#and I just don’t know what it is like idk why idk what it is that I do or have done

[leclerc-hs]

a lifetime of summers - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which every summer, at the villa your families rent together every year, gives you a version of charles OR you and charles are childhood best friends with a complicated history. warnings: angst, language, childhood friends with complicated history, smut, angst, yearning, etc... idk what I'm missing, NOT PROOFREAD (prob typos or things that might not make sense), lots of back and forth, messy messy messy, also cute, jealousy jealousy, seriously lots of YEARNING, them being stupid also word count: ~8k author's note: this idea came to me a few days ago and i've spent as much time as possible working on it since (in between carlos version). y'know when the creativity just hits right and the words pour out of you?? that was me with this. i hope you guys like it!!!! xoxo ◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Age 7.

“I’m gonna marry you one day.”

The villa smells of sun lotion and salty air.

Your dad’s playing music through some tiny old speaker he brought. And the adults are laughing too loud over their drinks.

The sun is beginning to sink, but it’s still hot. 

You’re sticky with juice, hair tangled, and bathing suit clinging awkwardly.

Charles is chasing you. A water balloon in his hands.

You shriek, running against the hot stones. Smiling so hard that it hurts.

“Y’already got me twice!” You shout in between giggles. “S’not fair!”

Charles appears closer. Face sunburnt. A smile tugged on his lips. “You cheated at Candy Land!”

“You cheated first!” 

“Because you always win!”

And he raises the balloon over his head.

“If you throw that, I’m telling maman you said a bad word the other day.”

His smile drops. “I did not!”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Uh huh…you said ‘shit’ when you hit your funny bone.”

“It hurt!” He argues.

You stick your tongue out. 

And then he hesitates. Looking at the balloon. Then at you.

Throws the balloon anyway.

It explodes against your stomach. Cold water soaking you.

And you gasp. 

Then lunge for him. Chase him all the way into the back yard, shrieking. Laughing so hard that you both struggle to breathe properly. 

And eventually you both collapse into the grass. Side by side. Near the lemon tree. 

There’s a few moments of silence. Both of you panting from trying to catch your breath. 

“I’m gonna marry you one day.”

You blink. “Why?”

“Because you’re funny. And you like ice pops. And you beat me at Mario Kart once.”

You look at him. And he’s staring at the leaves above your heads. Arms touching.

“I don’t think that’s how marriage works,” your voice soft.

“Don’t care.” He shrugs. 

You roll your eyes. “Okay. But I don’t want to wear a dress.”

“Fine. But you have to split the cake with me.”

“Only if it’s chocolate.”

“Well duh.”

And you both fall asleep like that. In the grass. Smelling like chlorine. Sticky with sugar.

-

Age 12

“Why are you being weird?”

The summer heat is burning.

Heat clings to you like a second skin. And you’re still dripping from the pool. The stone tiles are too hot to stand on for too long, so everyone moves around them quickly. Your hair is wet. Trying to read a book, but can’t focus.

Because Charles won’t stop staring at you.

Well, he’s technically not staring. But he’s in the pool in your direct eyesight. Hands behind his head as he sits on a float. Sunglasses almost too big for his face. Smirking.

And every so often, he splashes water your way.

“Would you stop?” You snap. Wiping the water off your ankles.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. Blinking. Innocent.

You groan, falling back on the lounger. Trying to ignore him.

He floats closer. “You haven’t turned the page in almost twenty minutes.”

“That’s because you’re distracting me.”

And he grins. A full sheepish grin. “You think I’m cute.”

You don’t answer. Keep your eyes on your book.

“Y’gonna tell your friends I have a six pack now?” He calls out.

You raise your eyebrows, “Six pack of what?”

“Muscles.” He says. Dead serious.

And your mouth twitches. “Your voice still cracks.”

Charles slips off the floatie. Swims to the edge and rests his arms on the ledge. Chin on his forearm as he looks at you.

“Yeah? And what does it do to you when I say your name?”

Your breath hitches.

“You’re blushing.”

“It’s the sun.”

He laughs. And you throw your book at him. 

He ducks under the water. And when he resurfaces, grinning…you’re trying so hard to not smile. And he knows it.

“Why are you being so weird?” you ask.

He shrugs. 

“You’re just starting to notice me now.”

And you don’t answer.

And later that night, when you’re brushing your teeth. Still burnt from the sun. You wonder what he meant.

You don’t ask.

But you do start to.

-

Age 15

“That didn’t count.”

“So kiss me again.”

The villa is quiet. 

Your parents and his mom stay up talking. Your siblings long asleep. Arthur passed out on the couch. 

A few candles flicker near the steps, but most of the light is coming from the moonlight.

You’re barefoot. The grass cool and soft beneath your toes as you walk to the lemon tree. The one where you and Charles always meet when its too late and you’re supposed to be asleep.

He’s already there. Leaning against it. 

He looks different this year. Taller. A little bit sharper. More grown into his body.

He glances at you. “Took you long enough.”

“Had to sneak past my sister.”

He grins, holding up a bag of chips. 

And you sit beside him. Your shoulder brushing his. 

Talking about nothing for a while. Catching up on the weeks you aren’t together. How he kissed a girl in Monaco and it was fine but also kind of awkward. And you pretend you don’t hate hearing it.

You tell him about the boy from school who tried to hold your hand during a movie when you went with your group of friends.

Charles almost immediately demands his full name. And address.

And you laugh.

He tosses a lemon up and catches it. Again and again.

“I heard you tell Joris that I was in love with you.” You say.

And he glances at you. “I did not.”

You narrow your eyes. A smile on your lips.

And he shrugs. “I said you were obsessed with me. S’not the same.”

And you laugh. Then scoff. “You wish.”

You shove his arm. And he grabs your wrist before you can pull it back. Fingers wrapping around you. Warm. Familiar. But somehow different.

Neither of you speak for a few moments. Just take in the sound of the cicadas, the faint chatter of the adults on the terrace.

“Y’ever kissed anyone?”

And your stomach twists. Look away. “No.”

He nods. “Me either…at least, not really.”

Silence.

And then he says, “Wanna try?”

You look at him. But he’s already looking at you. And he looks nervous. Hopeful. Like he’s been thinking about this for a long time. Nothing like the boy who used to throw water balloons and stick paint in your hair.

You nod.

And it’s awkward. Your noses bump. One of you breathes too loudly. His hands tremble at your cheek. 

But it’s sweet. Slow.

And his lips are soft.

And when you pull apart, you both stare at each other. Lips a little rosier than before.

“That didn’t count.” You whisper.

And he blinks. “Why not?”

