#omg... i LOVE HIM SO MUCH HOLY SHIT

[rosemarydaycare]

🍕FNAF Security Breach Pizzeria Horror Attraction🍕

I'm surprised I haven't seen this on tumblr yet, so I decided to talk about it. [SS Credits]

This is not CGI, its a real place located in Boulevard City, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. It's a haunted/horror house, and you can see the full video here:

🐻They actually remodeled the place because it used to have the OG FNAF Mascots but switched it to SB this year.

🌕The roaming stilt walker mascot at that time was The Puppet! And guess who they went for this year? The Daycare Attendant, Moon!

⭐Unfortunately, visitors are not allowed to record the insides of the premise but these are the few pictures that have been sneaked in. [Source]

☆ It's a shame because it'd be interesting to know how they spook people inside! But yeah! Wanted to share this cause I hadn't seen others do so and if you have any more information- feel free to add!

[itsstilltru]

I honestly want to see what non slug Ted looks like in your art style! :D

Now that you mention it I wondered the same thing so here we are! :D He has no idea the horrors he’s about to witness.

While I was drawing this lovely guy I had a thought… What if, years later, AM turned him back into a human?

what then?

…

[part 2]

[qoldenskies]

i think a lot of people pretty openly acknowledge that leo is someone that self-aggrandizes and acts reckless in order to compensate for his insecurities, which is true and it's very clearly spelled out especially in the movie, but i don't really see people acknowledge the fact that donnie is the EXACT same way (outside of people who specifically like to write a lot of angst for him. leo is forever designated sadboy of the fandom). which is sad, because i think it's the most twin-like thing about them!!

it's a trait they share pretty openly. same flavor of daddy issues, although leo is always wanting to look down, to be the BEST at something, to be admired and respected and trusted, to be above other people, while donnie is always wanting to look up, the whole approval from a parental aged adult thing is the largest example but i also think about his desperation for CAMARADERIE in the purple jacket, and also like, lol the entirety of mind meld. he wants to be understood and acknowledged and praised and he practically begs for it with everything he does.

both of them desperately want to impress! but i kind of interpret it as leo trying to make a point to himself more than to other people, because he is so caught up in his own self-judgement. it's why he can act rude or try to step over the others (raph especially, although early on there is some mutual toxicity in that relationship) in order to prove that point.

but donnie has a lot more self-security because he knows what he does! he knows he's good at it, i don't think there's any denying that. but under real praise he gets starry-eyed or he softens. he makes a big point out of presenting new things because that's what he's looking for. and i think that makes him so averse to the potential of failure. it's why he'll shrug it off or outright deny it when its brought up to him. he sucks so bad at taking responsibility lmao.

i think mind meld in particular is a very telling episode, especially the beginning of it. he gets rash and upset when he feels like he's doing too much on his own. he feels ignored and disrespected for his efforts, and makes bad decisions as a result. and between that and donnie's gifts it's very very obvious he is projecting the fact that he equates his usefulness, his role, to his self-worth as a person. a lot of that crowing confidence is not real. he is MAJORLY overcompensating just like leo is. (and i would also like to point out the kind of things he makes shelldon RESPOND to in smart lair before he's reprogrammed, like leo's ribbing)

idk, i just feel like donnie wants to be seen and leo wants to be able to see himself, although there is some overlap there and the two problems can bleed into each other.

(and i do think a big point of leo's arc in the movie is for him to genuinely stop being selfish. his insecurity gets in the way and he's thinking about himself when he acts, and that's what hurts people. all of them have the potential to be self-centered, but leo's behavior was putting people in danger, and he had to look past all of that because he has ALWAYS been a strong and capable person and a good leader, but he was afraid of it because he was setting the goalpost for himself too high, and it was RAPH'S thing. it all felt too daunting. he's never going to feel ready if he only thinks about himself. at a point it's just not about him. as dubious as his sacrifice at the end was, that was the point. get him some therapy for that blunder though)

and i think it has a lot of potential to make them clash in a really interesting way. donnie's like,,, got his THING!! leo is not CONFIDENT in his thing!! and he can't ever be better than donnie at his particular thing, so he LEAPS onto any chance to get one over on him, which clashes very badly with donnie's issues of easily feeling dejected or unappreciated. he's going to take that personally, and then leo is going to take donnie's bad interpretation of that behavior personally, because like... why doesn't donnie trust him? :((

anyways they are majorly twinning they are both dramatic unconfident bitches with self-worth issues and they both get louder and meaner when they feel hurt about something. its why i keep accidentally writing angst of the other when i try to write angst of one. ahaha lol oops

sorry ive had this blog for only a few hours i just needed to get my thoughts down mostly for myself. for writing purposes

[aroacesofspades]

^ face of someone (me) who just finished the arcane finale

[homeless202]

I’m new here and I absolutely love your type of blogs with analysis and meta and long texts~~

I was wondering—is Eunyung and Haejoon’s relationship the kind that could be interpreted as romantic?

first of all, welcome and ty! and sorry it took me so long to reply, i hope u're still around anon. now to answer ur question

i'll take this opportunity to share all my thoughts on the topic bc i have Many.

