#its too cute to resist

[salem-witch-slut]

Unrequited

Ellie Williams X Abby Anderson

SYNOPSIS: Ellie and Abby hate each other, and all of Jackson knows it. But when Ellie has a dream about the blonde one night, she suddenly starts to feel things that are not exactly hate... and Ellie does not like it.

WARNINGS: Swearing, Everybody Lives AU, loser!ellie, no real warnings its SFW

DIVIDERS MADE BY @cafekitsune

for @olliesasimplething who always encourages me to keep writing. my biggest supporter

It was a cold day in winter when they first met 3 years ago. One of the worst blizzards to ever come about Jackson was upon the city and two patrol groups were stranded in the snow. Teton County, and Elk Creek became a maze of white and ice, and the creek group took shelter within an abandoned library, while the other group was forced to keep moving…

Infected were swarming the massive office warehouse building near the lodge on the Teton County trail, and the two assigned to the route before the sun came up were able to spot what was happening. A young woman, no more than 24, tackled by a runner into the snow, struggling to keep its gnashing teeth away from her but failing due to clear exhaustion.

Joel reacted first. His revolver pressed into the runner’s face, and he fired a quick round, reaching down and shouting at the blonde to give him his hand. She was disoriented, shaking, but otherwise unharmed as she stood on her feet.

“We’re gonna have to run!” Joel warned as his brother, Tommy, laid down the cover fire that was needed to escape. The blonde went along with the two men wordlessly, and it seemed that she was just as desperate to escape as they were. No questions were asked as they ran throughout the entire building, deflecting attacks and fighting off the infected that just seemed to never, ever, ever end.

The group made it to the lodge where two horses were, but the infected just kept coming. Very slowly, Tommy reached out to get the woman’s attention. Her heart was racing and her pupils were dilated, barely able to focus on what was what.

“Hey, I’m Tommy, and that’s Joel,” Her eyes flittered between the two and she shared a moment of centering herself. Almost like her ears were still ringing from the gunshot. “What’s your name?”

“Abby,” She stated, out of breath as her hands trembled on the gun with every bang against the door that was just barricaded shut. Tommy asked her if she was okay, and she barely agreed as she took a step back, almost like she was preparing for the door to come down at any second.

The two brothers seemed to have different ideas about what to do. Joel wanted to get out of here, but Tommy was adamant that staying put was the best option due to the horses being with them and they would not outrun the blizzard.

Abby was quick to offer a solution. “My friends! My friends are at a mansion just north of here; It’s fenced in, we have the whole perimeter secure.”

Joel looked towards his brother and nodded. “It’s the Baldwin place. That could work.”

“I’ll get the door!” Tommy rushed to the front door and began to untie the horses while Joel put his pistol down.

“You ride with me, come on!” Joel told Abby who was quick to agree, following close behind him like her life depended on it; and it, in fact, did depend on it. Without these two, she would be deader than dead. As soon as she was close to Joel, she grabbed his hand and he lifted her onto the saddle behind him.

In seconds, they were gone.

All Ellie needed to hear was that Tommy and Joel never showed up to the lookout point. In mere seconds, she was out the door on Shimmer to find him in the snow, regardless of the blizzard state outside. She split up from the group, covering the entire Teton County trail in a few hours.

“Joel! Tommy!” Ellie shrieked over the howling wind, desperate to find the two most important people in her life. Shimmer ran through the snow quickly, her rider frantically searching the area and coming to a halt when she saw the dead infected at the gate of the Baldwin place… Her stomach dropped and she immediately dismounted from her horse, tying Shimmer up to a tree out of the direct sight line as she made her way down the hill.

Ellie knew the Teton County trail and she’s been to the mansion before. She knew how to get in the back way. Her legs wobbled in terror as she slunk down through the hole in the fence and jumped the railing to get inside. “Joel? Tommy?”

Her voice seemed to reach on deaf ears as she came in through… an open sliding glass door? Something about this felt far too eerie. Ellie’s fear was at an all-time high as she moved through the mansion, looking for something… anything…

The sounds of voices had her jumping as she pulled out her pistol and followed them. Those voices could belong to anybody, and trespassers were always a problem, but Jackson’s policy wasn’t to shoot first, it was to see if they would shoot first… Ellie breathed slowly and followed the voices, down a large staircase to a door that led to a basement.

Laughter echoed in the room and Ellie gulped, grabbing the door handle and slowly pushing the wood out of her way. She was not expecting the number of people inside of this room and before Ellie could even blink, she had at least four guns pointed at her face.

“Hey, hey, put your fucking gun down!” Ellie shouted, not giving one shit that she was outnumbered as she lifted the pistol and stepped inside of the room. “Back up! What the fuck are you��”

“Ellie!” The voice rang in her ears as Ellie looked up and almost immediately, her fears were quenched. Joel ran right up to her and immediately put his hand on her pistol. “Ellie, calm down, it’s alright. They ain’t dangerous—”

Ellie didn’t even care about the crowd as she immediately wrapped her arms around the man and let out a breath of relief. Joel stumbled back and wrapped his arms around her, pushing his nose into the top of her head and scratching her face somewhat with his beard. “C’mon now, what’s this all about?”

A moment passed before Ellie stepped back and immediately shoved him with her hands, making him stumble back yet again. “You fuckin’ dick, don’t scare me like that!”

“Could- could you put the gun down, Ellie?” Joel said, holding out a hand and the girl sighed with a slight growl, tucking the gun back into the waistband of her jeans and putting her hands on her knees. She was covered in snow and her nose was red from how long she had been traversing the landscape looking for him and his brother. “Here, there’s a fire in this room, alright? C’mon.”

The others in the room seemed to be relaxing at the girl’s presence as Ellie stepped in time with Joel, going to the other room. “Who are these guys?”

“They’re just passin’ through Wyoming, trynna get back to Washington… We came across one of ‘em in the snow ‘bout 2 hours ago? She was getting’ swarmed by infected near the lodge,” Joel explained what happened and why they had to hunker down and wait out the storm. Tommy was sitting by the fire and Ellie let out a sigh of relief at seeing him, crouching down next to the blonde man and whacking him in the shoulder.

“Hey! Respect yer elders, girl!” Tommy joked, making Ellie chuckle before she sat down on her knees and put both hands on the warm ground near the little firepit. “Ellie, this here’s Abby. She helped us get outta the storm.”

Ellie was confused who he was talking about but she heard heavy boots fall in front of her and she looked up to see a blonde that was at least half a foot taller than her, long hair in a braid going down her shoulder as she knelt down next to the fire across from her.

“Hey,” Abby said, looking at the girl for a bit too long before she looked over her shoulder at where Joel went, seeing him talk to a man with reddish-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. “See those two got along almost immediately?”

“Well, yer dad’s easy to like,” Tommy shrugged his shoulders. Ellie watched Joel converse with who was apparently Abby’s father, seeing them talk away from the group a little and try to keep things hush. Ellie had a suspicion of what he was declaring…

That was over 3 years ago. The rest would be history. Joel said that if they didn’t find what they were looking for in Seattle, they were welcome to come back to Jackson. Half a year passed by, and just as spring was coming to an end for summer to roll in, the group reappeared at the gates in front of Jackson, minus a few people… It seemed that Jordan, Leah, and Nick didn’t make it back with them.

It was almost too easy for them to integrate into the life of Jackson as Joel vouched they were good people and they were offered a place to stay. At first, Ellie was indifferent to Abby and the rest of the group… but that began to wear thin.

Abby was quickly becoming a pain in the ass. Whenever they were paired together for patrol, which happened quite often, Abby insisted searching everywhere and anywhere possible, causing more trouble than was needed and nearly getting them killed on several occasions.

And it didn’t take long for Abby to break Ellie’s record of the amount of infected killed on a patrol. It didn’t matter what either of them did, everything felt like a competition, and Ellie was losing. She hated losing.

It was the night after a particularly hostile patrol, and Ellie was sporting a brand new set of stitches on her cheekbone and two splints on her left ring and pinky finger while sitting at the bar in the Tipsy Bison. Dina was sitting next to her, going on about something that Ellie just wasn’t paying attention to, but then she flinched at hearing the door open. Ellie didn’t need to look to see who it was.

Abby’s right arm was in a sling for a few days thanks to an infected knocking her onto the ground and having her roll down a hill into a riverbed. Ellie laughed at first, but she knew that Abby needed her to save her sorry ass, so she was quick to join her at the bottom of the hill.

She was so busy worrying about the runner that she didn’t hear the clicker approaching and before she could defend herself, the infected knocked her down onto the ground, her fingers breaking under her body and her face slicing against a very sharp stone in the dirt.

Everything was fucked, and Ellie was pissed off, but Abby was just as equally pissed as she approached the bar and slammed her left hand down onto the counter. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“I’m not the idiot that went into that trailer—”

“You’re such an asshole,” Abby grabbed Ellie by the front of her shirt and lifted her off the barstool. “You stood there and laughed at that runner taking me down!”

Ellie shoved her hands into Abby’s chest, a hand getting too close to her dislocated shoulder and making her grunt in pain. Ellie could have cared less. “Stop acting like you’re fucking invincible, you dense cunt! You could have gotten both of us killed!”

“And I could have been bit,” Abby got near Ellie’s face, close enough for the redhead to smell her pine scented soap that she used. Ellie tried not to inhale, finding that she detested the smell now more than ever before. “But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Guys, can we just calm down?” Dina stood up, stepping between both of them and Ellie scoffed. Abby could see blood dripping down her cheek and sliding into the collar of her black t-shirt, her adrenaline rushing and opening her wound back up. Her heart raced as she picked up the glass of whiskey and downed it in almost two seconds. Abby tried not to flinch at seeing the ugly bruises on her splinted fingers.

“I may fuckin’ hate you,” Ellie snapped. “But that doesn’t mean I wanna see you dead, Anderson.”

With that being said, Ellie left the bar and went straight home, leaving Abby to be her brooding self inside of the building. The entire walk home, Ellie wanted to tear her hair out. How can one human be so damn infuriating?! Ellie can’t remember the last time a person had pissed her off so badly. Her heart was racing, and she felt nauseous… or maybe that was just the whiskey in her system.

 In her haste to get inside of her home, she didn’t even acknowledge Joel on his back porch, Jerry sitting next to him on a chair and both of them bonding over the coffee they recently got through a trade. Joel tried to say hi, but she ignored him and slammed her door.