“There was no tongue.”

And he grins. Slowly.

And then pulls you back into him.

And this time….it’s real.

-

Age 17

“This doesn’t have to mean anything.”

The villa’s light glow behind you. Laughter echoing from the kitchen where your parents and his maman are finishing a bottle of wine.

You and Charles are on the terrace. Barefoot. A shared bottle of win between you. Practically empty. And his leg brushes against yours every time he fidgets.

It’s the first summer where you’ve both been allowed to really drink. Not just a stolen sip of a half-empty bottle found on the kitchen counter. Or a watered down spritz. Real drinks. Poured and given to you like adults.

And you’re a little tipsy. Cheeks warm and rosy. Limbs loose. 

“You’re quiet tonight,” you glance at him.

He nods. “Jus’ thinking.”

“You do that?”

And he laughs. “Shut up.”

You smile. Taking a small sip straight from the bottle before placing it back down. “What are you thinking about?”

He hesitates for a little. “Uh…that night last year.”

You don’t have to ask which night. You already know.

The night behind the lemon tree. His mouth on yours. And you think about it often.

“Me too,” You admit. Soft.

And he looks at you. Watch as his gaze dips to your mouth.

And then he’s leaning in.

The kiss is soft. Deeper. Not rushed. And his lips are warm. Tastes of wine and something sweet. Like the fruit you guys were picking at earlier.

When he pulls back, his voice cracks a little bit. “I want you.”

You don’t answer. Just smile soft. Pulling his hand into yours as you drag him into the villa. Into the bedroom. 

Your clothes peel off slowly. Clumsy. And he’s careful. Like he’s afraid if he moves too fast, it’ll ruin the moment. 

“Y’sure about this?” He whispers.

You nod. “Yeah…want it to be you.”

And he closes his eyes for a second. Like his heart is in his throat.

And then it happens.

It’s slow. Messy. You both laugh when your arms bump. And he curses softly when he cant get the condom wrapper open. But then he’s inside you, and your laughter becomes hushed gasps. Fingers digging into each other.

“Y’okay?” He mutters. His forehead pressed to yours.

And your nails dig into his back. “Yeah.”

And then he kisses you again. Harder. Holds you closer.

Later, when you’re both lying tangled in the dark…you feel his fingers tracing your skin. Both of you enjoying the silence.

Then a good few moments later.

“This doesn’t have to mean anything.”

You swallow hard.

“Yeah.”

-

Age 19

“Y’gonna dance with him again?”

“He asked.”

“You let him kiss your cheek.”

“You fingered me in the kitchen pantry last night.”

“That’s different.”

You’re barefoot in the sand. Music loud. And Luca…or maybe it was Leo? You weren’t sure. Had his hands lightly on your hips. Flirty.

You’re laughing at something dumb he said into your ear. And then you feel it.

The heat. The stare.

Glance over your shoulder and…

Charles. Leaning against the beach bar. Beer in hand.

Eyes on you with a glint in his eye like you’ve offended him.

You try not to react. But the next time Luca spins you, you pull away with a smile and a I’ll be right back.

You only make it a few steps before Charles intercepts your path.

“Having fun?” He says. Trying to be casual. But his voice is too tight. Too bitter.

“Yes.” You brush past him. And he falls right into step with you.

“You’ve got weird taste in music.”

“That’s not my music taste. It’s called dancing.”

And he scoffs.

You walk to the side of the bar. An more private are. Grabbing his shoulder to face you.

“Are you okay?” Voice sweet. Gentle. Caring.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re glaring too much.”

And looks at you. “I just think it’s funny.”

“Oh, here we go.”

“I mean, you don’t even like that song.”

You cross your arms against your chest. And he steps closer.

“You let him put his hands on you.”

You raise a brow. “So?”

“So…you let him touch you. Kiss your cheek”

And you laugh. Soft. “You fingered me in the kitchen pantry last night, Charles.”

His jaw clenches. Hands twitch. “That’s different.”

“Is it?”

You take a step closer. Testing him, And he doesn’t budge.

“It’s not the same.”

You stare at him. His cheeks are sunburned. And his eyes are so green it makes your heart rate spike. So handsome.

“So I’m not allowed to dance with a guy I’ll never see again?”

He runs a hand over his face. Grazing the slight stubble on his jaw. “You’re not just dancing.”

“No,” You admit. “But you’re not just fucking me either.”

His eyes widen. Slightly stunned.

And you don’t back down. Step even closer until your chests are touching.. “You don’t wanna talk about what this is? That’s fine. But you don’t get to act jealous then.”

“I’m not jealous.”

And you grin. Snort. Just a tiny bit.

“Okay,” he says. Throwing his hands up. “Maybe I am.”

Your stomach twists.

“I just…I don’t like seeing you with other guys.” His voice is low. 

“Well…it’s not like you don’t talk to other girls, Charles.”

And then you leave him standing there. Alone.

-

“Wanna go out for a bit?” He asks. “Just us?”

And you say yes without even thinking.

You’re on a light blue towel, sunglasses over your face, pretending to read a book. Charles is stretched out next to you. An arm tucked under his head. Throwing grapes in the air and trying to catch them in his mouth.

You glance over just as a grape hits his forehead and falls into the sand.

“Impressive.”

He laughs. “The wind interfered!”

He tosses another grape. Misses again. 

And you burst into laughter.

“I’m warming up.”

He laughs with you. Giving up and rolling onto his side to face you.

He squints his eyes at you. “Do you have sunscreen on?”

“Yes.”

“Are you positive?”

Your brows furrow. “Why?”

“I think that….” His hand reaches for the bottle of sun lotion, flicking it open. “That you missed a spot.”

He squirts some into his hand, a smirk on his lips.

“Back off.”

And he reaches for you, smearing it all over your chest. You shriek, tossing your book into the sand beside you.

And somewhere between this sun lotion assault, you’re both breathless and laughing so hard.

He pins you down, dropping heaps of sun lotion onto your skin.

“Truce,” You laugh. Stomach burning from laughter. 

He nods. Smiling. Rubbing the sunscreen into your skin.

“Don’t want you to burn.”

You throw a pile of sand at him. And he doesn’t even flinch.

-

His cock is already buried inside you. Deep. Thick. Fucking aching.

“God, you’re fuckin soaked.” He groans into your neck. Hand pressed into your stomach. 

You claw at his back. Back arched. Legs spread. Shaking every time he hits that spot in your tummy just right.

He looks down at you like he’s overwhelmed. Like he doesn’t understand how you can feel this fucking good.