TLDR: it is possible to read it as romantic if you really want to, but it's not meant to (at least not as of right now in the story aka ch.224)

deep dive under the cut as to why

-> can Eunyung and Haejoon’s relationship be interpreted as romantic?

i like how you phrased that bc, the thing is, interpretation is very subjective. you're welcome and allowed to interpret things however you want, but in EY&HJ's case, i feel like you'd have to work a lil extra hard to get to that point.

-> is Eunyung and Haejoon’s relationship meant to be interpreted as romantic?

this one's easy bc no. objectively Not. the genre of No Home is drama and slice of life (and once upon a time, horror). even if they were to ever end up in a romantic relationship, that's not what the story is about.

when i ask myself what the author's intention is with this story, i'd say it's to (realistically) portray how a young person with trauma would navigate another young person's trauma. and showing how easy it is to unintentionally fuck it up for various reasons: lacking context as to what exactly said trauma is, generally not knowing how to navigate it, their own trauma getting in the way, lacking the necessary resources. take your pick.

think of it like "how should i carry someone else's baggage when i have my own to deal with?" while also keeping in mind they're kids; they often don't have enough experience to know how to help, and even when they know what the right thing to do is, they're not old enough to take (legal) action.

and especially, the most heart-breaking yet realistic thing, when you're just getting to know someone, you can't know everything about them. it's so easy to accidentally do or say sth that cuts or offends when it wasn't meant to. but when they've got their own issues, it's hard not to take it personally (eg. EY talking about HJ's parents without knowing his mom died not long ago in the beginning of the story).

-> what even is Eunyung and Haejoon’s relationship??

this one's so funny bc i have no idea how to answer and i'm convinced not even EY and HJ themselves would know how to answer. they're not really friends; they got off on the wrong foot and kept walking with two left feet way too much to call themselves friends. the things that pushed them together the most were the dorms (not anymore) and the same friend group (more or less since EY has multiple).

what fits them best i'd say is "the universe forced us together against our will and now we're stuck with one another altho we hate each other" (<- at least in the beginning) extended with the "misery loves company" sentiment. finding comfort in someone who gets it, even tho they only kinda get it but not really but it works out anyway except it doesn't <- THERE'S NO NAME FOR THAT *cry* they invented a new type of character dynamic smh (i've never read a pairing with so much (romantic) potential only to see them completely fuck up their chance so royally by the end of their interaction EVERY SINGLE TIME. like yeah, enemies to lovers whatever BUT NOT TO THAT LEVEL HOLY SHIT)

they've changed each other, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse. they're compatible in the way they understand each other on a deeper level and incompatible in the way they don't.

...however...

this is how HJ thinks of EY: (and also what No Home is truly abt)

and this is how EY feels about HJ after EY found out HJ used to steal as well (aka that HJ isn't perfect like the stuck up bitch EY thought he was at first):

so...

<- -> EY's first impression of HJ was that he was looking down on him and sth like "does this guy have ulterior motives? or is he just that naive being so trusting?" until EY found out HJ wasn't that different from him. after that, EY started admiring HJ for still managing to achieve things in life despite the hardships he had to go through. the type of admiration that can easily (and sometimes does) slip into envy.

-

since the beginning, EY has helped HJ (or at least tried to) without him knowing. sometimes it worked out, sometimes not. most times EY tried doing sth nice for HJ was (from EY's perspective) in return to HJ trying to help him or doing nice things for him (which, again, sometimes worked out, sometimes not). EY was just paying back a debt to "this stubborn naive guy who keeps getting into trouble and butting into his business. gotta look out for this idiot or he might get scammed." (<- eg. when EY offered to get HJ's money back from his uncle)

he doesn't do it for credit or friendship or out of obligation, he's just doing what he thinks is the right thing bc he doesn't want to owe anyone anything. he can't accept people just genuinely being kind, genuinely caring and genuinely wanting to help. but he's been learning and slowly coming to terms with it.

-

<- -> HJ first wanted to try befriending EY despite not liking him bc, well, the guy did steal his wallet and stab him in their first interaction. after trying and failing at it multiple times, thanksgiving happened, and HJ started thinking of EY as his underclassman bc he realized EY's just a kid with issues and he should keep an eye on him (discretely bc EY hates pity).