Ellie slammed her hand against the wall, and immediately groaned in pain at her broken fingers throbbing under the skin. Her blood was boiling and dripping from the wound on her cheek. Everything felt overwhelming and she had to calm down somehow. Her heart felt like it was trying to escape from her chest.

After a very short shower, she replaced the bandages on her cheek and changed into a different set of clothes not covered in her sweat. After getting her shit rocked today, Maria agreed to give her a few days off to recuperate from having her bones broken. Ellie could sleep in… And forget about bitches named Abby.

It was well into the night and Ellie had been tossing and turning through her entire dream. Turning onto her left side, she curled both hands into her chest and muttered something under her breath; something she would have slapped herself for saying if she was conscious… “Abby…”

The sensation of rough, calloused hands across her cheeks had Ellie’s eyes fluttering in an embarrassingly lovesick manner. The strong palms on her face slid up, a thumb swiping over her lower lip as Ellie reached up, her own rough-skinned hands sliding over massive biceps to rest on broad, freckled shoulders.

The blonde braid was unmistakable, and Ellie leaned ever closer to her, feeling the heat of her body against Ellie’s own and trembling in the blonde’s grasp. Oh, the scent of pine filled her nose, and she reveled in the pleasure that coursed through her entire being.

“We’ll take things slow, yeah?” That melodic, heavenly voice that stroked along her brain and sent shivers all over her nerves. Ellie sighed, almost like she couldn’t get enough of this, and leaned forward. Her hands went higher, one curling around the base of her braid and pulling her down a little more, but she stopped Ellie with a palm on her chest. Ellie’s heart quickened.

“Abby,” Ellie begged. Abby chuckled, and she leaned forward slowly… Her lips got so close, and Ellie swore she could feel the heat of Abby’s breath on her face. She was so close… so close that Ellie could practically taste her on her tongue—

Ellie let out a loud gasp and jolted upward from the bed. Her body glistened in the moonlight pouring from the window and she grabbed at her chest over her shirt with her good hand. Everything felt like it was buzzing and Ellie couldn’t calm her heart down.

“What the fuck did I just—” Ellie’s thoughts went to her dream, and lingered on Abby… Where she once saw annoyance, Ellie found herself BLUSHING! She remembers the way Abby once grabbed her hip to keep her from falling. She remembers that time Abby patched up her leg when she got hurt. She remembers the way Abby winked at her once a long time ago…

Ellie remembers the dream, and suddenly…. Abby was the one thing on her mind. She tried to think of anything else, but the sound of Abby’s breathing in her head refused to escape and she found herself wondering what she would look like in such an intimate moment…

A pure whine of pitiful defeat, and a little annoyance, tore through the air and Ellie simply covered her face with the pillow, screaming and wishing that she was now dead. What was once in her mind of Abby— all the hatred and disgust for her existence? Ellie couldn’t get the image of her hands caressing her face out of her mind.

If she closed her eyes again and brushed the spot where dream-Abby touched her cheekbone, her entire face would glow with a blush again and it felt borderline sickening.

“Fuck, fuck,” Ellie cursed, not knowing how else to react to this situation.

Ellie was content on hating Abby for a long time, maybe even until one of them inevitably got killed on patrol or by raiders or anything of the sort. But noooooo… that would be too easy for her brain to comprehend. So instead, Ellie would avoid her. And this time, she wouldn’t even look at Abby Anderson, afraid that if she looks at her for too long, she’ll wonder what she tastes like.

So, Ellie did what any normal person would do: she locked the door and pretended to die for a few days.

“Has anybody seen Ellie?”

The question had everybody stopping for a brief second in what they were doing. Dina shared a look with Tommy who simply just shrugged. No one has seen her in, apparently days? It had been three since her fight with Abby in the bar.

“She ain’t been comin’ out of her room,” Joel concluded, his features creased with slight worry at the idea of Ellie being hurt, or even sick. He knows that having 2 broken fingers wasn’t very fun, but she burned herself with chemicals in order to hide her bite mark. The girl was tough as nails, she could do anything with 2 broken fingers.

“I haven’t seen her either,” Dina frowned. It wasn’t like her best friend hiding away on her days off. She’s always doing something. “I can go check on her?”

“Good idea,” Jesse said, lifting a hay bale off the ground and tossing it towards the pile where the others were. “She’s gotta come back for patrol tomorrow.”

Dina stripped off her gloves, tucking them away in her back pocket before she left the stables. The walk to Ellie’s little garage home wasn’t exactly long, but it felt like forever under the Wyoming sun. Sweat dripped from her hairline as she approached Ellie’s front door, gently knocking on the wooden surface.

“Ellie? It’s Dina,” Dina announced, hoping that saying just her name would be enough for Ellie to let her in. But when she was met with silence, Dina began to tap her foot on the ground outside of the door. “I know you’re in there, Ellie. I can see you moving around in there.”

A curse echoed in the bedroom before Dina could hear Ellie actively tripping almost every single thing in her wake. And when she opened the door, Dina had to step back in order to fully take her in. What the hell happened to her?

“Ellie, are you—” Her nose wrinkled up a little as she smelt the unmistakable scent of weed and alcohol on her breath. “Fuck, have you just been in here getting shitfaced for three days?”

“What do you want, Dina?” Ellie deflected, like she always does when she’s got so much on her mind. Dina doesn’t know what upsets her more; that Ellie is getting high, or she’s getting high without her.

The redhead pushed her sweaty forehead against the doorway, almost like she was going to collapse if she stood there for another second than she needed to. So instead of talking outside, Dina pushed herself into Ellie’s home like it was her life’s purpose. Almost instantly, Ellie fell onto her ass, either too blazed or too plastered to fully take in what was happening.

“Dina, what the fuck—”

“What the hell is going on with you?” Dina crouched down, slapping her hands on Ellie’s cheeks and making her blush under her freckles. “And it isn’t the broken fingers because you broke your nose last month and still went on patrol the next day!”

“Wh- nothing! Nothing is wrong, I just—”

“I know you’re lying,” Dina snapped, still holding onto Ellie’s face. She looked like a bunny staring down a rifle barrel. “You wanna know why? Cause you suck at it!”

“Get off!” Ellie shoved Dina’s hands away, attempting to stand on her own but failing miserably. Her knees wobbled as she got off the ground before she fell right back onto the floor and for a few seconds, simply laid there with her face on the dirty rug near her sofa. “Just… Just go, Abby—”

Dina immediately froze in place, her brows knitting together for a brief second as it seemed like the whole world was coming back into focus. Before this moment, Dina was prepared to knock some sense into her best friend, but that moment passed quickly.

“This is about Abby,” Dina said, standing up and running a hand across her face. “Come on El, Abby is always gonna be a bitch, that’s just how she is!”

“S’not about that,” Ellie finally stood up off the ground, her shirt sticking against her sweaty skin as she rubbed her forehead, trying to stop the room from spinning. Her wobbly legs managed to carry her to the bed where a half-burned blunt was sitting inside of an ashtray. “Just go. I can’t deal with this right now…”

Dina watched as Ellie picked up the roach and inhaled very slowly, the end of the blunt glowing and illuminating her face. Dina could see the bruises under her eyes from a lack of sleep. Whatever was happening inside of Ellie’s head, Dina couldn’t figure it out… So she left.

As soon as Dina was gone, Ellie let out a harsh breath as she looked down at the sketches littering her bed. And if Dina had stayed, she would have understood. Abby’s face was all over the papers, her eyes staring back with that characteristic scowl she always held, and the slight pout to her bottom lip…

A curse escaped Ellie’s lips as she shoved all of the drawings on the floor and shoved a pillow back over her face. There was no reason that this affected her so badly, she’s had stupid crushes before—

“No, nope, absolutely fucking not, this is not happening,” Ellie scolded herself, gripping the fabric of the pillowcase like it was her lifeline from drowning. Lines were drawn on the invisible white board in her mind, and she felt like thoughts were knitted together.

Realization hit her like a bus. Ellie Williams has a crush on Abby frickin’ ANDERSON!

When Ellie emerged from her so-called hobbit hole, as Joel called it, she looked like death warmed up. Her face was pale and she looked like she was going to be sick at any given moment. Her trek to the stables felt like the longest walk of her life. She chugged a ton of water just to get through the day and Maria had been gracious enough to give her one extra day to sober up…

Wandering around the town was normally a good idea, so she decided to take a walk and try to clear her head. Everyone seemed to be out in full force today enjoying the warm weather while Ellie is starting to wish that she grabbed those sunglasses she saw on patrol last week. Her limbs felt impossibly heavy as she turned a corner towards the stables, going to see if Joel was back yet. But on her way, Ellie nearly fell over as she ran directly into someone.

“Hey! Watch where you’re–” Ellie looked up, ready to fight whoever wasn’t watching where they were going, and then she went completely silent. 

That blonde braid was unmistakable, not to mention the sling over her shoulder. Abby looked pissed, to say the least. Her brows were pulled together and her bottom lip was pouted out even more than usual. It was a look that Ellie has seen almost a thousand times… so why did it feel different now?

“Can you get out of your own world for five damn seconds and watch where you’re going?” Abby snapped, readjusting the sling on her shoulder and biting her lip to try and hide the wince of pain she felt. Normally, this would be the time that Ellie would fire back. She was waiting for her words that usually cut as deep as her switchblade. 

But when Abby looked back, she saw Ellie had gone red in the face. Abby figured she was coming up with some “clever” retort, and she decided to poke the bear again. “What’s wrong, Williams? Clicker got your tongue?”

If Abby had been looking closely, she would be able to see Ellie’s hands trembling slightly as she took a step back and immediately turned around and walked in the other direction. What the fuck, that didn’t make sense– Ellie never misses the opportunity to fight with Abby. What was going on?

“Williams,” Abby started following behind Ellie, who pretty much refused to acknowledge Abby’s presence. If Ellie was even more childish, Abby would assume she was being given the silent treatment, but she was more mature than that… by a miniscule fraction. Ellie was never afraid for someone to know just how much she hated them. Reminders of Ellie almost stabbing Seth in the bar will forever be a prime memory for Abby. 

She wasn’t stopping, and Abby didn’t know what to do. “Ellie,” A hand went on the redhead’s shoulder and she immediately went still. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Ellie said way too fast to be convincing. Her heart was racing and as long as she didn’t look at Abby, the blonde couldn’t see the color rising to her cheeks. “Can you just…” 

Abby watched Ellie carefully grab Abby’s wrist with the hand that had two fingers in splints. Suddenly, Abby felt a surge of guilt in her stomach from the sight. It technically was Abby’s fault that Ellie had broken two of her fingers, but she was also responsible for her dislocated shoulder. 