“Swear to God,” He grunts. Pulling back slow, then snapping his hips forward. “S’like your pussy jus gets tighter every time.”

Your mouth falls open. Gasping.

His hands slip under your thigh, pushing your knee into your chest. Fucking you deeper.

And then he moans.

“Jesus….fuck.” He chokes out. “Y’feel that?”

You sob out. 

“I’ve been inside you like a hundred times this summer and it still feels like fuckin heaven.”

His forehead drops and presses into yours. Voice rough. 

“M’not gonna last.” He huffs. “You’re too wet. Too fuckin tight.”

You grip his shoulders, nails digging into the skin. “Don’t stop…”

“You’re fuckin milking me.” He cuts you off. “Y’gonna come? Please come on me. C’mon baby…please, yeah? Please let me have it.”

And you fall apart. Gasping. Shaking. Coming so hard around his cock it makes his head fall back.

And he swears. Filthily. French tumbling out go his mouth.

And then he’s spilling inside of you. Chest pressed to yours. Hips jerking.

He buries his face in your beck. Collapsing on you. 

And neither of you speak for a bit.

Just catch your breath. Comfortable silence. Holding each other.

Eventually, he reaches up. Tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

Then whispers into the dark.

“I like it here.”

And he doesn’t elaborate.

You don’t ask him to.

-

Age 21

“He seems tense.”

“He’s fine.”

“He didn’t even blink when I mentioned that guy from Madrid.”

“I told you not to bring it up.”

Your best friend’s been here for five days and already the villa feels different.

She means well. But she talks fast, drinks fast, and has no filter. 

She also loves to talk about your love life.

The one that you’re apparently “thriving in”.

“So wait,” she says over breakfast, digging her fork into her food. “You never texted that guy from Madrid back? Y’know the one with the sexy voice?”

Across the table, Charles is picking at his plate. Fork pausing. Just for a little bit. Enough for you to notice.

You look at her, “No.”

“Why not? He was so hot.”

“Didn’t feel like it.”

“But he was so into you…” She takes a sip of her drink. “What about the Italian one? The one you really liked.”

Charles cuts into his eggs. A little bit harder. Knife scraping the plate.

“He ghosted.”

“Ugh, yeah total loser.” She laughs. “Oh my god, remember…what was his name? From the bar crawl.”

“Liam.” You choke out.

“Yes! Liam!” She snaps her fingers. “Didn’t he pick you up at the bar? Like just threw you over his shoulder?”

You laugh, slightly embarrassed. Nodding.

Charles sets his mug down a little too hard.

And then he stands. Takes his plate to the sink. 

And walks out.

“Was it something I said?” Your best friend asks.

-

You find him in the kitchen later. Your best friend is lounging out by the pool and you slipped inside to grab a water.

He’s rinsing the plates. Back to you. But his jaw is clenched tight.

You lean against the counter by him. “Hey.”

He doesn’t look at you. Just keeps scrubbing the dishes. A little harder than before.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” He says. “Just didn’t realize breakfast started with a running list of every guy you’ve fucked.”

You wince.

And he breathes deeply. Dropping the dish in the sink. “Sorry…that was, uh harsh.”

You give a tiny nod.

“I just…” He turns off the water. Looks at you. “Didn’t know it was like that?”

“Like what?”

He shrugs. 

“Is it a problem?”

He stares at you. Sucks his bottom lip in for a moment. Like he’s deep in thought. Before finally saying…

“No. It’s not my place.”

And there it is. 

You step back. “Right.”

And then you’re turning around, reaching in the cabinet for a glass. “Still going to the bonfire later?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, if you still want to.”

“Cool,” Your voice is light. 

-

Age 22

“You’ve been quiet lately.”

“I’m just tired.”

The long table on the terrace is full.

Extra chairs from inside scattered around it, one of your younger cousins crawling underneath it.

Your dad is asking your mom if there’s more grilled vegetables. Meanwhile your sister insists on telling the story about the jellyfish sting again.

“And she was crying so hard, she had actual snot bubbles on her face,” She says. Laughing.

You lift your hand, “I was six!”

Charles laughs. “You thought you were dying.”

“I thought it was venom!” You laugh. “And no one even helped me.”

“We were too busy laughing at the snot,” He says. Looking at you. That familiar grin pulled on his face, eyes crinkled. Like it was just you two.

And then Alex leans into him. Whispers into his ear. And whatever she says makes him smile wider. Makes him shift toward her without even thinking.

You chug your wine.

“I love that photo,” Alex says softly. And you glance at her to find her already looking at you. “The one of you and everyone in the inflatable pool. You’re the only one not smiling.”

You curl your lips. “We were sinking.”

“It’s so funny though,” She says. “You look so unimpressed by them.”

“She always looks like that,” Charles chimes in. “Probably came out of the womb judging people.”

You narrow your eyes, but the smile pulling on your lips gives you away.

Alex laughs. And your mom’s already popping open the next bottle of wine. 

And it would be perfect.

If it weren’t for Charles sitting across from you, arms wrapped around another person. Like he’s not yours anymore. 

You ask Alex about her job, and you mean it. She answers so soft and kind that it almost makes you hate her. Almost.

But you can’t. Because she’s nice.

“She’s good for him,” Your sister whispers under her breath, leaning toward you. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

You nod. “I’m just tired.”

Eventually, dinner ends. Alex excuses herself to help your mom bring out dessert. And Charles follows.

And when they come back, head thrown back laughing. 

He sets a slice of cake in front of you without a word.

And you thank him like its normal.

-

Someone suggest drinks at the beach bar. Something to do. The one with the bulbs on string down the street. 

You come barefoot, some sweet drink already in hand. Alex walks beside you, her wedges hooked in her fingers, hem of her dress brushing her knees.

She’s pretty in a way that doesn’t feel threatening. Not showy. Just perfect.

Inside the bar, you spot Charles leaned against the bar with a beer, grinning at something Arthur’s saying. And he’s wearing that linen button up that you used to tell him he looks like a recently divorced rich guy in. 

You find yourself smiling.

Alex touches your arm. “Hey…you want a new drink?”

You shake your head. “I’m good for now.”

She nods. A small smile on her lips.

“I was really nervous to meet you.”

You blink. Eyes slightly wider. “Me?”

She nods. “Charles talks about you all the time.”

You freeze for a moment.

“Yeah,” she smiles. “Not like in a weird way. Just like you’re part of the picture. In his life. Almost every story he tells involves you.”

You don’t know how to respond.

“I’m just glad you’re not..uh, like intimidating.” She laughs.

And you laugh back. “I save the intimidation after a few weeks.”

