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smokeyfuzz · 1 year

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[new apartment]

Note: Joel Miller (AU) drabble. Pure fluff and some sexual tension. No real NFSW warnings. Written with female voice/reader in mind.

DBF!Joel Miller/Former Neighbor. Eludes to age gap (reader is in early twenties, Joel in his early-mid 40s). Circa 2005 - No Outbreak.

Joel Miller - your dad’s best friend and your childhood neighbor - is at your own apartment helping you put the place together. Your dad was there earlier, but left due to a work emergency leaving you with the gruff older man. You’re used to his personality and he your own and you each ebb and flow with relative ease. It’s comfortable and familiar - that is if you ignore the butterflies he gives you in the pit of your stomach as you watch his broad back work and muscles strain under his fitted old t-shirt in the Texas summer heat as he puts together your desk.

The windows are open in the small building, box fan blowing in the corner and music playing from your stereo. Condensation forms on the beers sitting on the counter and you quickly avert your appraising gaze from him when he moves to stand up. You turn away, busying yourself by unpacking the box sitting on the sofa behind you.

He makes a comment and you respond back with “mmm?”, curiously looking over your shoulder in his direction - as if you hadn’t been watching him for the past few minutes. His head is tilt back, exposing his tanned and slightly scruffy neck as he takes a drink of the beer. You involuntarily bite your lip as you watch his Adams apple bob from the action.

“Said I’m done with the desk Peach,” he repeats once he finishes drinking, using the nickname he had affectionately given you. “What else you need help with?”

You swallow as he takes in your appearance, his eyes scanning your face and the flushed appearance on your cheeks and neck. “You okay?” He follows up with.

No. “Yes,” you lie. “Just hot.” And he’s not helping.

He nods in agreement and you watch as he grabs the end of his shirt, pulling it up and exposing his softly toned stomach as he wipes some of his sweat from his forehead. Fuck. Your thighs pull together at the sight. The shirt falls back down as he’s suddenly brushing by you and his scent wafts by your nostrils, consuming you for a moment.

“AC still broken?” He asks, stopping in front of the machine as he inspects it.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply as you clear your throat. “Put a work order in. Should be fixing it soon.”

He hums in response. “Let me have a look at it.”

“Joel, thanks but I’m sure-“ you begin to deny his offer, as much as your appreciate it. He had been helping you most of his day and while you loved watching him work, you were sure he had other things he needed to get done.

“No problem Peach,” he quickly interjects, shoulders rolling as he inspects the broken device.

“Really? I mean I’m sure you need to get back home for Sarah.”

“She’s staying at Tommy’s for the weekend,” he replies. “And we’re in a heat wave, darlin’.” You blush from the term of endearment. He glances back at you. “Let me fix your AC.” You concede and nod.

He turns back to the machine and you, after watching him a second longer, return to your own tasks. You each continue on like this for the next hour - sometimes talking with one another about something: he asks how college was going, you ask him about work, the conversation ebbs into movies and books. He occasionally stands, stretching his limbs or drinking more of his beer. You drink your own and try to covertly watch his muscles flex.

He manages to fix the AC as the day fades into evening and your putting away some dishware. He shuts the windows as it kicks into life, the space starting to become cooler.

“All done,” he notes as he approaches the kitchen. He notices you struggling to put away a vase. “Let me help you with that Peach.” Before you can object he is behind you and you can feel his chest grazing your back as his arms stretch above your own. His hand slides over your own as he easily moves the dish into the cabinet. You feel color rise to your face, a small squeak pushes past your lips.

If he heard it he ignores it, instead: “Sure you want that up there?”

“I rarely use it,” you manage to reply softly.

He hovers behind you a second longer as you try to control the beating of your own heart. Another second later and he finally steps away, leaning against your kitchen counter as he finishes his beer. “That’s a damn shame.”

You turn your back to him as you reach for your own forgotten beer on the island. “Why’s that?” You ask.

“Pretty girl like you deserves flowers.”

He says it easily, smoothly and you nearly drop your beer. You recover with a dry laugh as you turn to face him. There’s no way he’s flirting with you. To him, your probably still the teenage girl he caught sneaking back home after attending a college party and getting plastered, tripping in his backyard as you stumbled over a piece of his lawn furniture.

“I’ll be sure to tell that to my next date.”