Actually… No, it was all Abby’s fault. Had she been thinking, she wouldn’t have gotten attacked by that infected. She let her guard down, and in doing so, almost got both of them killed because of her dumb quarter collection. She’d never tell Ellie that’s why she went exploring; Ellie would only make fun of her for it, and she didn’t need the girl to have anymore reasons to pick on her.

“Are you-” Abby tried to step around to look at her face and try to see if the stitches on her cheek were okay, but before she could, Ellie turned her head to avoid eye contact. “What is wrong with you? Why are you–”

“I have somewhere I need to be,” Ellie immediately changed the subject, turning away as fast as possible and going towards the stable. This time, Abby didn’t chase her. The blonde just stood there, looking more confused than she’s ever been before in her life. 

The redhead, on the other hand, felt like her heart was going to burst from her chest and she immediately hid behind a house, covering her face with both hands and feeling like her skin was suddenly too tight for her own body. Her stomach twisted, and she wanted to bash her head into the brickwork of the house behind her. 

What the hell is her problem? She’s had crushes on people before, none of them have made her act like this! Even when it was Cat, she was cool about it… Well, as cool as she could be. And even with Dina, she didn’t go practically paralyzed with fear or pure discomfort that she may discover how Ellie feels. 

So why did she do this with Abby? Why couldn’t she play it cool and act like nothing was wrong? 

Because Ellie didn’t fucking want to like Abby. 

[shootingstarrfish]

i like the pretti reaper lady hello maam,,,

[tadpolebobatea]

Day 1 - Favourite negator!

It’s POOKIE BEAR (Are you surprised? I’d bet good money you aren’t)

Gods saddest soldier fighting his toughest battles (trying not to lose focus and have a consensual work place relationship)

(gods second saddest soldier was me. Trying to draw tellas hair.)

(I could talk about him more but I’d be repeating myself. He’s the babygirl. If you haven’t read the manga do it now)

Super happy with 100s expression though, wry smile for my sad little guy. The eyebags also make me happy.

Time lapse

[lunakataaahhh-1228]

Taisui, my eepy boy 😴

[mishy-mashy]

[kiiwiigii]

I present to thee: Count Duckula!

IYKYK

[killuaisaprincess]

LOOOOOOOOK PRECIOUS BABEY

BONUS 🥺🥺 PRECIOUS

[arolesbianism]

I am rotating Light so hard in my head rn girlies who just straight up fucking torture ppl cause she can

[evilsartcorner]

[candewlsy]

I know I'm not the only one who went on Pinterest for assignments and ended saving 20+ Jungwon pics 😀

[seiwas]

omg i think i maxed the tags on this

the way everything played out oh my god hes soooo affectionate. how he kisses you all the time everywhere and is just so familiar with you omg that's driving me crAZY

and his teeth sinking into the side of your neck/?? OMG i CANNAWT THATS INSANE. then JUST WHEN YOU NEEDED HIM MOST HE PULLS OUT SJHDFBAS TO SEE YOU !>>>!/!?!? KYLEEE ??!?!? gODDAMN ROMANTIC THATS WHATT HE IS

.... he tells you youre pretty..... god..... this paragraph HAD ME: You’re pretty sure he’s full of shit; you’re panting like you’ve run a marathon, you’re sweaty, your hair is dishevelled, and you’re still wearing the ugly sweatshirt you had put on earlier. Yet, even still, Gaz’s genuine little compliment has your heart flipping in your ribcage.

the intimacy of it all has me clutching MY CHEST ohmy gos and he. says he loves you.. oh my god.... why am i crying GODDAMN... and him at the end... oh god

when he cups your cheeks... im SAWBING... his little kisses oh my god... the comfort of everything jdfbgdjf how you both inch closer to eachotherhgfvsjdf :(( how he's rolled w even the most unreasonable attitude thrown his way :(( if anyone else would be as patient as you :(( oh my HEART

Gaz is the most beautiful man you’ve ever met, funny and sweet and always so caring. You love him, even if it kills you a little to admit it, and you don’t know how to respond to his admission that he’s been faithful to you during the long months you weren’t together. <- started crying here AGAIN. he's such a sweetheart GOD im ACHING

aNd WHEN YOU ASK HIM TO STAY :((( CMON NOW :((( UGH KYLE YOU BEAUTIFUL, STUPID HANDSOME MAN :((( AND HOW HE HOLDS YOU TIGHTLY TOOSDGASBJD GOOSSFHSD all the emotions in thisdfjbs and his shaky little exhale oh god

op thank you so much for writing this i am deeply WRECKED i love this so much and im so sorry for all the word vomit in the tags oh my god

ミ stay for something

🍓 pairing: kyle 'gaz' garrick x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, ex-boyfriend!gaz, unprotected vaginal sex, lack of communication, jealousy, 'just the tip' trope, sex with feelings

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

You hate wasting a Friday night on a first date, but you had genuinely high hopes for this one. You had made such an effort, too; pretty sparkly eyeshadow, strawberry-flavoured lipgloss, a new little black dress.

You look good. You feel good. 

It’s just a shame that the guy is a bit of a moron. 

He talks about himself a lot over dinner. Like, so much. You sit and smile and pretend to listen, your gaze wandering, and wonder if he’s going to ask any questions about you. He does (eventually), but they’re short and perfunctory and he seems to just take your answers and use them as a springboard into his next topic of discussion.

It’s a little tedious, but hey. First dates usually are. You weather it, your polite smile turning a little stiff as you sip your wine. Truthfully, you have ulterior motives here.

You’re not proud of it, but you don’t think you can handle the dry spell you’re going through anymore. You crave touch, affection, some kind of connection. You’re okay with being single, but god you’re so hungry for intimacy that it’s led to you agreeing to a date with a guy that you honestly wouldn’t have normally been into just for the chance of getting some action.

Ben is a nice enough guy, and he’s certainly good looking; neatly groomed hair, straight white teeth, a nice physique. He’s in good shape, though you can’t help but subconsciously compare him to— 

No, you think sternly to yourself, Don’t do that.

When he leans into you at the end of the date and asks in a low, sultry voice if you want to continue the night with him, you agree a little breathlessly. God, it’s been a long time since you were touched.

Your place is closer, and you can’t help but feel a little illicit thrill as you lead Ben back. You never usually bring guys back to yours, especially not on the first date, but you’ll be the first to admit that you’re needy tonight. 

The weather is getting colder as winter creeps its icy fingers through the air, but you’re wrapped tight in your coat and kept nice and warm as Ben wraps an arm around your waist, kissing heatedly at your neck as you try to open your door.

You giggle, the wine from dinner making you all loose and happy and eager. You tilt your head to give him more of your throat, and he eagerly takes the opportunity to introduce teeth and tongue as he kisses the line of your neck. You fumble with the key, clumsy as your body heats up.

When you finally manage to turn the key and get the stupid door open, Ben grabs you by the hips and spins you around so that he can pull you into a proper kiss. The guy might have been a dull conversationalist, but you’re delighted to find that he’s a good kisser.

The two of you stumble through the door, your arms locked around his neck as he holds you by the waist. It’s a little embarrassing how eager you are for a guy that you really aren’t even all that into, but you guess that’s just where desperation has gotten you.

“Shit,” Ben hisses when you nip at his lip. “Fuck, you’re so hot. C’mere, take this off.”

He starts tugging at your coat, and you pull back just enough to shrug it off, letting it drop to the floor. He lets out a throaty sound of appreciation, before grabbing at your waist again and leaning in to trail another set of hot kisses along your neck and shoulder. 

You tilt your head back, thunking lightly against the wall, and your eyelids flutter at the nipping kisses along your sensitive skin. 

“Oh, god…” You breathe, blinking your eyes open again.

But then… you pause. For the first time, you notice that the lights in your entryway are on. Why are they on? You hadn’t turned them on when you came in, and you know that they weren’t on when you had left. 

Ben is still groping eagerly at your hips, one hand reaching around to squeeze at your ass, but now you’re distracted, on alert. Your eyes dart around, and fall on a pair of Adidas Superstars set neatly by the front door, and a big puffer coat that’s been hung up on the hook in the hall.

Oh no. No fucking way.

As if to confirm the path your thoughts had just taken, your eyes catch on a figure in the doorway to the living room, leaning casually against the doorframe. Just watching.

A scream catches in your throat, and you grab Ben by the shoulders in an attempt to stop him. He doesn’t seem to understand, because he just keeps squeezing at your ass, pulling your hips closer so that he can slot between your legs and grind against you.

The brief spark of arousal that shoots through you when he grinds his hard-on into the seam of your cunt through your underwear is significantly dampened by the awareness that someone is already in your home, watching you, and you already know who it is.

“Hey, baby,” Kyle fucking Garrick says, lifting a mug patterned with little cartoon cats to his mouth. “Had a nice night out?”

“Jesus Christ–” You hiss, shoving at Ben’s chest. This time, the push isn’t needed, because Ben has rocketed up straight at the sound of another man’s voice in your house calling you ‘baby’.

“What the–” Ben starts to say, his brow furrowing into a bewildered frown when he catches sight of Gaz standing in the doorway watching you.

“Kyle, what are you doing here?” You snap, mortified. You grab at the bottom of your short little dress, pulling roughly at it to try and make sure you’re not flashing anyone.

Gaz watches you, amusement shining in his dark eyes. He’s not even trying to hide the way his gaze is drawn to your legs, lingering where your dress has ridden up your thighs. He sips his tea, a poor attempt at concealing his smirk.

“Home from deployment earlier than expected, love.” He says, calm and casual as if he hasn’t just broken into your goddamn house to destroy any hope you had of getting railed that night. “No time to find accommodation. You don��t mind, eh?”

Ben’s head is swinging between the two of you, his expression blank as he tries to work out just what exactly is happening. He’s straightened up entirely, the presence of Gaz obviously putting him on edge. You can’t blame him for his confusion; Gaz is currently looking at you like he wants to fucking eat you alive, and you’re beginning to get hot and flustered under his stare.

“Are you–” Ben starts, his head still on a swivel as though he can’t decide who to address. “I’m sorry, who is this?”

Gaz doesn’t even bother to reply at once. He sips at his tea, and tilts his head as he lets his eyes wander over Ben lazily. It doesn’t seem like he’s all too impressed by what he sees, though he’s smirking as though he’s amused.