She smiles. “So I’ve still got time?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

And for this moment, you like her. Even if it hurts.

Because she’s kind.

Because she doesn’t know that you and Charles shared a bed when thunderstorms were scary.

Because she wasn’t there the summer he kissed you against the sand and told you he’d never want anyone else.

You chug your drink.

Later, you’re all gathered near the back of the deck, huddled around a wooden table and wobbly stools. Someone ordered a side of fries. Someone else ordered a round of shots no one really wanted but drank anyways.

You’re pressed between Charles and your sister. You’re laughing. Tipsy. Warm.

Charles is teasing your sister about something but you’re not really listening. 

And that’s when another guy slides in.

Not dramatically. Just casual. Confident.

He’s tall. Tanned. Cute. 

He talks to the guy beside him, someone you’ve definitely seen before, and then turns to you. 

“Did I hear something about you getting stung by a jellyfish?”

You smile. “Unfortunately.”

He nods. A grin. “Survival stories always get me.”

“Tragic,” you say.

He laughs. “I’m Nick.”

You take a sip of your drink, tilting your head. “Do you open with tragedy stories for flirting a lot? Or is it just me?”

“Only for girls who look like they bite back.”

You grin. Slow. “You say that like its a challenge.”

“Depends,” He shrugs, gaze dropping to your bare legs, then back to your face.

“On?”

“Depends how hard you bite.”

And you laugh. Like really laugh. Hard. Head falling back. And then you feel it. The way Charles stills beside you. The way his fingers grip his cup just a little bit tighter.

And Nick leans in closer. More private. “So…what other tragedies should I know about you?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“If you want facts or warnings.”

He raises a brow. “Any preference?”

You place your cup down on the table. “I like a little risk.”

And Charles says something to your sister now. A little louder. Like he’s trying to distract you.

You don’t bother to look at him.

Nick grins. “And just how dangerous are you exactly?”

You grin back. “Pretty dangerous.”

He laughs. “Good.”

You both just stare at each other for a little. Grinning.

“You dancing?” He asks, nodding his head in direction of the dance floor.

“Are you asking or telling?”

“I’m hoping.”

You slide off the stool.

“Let’s go tragedy boy.”

And as he takes your hand. Leads you into the crowd. You catch Charles’s eyes.

Watching.

Burning.

-

The music’s slowed a little. Just swaying to the music, instead of the rapid jumping you were doing earlier. 

Nick’s hand rests at your hip. His other is holding your drink while you talk with your hands.

“You can’t seriously think pineapple belongs on pizza,” You yell over the music.

Nick grins. “It’s good.”

“You’re weird.”

“I’ve been told that before.”

And you laugh, bumping your shoulder into his. He leans in, speaking into your ear.

“You know your friend’s been staring at us for like ten minutes, right?”

You blink. “Huh?”

He tips his head. Over your shoulder. And you turn just a little bit. Just enough to see Charles still sitting at the table.

Drink in hand. Not talking. Not even blinking. Just looking.

You breathe out, turning back. “That Charles.”

Nick raises a brow, nodding. “Ahh.”

“Don’t read into it.”

He watches you.

“He has a girlfriend.”

Nick hums, a teasing grin. “He doesn’t look like he remembers that right now.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Cool.”

You shrug. “You don’t believe me?”

He smiles. “Doesn’t matter what I believe. Just means if I kiss you, he might kill me.”

You laugh. “You’re awful.”

“You’re still here.”

And you look at each other. Smiling.

You kiss him. Not because you’re falling for him. But because you’re single. Because Charles brought someone else. Because he gets to have her. Because you’re tired of thinking about him.

So you kiss him to feel good. To forget. To remind yourself that you’re free.

Hands in his shirt. Hands on your waist.

And you let yourself lean into it.

Enjoy the uncomplicated.

And for a few moments…it almost works.

-

Age 23

“You brought him here.”

“Yeah. Remember you said he wouldn’t last.”

You’re late this year.

Flight was delayed. Rental car place was too busy. And by the time your feet hit the familiar stone of the villa’s terrace, the sun is already low in the sky.

Theo’s beside you. Rolling your suitcase like a pure gentleman. He’s good. Kind. Gets along with your parents. Laughs at your sister’s jokes. 

And still, your heart flutters when you hear his voice.

Charles.

Laughing louder than necessary. As if he wants you to hear it.

You follow the sound. Trying not to think about the last time you saw him. A few months ago in Monaco. A hotel room you both swore you wouldn’t end up in. Both seeing other people. Both pretending it didn’t count.

And it wasn’t even the first time.

Since last summer, it’s happened a few times too many. Whenever him and Alex called it off. On and off. On and off. You slipped between the cracks. A quiet fuck in your apartment. A drunken make out at a birthday party. You pressed against the shower tiles. Bent over his kitchen counter.

Always followed by soft smiles and easy goodbyes. A promise to act normal. 

Best friends first.

And the moment you step further into the terrace, you see him.

Charles standing against the bar, shirt unbuttoned. Tanned. Holding a drink with the confidence of someone who knows exactly how hot he looks.

And worse…Alex is next to him.

Beautiful of course. Sundress swaying. Hand on his chest like it belongs there.

He notices you before you can even speak. Smile faltering for a fraction of a second. Just enough for you to really feel it. And then it’s back.

And he lifts his glass in a salute. “You’re late.”

Alex smiles. “We thought you weren’t coming til’ tomorrow!”

You smile back. She was always so nice. “Surprise!”

Theo steps forward. Hand extended with that charm that always made it hard to hate him. “Hey…Charles, right?”

And Charles doesn’t hesitate. Shakes his hand. But its the same one he uses with driver’s he never liked. “Yeah. We’ve met.”

And it hits you like a knife to the ribs.

You remember that night clear as day. Theo was still new. Only a few dates in. And you invited him to a party. 

Charles showed up late. And barely looked at Theo. Offered him a lazy smile before finding you later into the night. Pulling you into his car thirty minutes later and fucking you in the back seat.

And Theo’s smiling. “Nice to see you again.”

Charles smiles. But his eyes stay on you. Never leave your face.

Alex swings her arm into his. “So glad you made it. Saved you the good room too.”

You smile at her. “That’s sweet of you.”

Charles lifts a brow. “Didn’t know you needed a good room to enjoy yourself here.”

And you hum. “Guess I’ve gotten a little pickier.”

He takes a sip of his drink. “Since when?”

And you shrug your shoulders. “Since I started dating someone who doesn’t forget my birthday.”

And it hits him like a bullet. You see the way his jaw shifts. Swallow.

