntly said. 

And apparently, judging by how fast he buried himself between your thighs, he really, really did. 

Practically diving in, dragging his tongue in-and-out of your pussy, treating it like it was some five-star dessert. 

For a second, you felt kind of strange about the whole thing. 

He was still basically a stranger. 

You were a stranger. Stuck in a body you were still getting used to, one that belonged to someone else. But it was yours now. 

This whole life was. 

Why should you feel bad for making the most of it? 

You’d been in far worse situations before. Shouldn’t you just be grateful for this chance you’d been given? 

Enjoy the simple pleasure of a man shoving his tongue inside you and swirling it around? 

You let out a soft whine, tangling your fingers into his hair as you bucked your hips up, driving his tongue deeper as he flicked the thick, pink muscle with the precision of a man who must have mapped out a hundred other women before. 

He planted his hands on your hips, thumbs dimpling your soft flesh as he practically pulled you into his mouth. Sharp nose nudging up against a sensitive spot, a shiver rolling down your body as your toes reflexively curled. 

“This what you wanted from me?” He grumbled between filthy sucks, like it didn’t seem like he was literally salivating just from a few licks. 

“I was fine going without,” you simply shrugged, pulling yourself together to seem as unaffected as possible, stifling a second whimper as he traced his tongue up from your pussy to your clit. Swirling a tantalizingly mean circle around the bud before breathing on it, doing his damndest to tease you as you resisted the urge to scowl at him. 

“You seem pretty needy now,” he mocked, and you just pressed your lips shut, swallowing hard as he started to suck on your clit. 

He knew exactly what he was doing. 

Pulling your strings with the efficiency of a puppet master, a long finger deliberately sliding into your soaked pussy as he pushed you right to the precipice. 

It was cruel. Calculated. 

But god, it was so good. 

You could spend an entire lifetime getting finger-fucked if it felt like this. 

If you had his mouth on you to make you see stars as he poked and prodded at all your sensitive spots. Taking you right to the edge and throwing you headfirst over, making you cum before you had even processed just how close you were. 

He knew it too, annoyingly enough. 

Catching a glimpse of his smirk before you scrunched your eyes shut, focusing on the pleasure he was passing you instead. Thighs trembling in his tight grip as he coaxed you through it, making condescending little moans as you finished in his backseat. 

Devouring you like you were somehow his payment for driving lessons. 

“So what?” He huffed when he was convinced you were done. “You wanna keep playing hard to get?” 

“I have no interest in being caught,” you retorted. Not by him, at least. 

But playing around in his trap wasn’t half-bad when his tongue was diving back into your cunt for seconds, drinking you up with a voracity that robbed you of all the air in your lungs. 

You were pretty sure you were leaking on his seats. Dripping down your thighs as he pulled his tongue back out to assess the mess he made of you. 

What you really didn’t expect was him to clean the fucking cracked leather with his tongue. Dragging it over the surface, soaking up every last drop of you on his tongue. 

“You’re nasty,” you commented, brows knitting together.

“You literally just let me eat you out,” he deadpanned. 

“I was horny,” you bluntly replied, shrugging your shoulders. Wasn’t that what they called it here? 

You tried to sit up, but that just made him hit his head on the ceiling of the car, cursing under his breath as you snagged your panties and shorts from where they ended up on the floor among discarded lollipops and snack crumbs. 

Cringing a little as you plucked them up and dusted them off, quickly putting them back on – although your foot accidentally connected with his shin. 

“Oops.” 

You were escaping out of the backseat while he was still wincing. 

Opening up the passenger side door and slipping back in, checking your reflection in the visor mirror with a sigh as you waited for him to get back in the driver’s seat. 

You didn’t know what he was nursing more. His pride or his fresh injuries. 

Maybe his, ah, what did they call it here? 

Blue balls?

You tried not to stare at his bulge through his jeans when he got behind the wheel, his jaw still tense as he switched the radio station. 

“I can’t believe you took your kid’s carseat out because you thought we were going to have sex back here,” you muttered as you squirmed in the passenger seat, pulling the belt across your chest.

“That I-” He started to repeat, green eyes glaring as he huffed. “That is not why I-” 

“Sure,” you interrupted, waving it away as you stared out the fogged-up window. 

“I took it out because I was worried you were going to crash my fuckin’ car with it in here,” he argued, and you nodded along like you believed him. “You can’t keep using a carseat if it’s been in a crash. It’s-” 

“Whatever you say,” you half sing-songed, reaching over to turn up the radio and when his hand fell away from the knob in disbelief. “Can we pick up something to eat on the way back?”

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You might not know how to drive yet, but you wouldn’t consider the past couple hours a waste. 

Carrying in a to-go bag, ignoring his attempt at a good night kiss and instructing him to go pick up his child as you shut your apartment door behind you. 

You were pretty starving since he was the only one who technically had anything to eat. 

But before you could even slip your shoes off, your phone started buzzing in your purse, your mouth curing up as you dug through it to grab it — pleased to find your coworker’s name flitting across the screen: 

You swiped to pick up without a hesitation. 

“Hi,” you answered, heart thrumming in your chest as you leaned against the wall.

“I was starting to get worried when you didn’t pick up,” he admitted, voice twinged with anxiety. “I called a couple times.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, chewing on your kiss-bitten bottom lip. “I was, uh, getting driving lessons.” 

“You’re learning how to drive?” 

You weren’t sure if it was your imagination. But you thought you detected disappointment in his low voice. 

“I don’t want to keep inconveniencing you,” you sheepishly muttered, shrugging your shoulders even though he couldn’t see it. “You do so much for me, and-” 

“Are you really sure you should be behind the wheel of a car yet?” He asked, all cute and concerned. 

“I mean, I don’t see why not?” You asked, twirling a loose strand of hair around your fingers as you soaked up his worry. 

“Was it hard?” He asked, and you didn’t really know how to answer that. 

“I guess?” You muttered. The driving part was tricky, sure, getting used to judging distances and learning what felt like a thousand rules of the road. But it was kinda fun too. 

Being in control. Behind a wheel.

Doing something for yourself. 

“Maybe you should wait a bit,” he softly suggested, and a flicker of guilt started to stir. While you were getting your pussy practically devoured, he’d been thinking of you. Worrying about you. “I don’t want anything to happen to you again.” 

“You’re sweet,” you murmured, not sure what else to say to that.

“I just don’t want to be picking you up from another hospital,” he wryly replied. 

“Maybe you could help teach me,” you suggested, wondering whether the tricks you just pulled would work on him. 

“I mean, if you want me to,” he cleared his throat on the other end, your mouth curling up in a smile. 

“I know you’re busy, but maybe next weekend?” You tentatively asked, hope stacked so high in your heart, you were sure something had to give and send it all toppling back down. 

“Yeah, I would be happy to,” he murmured, and you almost silently cheered, shoulders relaxing back as the to-go bag crinkled in your tight fist. 

“And I could treat you to a meal afterwards?” You added, crossing two fingers as you waited for his answer. 

“Sure,” he agreed. 

And because you couldn’t help sticking your foot in your mouth, you were gigging before you could stop yourself, mouth opening before your brain had given it permission, “Sounds like a date.” 

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