He smirks at your teasing tone, watches as you drink your own beer. Your stomach growls then and you suddenly realize you haven’t really ate much all day. He eyes you, smirk still pulling at his lips.

“How about I repay your hard work with pizza?” You ask, glancing up at him.

“Sounds good darlin.”

The pizza comes and you find yourself curled on the sofa beside Joel, scarfing down your third slice. You stomach is beginning to feel full, the grease and carbs of the pizza seemingly pairing well with the alcohol in your system as cool air permeates throughout your small apartment.

When you finish the slice you lean into the sofa, stretching your legs out until they touch Joel’s leg. He wordlessly moves them into his lap, allowing you to fully stretch them. It’s an action you’ve done countless times with him since knowing him. Now it’s feels different when you consider your own crush on the man. You think the booze is helping you loosen up a bit though, as the nerves you felt earlier don’t feel as edged and sharp.

You slip into an easy conversation again talking about your lives. You ask him about Sarah and Tommy, he shares some details. Sarah misses you - you make a remark about babysitting her again although she’s come to the age (14) when she doesn’t need a sitter. Joel says they’d like the visit. You catch the way he says “them” instead of “her”. Your heart races a little faster. Okay maybe the nerves are still there.

You eye the clock on your microwave. It’s getting late - almost 9. Joel still had an hour and half drive home. You go to note this, but suddenly the track changes on your music. You realize suddenly that the disc you had put in before the pizza arrived (a burned album from a friend) also held some explicit music you played when you were hooking up.

Your fucking sex playlist was on the disc.

Your scramble to move, but Joel’s large hands are resting on your leg where your ankles cross, thumb drawing absentminded circles into the skin. Again, you doubt it was intentional on his part but your skin is burning from the action, face flushing, butterflies hammering in the depths of the stomach.

Grind On Me by Pretty Ricky fills the silence in the room.

You swallow. It’s embarrassing and you pray he doesn’t pick up on the music. Or that if he does he doesn’t tease you or ask you about it. You doubt he listened to this type of music anyways - classic rock, country, and oldies was all you ever heard playing from his radio. You play with your hands and turn your head to the side as Pretty Ricky continues to play.

“You like this kind of stuff Peach?” His gravely voice suddenly breaks into the room. You dare a peek in his direction and realize he’s watching you. It sounds accusatory - probably because he isn’t a fan of it - but also curious. Most of the music you had been listening to while he was at your place was rock or 90s grunge.

His gaze feels heavy on you and you manage to give a small shrug.

“It’s okay. I don’t listen to it often. Only really when-”

You manage to stop yourself in time before finishing that thought. Your slight buzz, the heat from the day, the greasy food, him - it had worn you down to loose lips.

You look away, can feel his gaze on the side of your profile. His thumbs digs a little deeper into the flesh of your leg.

“You gonna finish that thought?”

“Nope.” You say it quickly - probably to quickly. And Joel’s not an idiot. He can hear the lyrics and can probably safely discern where your voice was initially taking you.

Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything.

“It’s getting late,” you announce.

He hums in agreement, squeezes your leg one final time before he moves your legs off of him. You miss his warmth.

You follow Joel to your front door.

“Thanks again, for everything.”

“Anytime, Peach.”

Like you’ve always done in the past, you lean up to give him a hug. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into him as well. Familiar, comfortable - but then something more.

You both linger in the embrace - a second longer. Your breathing him in and again your slipping into the beautiful haze the food and the booze and the heat and that Joel himself has given you. You finally pull away from one another just as the song comes to a close.

He turns to leave, hand on the doorknob before he stops, glancing back at you with a glint to his eye.

“Y’know there’s better music to fuck too.”

Your mouth falls open at his words just as he leaves, face flushing a deep red.

Extra:

On the way home Joel flips through the radio station, his thoughts burning with the thought of you. His window is rolled all the way down, the warm night air keeping sobering him up.

Your reaction to his words keep playing in his mind, over and over and over again. Your cute blush, the way your mouth fell open. The sight of you in your shorts and tank top as you fought the heat throughout the day.

He knows he’s fucked for thinking it - to be attracted to you when he was your father’s best friend - that he was nearly twice your age.

He lets out an exasperated sigh, knowing he’s playing with fire.

He continues to mindlessly channel surf until it catches his ear.

Grind On Me is playing on some channel. He stays on the channel.