Theo’s hand slips onto your lower back. Whispering softly into your ear. Nothing specific. Just something that makes you smile.

And Charles swear’s he might just vomit.

-

The ocean is calm. Waves hitting the rocks. A few birds chirping. Air cool before the sun is fully up.

You slip out of bed, letting Theo sleep. Making your way down the stony path that you walked hundreds of times. Towel slung over your shoulder. Hair twisted up in a clip.

And you’re halfway across the sand when you see him.

Already waist deep in the water. Back facing you. 

You freeze. Debating if you should turn around. 

But it’s too late. He see’s you. And his face shifts into something. Longing? Guilt? You’re not sure.

“You’re always here early,” He calls out.

You drop your towel, walking into the water without glancing at him.  “Not always.”

He watches you. You can feel the burn of his eyes on your skin. “You do when you’re avoiding me.”

You glance up. The water cool against your skin. “Who said I’m avoiding you?”

He shrugs. “History.”

You reach him in the water. You both stand there, not touching. Not moving.

Eventually…he speaks.

“He’s staying the entire time?”

You raise a brow. “Are you asking as my best friend or something else?”

He doesn’t answer. 

You move a little closer. “You said he wouldn’t last.”

“I was wrong.” His voice is low. “Clearly.”

He swallows. Looks away from you. “Does he know?”

And your stomach twists. “Know what?”

He doesn’t say anything. Lets the silence tell you.

You feel your throat tightening. “He know’s we’re close.”

“Close.” He repeats. Half snort, half laugh.

“Best friends.”

He turns to fully face you now. Jaw clenched. 

“Right. Just best friends.”

You don’t respond. Because what else are you supposed to say? That you still feel his fingers dig into your skin. That no matter how many nights pass, you still wonder what this could’ve been if you both spoke up all those years ago.

He steps closer. Too close now.

“Y’still taste like that shitty rosé we used to drink.”

And you blink. Trying not to smile. “You’re not funny.”

“Not trying to be.”

His fingers brush against your shoulder. 

“You have a girlfriend.”

And his eyes look sad. He breathes loudly. “And you have him.”

-

The villa is loud tonight. Music is blasting. Too many drinks are being poured. Bowls of snacks turning stale.

All of you are packed into the living room. Sunburn. Sprawled into chairs or the floor. Hoodies thrown on. 

Your families are here. Everyone laughing and shouting. Bickering. Like its still 15 years ago.

Theo sits behind you on the rug, legs wrapped around you. Hand resting on your hip. And he’s been sweet all evening. He fits.

Yet every time you crack a joke. Or win a game. It’s Charles who looks at you first. Like he’s your person.

His leg bounces restlessly. 

“Alright,” Arthur announces. “We’re playing that game again. The one with the acting.” He holds up a deck of cards.

“Y’mean charades?” Alex asks. Soft.

“No.” Charles says. “The one I always win.”

And it’s you rolling your eyes now. “Y’mean the one you always cheat during?”

He leans forward. “I win.”

Theo laughs behind you.

Your sister tries to act out like Snow White. Falling over and laughing when Arthur misreads a motion. Theo keeps guessing too many times. And Alex’s impressions are almost too good.

And later…when the game’s over. You find yourself in the kitchen, stacking freshly cleaned glass and bowls onto the drying towel.

Humming to yourself.

And Charles leans against the doorway, arms crossed. Watching you with a lazy grin. 

“You two are cute,” He says.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t be weird.”

“M’not.” He shrugs. Pushing off the archway and stepping closer. “It’s just…uh.” He scratches the back of his neck. “You let him touch you a lot.”

You pause with a glass in your hand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

And he smiles. Tight. Not genuine. “Nothing.”

“You’re being weird.”

He raises his hands. Says something mocking of Theo.

And it has you gasp lightly. “You’re such an asshole.” You try not to smile.

He steps even closer.

“Yeah.” He whispers. “But I’m still your favorite.”

And then he’s stepping beside you, taking the glass from your hand and dries it.

Finishes washing the dishes with you in silence.

-

“You’re staring again.”

“Yeah. Looks like you’re having fun.”

“Jealous?”

“Of him? Never.”

Silence.

“But of you? Maybe.”

The bar is tucked into the cliffs. A grand view of the sea. Well lit by bulbs on strings.

Everyone’s dressed for the night. Sun-kissed. Hair soft and flows. Laughter echoing. 

You’re on your second drink. Lightly buzzed. Your dress clinging to you just right. And you feel good. Happy.

Theo’s spinning you around. His hands warm on your waist as you move slowly in the corner of the makeshift dance floor. He’s not much of a dancer. But he’s trying. And in the end…that’s all that really matters.

He leans in close. “Y’look so beautiful.”

You smile. “Yeah?”

“I mean…y’always do.” He grins. “But-“

You don’t let him finish. Kiss him. Easy. Soft.

And when you pull back, you catch him in the corner of your eye.

Charles. At the bar.

Sitting with Arthur and Alex. Drink in front of him. Head tilted.

And he’s watching you. Not listening to either of them.

And when you’re eyes meet, he lifts his drink.

A challenge.

And later when you slip away from the loud music. He’s there. Leaning casually against the table. Shirt undone just enough to make your throat dry. 

“You’re having fun.” He says. A statement. Not a question.

“Isn’t that the point?”

He nods. “Theo’s a big fan of spinning you around like you’re some prize.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s called dancing.”

“More like claiming.” He huffs under his breath.

And you look at him.

Hard. 

Trying to read him. 

“What’s your problem?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Eyes dropping to the floor. Then to his half empty drink. 

“You kissed him.” He still isn’t looking at you.

You squint your eyes a little. “Yeah. I did.”

He swallows. Harsh. “Cool.”

You laugh. Dry. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m the ridiculous one?” He finally looks at you. “You’re out here making heart eyes at a guy you know won’t last more than another year.”

Your mouth falls open. “You don’t even know him.”

“I don’t need to know him. I know you.”

And he steps forward. Voice dropping.

“And I know that’s the same dress you wore the night I…”

“Charles.”

You both go quiet. 

Alex’s frame flickers by. Laughter erupts. People keep dancing.

“Whatever. You’re right. Have fun with your fling.”

You narrow your eyes. “Jealous?”

He smiles. Sad. “Of him? Never.”

A moment of silence. And his gaze drops to your mouth. Stays there.

“But you? Maybe.”

-

The trip is winding down. Bags are beginning to be packed. Towels still damp. Nights slower. Everyone pretending that they’re not ready to be home.

The sky’s dark. Everyone’s inside finishing up packing. Winding down.

You slipped out.