-

with time HJ has come to understand EY better by going after him whenever he ran off and slowly realized that EY does mean well and has his reasons (as fucked up as they might be sometimes). but his mentality abt EY is still "i gotta push him in the right direction cuz he's my underclassman and i unintentionally got attached to him (somehow??)" (also bc he knows EY already gave up on himself so he needs a lil help to find his way again. also also bc he knows EY is lowkey suicidal and he's scared it'll be his fault if sth happens) <- his care for EY comes from a protective/nurturing (/possibly maybe guilty) place which started when he realized EY was just a kid^^. in other words, HJ still bothers with EY out of a subconscious sense of responsibility/obligation in a way (a good way tho. or at least a way that gets better)

see, sth i struggle with is if HJ thinks he has to or wants to or thinks he should or can't just not help/care for EY. i can't exactly pinpoint where the sentiment is coming from. his face is too blank for me to read sometimes T_T

-

to summarize: HJ is EY's goal, what EY wishes he could've been. and EY is HJ's 'responsibility' so to speak (bc 'burden' doesn't quite fit since HJ is there for EY willingly) -> EY has a positive opinion of HJ while HJ has a neutral opinion of EY (which is also gradually getting better)

note1: i think HJ's intention (maybe subconsciously) was to be to EY what HJ's upperclassman was to him. aka someone who's there when you need it and can help guide you. it would explain why HJ kept chasing after EY despite not really having a reason to and EY repeatedly rejecting HJ's care/help.

note2: i also believe the 'upper-under-classman' relationship dynamic fits them the best atm bc it also matches the way the story often singles EY out as he's the only second year (aka younger) of the 6 MCs.

-> Romance in No Home?

another thing i should mention is that No Home rarely leaves things open for interpretation. the deepest arguments EY&HJ had were always spelled out for us, to make us understand exactly what the problem was, and how there isn't a good guy and a bad guy. it's just two people with issuesTM.

from what we've seen in the story up to this point, i couldn't pick out a moment where i'd go "here! that's romantic! that's the moment they realized SomeThing!" yk

when it comes to romance specifically, i feel like a handful of opportunities were missed. there are scenes which could've easily been written trough a rosy lens but simply weren't.

exhibit A:

HJ was speechless bc "wow this mf really is actively picking a fight with an authority figure. i gotta make sure things don't escalate" not bc "hoLY sHiT hE's PreTTy. all his fangirls are on to something". however, this only becomes more clear when you keep reading the next few chapters, so i understand how you could interpret it as the latter.

exhibit B:

here they got so close and the moment was so deep bc "woaa he said he believes me. no one's said to me that before!". unfortunately, EY was panicking too much for it to mean something bc of the guilt he felt for HJ trusting someone so undeserving of trust like EY.

exhibit C:

this is maybe the closest we got to romantic between these two. i think this might be the only (or at least first) ever deep interaction between them that didn't end in a fight or misunderstanding. is it meant to be romantic tho? -> ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-> what do i think?

first, full transparency: i went into reading this story fully expecting it to be a BL and for EY&HJ to end up together. but the more i kept on reading, the more i got the ick thinking about them being in a (romantic) relationship bc, at least from what we've seen so far in the story, their relationship would be so ToxicTM (which i personally don't enjoy reading).

as they are right now, i wouldn't want them to be together like that. like, honestly, you still can't really consider these two even friends; they just tolerate each other if the stars align correctly (altho, i'll admit, their relationship is gradually getting better!!). every big argument they had i thought "god, there's no coming back from that. i'd cut ties so quickly if was them wtf". i still don't know how they managed to keep on interacting, props to them ig.

there's a lot of unresolved issues between them. and a lot of resentment which would not bode well in a romantic relationship. the smallest argument would turn explosive and they'd be, at best, in an on&off type of relationship. they both have the power to break the other and neither would be afraid to use it. they have a lot of history together, which is not always pleasant, so if they ever were to go the romantic route, it would have to be a long way to go.

technically, i could see them in a romantic relationship if they both went to therapy first and talked out all the baggage they're carrying (both individual and shared). realistically tho, what i think will happen at the end of No Home is that either they never cross paths again after high school ends (which would absolutely break my heart Wanan pls don't), or they somehow (unintentionally) end up living together bc they both desperately needed a roommate to pay rent (which would be a hilarious fucking gag LMAO). just, HJ going to uni/work and EY doing his own thing (prolly an actor) while still cohabiting together; hanging out to watch a movie before bed <- (whether platonic or romantic being left up for interpretation)

<- -> in conclusion, from what we've seen up to this point, their relationship is mainly upper-under-classman; reluctant (maybe) friends who tolerate each other but also care (too) deeply. they've changed each other, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse. in some ways they're compatible and in others they're not.

all this being said, their relationship is improving and romance between EY&HJ is not impossible, just rather unlikely imo. but, again, interpretation is subjective and u're welcome to read their relationship however you want.

[pls-just-let-me-marry-yeung]

!!! Omg OP this is so cute!!!