#joel miller #the last of us #joel tlou #pedro pascal #the last of us au #female reader

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smokeyfuzz · 1 year

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the morning after

Part 2 of: he didn’t do serious relationships

[music: Alone Together by Del Water Gap]

When she had awoken the next morning in the early afternoon, Satoru had still been buried in the sheets, his head somehow having made its way tucked underneath a pillow where he snored softly.

He laid on his toned stomach, one his arms draped over her tummy where she carefully pulled it aside before slipping out of the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. She reemerged moments later, a small robe covering her naked frame, her gaze falling on her lover as she slipped back onto the bed and pulled her legs to her chest, leaning her head onto her knees.

He stirred shortly after, shifting in the bed until he was on his back and looking up at her with groggy eyes and his white locks in a gorgeous mess.

“Hey,” she said softly, knowing he hated the mornings.

“Hey,” he greeted back as he leaned towards her and kissed her leg. She had blushed from the intimate action, moving to comb a hand through his hair. He closed his eyes again, savoring the sensation as a content groan left his lips and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Then:

I think I love you…

His heart hammered at the memory and he found himself forcing himself to pull away from her touch as he stood, moving to put on his clothes. She bit her lip, watched him move across the space as she drew back into herself, suddenly unsure if she had done something wrong. Normally the morning-afters began lazy and soft. A slow intimacy that always ended with the both of them returning to their respected lives. This felt rushed, forced.

You don’t have to say it back. I just want you to know…

“I need to get back to the school,” he says the words when he dares a glance in her direction, noticing her confusion and rejection. He feels his heart break and swallows, pulling his shirt over his head as he scans the room for his bandage. Where the fuck did he throw it?

She nods, accepting his half-truth for now. He can tell she’s still doubtful, but she’s slipping out of the bed then as she seems to know what he is looking for. She approaches him with the white cloth in her hand, having been tossed in the foyer of the suite where he had stumbled in with her the night before. Where he had gone down on her in the hallway.

“Here,” she presents them to him and he’s careful when he grabs the bandage from her hand.

“Thanks,” he nods, beginning to wrap the cloth around his eyes. It's then he allows himself to actually look at her, the protection of his eyes being covered guarding his gaze from her. His six eyes allows to see her, even with the barrier. She’s looking at her feet, arms crossed over her chest and digging into her cleavage, pushing it up. He feels the natural pull towards her, craves the familiarity of her touch and their usual rituals following a night like they had previously. But her words keep ringing in his ears now that it's the next day, now that he isn’t allowing himself the same luxury as last night where he instead buried himself in her.

Satoru Gojo was the most powerful man alive. Probably the bravest (or maybe that was just his arrogance). He could have anything he wanted, do anything he wanted.

And he wanted her - loved her. But in his line of work she could be his weakness, his downfall, but more importantly, she could get hurt or worse. He remembers his own past - his former peers and friends when he was student, having long since passed away or left.

You're loved…

He swallows audibly again and does what he does best as he plasters a smirk on his face. He puts on a show.

She’s suddenly startled when she feels his lips brush her cheek and she glances up, her sad eyes now surprised.

“I had fun,” he smiles, his words saccharine yet genuine. It's familiar in the sense it's the same words he used when they first hooked up, when they thought it was going to only be a one time thing. It's the same words he’s used with other women.

“You had fun,” she says slowly, almost as a question. She isn’t used to this type of send-off, despite being aware of his antics.

Her brows furrowed and he finds it adorable. Without realizing it he repeats her actions from the night before, tracing her nose and cheekbone before his palm settles on her jaw. The action seems to confuse her more, but like him, she melts into the touch.

When he realizes his mistake he doesn’t move his hand, feels his own cheeks and ears burning, but he’s allowing himself to be greedy for a few seconds longer.

“I’ll call you,” he promises, and these words are familiar to her. They’re often how they end their reunions and he always does call or text.

His heart races as he remembers the scar along her body. The way she held him by the window last night. The noticeable love bites that are forming along her exposed skin now. Guilt seeps into his bones when he realizes his promise is a lie this time.

If she realizes it she doesn’t say anything, just another small smile that doesn’t quite seem to reach her eyes like it did when he saw her when they first woke up.

“Okay.”

He kisses her forehead, lingering a second longer where he cradles her face before pulling away entirely. Her eyes are closed as he moves past her, out the door, and finally, out of the hotel.