Without thinking, ended up here. The lemon tree.

The same as always. 

You hear footsteps. Uneven. Dragging.

And you turn. Charles.

He’s drunk. Swearing under his breath as he loses his footing. A bottle dangling from his hand. Shirtless. Barefoot.

His eyes meet yours and there’s something bitter in them. “Of course you’re here.”

You breathe. “You’re drunk.”

“A lil’ bit,” His words slur. “Celebrating your last night as someone else’s girl.”

You cross your arms. “We’re not doing this.”

But he’s already walking closer. 

“Y’know….s’kinda funny.”

You don’t speak.

“How he holds your hand like its somethin’ delicate. Like you’re some untouchable thing.” He takes another step closer. Voice shaking.

“I’ve had you on your knees on the kitchen floor.” He says, bitter.

Your heart pounds. “Stop.”

“In the pool too,” He slurs. “Begged me to not pull out. Said you wanted to feel it. Feel me.”

He doesn’t even let you speak. Just rambles on. Slurring. Drunk. Angry.

“Had you in every room in that house,” He grunts. “Fingers shoved in you while our parents set the dinner table. Bent you over the bathroom sink. Panties still halfway up your thighs because you were too desperate to wait.”

“Charles…”

“The pantry…remember that one?” His voice drops lower. “You were so wet it dripped onto the floor. Had to stuff my fingers in your mouth so no one would hear you cryin while you came.”

“Don’t do this.”

“I fucking have to.” He snaps. “Because I can’t fucking sleep this entire trip knowing he gets to touch you.”

You swallow. “I’m not some prize.”

“No. You’re worse.” He spits. Stepping close enough that his chest is close enough and you have to crane your neck to look at him. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and you handed it to someone else like I never fucking existed.”

“Stop it.”

“He doesn’t know what its like to hear you lose control. How you cry when you come. Shaking and begging.”

And your breathing hard now.

He leans in. Bending down to be eye to eye.

“He gets to hold you in public.” His eyes are glaring. “And I got your thighs shaking around my face while you said my name like a fuckin’ prayer.”

You don’t speak. Can’t.

Silence for a few moments.

And then…

“Tell me.” He slurs, small grin tugged on the corner of his lips. “Tell me which of us you think about when you touch yourself.”

You slap him.

Hard.

And his face whips to the side. He breathes heavily. Like he’s trying not to cry. Or scream. Or grab your face and kiss you.

He swallows.

“He gets you in the daylight.”

You don’t speak.

“He gets the sunlight.” 

And you whisper back. Soft. Heart breaking. “You only met me in the dark.”

You walk away barefoot. Tears forming in your eyes.

And Charles?

He stays at the lemon tree until sunrise. Alone.

-

You don’t talk for three months.

Which is considered a lifetime for you and Charles.

And then on a random weekday at nearly three in the morning, he sends a photo of the lemon tree in the winter.

No message beneath it.

You don’t answer.

Not for a day. Not even for three.

But then, on a random day the following week, you send a photo back.

A shot of your bedroom wall. A blurry photo of your hand holding a book in the corner.

Can’t sleep.

And the three dots appear before you can overthink it.

Me either.

And that’s how it begins.

You don’t FaceTime each other. At least, not at first. 

You fall back into a rhythm neither of you thought would come back. Almost normal. The funny kind of banter you guys always had.

Charles broke up with Alex. You broke it off with Theo.

Neither of you really said why.

-

Age 25

“Don’t sit in my chair.”

“This isn’t your chair?”

“I licked it.”

“You haven’t changed.”

“You haven’t either.”

The sun is long gone. You’re curled up in one of the cushioned chairs on the front patio. A half finished glass of wine on the stone table beside you.

The front door swings open.

“Don’t sit in my chair”

He doesn’t even hesitate. Charles drops into the cushion next to you. Barefoot. Hoodie swallowing him.

“This isn’t your chair?”

“I licked it.”

He makes a funny face. “You haven’t changed.”

And you smile. “You haven’t either.”

And its easy. The way he stretches out, folding his arms behind his head. Like nothing ever happened. 

You sip your wine.

His knee bumps into yours. Gaze on you.

“Thought it’d feel weird.”

“It did…for like,” You pause. Whisper. “For like a day.”

He holds your gaze. Doesnt look away. Smiles.

You break the tension first. “Maman said you still haven’t unpacked.”

He shrugs. “I’ll get there.”

“It’s been almost a whole week. That’s psychotic.”

“You’re just mad I haven’t asked to borrow your good smelling shampoo yet.”

“You are so not borrowing that.”

“I already did.”

You elbow him in the side. Laughing. Body shaking. He laughs with you. Head falling back.

He clears his throat. “I missed this.”

And you bump your knee back into his. “Rematch tomorrow?”

“Candy Land?”

“Don’t cheat.”

“I didn’t cheat.”

You narrow your eyes, smiling so hard. “You’re the worst.”

-

Monaco, Age 26

Your back hits the wall of his apartment. 

Urgent. Focused. 

Like he’s waited for forever to get you alone again. And doesn’t want to waste a single second of it.

His mouth is hot on yours. Hands at your hips. Your thighs. Slipped under your dress. And you’re clinging onto him like he’s a lifeline.

You can still taste the champagne on his skin. Skin warm from the race. But his mouth is desperate against you. 

He groans against your lips. “Thought about this almost every night.”

You gasp when his fingers curl around your thigh. “Stop thinking.”

And he’s about to take you right there. Dress bunched at your waist. Pants halfway down. But then you press your hand to his chest.

He stills. Panting. Flushed.

“I need to say something first,” You breathe.

He waits. Hands still gripping you.

And you look up at him. The man who just won Monaco. The boy you’ve known who’s been chasing that dream since you can remember. The one you loved. Hated. Missed.

“Your dad would be so proud of you.” You whisper.

And you feel his chest rise. Jaw clench. Fingers curl harder into your skin.

“I’m serious.” Your voice is soft. “Not just because you won. But because of how you’ve carried him with you.”

And his eyes are glassy.

He swallows hard. “I heard him.” His voice soft. “Right after I saw that checkered flag.”

You bring your hand to his check, pressing your palm. And he leans into you.

And then he’s kissing you again. But its different.

Still hungry. But more grateful. More claiming.

He whispers I love you into your mouth. Again and again. 

He whispers it when you tug his shirt over his head. When you lift your hips to pull your panties off.

Whispers it into your skin when he touches your bare skin. Like he’s seeing it all for the first time again.

And when he sinks in, he groans. Leaning over you, gripping you like you might just slip through his fingers.