“Sergeant Kyle Garrick.” He says at last, with a nod.

You huff. You know what he’s doing – he never introduces himself by his rank unless he’s trying to make a point.

Ben goes stiff. He’s still pressed against you, and you can feel every ounce of tension down the line of your body. It seems like he’s just now clocking Gaz as a proper threat, and you take a breath as you realise that he’s about to split and leave you here.

And sure enough–

“I– Listen, I don’t know what’s.. what’s going on here, but I don’t want any trouble.” Ben says, finally pushing himself away from you. He’s holding his hands up by his shoulders as though he’s being held at gunpoint, and you roll your eyes impatiently at his dramatics.

“No trouble, mate.” Gaz says, his voice still cheerfully amiable. “Door’s behind you.”

“Gaz–” You hiss, incensed, but it’s pointless. 

Ben is already scrambling to open the door, heedless of the way you grasp onto his coat in protest. You sigh heavily as he tumbles out into the cold night, and the door slams shut behind him so loud it makes your head hurt.

You stand alone in your entryway, shivering a little in your tiny black dress and heels from the icy breeze that was let in from Ben’s escape. Your jaw is clenched tight, and you take a deep, deep breath as you turn to face your ex-boyfriend.

Gaz is still watching you, his deep brown eyes staring at you from beneath his long dark lashes. You try hard to ignore his expression, which is unmistakably hungry.

“You look good, baby.” He says, staring pointedly at the way your breasts are all pushed up in your tight dress. 

“Don’t call me that.” You grumble, teaching down to unbuckle your delicate heels. You cast them aside and kick them over so they’re laying beside Gaz’s runners.

Gaz just snickers, turning to follow after you when you march your way to the kitchen. Irritation is burning hot in your veins, your lips pursed as you struggle to bite your tongue. It’s so fucking typical that the exact night you try to have some cheap, meaningless sex with some stranger, Gaz has decided to land right into your home. It’s like he has a fucking radar for when you’re about to get laid.

“You could have gotten a hotel.” You snap over your shoulder as you make your way to the kettle. It’s already hot, but you flick the switch again anyway.

“Nah. They’re all booked out. Busy season, you know.”

God, he’s so full of shit. You both know he never even considered staying anywhere other than with you, just like the last few times.

Still, you persevere.

“You could have stayed with one of the guys.” You say, turning around and folding your arms over your chest.

Gaz glances down, and you realise that you’ve inadvertently pushed your breasts together and up. You hastily drop your arms again, and settle instead for planting your hands on your hips.

“Could have,” He admits, leaning against your kitchen table in a way that’s infuriatingly casual. “But they never offered.”

“Neither did I–!”

Gaz doesn’t even seem to hear you. He just steps towards you, reaching to grab an empty mug from the cupboard above your head. The movement brings him so close to you, close enough that your next inhale is scented with his fresh-sweet cologne, the one you always loved, and you find your eyelids fluttering as your muscles relax without your permission. He smells so familiar, so comforting. You hate it.

“Go get changed,” He murmurs, keeping his voice low like he knows the moment is delicate. “We’ll watch a movie.”

You’d love to get fired up, to shove him or curse at him, but it’s all you can do to find the strength to step away from him instead of melting into him. You’re pretty sure he deserves an ass-kicking for this stunt of this, but you decide to pick your battles. Or at least, to postpone them.

You waver another moment, debating over whether you should try to get the last say, but Gaz has already turned away to continue making the cup of tea that you had started. Recognising that the moment has passed, you huff a sigh and march out of the kitchen, making your way to your bedroom.

It takes quite a bit of wiggling to get out your dress – it might look good, but there’s an inordinate sense of relief when you finally tug it over your head and feel as though you can breathe unimpeded again. You unclip your bra and toss it aside, rolling your shoulders and sighing as your breasts are freed. 

Once you're dressed again in a worn-out massive t-shirt that drowns your body and some loose sweatpants, looking decidedly unsexy, you pad to your bathroom and start washing your makeup off. Now that you’re alone, that disappointment and frustration is settling in properly. Ben might have been boring, but if his kissing was anything to judge by, you might actually have had a perfectly enjoyable night with him.

Bare-faced and dressed for lounging in bed, you trudge back downstairs to your ex-boyfriend. It’s far from the way you wanted to end your night, but you’ve resigned yourself to your fate. You can hear the muffled sounds from the television as you make your way downstairs, and you redirect yourself towards your small sitting room.

Gaz is sat sprawled on the couch, his legs spread wide as he makes himself comfortable in your home. Something twists in your stomach at how comfy he looks, as though he belongs there. He looks around when you walk in, though your footsteps are quiet and muffled by your fluffy socks.

You look far from sexy right now in your ugly old loungewear and bare face, but Gaz brightens up at the sight of you.

“There she is.” He crows, though there’s something soft in his gaze that you can hardly face. “C’mon, love. Want to pick what we’re watching?”

You just look at him tiredly. He’s as handsome as ever; the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. He must have come straight here once he’d gotten back from deployment because his eyes are dark and exhausted and stubble is a little more overgrown than usual. You hate that he’s able to come into your space like this so easily – like he’s never left.

“Gaz–” You start to say, but you’re cut off when he reaches for your hand.

He tugs you towards him, and you put a knee hastily up on the couch to prevent yourself from falling flat into his lap.

“Shhh, c’mon. Just sit with me.” He murmurs, looking up at you with those damn pretty eyes.

You waver, but then you turn your head to the side and catch sight of the second cup of tea sitting on the coffee table. Gaz has made it just how you like it, and in your favourite mug too. You crumble almost instantly. 

“Stick to your side of the couch.” You grumble, before dropping yourself down heavily onto the sofa next to him.

Gaz hums, and you can already tell that he has no intention of following that order. His arm is already sprawled over the back of the couch; it’s not touching you, but you have no doubt that he’ll try to before the end of the night.

He sticks on some stupid movie on Netflix. You don’t pay attention. It’s a rom-com, which is typical. He always pretends he chooses the sappy romantic films for your benefit, but you’re not fooled. You see the way he watches them with avid interest, the way his toes curl in his socks when the big love confession scene comes on screen. It’s always been something that you’re impossibly fond of.

The two of you are silent for a while, but it’s not uncomfortable. Part of you wishes that it was awkward – it would be easier, you think. But he makes it so simple, sitting with him like this as the cheesy film plays in the background. You’re still a little tipsy from the drinks you’d had at dinner, and you melt into the couch beside him a little quicker than you think you would have otherwise.

“You ruined my night, you know.” You say at last, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

To your surprise, he’s already looking at you. You glance away hastily again, not wanting to make eye contact.

“Nah,” He says, and you feel his arm dip down a little. He’s cupping your shoulders now, and you should probably move away, but you don’t. “If anything, I saved you from having a long, disappointing night with some tosser you agreed to pity-date. He didn’t exactly look like your type, darling.”

“He was a perfectly nice guy.” You bite out, crossing your arms defensively over your belly in your big t-shirt.

“Nice guys don’t end the first date by groping your ass and humping you up against your wall in your own house.” He says, and if you’re not mistaken you’d say he sounds a little bitter.

You cast a sideways glance at him. He’s sitting up, watching you closely and leaning just slightly towards you. He’s so intense about the way he’s looking at you, his arm dipping low so that he’s holding you properly.

“Stop it.” You say. It hardly even sounds like a proper protest. You’re so tired, still a little floaty from the wine you’d had at dinner, and desperately disappointed by the lack of sexual satisfaction you had been hoping for.

There’s a pause, and then Gaz gives a small shrug. He pulls his arm back to give you space, but he still has that stupid smirk on his face. You can’t even be angry about the cockiness of his expression when his eyes are that soft though.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He murmurs. “I’m not being fair, am I?”

“No,” You say petulantly. “You’re not.”

He huffs a noise that’s almost a laugh, only he manages to stifle it so that it comes out as a cough instead. 

“Mm. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to ruin your big date night, especially when you got done up so pretty for it,” He murmurs, his voice low and sweet as honey trickling down your spine. “Let me make up for it. Come on, get over here.”

You hesitate, but Gaz isn’t really giving you an option. He begins to shift, one of his strong muscled arms looping around your waist as he pulls you into him. It takes you a long moment to realise what it is that he’s trying to do. He lays back on the couch and pulls you with him, encouraging you to pull your legs up onto the sofa so that the two of you are laying on your sides, with Gaz spooned up against your back. 

It’s definitely a bad idea to cuddle with him on the couch like this. You’re trying to set boundaries, to make it clear that you’re just friends (if you can even call it that) after your breakup. And yet… you don’t offer any sort of protest at all.

“Relax,” Gaz sighs from behind you, and you feel his nose nuzzle against the back of your neck. “You love cuddling.”

You roll your eyes, turning your head slightly so he can see the unimpressed expression on your face. 

“This isn’t enough to make up for being such a dick.” You grumble. Despite your griping, you don’t actually make any attempt to get out of his arms.

He was right, after all. You do love cuddling. It was your favourite thing to do when you were together. 

But you’re not together anymore, and it’s hard to ignore the gnawing guilt that you’re letting this grow into something that should be avoided instead of nipping it in the bud. You and Gaz had broken up months ago, and it was a perfectly amicable split. You can’t even say that he was at fault for any of it; the strain of the long distance part of your relationship while he was on deployment just grew too much for you, the space his absence left filling with brambled loneliness that pricked incessantly at you. You had known what you were getting into with this relationship with him, and yet when it came down to it you got too greedy, wanting more of him than he was able to give. 

Tonight was a moment of weakness for you, and though your hopes for sex may have been thwarted, you can’t turn down the soft familiar intimacy of Gaz’s strong body cradling you close against him.

Maybe it’s the wine you had at dinner, but you find your muscles relaxing a little as one of Gaz’s arms loops around your waist, his big hand coming to rest across your belly.

“Mm. I’m being selfish, love.” He murmurs, and you fight a shiver as his warm breath ghosts over the delicate shell of your ear. “This is more for me than for you.”

You’re not altogether sure that’s true. It’s certainly doing an awful lot for you right now. Gaz is in just a t-shirt, the muscles of his biceps bunching up under his bare skin as he tries to subtly nudge you closer to him. 

You’ve missed being all wrapped up in the warm embrace of him; he cuddles with his whole body, the front of his thighs all pressed against the back of yours, his strong chest moulding to your back as his face nuzzles against the back of your neck. You always feel so safe when he holds you like this, like he’s blocking out the rest of the world for you. You can only guess he feels the same – he holds you that much tighter every time he gets back home from his missions.