[wignalluvion]

[wistoria ch. 51 spoilers under the cut]

brb I'm just going to scream into my pillow for the foreseeable future

[megansouzava]

I met Rider (the voice of Time, Twilight, and Sky) for Linked Universe (Estrine Studios’ Dub) IN PERSON yesterday! I’ve known him for 4 years already, and the 7 hour drive both ways was so worth it!! 🥹❤️

Here’s this too! 🤣

I’m glad to say that I’ve met the other two OG 3 that dubbed Linked Universe, as I’ve also met Skyrin/RossESP IRL too! I can’t wait to see everyone from the LU cast at Anime Boston in 2024!!! 🥹💚❤️💙💜 We MIIIIIIGHT be able to host a panel at Anime Boston, but we’ll keep you updated! 😉🫶🏻

Love y’all, and thank you for the support!!!!!!

[chaoticeddie]

NO WAY NO WAY NO WAY

[brothed]

y'all dont even understant the jojo brainrot i have that i cannot do anything about <\33 my girlfriend says no jojo tumbr so i can avoid spoliers <\\3 i need josuke higashikata SO BAD okay a little jotaro kujo !!!! a little joseph joestar !!!! a little muhammad avdol !!!!! fuck :(

[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.”

[moonsiwaa]

I KNEW YOU WOULDN’T LET ME DOWN WITH THE JESSE FICS OMFG ALI

𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄 | Jesse (TLOU) x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec 

summary | Anger finds you both in a moment of weakness.

author's note | Young Mazino's portrayal of Jesse needs to be studied. They plucked that man straight out of the game. Anyways, the girlies and I had a visceral reaction to his outburst last night and I had to fulfill my duties.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, angry!jesse, dom/sub elements, public sex, brief mention of injury and an attack, angst and tense arguments, vague backstory this is mostly pwp, taunting, unprotected piv, spit as lube, i know this man fucks nasty, that is all <3

word count — 3.3k

The way silence consumed him was terrifying.

Your patrol had gone awry. A simple check in with base and a quick sweep had swiftly turned into a fight for your life, neither of you at fault but an unwillingness to admit both of you could have avoided the situation altogether. 

The night was all-consuming, swarming around him in the dark and shaded protection of the stables.

He had been off his game admittedly, running on a few hours of sleep the past few days and may have missed a checkpoint or two on the way to the patrol area, but you couldn’t be angry with him – the area was always quiet, never gave anyone issues, it was safe.

Until it wasn’t.

You fell asleep during watch, something both of you were guilty of from time to time, but you never slipped too far into deep sleep, constantly on edge. But, with Jesse’s head leaning against your left hip while you had nestled up in the small alcove of the window, it was inevitable.

“We don’t talk about it,” you coax him into secrecy, watching as he slowly bandages the gash on your hand, his jaw set as he remains quiet, eyes flickering up to look at you briefly.

“Tommy should know,” Jesse says eventually, a stickler for rules and the distinct line of command that was unofficially set for the people running patrol—Jesse had become one of Tommy’s most-trusted leaders outside of him and his brother Joel.

It went against everything Jesse stood for—lies, he hated lying.

“They’re dead,” you remind him, “crisis averted, problem solved.”

“You think they’ll take you off patrol, don’t you?” Jesse pries, tying up the bandage so tight it makes you wince, but you know it was all in an effort to control the bleeding.

“The last kid I was with got bit and they took me off patrol for two months,” you retort back with a tinge of anger, “I’ve spent eight months building trust with them, proving I could lead just like you, but I can’t control some eighteen year old kid because he thinks he fuckin’ knows everything?” Jesse knew vaguely of the situation, knowing himself that the kid would be a problem, but less likely to disobey under Jesse’s command.

“It was a test,” you tell him, “I failed—I finally get a chance to do something I feel comfortable with again and we get ambushed, I’m injured—and they—he…he almost,”

“Hey,” Jesse lowers his voice, softer.

You hated it. You hated the pity.

You and Jesse had an unspoken understanding, even if you weren’t really friends.

You didn’t hang out with him outside of patrol, didn’t seek him out in the crowd during town parties and dinners, whatever connection you had with him remained outside the boundaries of Jackson.

You didn’t know how he ended up in Jackson, you’ve never spoken to his family or friends. You were reclusive, preferred being on your own. Joel had found you stealing from the kitchen, a stray with nowhere to go, a fearful look in your eyes as Joel had rangled you up and hauled you to his brother, presenting him with the problem.

You. You were the problem.

You’ve been proving yourself ever since, trying to match up to Jesse.

“I don’t need you to coddle me,” you snapped at him, his fingers still lingering on the back of your palm as he examined his work, watching the tinge of blood seep through the bandage.

Being vulnerable in front of anyone, let alone Jesse, was completely off the table.

The raiders had forced it out of you and now—well, you had nowhere to hide. 

“I’m not keeping your fuckin’ secrets,” Jesse barks, though his voice is low.

“Fine, go tell Tommy how you were being careless,” you challenge him, “skip a couple checkpoints—no biggie, it doesn’t matter,” you shake your head in annoyance as he turns his head and looks away from you, “you were nodding off the entire ride there, you know?”