“Y’feel like fuckin heaven.” He mutters against your lips. “You are heaven.”

And then he starts moving. Not fast.

Slow. Deep.

“Squeezing me like you missed it,” He huffs. “Did you, hm? Did you miss me?”

“Yes…” You pant. “Fuck…yes.”

He kisses your throat. Hot open mouthed kisses at the corner of your jaw. Hips rolling into you. Each thrust making you cry out.

“I love you.” 

He thrusts.

“I love you.”

Another.

“Not just tonight. Not just now. Always.” He cries out.

And you clench around him. Yelling out as your orgasm builds too fast.

“C’mon that’s it..” He breathes. “Come for me. Let me feel it, yeah? Let me have it…please baby.”

“I love you,” You gasp. “I love you…I love you..”

And then you’re coming. Body shaking, mouth falling slack as he fucks you through it.

Following seconds later, spilling into you.

He collapses over you. “Fuck. You’re it for me.”

You hold him close.

-

“You still take it with milk?” He asks, voice soft. 

You nod.

He hands you a mug. His fingers brushing against yours.

You sit on the couch together. Close.

“I keep thinking about the lemon tree,” You say. Cradling the mug in your hands.

He looks at you. “Yeah?”

You nod. “How many summers we sat there pretending everything was normal.”

He huffs a soft laugh. “We were idiots.”

You smile. “Still are.”

“I’ve loved you since we were kids.” He says quietly. “Since you made me sleep outside by the lemon tree because you said it wasn’t fair that only the birds got to live outside.”

You laugh, heart clenching.

“I’ve loved every version of you.” He continues. “The snot version. The barefoot version. The one who laughs too loud after a few drinks. The one who tried to date other people. The one who…the one who kissed other people in front of me because I waited too fucking long.”

You pause. Placing the mug down on the side table.

“I was scared that loving you would ruin everything.”

He pushes you hair behind your ear. 

“I love you too.” You whisper. “You idiot.”

He laughs.

Leans in.

Kisses you.

-

Age 28

“This is where I almost lost you.”

“And now it’s where you’re asking to keep me?”

“No. Not asking.”

“Oh.”

Its late. 

You’ve changed into one of Charles’s old shirts. Barefoot. As usual. 

He finds you standing at the edge of the yard. 

Where the broken stone path curves. Where the grass bends. Where the lemon tree leans.

You hear him before you see him. His footsteps always so loud.

Neither of you speak. He wraps his arms over your shoulders from behind. Your back to his chest as he nudges his head into the space between your shoulder and neck.

You hold his arms. Swaying to the light breeze. Staring at the lemon tree together.

“This is where I almost lost you.” He says.

And you glance at your side to him. 

“And now it’s where you’re gonna ask to keep me?” You say, laughing. Teasing. Soft.

He smiles. Small. Shaky.

“No.” He says. Unwrapping his arms from you. “Not asking.”

And then you’re turning towards him. 

And he drops to one knee.

Just like that.

Just him in the grass. Kneeling by the lemon tree. Choosing it to be the place where he does the most important thing he’ll ever do.

Your breath catches. And his hands tremble as he pulls a ring from his pocket.

“I wanted to do this right.” He says. “I want to choose you the way I should’ve all those years ago. Not just when it’s easy..or when we’re alone. But in front of every version of us we used to be.”

Your throat burns.

“I want every summer.” He whispers. Eyes glued to you. “Every winter. Every fight. Every make up. I want to kiss you goodnight when we’re tired. Want to raise mini versions of us.”

You laugh. You cry. And you’re nodding before he even finishes.

“I want you forever.”

And then finally, “Will you marry me?”

You fall to your knees right there in the grass. In front of the lemon tree. And kiss him hard enough that you both fall into it. Laughing. Like little kids again.

“Yes.” You whisper against his lips. “Always. In every lifetime…yes.”

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[bluukive]

From the Back

summary - uh-oh! Your fiendish boyfriend caught you staring at his fingers again. Luckily for you, he knows what you want.

wc - 2.1k words

content - Toji x reader, p slapping, fingering, clit play, dumbification kinda? idk, he's mean, it's all consensual pinky promise

an - uh so I procrastinated this cus im ill and nothings proofread or makes sense to me !! I also dislike fingering so wtf do I know lol lmk what needs changing thx gng

Toji doesn’t know where he got the ring that he’s spinning idly between his fingers. It’s a cheap thing, and he’s got no clue why he's kept it around. Regardless, Toji keeps twirling the ring around, thick fingers dipping in and out of it periodically as he lays on one end of the couch. 

It kills you. You’ve never wanted to swap places with a piece of jewellery so desperately in your life before. One of your knees bounced almost anxiously as you watched him from the other end of the couch, eyes trained on his fingers. As for getting wet, you were beyond that point. You’ve been aching for him ever since you first saw him removing the ring off his finger.

His fingers were thick and tanned, joints prominent from years of doing damage. There were rough scars everywhere, the careless sort you loved to pepper kisses all over when you held his hand in yours. You’ve felt those hands pry your thighs apart so that he could get a taste of what lay in between. You’ve seen those same hands bruised and battered, fingers twitching and flexing after a rough night out. 

But right now? They were relaxed. The ring was nestled between two of your boyfriend's fingers before he tossed it and caught it in his weighty palm. You weren’t even ashamed at how blatantly you were ogling at the veins that rose from below his skin. 

Toji doesn’t notice it straight away, the heated, yearning glances coming from you. He just hums low, almost like he’s thinking about something. A thick thumb rubs over the edge of his ring with a precision that’s languid, whilst his other hand rests on his thigh. He rubs at the bulky limb, fingers splayed out, and you flinch. 

Without warning, Toji’s eyes meet yours. They’re lazy but incredibly knowing. He knows what you want, but he wants to hear it from your own mouth first.

“Gonna keep eye-fuckin’ my hand? You’ve been quiet for a good while now,” he says casually, as if he hasn’t got the sleaziest smirk appearing on his scarred lip. You know damn well he’s pretending to have known you were staring at him the entire time, but you couldn’t focus on that. You can’t. 

Toji’s fingers are flexing again, all for show. The ring clinks against his prominent knuckles as his voice drops low. You watch as he slouches in his seat, thighs fallen open a little wider. It’s clearly an invitation for you to come closer.

So you do. 

۫ ꣑ৎ

You don’t even know how you got here. One second you were sassing back, getting all defensive as he called you out on your perverted behaviour. The next moment, you had both of his heavy thighs over yours, pulling them apart and locking them in place. It’s comical to Toji how you flinch at the sound of his voice so close to your ear, scar rubbing against the tender flesh of your lobe.