You grumble quietly, but soon settle down. The repetitive stroking motion of his thumb over your hip is more soothing than it should be. You take deep breaths, trying to be subtle about it, because all you can smell is Gaz and his citrusy sweet aftershave and you just want to drown in it.

“You can’t keep doing this.” You mumble, though all the fight has gone out of you. “It’s not… helpful.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Gaz shifts behind you. His arm tightens around your waist almost imperceptibly, as though he thinks you’re going to push him away. But you’re being selfish now too, comfortably wrapped up against his chest.

“We said we’d stay friends,” He says at last, and he’s so close that you can feel his lips move against the back of your neck as he speaks. “Nothin’ wrong with some platonic cuddling. You should see how close me an’ Soap have had to cuddle to conserve heat when we’re out on the field.”

You huff a small laugh, which is obviously what he had been hoping for. Platonic cuddling. This certainly doesn’t feel platonic, but you can’t bring yourself to push him away. You’ve been craving this kind of closeness for months now, so you just let yourself reluctantly enjoy it. It would have been so much easier if you were able to enjoy it with Ben, with someone who meant nothing to you and wouldn’t have brought with him such a complicated web of feelings and history, but there’s a real sense of comfort in the familiarity of Gaz’s presence.

The film Gaz had chosen to stick on is a stupid one. It’s half action, half love story, with a strong rugged hero and a too-beautiful love-interest whose main role seems to be throwing out quips for comedic relief. You’ve seen a hundred versions of this plot play out in other films, though Gaz is predictably glued to the screen. He’s always loved these stupid films.

You’re comfortable enough that you fall into a light doze, uninterested in the television as you relish the heat from Gaz’s chest. He’s like a fucking human radiator, so hot that you can feel a thin dew of sweat begin to break out along your spine. It chases away the chill of the night and makes you so sleepy.

You’re almost asleep when movement from behind you jolts you back to wakefulness. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve imagined it. Then Gaz moves again, and this time it’s unmistakable.

Gaz is hard, the thick ridge of him impossible to miss as he presses against your ass. You’re awake instantly, the slight tipsiness from dinner vanishing into thin air. You’re on high alert, eyes darting back to the television to see what the fuck has aroused him, but there’s nothing of note happening onscreen. It’s just a conversation between characters, exposition setting up the next stage of the plot.

“Gaz,” You say, and your voice comes out louder than you had intended. “Stop humping my ass.”

You’re half-expecting him to deny it, but he just huffs a quiet snort, his nose nuzzling against the back of your neck.

“Sorry, love.” He says, though he doesn’t sound sorry in the least. “Can’t help it. Missed you loads.”

You can feel his cock even through the layers of your clothing, and you swallow hard. God, you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him, though it doesn’t seem like the right time to admit it. How are you ever supposed to get over each other if he keeps coming to stay with you every time he gets back from wherever in God’s name he’s been, when he holds you so sweetly and talks to you like you’re still his girl?

His hips rock into you in a movement that’s almost imperceptible, except you’re waiting for it. His hands are gripping your waist, his fingers curling into the soft flesh there. He’s always enjoyed the way your body yields to him, so much softer than the hard planes of muscle that make up his own, and it’s no surprise that he goes straight back to holding onto his favourite parts of you even as he ruts against your ass.

“Jesus, Gaz–” You start to complain, but your voice is a little too breathy to be convincingly angry.

“Stop that,” He murmurs, his lips pressing against the side of your neck. “You never call me that.”

That is true – after the breakup, calling him Kyle just seemed too intimate. It’s a name that usually falls from your lips with care, in soft whispers made for dark rooms and quiet moments. His callsign offers distance, reminds you both that what you had is in the past. Or that it should be in the past, at least.

“Kyle,” You concede tiredly. “You dickhead.”

He just hums. He knows you well enough to know that you’re not really angry; you’re not even attempting to move away from him, though you know you should. The film is mostly forgotten in the background, though you’re vaguely aware that the two characters onscreen have now progressed to confessing their love before the big final battle. You just sigh; this little romantic film moment is only going to encourage Gaz even more.

Yet still, you don’t move.

The way he’s grinding his thick cock against the swell of your ass is making your blood run hot. The pressure every time his hips roll lightly against you and the way that he uses his grip on your hips to pull you back against him is making your brain all stupid and fuzzy. It’s the only reason you can think of to explain the way you shift, the way you allow your bum to brush back against him. It earns you a soft little grunt that’s mostly muffled by the way he’s mouthing at your throat.

Oh, it would be so easy to slip the sweatpants that separates the two of you down, to allow him to slide into you. A little woozily, you think it would feel like he was coming home.

But to actually have sex feels like too much of a commitment, too confusing a step to take when things between you two were already muddled and confused enough. You’re almost afraid to even turn around to glance over your shoulder at him, as though making eye contact might mean you’ll both wake up and stop.

Gaz’s cock has gotten even harder, filling out thickly as he slots against the clothed groove of your ass. He’s not even touching your pussy, and yet your knickers are slick and sticky. It’s embarrassing at your age to be laying on the couch, watching a movie and getting dry-humped like a fucking teenager, and yet your skin feels as though it’s been lit aflame.

Then rustling fabric breaks the silence, and Gaz shifts a little behind you in an odd motion as the insistent pressure on your ass is finally relieved. In its absence, you’re almost disappointed. 

You tilt your head, just barely turning it, just enough to see that he’s just pulled out his cock.

“Kyle–”

“Sorry, baby,” He says again, panting against the side of your neck and making you shiver. “– ‘m just too hard, getting uncomfortable. Ignore it.”

Ignore it? You think, a little hysterically. The gentle rocking of his erection into your ass was one thing, but how the fuck are you supposed to ignore the fact that your ex is all pressed up against you, still holding you by the waist with one hand as the other fists at his cock.

You glance behind you and down before you can help yourself, your self-control as lacking as ever. Fuck. You’ve missed the sight of that. He has the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, even if right now it’s flushed dark and angry and painful looking. Your mouth waters. He was obviously telling the truth when he said it was getting sore, and you feel a reluctant swell of sympathy.

“Been thinking of you for months, baby.” He murmurs, placing a wet, messy kiss on your throat. “I can’t even fucking cum properly when you’re not around, it’s not the fucking same. God, even missed the way you smell–”

As if to punctuate that, he presses his nose in your hair and inhales deeply. You know you smell like the sweet perfume you had sprayed earlier, your favourite one. You know from experience that it’s also Gaz’s favourite one. You tell yourself it’s a coincidence.

“Why didn’t you fuck someone else then? Get it out of your system?” You say, and it comes out a little harsh, a little raw. It reveals more than you want to; you feel a little ill at the thought of Gaz with some faceless girl, holding her and making her laugh, her hands touching him like you do.

If Gaz picks up on the bite in your voice, he’s kind enough to ignore it. He just huffs a quick snort like the suggestion is ridiculous, his sloppy mouthing at your neck turning into a chaste affectionate kiss that feels totally at odds with the desperate motions of his hand pumping at his cock.

“Why would I do that when I had a girl waiting for me at home?” He asks, his voice so soft with you. “Never wanted anyone else.”

Your toes curl, guilt coiling in your stomach. You hate that you feel pleased that he’s waited for you, that he doesn’t want anyone else. You’re not being fair – it had been you who had broken it off, after all. He should be able to get with whoever he wants to. Conceivably, he is allowed to. Yet you can’t pretend that you wouldn’t have been sick to your stomach if he admitted that he had. 

God, you feel like such a hypocrite. Here you are, admittedly all too happy that Gaz has stayed faithful to a relationship that isn’t even intact anymore, and there he is, having just witnessed you come home with a stranger’s hands all over you.

“We’re not together anymore.” You whisper, when what you want to say is I’m sorry.

“I know.” Gaz replies, and it sounds like For now.

It’s not a surprise when the hand on your waist slips around to your belly, and then lower again as it slips beneath the waistband of your bottoms. You try and fail to suppress the wet gasp that’s pulled from your throat when his long fingers coast over the front of your knickers, finding your clothed clit with unerring accuracy.

“Oh, lace, baby?” He says, his breath catching in his eagerness before realisation seems to set in. “Oh. This was for your little date, eh?”

The guilt again, gnawing in your chest. You arch your back, simultaneously shying away and crowding your ass back up against him. It’s mortifying, being caught with your fancy underwear beneath your baggy unflattering sweatpants by your ex-boyfriend and having him know without a shadow of a doubt that you intended them to be seen by someone else.

“I was–” You start to say breathily, but Gaz doesn’t let you finish.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” He murmurs, his lips ghosting along the shell of your ear. “I know, I know. But he didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve you. Jesus, he didn’t even know what he fuckin’ had, ran like a coward–”

“Gaz–” You try again. You can’t help but feel as though you need to explain yourself, like the two of you should talk this through.

“You’re so soft, Jesus Christ.” He mutters, the side of his hand rubbing at the squishy flesh of your thighs as he strokes at your clit. “Were you always this soft?”

It sounds as though he’s trying to remember, desperate and wanting. You swallow thickly, closing your eyes as that familiar pleasure licks up your spine. He knows you so well, knows every part of you and exactly how to touch you, and you can hardly believe you ever entertained letting anyone else put their hands on you.

“I got a new body oil.” You breathe, distracted by his touch. “It’s– it’s vanilla scented.”

“Yeah,” He groans, and you shiver helplessly when you feel his tongue on your neck, licking a hot stripe up to your earlobe. “I can smell it.”

His index and middle fingers are so firm on either side of your clit, rolling circles around it without actually touching you properly. You sigh, back arching, but before you can actually enjoy it his hands are pulling away.

“Wait–” You gasp, your body crying out in protest as Gaz stops, pulling his hand back out of your pants.

Gaz just grunts, kisses your neck once more, then tugs your sweatpants down. You lift your hips up immediately, thoughtlessly, and then kick your sweats and knickers off impatiently. It’s a little embarrassing, especially when the cool air hits your slick, sticky thighs and you shiver.

“Oh god, fuck,” He groans, his plush lips dragging along the sensitive skin at the back of your neck. “You’ve ruined yourself, baby.”

It’s embarrassing to admit it, but it’s true. The dry spell you’ve experienced since the breakup has been little more than a mild inconvenience for the most part, but now it feels like your body is charged like a live wire. It feels like you’ve never been touched before, and you squirm backwards in an attempt to get any kind of friction again.