“Does anyone ever tell you how irritating you can be?” Jesse asks, head snapping back to look at you and you smile in amusement, letting out a bitter laugh.

“Come on, let me hear it,” you taunt him, “tell me how Tommy did me a favor by taking me in, how I’m surviving on borrowed time, how much you can’t fucking stand me—oh, but you sure do love to mope about Dina when you’re fighting because really, who am I gonna tell? Am I only safe to be around whenever we’re outside of Jackson? Is it because everyone still looks at me like I’m an outsider?”

You couldn’t explain how long this had been building between you and Jesse, the inevitable outburst, thankful for an empty stable and sleeping horses, all of Jackson tucked safely in their beds while you wanted nothing more than to run.

Especially with the way Jesse was looking at you now.

“I think your refuse to trust anyone,” Jesse counters and your heart sinks in an instant, “I think all that matters to you is trying to prove people that you’re impenetrable, like you don’t have a weakness—”

You scoff, sliding off of the workbench Jesse had initially crowded you against, his pack still laying unzipped and strung open but he wasn’t letting you off that easy, his hand curling tight around your bicep to yank you back, your hand coming up quickly to counter his grab.

But, Jesse was skilled in hand to hand combat, so his counter comes just as quick, squeezing and twisting your arms up so tight that you’re immobile, stuck under his heavy gaze as you both breath into each other’s space.

“I never would have let him go that far,” Jesse admits, “and I know you were scared, but—”

“I wouldn’t have let him,” you challenge him, a stark reminder of your strength—Jesse could admit that, as unwilling as you were to appear human or show any tangible emotion, you could handle yourself in a life or death situation, you had a survival instinct that was vital in the current state of the world, “I let him touch me because it gave me an opening, not because I was scared,”

It was a lie, even Jesse could see through it.

–

Jesse had overpowered one of the two men that had attempted to ambush you on patrol while the other man had you held down, preparing to indulge in a lot more than just murder.

This man was so much stronger and the fight with the other assailant had led Jesse outside, his grunts echoing in your ear alongside the stiff and deafening crack of his fist against skin and bone.

You’re growling behind gritted teeth as his knee digs into your back, the deft sound of a belt unbuckling before a hand is diving under your jeans, giving you an opening as the attacker’s head bows and you rip off his ear with your teeth, an echo of a blood-curdling scream lets out before your hearing goes quiet and then rings as a bullet strikes him dead center, right through his skull.

Your eyes were wide with fear for only a brief second and the look of instant pity that Jesse had on his face was something you never wanted to witness again—but, there it was again.

–

Your lips pull into a thin line as you attempt to shrug him off, but he isn’t letting you go.

“What if I hadn’t shot him?” Jesse asks, eyes half-lidded as he stares you down.

Your eyes search his own for a moment, finding that his grip loosens as he tries to decipher whatever emotion you were currently feeling, but he is far too late when he finds that it was only anger, your hand rearing back to strike him, a slap that sounds inside the stables with a heavy crack, pulling back from him in an instant as his face refuses to change.

“Yeah, get angry,” Jesse encourages, “you wanna do it again?”

Part of you wants too, but you understand what he’s trying to do.

You needed an outlet, you didn’t have one, and he was willing to be that for you.

Your bottom lip temples slightly and Jesse nods, almost taunting.

When you finally do, feeling the rage in your chest swell as he goads you on, raising your hand back to slap him again, his hand is already there, stopping you in an instant.

There’s a split second, fearing whatever words were about to spill from his mouth before you decide to act, begging for any escape from this conversation, you silence him with your own mouth.

Your hand twists into his hair as you pull him to you, against you, his weight guiding you against the wall behind you as your bodies thump against hit, breathing hot and heavy into his mouth as split his lips with your tongue, hearing him groaning softly as his grip on your wrist loosens before trading for your waist, holding you tight against the wall as you were pinned between him and the hard surface of wood.

It was inevitable.

This—you and him.

It had been building, creeping in the shadows whenever you two would share a look or a touch.

You didn’t like complicated—and Jesse had that in droves.

Still, the silent gasps that escape him as your other hand shifts into his hair and tugs alongside the other, tethers you to him.

You want it to hurt. Deeply.

Not him necessarily—but the connection, this moment.

Because that would make it easier to hate yourself for wanting him so badly, even if it was nothing but a distraction or a means of avoidance.

He was apprehensive for a moment, almost pushing you away from him, but something in him relaxes as you moan softly into his mouth, less defensive as he presses the hard, solidness of his chest against your own and reciprocates the kiss with a sudden enthusiasm. 

Jesse kissed like someone holding something back—he always has, even in arguments.

It wasn’t to be secretive or manipulated, it was because he was controlled. 

Everything he did was a calculation. 