—

A month had passed since the night in the hotel, tangled up in sheets where she had announced she’d loved him. They’d spent the rest of the night kissing and exploring one another's bodies until finally exhaustion had seeped into their bones and they had fallen asleep in one another's arms.

She never received a call or a text from him since he had left that next day. She could sense the empty promise even then, but a part of her still held out hope. Convinced herself that after her proclamation that he just needed a minute to think. That even though he hadn’t said it, he’d felt it too and what they were doing would become something more.

Perhaps that was why this hurt even more so now - having been both cold yet tender that morning at the hotel. Wrapping himself in her after she told him her feelings then leaving things unfinished. She figured after everything she deserved the respect of a closed chapter in his life, not whatever the hell this was.

She ran a hand through her hair, pushing the strands that had fallen in front of her eyes out of her face and tucking them behind her ear as a heavy sigh escaped from her. Her heart was broken, but life kept moving and so she did too. She needed to stop thinking about him and thinking about the what-ifs or what she could’ve done differently, when in the end she didn’t regret the bravery of admitting her feelings and of helping him realize he wasn’t just some tools for others to use.

She leaned over and ran the rag across the table top before she stood back to attention, moving to the glass door as she flipped the “open” sign to “close”. It was dark out, nearly 9:30 pm at night with the remaining customers finally having left a few minutes prior and the usually lively street had become all but vacant. She was looking forward to getting home, curling under her covers and letting herself escape into her dreams. Lately, it was when she felt most at ease. She went to click the lock in place when she saw it: movement outside, in the shadows. Non-human in shape.

She swallowed, clicking it shut and making her way towards the back where her items were gathered. Maybe if she just ignored it.

Ever since the accident she was able to see curses. She didn’t know why it occurred, she assumed it was maybe the trauma of the whole thing. Oftentimes when she saw them they didn’t bother her. This felt different though. Ominous. She hummed to herself, trying to shift her thoughts as she gathered her belongings. The cafe was clean enough, she thought.

She slipped into her jacket and threw her bag over her shoulder, leaving through the back exit and locking up as she quickly moved towards the train station, waiting on a bunch under a dim light.

She stayed like that, waiting, for several minutes in silence. The eerie sensation was still there, creeping up on her. She twiddled her thumbs, ignoring the gnawing feeling of looking over shoulder.

She startled when a voice cut through the air and she looked up, realizing a man was looking down at her, motioning to the seat beside her where her purse was.

“Can I sit here?”

Recovering from her surprise, she nodded and moved the bag into her lap as he sat beside her. He eyed her for a minute before looking ahead as well.

“Sorry I scared you.”

She moved the bag closer to her chest. “‘S okay,” she replied, a shy smile pulling at her lips. More silence passed as they both waited for the train. He mindlessly flipped through his phone and she picked at her nailpolish nervously.

She dared a peek over her shoulder, her sense of unease still present as she became worried for the stranger beside her. She couldn’t see it, but she felt it. Watching. Waiting. She quickly snapped her head forward.

He looked over his shoulder as well, eyebrows knitting together as he looked in the direction.

“You alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she lied. Then: “Long day.”

“Tell me about it,” he sighed, stretching before extending his legs in front of him.

Just then the train began to pull up and she stood. She looked back when she realized he remained seated.

“Waiting on someone,” he answered for her, easing her confusion. The doors slid open and few bodies returning from late shifts began to mill out and return to their homes. She nodded before turning away.

“Thanks for the company,” he called out as she began to move forward and she glanced back at him one last time. “Name’s Geto, by the way.”

She glanced over his shoulder, looking for that sensation that ran down her spine but not seeing it. She finally met his gaze after a moment of hesitation, smiling as she gave her own name. “It was nice meeting you,” she replied politely before stepping into the protective metal box of the train.