“Kyle–” You start to complain, but you don’t get to finish because then Gaz is slotting his cock in between your thighs.

He groans, taking a breath as he shuffles his hips closer. His pretty, glistening cock is wedged between the soft pudge of your thighs, the head of it nudging against the wet folds of your cunt every time he twitches.

“Let me put the tip in, baby.” He says, his voice gruff and wanting in your ear. “Literally just the tip, that’s it, huh? It’s not like actual fucking, right?”

In this moment, you think you’d agree to anything to get his dick into you. You had been all kinds of wound up even before you had come home to find Gaz waiting for you, but it’s like your body had some kind of Pavlovian response to Gaz’s touch because now you’re practically panting for him.

He’s right, after all. It’s not really fucking. It means that you can maintain the flimsy thin pretence that this means nothing.

“Okay.” You manage to say, though it comes out humiliatingly breathy. “Yeah, okay, the tip–”

Gaz’s cock is pressing into you before you can even finish your sentence, bullying into the wet grasping tightness of your cunt and making you gasp. 

You’ve gone long enough without getting laid that there’s a slight sting as he presses into you, but it’s overshadowed by the breathless relief. God, you’d forgotten how fucking good his dick felt inside you. He knows just how to use it too, and you wheeze slightly as he rocks an inch inside before pulling back again.

“Oh, fuck, baby.” Gaz moans throatily, the vibration of it rumbling right down your spine. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you’re so tight.”

“Mph,” You manage to make a muffled sort of sound against the couch cushion your face is pressed against, your mouth hanging softly open as you pant for breath.

True to his word, Gaz just presses the first inch or so inside. You almost hold your breath, waiting for the rest to slide inside and split you open, but he doesn’t. He just rocks back and forth, just missing hitting the spot inside that makes your nerves sing.

You wish, stupidly, fervently, that just this once Gaz would go back on his word. That he’d abandon his promise to just stick that first inch of his cock inside, that he’d slam home and stretch you wide and let his cock brush against the nerves just a little deeper inside you. But that’s not Gaz’s style; you know he’s not going to give you any more unless you beg for it.

Gaz rocks his hips in teeny tiny movements, just enough to have you squirming in frustration. You’re so wet that you know he could slide deeper with ease if he only just tilted his hips right, but he remains doggedly steadfast in pumping just the barest inch into you, groaning with the effort it’s taking to stop himself plunging fully inside.

“Oh god,” He breathes, sounding wrecked in your ear. “You feel even better than I remember.”

You don’t know how he can even say that when he’s barely even inside you, but no matter how much you wiggle and squirm, he just won’t slide any deeper.

“You’re such an asshole.” You slur out against the fabric of the couch, your cheek squished against the cushions. Your chin is a little wet – are you drooling?

Infuriatingly, Gaz doesn’t even argue.

“Mm.” He grunts, kissing the curve of your neck. “What’d I do this time?”

The fact that he has the gall to ask only irritates you further. You let out a quiet, grumbling noise, but his hand grips at your hip and stops you from writhing.

“Just… just put the rest of it in.” You say, craning your neck to try and look at him. 

Your eyes are wide and wet, pathetically teary. You’ve been craving intimacy like this for weeks now. Maybe longer, if you’re being honest with yourself. It’s the kind of pleasure you’ve only ever gotten from Gaz, and you wheeze as your body opens up under his touch. God, you don’t know how you thought anyone would ever be able to fuck you like Gaz does.

“Mm, you sure, baby?” He murmurs, nosing against the back of your skull. “Thought we were just cuddling.”

“Don’t be a dick.” You snap, your patience reaching the end of its tether.

He just laughs, a breathless sort of amused gasp, before snapping his hips forward in one sharp movement and seating his cock inside you. Though it’s what you had been demanding, the abruptness of it startles you and you yowl, your back arching.

“Sh, sh, shh, sorry, love.” Gaz pants, before sighing in wordless contentment as his broad chest curves around your back, his strong arm looping around your belly. “Oh, fuck. Missed this so much, you have no idea. I swear you were made for me, I couldn’t fit as well inside anyone else.”

“Just– just move.” You whine, a little plaintive. It’s humiliating how desperate you are, but there’s no turning back now. “Please, Kyle–”

Gaz pitches into movement instantly, as though he’s got something to prove. Or maybe he’s just worried that you’re going to change your mind. His hips pull back then snap forward again, and again. 

He’s so strong, his rhythm steady enough to rock you wildly back and forth on the lumpy couch cushions. You clutch at the fabric beneath you, gasping as his arm pulls you back and keeps you pinned against his hot, hard chest. 

“Oh.” You breathe, tilting your head back with a pathetic little whimper as he fucks into you from behind, the two of you plastered together like sardines in the tiny can that is your sitting room couch.

This is just what you needed, you think a little wildly. God, you’ve been craving physical touch like this for months, since the last time you had seen Gaz. It’s galling to admit that any other man is a poor substitute, unable to fill the void that your ex-boyfriend has left in your life.

“Kyle,” You whine, searching for something. You don’t even know what you’re asking for, but Gaz is as patient with you as ever.

He just hums, leaning in over your shoulder and pressing hot, hungry kisses along your jawline where it’s exposed as you lean your head back. The arm that’s been wrapped around your belly coasts lower, until his big lovely hand is pressed against your cunt. His fingers search for your clit and find it easily, confident and familiar enough with your body that he barely even has to try to make you feel good. 

Gaz coos soothingly at you and rolls your clit between his fingers as his thrusts begin to come faster and harder; he builds up a steady rhythm, one that lets him sink as deep inside of you as possible and quickly renders you speechless. The living room is soon filled with wet slapping sounds from where Gaz is pounding into you from behind, the grunts and pants and moans that both of you make rapidly drowning out the stupid action sequence playing out on the television from the long forgotten film.

Unbelievably, you feel a sweet stirring in your lower belly already. It’s with a sense of tired resignation that you acknowledge you’re going to come on Gaz’s dick, despite your original intentions for the evening. Typical. 

But he’s not going to last either, judging by the strained moans in your ear.

“Shit,” He curses, and then his teeth sink into the side of your neck. You shudder, the feeling of him sucking a harsh hickey into your throat sending electric sparks racing through your nerves.

You think, judging from the desperate edge to Gaz’s humping into you from behind, that Gaz has been yearning in your absence in the same way you have for him. You’re biting on your lip hard in an effort to stifle the plaintive, wanting little moans that are threatening to spill over, but your attempts at quieting yourself are mostly unsuccessful. It makes you feel a little crazy, but Gaz doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, the evidence that you want him too only seems to encourage him. 

Your eyes are half-closed as you fuck your hips back on Gaz’s cock, relishing the satisfied little cries he’s emitting into the back of your neck. You clutch clumsily at the strong arm he has wrapped around your belly, crying out yourself as the head of his cock hits that one spot inside you that makes you feel gooey inside. Your toes curl as your head tips back, your skull neatly cradled in the space between Gaz’s head and the couch cushions as he peppers kisses along the side of your neck.

The wet slapping of your bodies colliding is obscene in the quiet of the room; the stupid film still playing does nothing to drown it out. Your body is as limp and relaxed as a doll, allowing him to fuck into you from behind in a frenzy. Right now, you can’t even recall why you ever would have tried to deny yourself this pleasure in the first place.

His hips clap against your ass, those wet sounds getting even louder and more obscene than ever. Gaz is viscerally pleased with the way your ass bounces every time he fucks into you, because he moans and picks up the pace as if he just wants to watch your glutes jiggle every time his hips slap against you. 

That familiar ball of tension starts tightening in your abdomen, your body winding up for a long-awaited and much needed release. It’s so typical that this orgasm feels like it’s going to be a big one too, as though your body needed Gaz to be there to guide you through it in order to achieve proper satisfaction.

But then, in a move so infuriating you almost burst into tears, Gaz pulls out and leaves you high and dry.

“No!” You blurt, and it comes out almost as a wail. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry, baby.” Gaz says a little breathlessly. “Need you to turn over. Want to see you.”

As soon as you realise that he’s not trying to stop and that he’s just trying to reposition you, you’re quick to roll over so that you’re facing him. It seems like that’s exactly what he wanted, because he grins wide and reaches for your hips, eagerly pulling you closer.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He mumbles, his eyes like warm caramelised honey as they track over your face. 

You’re pretty sure he’s full of shit; you’re panting like you’ve run a marathon, you’re sweaty, your hair is dishevelled, and you’re still wearing the ugly sweatshirt you had put on earlier. Yet, even still, Gaz’s genuine little compliment has your heart flipping in your ribcage.

You can’t help but think that you and Gaz are like feral little animals right now. You can barely keep your hands off each other; now that you’ve rolled over to face him, his hands are roaming over your hips and ass like he’s trying to memorise the feel of you by touch alone. 

Embarrassingly, you’re no better – you lunge forward to kiss him, taking advantage of your new position, and he kisses you back hungrily.

Lying sideways on the couch like this is cramped, but Gaz uses his hand on your ass to tug you closer. Then he reaches down, long fingers gripping at your thigh before he pulls it up so that your leg is hitched over his hip.

Oh no, You barely have time to think it before his cock is pressing into you again, the slide made easy this time. Too intimate!

The panicked thought is swiftly dispelled the moment Gaz starts moving again, because goddamn this position is so much better. It’s almost difficult to tell where Gaz ends and you begin, so intertwined are your bodies. Gaz barely even allows for an inch of space. He fucks into you almost as soon as he’s pulled back, making for a fast, frantic pace that barely even gives you a chance to breathe.

You squeal, but your noises are half-moans as you rock your hips mindlessly into his rough, almost animalistic thrusts. Your leg hitched over his hip means that he’s grinding into you deep, deeper than you thought was possible. 

The way the two of you are fucking feels a little bit unhinged, rutting and humping your bodies together in search of mutual pleasure. It should be clumsy and graceless, yet somehow it feels good, as though your body remembers exactly how good Gaz has always treated you, as though your whole being is having a Pavlovian response to his touch. Pleasure burns in your gut, tight and hot, and you moan stupidly as Gaz pounds into you.

“Oh god.” You say without meaning to. The sound of your voice shocks you; you sound wrecked, as though you’ve been fucking for hours. It would have been embarrassing to reveal just how affected you were if Gaz wasn’t also clearly just as eager for it.