You press him harder, push him further, feeling his tongue drift over your split lip from the earlier attack, faintly aware of the sting as he lapped at the small drop of blood that had collected there.

He groans low in his chest as you break the kiss, resting your forehead to his as your eyes peer into his own, wordless but aching to speak—you do that for him, “Dina?”

“Off,” he says simply, knowing full-well what that meant—he was just as eager for distraction.

Jesse focuses on you quietly, hand rising until his thumb could brush across your cheek. 

You flinch—not from the touch, but from the tenderness.

You preferred the violence—his instinct for softness with you wasn’t welcomed.

“Don’t be sweet to me,” you whisper, shaking your head with the weight of your words.

His jaw tightens and his nostrils flare slightly, tilting his chin down to look at you.

His hand lingers at your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek once more before curling under your chin, lifting your face so you have no choice but to look at him, your eyes frantically searching his face.

“I’m not,” he says, like a growl—and you can feel the heat in his tone, strangled by his own instinct to control himself.

You kiss him again before he can say anything else.

Words complicate things.

Words make things real. 

But this?

It was instinct.

His mouth crashes into yours with a similar fervor, teeth knocking briefly. You bite his bottom lip hard enough to draw a gasp and enough blood to match your own, hearing him groan into your mouth, gripping your hips impossibly tighter as a hand spreads out over your ass, curling under your thigh as he hoists it up against his hip, his knees pressing into the wall to entrap you further, a fist landing a blow against the wall beside your head.

You grind down against the thigh slotted between your legs, chasing a desperate friction that seemed unattainable. Your hand threads around the collar of his jacket, yanking hard as you angle your hips against his and he grunts—short, rough—a sound that makes your stomach somersault. 

"Soft? With you?" he mutters, breath hot as he drags his lips down the side of your throat. “Fucking impossible,”

Your jacket's shoved halfway down your arms, mirroring his own before your hands find his belt, tugging with impatient and shaky fingers. Jesse curses softly against your neck as his mouth trails until he can feel your pulse against his tongue, blindly tugging your jacket the rest of the way down before his hands move underneath your shirt, his palms curling against your sides as he squeezes the soft flesh under his grip.

You rip his belt from the loops and toss it aside, quickly shuffling his jeans down enough that he stops his movements against your neck to do the same, consuming your mouth to avoid the inevitable longing gaze, unbutton your jeans and slipping his hands under the fabric of your underwear, shoving the fabric down in one swift movement.

"Turn around," he demands in a low tone, voice sounding raw, frayed.

Jesse doesn’t offer much time to answer before he’s spinning you himself, your hands reaching behind you blindly to slip under the waistband of his underwear and push them down, hearing him grunt softly as your hand grazes his cock—hard and heavy in your hand but soft, his hand snaking around your neck to tilt your head back, catching a glimpse of the way his lips part at your touch, eyes closed.

His breath is heavy, labored. It matched your own.

Jesse pointedly catches your gaze as you let out a high pitched and breathy gasp as his finger squeezes around your neck, licking at the fingers of his empty hand before he spreads the makeshift lubrication from his saliva over your cunt, only partially surprised by how wet you already were.

When he enters you, it’s with no hesitation, no slowness, no apologies. 

He was giving you exactly what you wanted.

You arch back against him, a harsh breath ripping from your throat as he sets a bruising rhythm, hands now gripping your wrists so tightly it borders on painful.

Perfect, you think.

He positions your hands above your head, forcing them to grab onto a hook nailed into the wall before he returns the pressure to your throat and silently forces your jeans further down until they’re pooling around your dirtied boots, snaking his hand around the inside of your thigh as he palmed at the flesh, greedy.

But you want it that way.

Angry and desperate, driven by pleasure and need.

“Fuck,” you gasp softly, a devastating slip-up.

“Shut up,” he seethes, “I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ word from you, got it?”

You nod quickly, eyes fluttering shut as you could feel the frustration rolling off of him in waves, through his touches, the quick and sharp thrust of his hips as he fucked you into an inevitable submission against the wall of the stables, blearily aware that anyone could come in and catch you like this.

It didn’t matter. It didn’t fucking matter.

Nothing mattered, really.

Jesse's thrusts grew more erratic, punctuated by the low growls that escaped his throat.

He was wrestling with something internally, almost animalistic. 

The grip on your throat tightened slightly, your pulse thrumming under his touch. You pushed back against him harder, desperately and silently asking for more, go further, go harder.

“You were scared, I saw it,” he grunted, his breath hot against your ear, and you could only manage a fragmented whimper in response, “I still see it,”

You didn’t need words—your body spoke for you.

Each thrust drove him deeper into you, struggling to keep yourself quiet as you bit down on your bottom lip, already swollen from the earlier attack, but the pain was welcomed.

Your breath quickened, the sharp edge of your pleasure driven deeper with every merciless thrust. “I’m not scared,” you managed to breathe, defying his earlier order. Jesse's grip tightened in warning, a growl rumbling up from his chest.