He watched the train leave, moving his hand as the curse spirit lurking in the shadows was quickly diminished before pulling out a small container of hand sanitizer as the polite smile on his face fell into a grimace.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #geto suguru #Female reader #reader-insert #Jujutsu Kaisen #angst #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles

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smokeyfuzz · 1 year

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Wicked Games Series

“Telling myself, “I won’t go there”. Oh, but I know that I won’t care. Tryna wash away all the blood I’ve spilt. This lust is burden that we both share, two sinners can’t atone from a lone prayer. Souls tied, intertwined by our pride and guilt... Oh, I love it and hate it at the same time. You and I drink the poison from the same vine.” -- Daylight, David Kushner

Summary: They were supposed to share their lives together - but not like this. Not as enemies when they had been lovers and friends, each others’ solace in an otherwise traumatizing life. Now opposites of the same coin, the shadow and the light. Even worse was she wasn’t the only one left behind, the only one sealed in such a fate. She found comfort in her friends and in their shared misery, of the known truth that one day one of them would have to stop him. Time began to heal old wounds, until one day that familiar face returned to her and she found her world turned upside down once more as her life, her students life, and the world was put in the crosshair. [sorry I’m shit at summaries] Status: Not Complete Warnings: Angst, trauma, smut, toxic!Suguru, slightlytoxic!Satoru, possessive behavior, jealousy, violence, mature themes, trauma-bonding, anxiety, use of drugs and alcohol, dark!Suguru, Format: Use of female pronouns and wrote in more of a style of (f)reader. Author’s Note: 18+ material below in some chapters. Please read at your own discretion.

Parts

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve

#geto suguru #gojo satoru #reader-insert #Female reader #jjk angst #angst #love triangle #trauma #romance #jjk smut #jjk x y/n #Jujutsu Kaisen #gojo x y/n x geto #gojo x reader #geto x reader

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smokeyfuzz · 1 year

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Eddie Munson and this song. That’s the post.

#this is so him #can’t convince me otherwise #eddie munson #unhinged king #i know he’s metal but…#Spotify #stranger things

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smokeyfuzz · 1 year

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Some people take me back to high school

Not for awhile, just for the afternoon

And kiss me underneath the bleachers. <3

#friends to lovers #steve harrington #stranger things #oc #reader-insert

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smokeyfuzz · 1 year

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Rest in Peace Lance Reddick (June 7, 1962 – March 17, 2023)

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smokeyfuzz · 1 year

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He didn’t do serious relationships. He didn’t have girlfriends. In fact, he’d only really slept with a handful of people casually - his time too absorbed with work and saving lives. So then why were you so hard to quit?

In which Satoru Gojo finds himself falling for a regular ‘ol human.

Note: Wrote with she/her pronouns.

They first met when he saved her life. She was just some girl who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time - found herself attacked by something she couldn’t even see, let alone probably comprehend.

He gazed down at her, passed out on the floor. Body covered in blood and cuts. Her chest barely rose, labored breathing.

The curses within the area had been easily taken care of once he had entered the premise, a color stated and move of his wrist and they were little more than a spec of dust.

He watched her eyes slowly open as he leaned down, arms slipping under her frame so he could bring her back to Shoko to fix up. She tried to speak, words bubbling to the surface but not quite finding ground, instead a pained moan as her hand moved to his face, blindfold over his eyes. Before it reached it, her hand collapsed against his chest instead, head falling limp as she slipped back into an unconscious state.

Gojo peered down at her now, naked and asleep beside him, limbs curled under the expensive silk sheets. She looked peaceful, hair splayed across the pillow and skin marked from various love bites and bruises. The sheet fell along her waist, exposing her back where he could make out the scar that stretched from the side of her hip and curved upward towards the middle of her spine. A reminder of that day.

It had been a few months since she had stumbled into his life and had somehow carved out a piece of residence in his heart. He’d never admit. Considered it a weakness - he’d lost enough in his twenty-eight years. So instead nights like these happen - meetings in hotel rooms or one another places where he buries himself in her: her touch, her laugh, her kisses, and her voice.

One night of passion all those months ago had turned into this - whatever this was.

He leaned forward, traced the scar before kissing her shoulder blade, then slowly and carefully slipped out of the bed. He reached for his boxer-briefs on the floor and pulled them on, moving towards the large window that overlooked the nightlife of Tokyo. Buildings were still vibrant with life, neon signs bright just as rain began to hit the glass of the window.

He sensed her before he saw her, felt her. Her energy engrained his own being. Limbs wrapped around his stomach as he felt a kiss to the middle of his back. She radiated heat, mumbling:

“It’s late. What are you doing up?”

He watched outside a moment longer, his own hands tracing over the skin of her forearms. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Come back to bed,” she said softly, tiredly as she kissed the back of his bicep, fingers finding his own before intertwining.

