#gajeel

cw - a little suggestive, overall fluff

you’re not technically anything, just friends with benefits, but even so, he delicately cleans you up like he didn’t just fuck you into his mattress. a complete 180 from how rough he was with you a few minutes ago.

nothing like what your exes used to do. they’d leave you completely unsatisfied while they were knocked out, without any form of aftercare after some mediocre attempt at sex.

gajeel, though... he’s different in ways he pretends not to be.

he tosses the cloth aside and sits back, arms crossed like he’s trying to look annoyed at you for existing. but his eyes keep dragging over your face, checking for anything—any sign you’re hurting, any flicker of discomfort. he’s subtle, but not subtle enough.

“ya good?” he mutters, low and rough, but softer than he ever lets it be around anyone else. he glances over your naked form, the hickeys on your neck, the bite marks on your tits, the bruises forming around your waist, the dark bruises already on the globe of your ass. he caresses it gently, almost feeling bad, as if the sight of you all marked up didn’t make his cock stir.

“didn’t mean to go that hard,” he mutters, eyes flicking away like the ceiling suddenly got interesting.

you snort. “you always say that.”

“yeah, well…” he grumbles, jaw tightening. “you don’t exactly tap out.”

“you don’t either,” you huff, and he just shifts closer, pretending he’s just adjusting the blanket, but his hand stays on your ass, thumb brushing slow, absent circles like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it.

“still good?” he asks again, softer this time. almost careful.

“i’m fine,” you say, and his shoulders drop a little.

he clicks his tongue, annoyed at himself for caring. “good. ‘cause i ain’t dealin’ with you complainin’ tomorrow.”

“i never complain,” you roll your eyes, but he’s already tugging you into his chest, like it’s instinct. like he doesn’t even think about it anymore. his arm wraps around you, solid and warm as he laughs against your hair.

“you? never complaining? he echoes, amused, the sound rumbling through his chest and into you.

you elbow him, and he grunts, but he doesn’t move away. if anything, he tightens his hold like he’s daring you to try again.

“i don’t complain,” you repeat.

“ya do,” he says, matter-of-fact. “all the damn time.”

“name one time.”

“right now,” he fires back without missing a beat.

you scoff, but he’s got that smug little half-smirk on his face—the one he gets when he knows he’s right and knows it annoys you.

“whatever,” you tsk, but it turns into a yawn. you look at the clock next to his nightstand and blink. geez, how long have you been here?

“what?” he mumbles, following your line of sight.

“’s late,” you say around another yawn, pushing yourself up

you barely get halfway before his arm tightens around your waist, locking you in place like a steel band. you try to shift again, but he doesn’t budge—not even a little.

“the hell you doin’?” he mutters into your shoulder.

“getting up,” you say, trying to pry his hand off. it doesn’t move. “i should go.”

his grip tightens. not painfully—just firm, unmistakably possessive in that way he’ll never admit to.

“you’re gonna leave?” he asks, voice low, unreadable.

you nod. “yeah. it’s late.”

he clicks his tongue, annoyed at the idea. “then stay.”

you blink. “gajeel—”

“you’re half asleep,” he cuts in, like it’s obvious. “and you look like you’ll trip over your own damn feet if you try walkin’ home.”

“i’m fine,” you argue, even though your eyes are already drooping.

“no, you ain’t,” he says, tugging you back down with zero effort. “quit bein’ difficult.”

you land against his chest again, and he settles his chin on top of your head like he’s claiming victory.

“just sleep here,” he mutters. “it’s late. you’re tired. don’t make it weird.”

you snort. “you’re the one making it weird.”

“shut up,” he grumbles, pulling the blanket over you both. “i’m bein’ practical.”

Nalu, gruvia, jerza, gajevy and miraxus.

HAPPY LEVY DAY!!! 📚💖