“Fuckin’ liar,” he hissed, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust.

The stables around you faded into nothing, a dark abyss, the only sound that mattered was the heavy thud of his body against yours and the way he filled you completely, stretched you out and kept you anchored to him.

He leaned closer, mouth brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I see right through you,” he reminds you, “always tryin’ to prove somethin’—tough girl, unforgiving world, right?”

You growl in frustration, the heat of his words igniting something primal in you, “You don’t know me,” you hiss, but it only fuels him further as he drives into you harder, “no one does.”

“I know enough,” he taunts back, voice low and laced with a deep, dark pleasure.

Each thrust pushed you closer to the edge, eventually divulging into a mess of limbs as Jesse leaned against you, pushing you up against the wall as he thrust into you, free hand slipping under your shirt to roam over your chest, squeezing harshly over the fabric holding your breasts in, feeling your nipples pebble underneath the fabric with a sick satisfaction that he barely even had to touch you to get you like this—breathless and needy.

The world around you faded to a dull thrum in your ears as Jesse continued his relentless pace, the friction between your bodies becoming the only thing that mattered until his thrusts faltered, feeling your orgasm creep in before quickly slipping away as his pace slows, but as if he heard your silent plea, his hand slips between your legs without a thought.

“That kid was never your fault,” Jesse tells you, feeling your chest lock up in fear, “it could have been any of us—and today, we’re alive, right?”

You nod, mouth hanging open as a broken sigh slips out, his fingers moving expertly over your swollen clit, “I won’t tell Tommy,” Jesse agrees, “but, you will.”

You both slip into a silence as your orgasms crest—a mingling of breaths, cheek against cheek as your cunt spasms and squeezes around him so tight he nearly chokes, slipping out of you hurriedly as his comes spills over his fist and against the back of your thigh as you heave in a charged breath, releasing it shakily. 

After a moment, Jesse clears his throat, ripping off a fabric hidden inside his back before he approaches you, cleaning you up without a word as you examine him carefully, pulling up the layers of fabric with caution as his are hoisted up but hanging low on his hips, a remnant of what had just happened. 

“I won’t lie to him,” Jesse explains, “but, you seem pretty good at that.”

He silently adjusts his jeans, re-looping his belt before he’s reaching for his jacket and backpack.

“This didn’t happen,” Jesse tells you, “tell him or not—but if he asks me, I’m not lying.”

Integrity was everything to Jesse, but this blip between you both seemed to be his exception.

You had a choice—but you weren’t sure if making the right one was even worth it.

“Jesse,” you called softly, the sound barely escaping your lips as he turned back, eyes sharp and calculating. He was such a puzzle—difficult, infuriating. You don’t know why the words slip out so easily or why you feel them so strongly, “thank you,” you tell him, his face softening slightly.

The charged essence of what had just transpired seemed to bind you to him even tighter now, even if unintentional. It was an unbreakable thread forged in desperation. 

Unspoken, you were tethered whether you liked it or not.

“Let me know when you figure out what you’re thanking me for.”

Maybe it was for your life, maybe it wasn’t.

You weren’t sure if you even meant it.

[buntanteen]

svt fic recs list <3 - svt 10 year anniversary: scoups - sfw & nsfw

summary: 10 sfw & 10 nsfw seungcheol reader insert fics :)

contains: 18+ nsfw (mdni!!) majority is afab reader

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

✩ sfw section ✩

1. ❥ seungcheol x fanbase!reader [1] | [2]- @xinganhao

obsesssssssssssssseeeddd with how continuously down bad he is (dude, this your team's fansite jkfofkgjndgdb)

2. ❥ cherry on top masterlist - @xinganhao

mafia cheol being a lil idiot is taking me outtttttttttttt (another xinganhao masterpiece of a series and it isn't even finished yet)

3. ❥ double kisses - @suhsweet

this fucking broke me into many fragments only to put me back together :,) the kiss thing is so creative i love it

4. ❥ just one more (i swear) - @nerdycheol

BRO ONE MORE KISS PLS I BEGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

5. ❥ jealousy prompt: "they did that on purpose" + "i'm going to scream." - @studioeisa

dear god pls never save this poor boy from jealousy HE'S TOO CUTE WHEN HE'S JEALOUS HEHE

6. ❥ dating seungcheol feels like.. - @ssentimentals

having each others' backs??? being spoiled?!!! WHAT MORE COULD U WANT!?!!