He hummed in response, turning toward her before his own arms wrapped around her waist. She had slipped into his t-shirt, twice her size and skimming her mid thighs. He felt a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips at the sight, and leaned down, capturing her lips in his own to hide the evidence of what could only be described as tenderness, butterflies hammering into his chest.

She stood on tiptoes, her own arms tracing his biceps before slipping into his hair as the kiss deepened. She finally pulled away with a breath, feeling his arousal pressed against her stomach.

“Bed’s a good idea,” he smirked, lips leaning down to nip at her jaw, under her ear where he knew a pleased and needy whine would slip out from her.

She keened into his touch, nodding her head before he was walking her backwards towards the bed. She collapsed onto the messy sheets, half-lidded eyes meeting his own as he slotted himself between her legs and moved on top of her. Like all the times before she wrapped her legs around his waist, his hand finding purchase on her now exposed thigh. His lips met her own once more, tongue slipping in as she moaned into his mouth, her hands finding home on his muscular back, nails raking the skin that sent a shiver down his spine and rut of his hips into her own.

“Satoru…” she groaned as she circled her own hips up into him. The shirt she had put on had risen up, pooled around her waist and leaving her exposed, completely nude underneath.

He pecked her lips, pleased smirk on his own before he slowly moved down her body. Kisses to her neck, collarbone, covered chest. He moved the shirt up further, pressed a kiss just above her belly button then down, down, down - lips to skin on her hips, one faintly against the bit of scar exposed, top of her thighs, and then the inside of her thighs as she spread her legs open for him with a pleased moan. He nipped and sucked further on a spot of skin so close to where she needed him, a loud noise leaving her as she chased his lips with her hips.

“P-please,” she whined, tired of his teasing, wanting so much more.

He pulled away from the spot where a hickey was now forming on the skin, eyes meeting her own. She pouted down at him, eyes glassy.

“Pretty girl,” he cooed, mocked, despite his own heart racing, his own cock hard. “All marked up. A mess. So beautiful like this.” He murmured the last words and she still caught them, one of her hands finding one of his own that was splayed across the top of her stomach. She entwined her fingers with him, thumb tracing his knuckle. Silently pleading. He loved when she watched him.

He kissed the marked spot on her thigh once more, eyes trained on her before he finally pressed a kiss to her sex. He nipped again, a long swipe of his tongue up her slit and she rotated her hips, a content sigh falling from her lips as she squeezed his hand. He buried himself between her thighs, tongue lapping at her clit as her own chest heaved above, mewls of pleasure and praise escaping her lips as his own hips began to ground into the bed for friction. His free hand moved to between her legs, fingers lightly grazing her hole before two pressed in. A loud moan fell from her lips, his name, as he pumped in and out of her, curled his fingers just right when he found that spot he had memorized to know got her to her release so well. Her hold on his hand tightened as she felt it coming, stomach wounding tighter and tighter, sweat on her brow and jaw slack, eyes squeezed shut.

“Sa… sa…satoru,” she rotated her hips into him, her release washing over her as he continued to piston in and out, lapping at her sex greedily. Her own free hand moved to his hair, tugging slightly that had his moaning against her. She was beginning to become too sensitive, a whined moan even when she knew he wouldn’t let up just yet.

Her walls continued to squeeze him, her legs shaking around him as she tried to keep from closing them, trapping him in. He squeezed her hand, messily making out her sex as the overstimulation built and built until her hips rose slightly from the bed, another orgasm washing over her. He guided her through it, lips pulling off her sex as his fingers slowed, watched her chest heave and the pretty flush that spread across her neck and face. When she finally collapsed back onto the sheets he slowly slipped out, body moving back up her own as their hands released one another.

His lips were red and wet, her mess on his face as she gave a lazy smile, body occasionally jerking when his covered erection circled her hips. She leaned up, pulling his lips to her own as her hands trailed south, fingers dancing around the ridge of his underwear before she moved them down. He pulled away from her, shimmied his way out of them and tossed them back onto the floor as she moved to slip out of his shirt. He watched her with hungry eyes as her breasts became exposed. Sitting up, she moved to the edge of the bed where he now stood and rescued up to him, arms wrapping around his neck as she kissed, just as hungry and needy as him.

She bit his lip, pulling slightly as she gazed up at him. The exhaustion once on her features had given way for lust and something else. Something he had caught himself doing when he looked at her for too long as well. Love. Unspoken between the two of them, but always just below the surface. She never pressed him, always took what he gave her, what part of him she could have even when she craved more.