“Yeah,” He says, a hybrid of a groan and a gasp muffled against your lips as he clutches at your ass and drives into you wildly. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

You are too, you realise wildly. You’re struck by how quickly you’ve both gotten to this point. This whole encounter has been frenzied and feverish, as though the poorly stifled desire between you had turned explosive. 

Gaz kisses you again, and his teeth clack against yours slightly as he licks into your mouth. It’s messy and wet, and it sends a delicious throb of pleasure shooting through your belly. He’s acting so possessive that it’s making your head spin. It should definitely be sending warning bells ringing in your head, or red alarms flashing in your minds eye – it can’t be a good thing that your ex-boyfriend is currently fucking you on your couch like he’s trying to claim you. But you’re apparently a little stupid and very weak, and Gaz has always known how to fuck you dopey and thoughtless. Instead of worry, you get the edges of an orgasm beginning to fizz in your peripheral awareness.

Your pussy must flutter or tighten around him as that lovely sweet promise of release edges closer, because Gaz moans in anticipation and his eager thrusts take on an edge of purpose. You almost protest when he breaks off the kiss, but then you realise that he just wants to be able to focus on keeping his rhythm steady. It’s frenzied and hot, and you swear the air itself is crackling as he kisses sloppily at your neck and fucks you hard.

“Love you,” He slurs in your ear, breathless. “Love you so much, baby.”

His thrusts turn more shallow and far more forceful the closer he gets. Little moans and whines escape his lips between kisses, the sounds ratcheting up in intensity as the two of you rut together.

“Tell me you love me,” He pleads, “Please— tell me you fuckin’ love me, baby. I know you do. I know you—”

You shouldn’t say it. You can’t say it. Yet his cock is fucking you sloppy and stupid, and your mouth moves before you even register that you’re speaking.

“Love you too,” You whimper like a pathetic little idiot, revelling in the exquisite feeling of him grinding against your g-spot just right. It feels so good, you know you’re so, so close to orgasm.

The ache in your abdomen persists— you clench tightly around his cock, your body straining as the muscles in your core clench, trying so hard to push yourself closer to the orgasm you know is coming. You’re so close, so so close— it burns, aches, drives you mad. All you can do is mewl, wrapping your arms around his muscled shoulders as he pounds into you despite the awkward angle.

You can feel your clit throbbing, pulsing, your entire body trying so goddamn hard to climax that you feel like you’re about to cry. You’re burning beneath your skin and all you want to do is gnash your teeth into the elegant line of Gaz’s throat, to leave some kind of indelible mark on his lovely smooth skin.

“Please, please, please— yes, fuck— oh, Kyle,” Your words come out on the breath of an uneven gasp, stuttering with each movement of his hips, perfectly synchronized. 

His voice is low and hot in your ear as he pants, “Let me come inside you, baby— let me, please— fuck.”  

You should say no. Every logical part of you knows that you should tell him to pull out, and yet the wires are crossed when it comes to your actual response. Your leg tightens around his waist, heart seizing in protest at the idea of him pulling out.

“Yes.” You gasp, continuing your streak of impulsive decision-making. Your own hips twitch forward in weak little humps in an effort to fuck yourself onto his cock, your clit grinding against the dark curls at his pubic bone. “Yes, inside, please–”

Your breathy, eager permission seems to give him a burst of energy. He picks up the pace, his body curving into you as his arms wrap around you in a tight embrace. It feels as though your entire world has been narrowed down to Gaz, his broad shoulders blocking out your view of the rest of the room. You cling to him, breathless and messy as you whimper like a loser, your body trembling from the toe-curling zings of pleasure that keep shooting up your spine.

“Oh, oh.. Kyle, please–” You practically sob, your fingernails digging harshly into his shoulders. “Love you, love you, oh my god, I’m gonna come–”

Gaz grunts, obviously eager as his movements grow thoughtful and determined. He knows exactly what you want, what you need at this moment. His abdominal muscles tense and flex with every calculated, deliberate thrust. There is no way to escape the length of him moving hard and thick inside you – not that you want to escape so much as a second of it, of course.

“That’s my girl, always so fucking perfect.” He snarls as your body eagerly takes every dirty roll of his hips, palming at your thigh where it’s hitched over his hip. “Fuckin’ Christ, I’ve been dreaming of your cunt for fucking months, never wanted anything else–”

It makes no sense. Absolutely no sense, that those bizarre, lust-crazed possessive words are what drag you trembling, screaming over the crest of an orgasm so intense the walls of the room white out, each sweeping pulse leaving you unable to do anything but clench and shudder and arch beneath him.

Gaz fucks you like a damn machine; he gives you long, deep strokes over and over as you’re falling apart. Your body seizes around the hot flesh of Gaz’s cock, your mind going white as your cunt spasms, your hole clamping down and pulsing with every desperate, loud moan torn from your mouth. 

You feel like a sloppy little slut, your hips jerking towards him instead of away even as your orgasm washes through you and leaves your body tender and oversensitive. It feels so damn good to feel your mind washing blank and clear, not a single thought taking hold. 

When the toe-curling height of pleasure subsides, you find your nerves frayed and hyper-sensitive. A plaintive whine breaks out of your throat as Gaz keeps fucking you, beginning to thrust up frantically into your twitching pussy. Your body falls limp as Gaz bounces your pliable, warm body up and down his cock as he groans into your ear.

It’s like the rhythmic tightening of your drooling, creaming cunt has him losing his mind, because he grabs the meat of your hips and begins jerking your limp body back towards him. The slap slap slap! of the impact is so loud that every slap makes your breath catch.

“Fuck. I'm—” Your hands slap clumsily at his shoulders, reaching for anything to hold on to, but he doesn’t stop. "Kyle. Kyle—" It’s just your voice, hoarse, breathless, and Gaz bearing down on you, the sound of your bodies somehow growing sloppier, messier as he fucks you and it’s uncompromising, just skirting the edge of painfully overwhelming—

He breaks, shoulders trembling, head bowed into the curve of your neck as he lets out a long, desperate moan. It’s a drawn out, rough groan that is more sob than pleasure, and then you feel him inside you, spilling red hot and wet. Your own orgasm still isn’t fully finished, rolling leisurely through you in little aftershocks, your body still tightening and shivering, and it goes on and on and on.

He holds on to you throughout, as if he’s worried he’ll blow away into the wind without anchoring himself to you. His hips slow, but don’t fully stop. He rolls his hips into you slowly, leisurely, as though he has all the time in the world as he shivers in his come down. You blink, waiting for the colour to bleed back into your vision and for the ringing in your ears to stop, and for the first time all night you’re not thinking about anything at all.

“Please, Kyle.” You slur out stupidly. You have no idea what you’re even asking for; there’s just some vague, barely formed desperation floating around your painfully blank mind as you search for something.

“Mm.” Gaz hums. It feels like he’s everywhere, his broad chest filling up your sight and enveloping you. His hands roam over your body: the backs of your thighs, squeezing as his hands drift over your ass, up and down your back, your neck, his fingers catching around the thin strands of hair and the back of your neck, until finally he settles his fingers on your cheeks.

His palms stay there, just cupping your cheeks as the two of you struggle to regulate your breathing and regain your composure. That antsy sense of desperation eases a little when he leans in to nuzzle fondly at your face, dropping sweet little kisses along your cheeks and nose.

Gaz’s chest rumbles with a low, lovely laugh, his voice gravelly from his climax. “You’re overflowing, sweetheart.”

You let out a careless little sigh, before relaxing experimentally. You can feel a gush of warm seed begin to ooze out around Gaz’s cock, spilling out of your entrance and coating his balls. You wriggle lazily, cunt still pulsing as your wildly beating heart gradually slows to a lazy flutter.

You think you should probably be panicking now. You’ve just fucked your ex, told him you loved him, then let him come inside. With no condom. God, you’re stupid. But the wave of horror you’re expecting never comes. You feel too floaty to care; you suspect if it was anyone other than Gaz, the mortification would have knocked into you like a sledgehammer. 

“You’re gonna get cum on the couch.” You complain, the words coming out clumsy on your tongue.

Gaz just snorts. He makes no effort to pull out, and you have no desire to push him away. The intimacy of your sweat-slick skin pressed together is enough to take your breath away, and it’s only further compounded by the sensation of his cock gradually softening inside you.

“I’ll get it cleaned, love.” He drawls lazily, leaning in to kiss your swollen lips. “Or pay for a new one. Whichever you want.”

When you kiss him back he sighs fondly, one thumb stroking over your cheekbone. You’re still limp in his arms, boneless and spent as you wriggle greedily into his arms. His cock is still lodged inside you, and you’re sure he must be getting uncomfortably sensitive but to your relief he just moans in quiet appreciation when you try to worm your way closer.

“You made a mess.” You mumble against his lips. 

You’re being a little unfair, considering your own slick is coating your thighs and Gaz’s lower belly, but Gaz has always rolled with even the most unreasonable attitude you’ve thrown his way. So he just chuckles, and you feel a little insane as you wonder if anyone else would ever be as patient with you.

“Think we both did, doll.” He murmurs fondly. He leans in and catches your lips with his again, kissing you slowly with a lazy, lewdly open mouth. One hand curls against the nape of your neck, the other hand reaching up beneath your sweater and curling possessively against your left tit, sweeping over your sluggish, sated heartbeat.

You feel practically brainless after your orgasm, relaxed and loose in Gaz’s arms. There’s something to be said for how safe you feel with him, as much as you’d like to deny it, but reality is starting to slowly sink in.

You pull away from his mouth to try and collect yourself, unable to think when he’s kissing you like that. 

“Fuck.” You breathe, closing your eyes with a sigh. It’s slow, but you’re finally starting to think again. “We shouldn’t– we should have used a condom.”

Gaz’s eyes are lidded with fond amusement as he watches you quietly. His hand kneads at your breast absent-mindedly, as though he’s forgotten that he’s groping at you. 

“Don’t overthink it,” He murmurs, kissing your forehead again. “I saw your box of pills in the bathroom. And I’m clean. Haven’t been with anyone but you.”

You tremble a little at his admission, your fingers digging into his shoulders. You feel like you’re losing your mind. Gaz is the most beautiful man you’ve ever met, funny and sweet and always so caring. You love him, even if it kills you a little to admit it, and you don’t know how to respond to his admission that he’s been faithful to you during the long months you weren’t together.

Gaz misinterprets whatever expression is on your face, thumb stroking soothingly over your cheek again. “We can get you a morning-after pill, if it’ll make you feel better.”