7. ❥ boyfriend! scoups texts - @cheoliedollie

the pet names?!?!? the way he treats reader so well???!?!? *fucking faints*

8. ❥ seungcheol bf texts - @odxrilove

*giggling and twirling my hair* BOY IS RICHHH AND THOUGHTFULLLL~ and reader is so silly with how she expresses her attraction to coups....i fuck with it (asking for photocards & albums is SOOOOOOOOO real jdkfgd)

9. ❥ [11:18 pm] - @cxffecoupx

i'd sob if someone knew me this well omfggggggg

10. ❥ dating seungcheol includes… - @svtswhorehouse

"sugar daddy or boyfriend? (the answer is both)" THAT'S SO REALLLL. he's out here to make sure you feel safe, secure and spoiled. you're never not gonna feel loved if you have coups in your life :,)

✩ nsfw section ✩

1. ❥ spanking - @cheol-e-kat

oh to be a slutty lil college girl and have a slightly scandolous with older man (seungcheol, it can only be seungcheol lbr) (this is also a series)

2. ❥ best friend's roommate - @hoshifighting

PLS PLS PLS PLS PLSSSSSS LET ME SEE HIM LIKE THISAND LIKE HIM DO ME LIKE THAT

3. ❥ distraction - @woninggg

omfg i- *falls onto the floor* bRUH THIS IS SO FDJKGDBKGJFDG

4. ❥ older bf! seungcheol x college student! reader - @cherriicou

seungcheol is the only older man i'd let fuck me fr fr. i aspire to have a man like him obsessed with me teehee

5. ❥ dripping - @thirteenheavens

holy shit this flustered me so much omfggg. oh, to be filled over and over again by coups ejrkbkjdfb

6. ❥ exes and oh’s - @toruro

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH THE TEAAA THE STORYLINEEEE I'M INVESTEDDDD IN THIS EMOTIONAL JOUNEYY

7. ❥ “put a baby in me” - @pochaccoups

four kids? a football team worth of kids? whatever you want cheol, i'll give it to you heh

8. ❥ Secretary x Boss's son - @hoshifighting

the secretary x boss's son relationship??? THE NOONA RELATIONSHIP?? OMGGGG HE'S DOWN BAD

9. ❥ aventus creed - @studioeisa

i've smelt aventus creed and omg i would NOTTTT mind smelling it on myself after....y'know jksfgdkj

10. ❥ anal w/ cheol - @svtswhorehouse

he's SOOOO dirty in this ARHGHFDJKB (ass guy cheol is so real)

bun note: welcome to the first post of my first buntanteen fic rec event: svt 10 year anniversary!!! thank you scoups for being one of the coolest and more dedicated leaders everrrrr~ i hope everyone enjoys these and is excited fort he comeback/10 years album!!! take care of yourselves and eat some tonkatsuuuuuuuu~

[logicpng]

so, i have some thoughts. i feel like the game doesn't explore doey much, so i'm gonna take that as an opportunity to stretch him a lil.

in short, i see him as neither one whole nor 3 kids in a trench coat, but something in the middle of the two: a grown up who never really got to experience a proper childhood, the 3 originals in a blend with each other.

the time between creation and game events likely is enough for them to learn how to cooperate (up until. yknow). collectively or individually though, goddamn they need therapy

[ Description in ALT, text transcribed under cut ]

1st image:

point at head with teeth peeking: teeth may show more subtly, particularly when mischevious

point at hat: hat always at an angle

point at hand: stubby hands omg <3

point at neck: neck constantly bent in some fashion

Generally friendly and curious, may be more closed off and bitter if kevin is more dominant.

Collectively an adult due to passage of time and gaining experience, but still retains some more childish traits due to isolation from outside world and trauma, both collective and individual (holy shit do they need therapy).

Parts operate more or less seamlessly, but depending on situation some may show more or less of their traits.

When stressed, cooperation between parts may break down.

2nd image:

Kevin

present strongest when angry, most of anger processing goes through him.

not actually angry/cranky all of the time though, just a bit more gruff/edgy compared to the other two. tends to show teeth when talking.

over the years learned to control his rage better, can redirect it into being a bit of a troll w/ the others

understandably, safe haven's destruction made him revert and lose all restraint, resulting in lashing out, mixed with extreme emotions from others.

Jack

loved doey strongest before conversion (rip), as such expressions tend to default to his

learned to cope with constantly fighting for survival by cracking jokes and being more optimistic

present strongest when happy, may speak more childishly when in distress or comfortable

reverts into reliving trauma of death and family loss with safe haven's destruction

Matt

present strongest when focused on the leader role, strikes a balance between kevin and jack

through time learned to focus more on necessary action rather than allowing to succumb to past guilt

definitely still very stressed out from responsibility, especially after poppy leaving, learned not to show it through cooperation with kevin and jack

safe haven's destruction just plunges him straight into a guilt spiral

Note pointing at bottom notes for each: safe haven's destruction is a massively traumatic event for them, resulting in the three regressing into child selves from distress, mixed in with emotions from individual traumatic memories

[sga-owns-my-soul]

holy fuck i just saw cooper alan in concert and i think that's the best live show i've ever fucking seen holy shit it was SO GOOD AHHHHHHHHHH

[ericlovessharks]

im so hunrgy