He kissed her once more before he maneuvered her onto her stomach, ass up. She gripped the sheets, feeling him run his tip through her folds before slowly pushing in. He was big - just like the rest of him - and no matter how many times he prepped her or they met like this she could never quite be ready enough. Her head fell into the sheets, both groaning from the pleasure, as his hands squeezed her hips and he leaned forward, kissing the spot between her shoulder blades.

She circled her hips into his own, the rest of him slipping in as bit down into the flesh of her shoulder where it met the back of her neck. He stayed buried in her for a moment, her walls fluttering around him before his hips ground into her own.

“F-fuck,” he hissed, standing back behind her as he pulled out till his tip was just in before thrusting forward. Both moaned as she bounced forward from the strength of his thrust, and he continued, thrusting in and out as his speed gradually increased and she met him with her own.

He leaned back down, missing the feeling of her, craving her touch against his own chest as he positioned himself on top of her, her body pushed into the sheets and head to the side as he continued thrusting. One hand moved up to hold one of her hands gripping the sheets as she grounded her hips into her, deep and hard as she sighed from the stimulation. He kissed her shoulders, back of her neck, before their lips collided together - all teeth and sloppy as he groaned from the way she squeezed him.

She moaned his name, pleas as she chased another release.

“So good, ‘s so good,” she mumbled against his lips.

He kissed her once more before he kissed her jaw, nipped and licked. He pulled back up, hand finding purchase around her neck as he pulled her up with him, back still to his chest as he rolled his hips up into her, hitting that spot that had her toes curling. He squeezed her neck and she moaned as he groaned her name into her shoulder.

He moved his other hand between her legs, rubbing furiously at her clit as he felt his own release coming.

He hands clawed at the arm that grabbed her neck. “Gonna, gonna…” she hiccuped, voice trailing off when he hit that spot again in her again, his focus on it.

“Go ahead pretty girl,” he groaned, lips pressed to her ear as her eyes squeezed shut, jaw growing slack. “Cum on my cock.”

His words had stars form behind her eyes as she cried from her release, breathing heavy as her third orgasm washed over her.

His own hips began to lose their rhythm as he felt his own orgasm approaching.

“I-inside, please,” she managed to mumble out despite struggling to find words, her pleasure taking over every recess of her mind.

He groaned at the thought, a bit taken a back by her words. One of the first rules they established when sleeping together was to never cum inside. He couldn’t afford the risk of a child despite already caring for Megumi.

Her walls fluttered around him again as she grabbed for his hair, and his eyes flashed to her own.

“Y-yeah?” He breathed and she nodded.

“Jesus Christ,” he moaned, muscles rippling as he felt his own release rock through him, his cum painting her walls white as she moaned from the feeling. He circled his hips once more, feeling his release begin to slip out of her, white ring around his coco when he looked down at where they were connected.

With a heavy sigh he felt her pulling forward and took the hint, both collapsing back onto the bed, him still buried between her legs.

They stayed like this for a few minutes longer, catching their breath as he kissed her back, stroked her sides.

He gave one last experimental thrust that caused her to whine his name from overstimulation and he let out a soft laugh before beginning to pull out, hissing his own sensitivity before he fell beside her. He watched her become comfortable, her arms resting under her head as she looked at him sideways. A small smile pressed at her lips, one of his arms tucked under his head as he reached over and traced the scar on her back.

He could’ve gotten rid of it for her but she liked it she had claimed, a reminder of her survival - of their first encounter. She knew he wasn’t particularly a fan of it, mostly because it reminded him of the hurt she had experienced.

“I think I love you,” she murmured finally.

His breath caught in his throat, heart racing as he continued to trace the scar. He wouldn’t say it, couldn’t say it, but he think he loved her too.

Instead he leaned forward, lips grazing her own before pulling away.

She gave him a small smile. She wished he’d say it back, had grown to know the man before her too well to know when he was holding back. But she didn’t press him on it.

“You don’t have to say it back,” she said softly, exhaustion seeping back into her bones. “I just wanted you to know.” She traced his nose, his jaw, his cheekbone and he knew he was blushing. “You’re loved.”

He watched her close her eyes and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him as he felt his own exhaustion slipping into his bones.

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