You don’t bother correcting him. You’re not that fussed over the morning-after pill – you’re careful when it comes to your birth control, and Gaz had always cum inside you when you were together. The weight of his cock inside you is comforting almost, the wet slide of his cum dripping out of you makes you feel as though you’d never been apart in the first place. You wonder how you could ever have been thick enough to think that someone else could fill Gaz’s place in your life.

As if he knows what you’re thinking, Gaz’s lips twitch. “That pillock you brought home would’ve been such a disappointment, darling.”

You can’t stop your eyes from rolling, exasperated. 

“You don’t know that.” You grumble, though you don’t pull away. You’re still all curled up against his chest, skin still slick and sticky from rapidly cooling sweat, your leg still slung over Gaz’s hip to keep his now-soft cock nestled inside you.

“Sure I do.” He says, and that cocky arrogance that both drives you mad and makes you swoon is rearing its head. He reaches down, and his thick fingers roll over your much-too-sensitive clit. “She missed me, gorgeous. Don’t think she would have liked some strange tosser pounding away at her with no idea how to please her.”

The way he talks about your pussy as though it has its own thoughts and feelings has you rolling your eyes again, though your cheeks burn with embarrassment. To your immense irritation, you think he might have a point. You haven’t come that hard in months, not since the breakup.

“Oh, shut up.” You sigh tiredly.

He snickers, and then shifts. It takes you a moment to realise that he’s pulling his hips back preparing to pull out. Your brain stalls, and you wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders in protest. You’re not ready to feel the invasive, aching emptiness that will no doubt throb through your core as soon as he’s not filling you up. 

“Stay.” You say, and it comes out as an embarrassingly breathy little plea.

Gaz goes practically limp, as though your hoarse request had taken the wind right out of him. You’re not expecting the way he brings both arms around your waist before rolling over onto his back, hauling you up to lay over his chest. His cock remains firmly lodged inside you, though the movement has resulted in his white creamy spend leaking out onto your inner thighs.

“Not going nowhere.” He mumbles, one hand stroking over your flank to soothe you. “I’m on leave for at least a month.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” Gaz hums. He must sense that this is a delicate moment, because he doesn’t make any ribald jokes about having all month to fuck you like you’re expecting him to. He just presses a tender kiss to your temple, his lips lingering gently.

Usually, you’d probably be a little embarrassed by how clingy you’re being. You had been so damn determined not to fall into bed with Gaz after the breakup, but you’re so, so weak. His stupid honey brown eyes and gorgeous dimples and crooked grin is enough to send you to your knees. You rest your forehead against his chest as he holds you close; at least like this, you can’t see his stupid handsome face.

He’s obviously pleased with the way you’re snuggling into him, because his chest rumbles as he hums in satisfaction. He’s holding you tight like he thinks you’re going to slip away the moment he blinks.

“You okay?” He asks quietly.

You don’t answer immediately. There’s no way to brush this under the carpet, or to go back to pretending at detached disinterest. If you had wanted to play this off as just a bit of stress relief, then you should have rolled away from him the second he’d spilled inside of you rather than cuddling with him on the couch. There’s no way that you can claim that this was just a case of needing to get laid; you’re still clutching at him like a limpet, the two of you intertwined so tight that it’s difficult to tell when your limbs end and Gaz’s begin.

“I’m tired.” You sigh eventually, sidestepping the conversation that you know you’ll have to deal with eventually.

No doubt Gaz notices your not particularly subtle avoidance, but he doesn’t comment. He seems quite happy to indulge your every whim; he probably wants to avoid the this-was-a-mistake-and-we-need-to-maintain-boundaries conversation even more than you do.

“Let’s get you to bed then,” He murmurs, and then he surprises you by sitting up. You’re still laid out across his chest, which means that when he shimmies up into a sitting position, you end up sitting sprawled in his lap.

You’re still speared a little awkwardly on his soft cock, the sensation of him inside you making your eyelids flutter a little. You feel satisfied, your muscles still watery and weak, and you sigh a little mournfully when Gaz finally pulls his cock out of you. You ache, a deep throb that both stokes and settles you. It’s like a comfortable little reminder that Gaz was here, and that he left his mark on you.

You can feel the way he leans back just to get a glimpse of his spend trickling down the inside of your thigh. You pout and bury your face into his throat, your arms wrapped tight around his shoulders still as you try to hide your sudden self-consciousness.

But Gaz isn’t interested in giving you a moment to hide. You feel the edge of his teeth ghost the shell of your ear before he speaks, just low enough to make you shiver.

“Let me take you out tomorrow, sweetheart.” He says, and beneath his usual cocky countenance you hear the edge of a plea. “I’ll make up for ruining your date tonight. You can wear that little dress from earlier for me again.”

You feel exposed, stripped bare as you perch in Gaz’s lap. His hand strokes evenly over your spine, waiting patiently for your response.

“I want a fancy dinner.” You mumble, your fingers curling around his shoulders. “At a nice restaurant.”

You hear a shaky little exhale, and Gaz’s arms tighten around your waist. It strikes you that he’s relieved, and you feel your heart tremble in response. The knowledge that he wants you still is enough to have your own lungs seizing in response; you can’t quite bear to wonder if you’ve been wasting time for these past few months that you’ve been broken up. 

“Whatever you want.” He says it like a prayer, tilting his head in search of your lips again.

The kiss is easy, the months that you’ve been apart dissolving into nothing. You’re a little too stubborn to give in entirely and beg for him back just yet though, but you doubt it matters. You’ve already admitted your weakness for him in the middle of shagging, and you’re not stupid enough to hope that he’s somehow forgotten it. You’ve been trying so hard to shove all those feelings down deep, but you’re not too surprised that they’ve all come bubbling out. He’s got a month of leave. You have no doubt that he’s going to use that time to change your mind. You find that you don’t mind the idea as much as you thought you might; you suspect that you can be swayed all too easily.

You peek up at him, only to come face to face with his sweet, hopeful deep brown eyes. He’s not pushing, but you can see the weight of desire and yearning in every inch of his face. No doubt it’s mirrored on your own. You don’t think you could ever look into his pretty face and deny him anything.

You hum, then whisper the only answer you could ever give.

“Yeah. Okay. It’s a date, then.”

[hauntingblue]

Ennies Lobby 3.0. yes that's happening I have too much to yap about

Omg look at these freaks

Franky is so real.... look at him....

Omg 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 I have teared up so many times just bc luffy smiles with meaning at some point. insane btw.

MY GOOOOOOOD!!!!!! AAAAAAARGGGGGHHHHH

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

The neutrality of it all....

I forgor about aokiji revealing that he was friends with Saul and that he was protecting her because of it... the "live life and prove to me that ohara is still alive"... damn reminds me of garp saying to ace that he would find out if it was wrong for him to be born. "I don't know if it was right or wrong for saul to let you live" yeah that's it. But anyways all this happened because aokiji was loyal to his friend and now we know that he didn't even kill him!! So why is he with blackbeard?? I can't shake it!!!

I can't do it.... I can't.....

Luffy and franky talking about how mich they like the ship while he's chasing his speedos bottomless through the city 😭😭 it's so sweet actually... Franky only has one pair of speedos... thats why he ran thru the city to get them I get it now

"If you don't mind being a little rough I'm wiling to help" robin you freaky girl. But truly that is one of many robin and luffy's autistic communication moments they just know. Also if robin stopped crushing his balls but everyone could see the hands being there that means that she was just holding them for a while while he wept. Normal things here.

Franky blaming himself all this time... 🥺🥺

And he just takes his trunks and walks to the ship without putting them on akdjaosnso alpha moment while saying a melancholic goodbye to your family... crazy

What.... what is he doing

Luffy's fake ass laughing and saying how usopp will do great on his own.... I am seeing you cold sweat

This shit has always been so funny to me.... luffy definitely suffers from nepotism

Usopp asking if they don't know he's sniper king skdbjs no, they (luffy) don't know akdjaons

Look at these wet little beasts omg. Matching icons akdhaksjks

DADAN MENTION????? IN THE ACE VS BLACKBEARD CHAPTER????? AAAAAAAAHHHHH

Face card and pose unmatched as of yet. Look at the evidence.

I am killing myself now. Goodbye.

But I'm already dead!! Yohohoho... Anyways water seven and enies lobby is done.... I am scared (thriller bark) of what is coming you have no idea. Also!! Luffy nearly dying after hia battle with lucci starts the domino effect of luffy being barely strong enough to save everyone until it climaxes in sabaody and then culminates in marineford which is crazy to me btw. Luffy's evolution until then is about how no matter how strong he is it would never be enough. Insane. I don't know what else to say. I love you robin and franky. ACE STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP. nvm it's too late already. AAAAAHHHHHH

[gachaparadise]

so excited by this!!

[safwunnz]

STOPSTOPSTOP TOO CUTE TOO DAMN CUTE AHHH

oH NO-! Baby sans-- my weakness ⊂（♡⌂♡）⊃

[aro-ortega]

i have a new tav that i am going to actually play through the whole game with. i am committed to finishing this game w this character. i thought long and hard about what class i wanted to play and how i prefer to play the game

his name is calder (cal for short)

he is a half wood elf wild magic sorcerer urchin

he's a young man, but he has a lot of experience from his background. sneaky and charming. deadly handshake ! (friends + shocking grasp)

idk who he's going to romance at all yet, just going to see who he clicks w.

[moechies]

🧸ﾟ｡

nanami who loves fucking you with a plushie in between your arms, hugging it tight and moaning into the fluff.

it’s sort of a guilty pleasure, simply because he loves how innocent you look with the toy tucked in between your arms. your cute little face all teary, arms holding tightly onto the tan little teddy bear he had gotten you a while back for your birthday.

he’ll give you the nastiest back shots, criticizing you about your poor arch that’s slipped over time, and how you’re unable to keep yourself up. all because he likes to see you struggle and cry a little, knowing well he could simply arch your back to his liking and support your weight with one hand if he wanted to.

but watching you cry and moan into the soft fluff of the plushie, wetting its body, and fingers gripping tightly at its body is almost too cute of a sight to resist.

if you’re doing really poorly, he’ll take the stuffie away and toss it aside, making you cry and retract your arms as close to your body as possible. they press against your tits, hands in little fists as you whine for it back.

but it’s okay, he’ll make you feel better. and with just a kiss, and a couple swipes of his thumb across your puffy fat clit, all is forgotten in the pleasure of your favorite life-sized teddy.