One nip, then another. His tongue flicks out as you shudder, ass nudging up against his crotch as you remain at your boyfriend's mercy. “You like my hands that much, hm? Shoulda said somethin”, he murmured, hot breath fanning against your temple. “You could have had them on your cunt much sooner than this if you spoke up.”

“And have you call me easy? No thanks,” a scoff leaves your lips as you writhe in Toji’s lap, but his legs have you immobilised. An awkward yelp escapes you when the man begins to massage at your inner thighs, the pudgy skin barely covered by your shorts. His thumb pinched and rolled the skin around before sliding beneath the fabric of what you were wearing. 

Toji clicks his tongue. “Nah, believe me. I’m flattered, doll. Gets me all hot and bothered when you’re whorin�� over me like this,” he murmurs as his hands feel up the warmth at the crease of your thighs. 

“Language-”

“Who gives a fuck about language when I’ve got your cunt in the palm of my hands. Literally,” Toji scoffs, one of his hands sliding out from under your shorts and cupping your pussy and giving it a confident squeeze. The warmth seeps into his skin and he groans appreciatively. His actions are met with a wanton little mewl, your body slouching against his.

“None of that. You wanted this, remember?” Toji lifts you up so that your back properly meets his strong front, his lips mouthing at the side of your neck eagerly. This action was met by a hitch in your breath as his middle and ring finger dragged up and down the seam of your shorts in a painfully teasing manner. Your hips buck upwards, chasing more of his touch, but his free hands lays flat against your pelvis and pushes you back down. 

The pressure you felt down below alternated, ranging from intense nudges with his knuckles, to the light scratches of his nails against the print of your pussy. “You’re squirming. Where's all that sass gone, huh? ‘S it all gone now that my hands are right where you want ‘em?”

Toji’s words are punctuated by another slow drag of his fingers, this time right past the leg opening of your shorts and between your folds. Your clit is prominent and pulsing, met with stroke after stroke with the increasingly soaked digits of your smug boyfriend. You’re twitching, fighting between closing your legs or keeping them spread real nice and wide. 

“F-fuck, Toji…!” You whine, face scrunching up as Toji’s fingers capture your clit between the joints of fingers. He tugs, and the sensation is borderline uncomfortable. You can’t bring yourself to tell him to stop being mean, too focused on the sparks of pleasure that have your hole clenching around nothing. It’s pathetic. 

“F-fuck, Toji!” he mocks, a cruel huff of laughter rumbling in his chest. You can feel his front almost vibrate behind you, but the erection prodding up against the curve of your ass is even more of a distraction. “No whining, brat. You’re getting what I give you when I think you deserve it.” 

The thick fingers leave you, making you choke on a breath out of sheer disappointment. “No, cmon. Toji, that’s not fair,” you practically hissed, a hand flying out to grab his arm. You tug and tug, just enough to have his knuckles grazing your inner thigh. You can feel the man you’re sitting on exhale gruffly, and the atmosphere shifts from one that’s less playful to one that’s more…charged. You didn’t dare look back at your lover, knowing you’ve put him in a mood. 

To put it bluntly, Toji’s had enough. 

“Oh, you’re so fuckin’ mouthy,” Toji tuts in mock disapproval, making quick work of moving his legs momentarily so that he could shuck your panties and shorts off. Without missing a beat, his thighs are over yours, cool air hitting the slickness between your legs. You were mortified.

“Hey now…”

Slap. 

“Hm? What was that?” 

Another wet slap. 

His entire palm rubs against your stinging mound as your lips fall open, breath hitching in your throat as you screw your eyes shut. This wasn’t the first time Toji had caught you off guard, but you loved it. He knew you loved it too, with the way your entire pussy seemed to throb even harder on his hand. 

“Oooh, you liked that,” he grins, attempting to soothe the sting by dipping his fingertips into your hole. Barely. He pulls back out, cock oozing precum when you shake your head side to side. “Awh, don’t be like that. Just sit there all nice ‘n pretty whilst I play with this nasty pussy.”

“No, you’re n-not even playing with me properly…,” you complain, and Toji doesn’t know how you have the nerve to. You should be grateful he even decided to entertain your little hand fetish in the first place. A faux sigh of impatience leaves him, and dread builds up in your gut. 

What if he leaves me here, you thought, all alone and needy with no fingers in your pussy. How would you cum then? 

But no. Toji decides to be merciful, which was a rare occurrence. 

“Alright, alright. Fine, I’ll play with you. But don’t start cryin’ later,” was all he said before easing his fingers into your pussy. There were two long fingers at first, delivering agonisingly slow strokes inside your cunt. He curls them once they’re buried to the knuckle, a lewd squelch emitting from you. It’s a noise that has your ears reddening in embarrassment, but he continues. 

“A-ahh, just like that…,” you manage to stammer out, until the pad of his thumb joins in. He massages your clit, cooing at how you melted against him as your shoulders hunched in on themselves. Toji’s free hand groped at one of your tits through your t-shirt. Well, his t-shirt. One that was bunched up around your waist. Both of you were too distracted to take it off. 

“Atta girl. Taking these fingers like a champ,” he grunts, the speed of his fingers increasing inside of you. Despite the fact that your body was held back by the asshole behind you, you rolled your hips as best as you could so that you could fuck yourself on his digits. Each grind had your ass milking his cock through his sweats, the front dark from beads of precum soaking the soft material. Whilst the friction was beyond delicious, Toji didn’t falter. Not for a second. 

“Heh, look at you,” condescending words met with a harsh thrust of his fingers. “You start feeling good and forget who’s really in charge around here.”

The warning goes over your head, and your eyes widen when you can feel his free arm hook itself snugly around your throat. Toji fully intends to keep you in place with this headlock. 

“You wanna hump me like some bitch? Now do it,” he drawled lowly, slowly hunching over your back as his mouth drags over your jaw. Two fingers turn into three, relentless as they fucked the arousal out of you. “Slutty pussy droolin’ all over my lap.”

You’re gasping and moaning, all whilst being unable to move. The arm around your throat isn’t too tight, but he periodically flexes it just to remind you of your place. “Gonna cum, think I’m g-gonna cum, oh-”

“Nah, don’t think so,” and so he withdraws his fingers. He does so without warning. A full body shudder leaves you, frustration and the urge to cum becoming overwhelming. “Fuck, you feel that? Pussy didn’t want me to let go,” Toji muses out loud, the sounds of licking coming from behind you when he rolls his tongue around his wet digits. As filthy as ever. 

You want to berate him, tell him off for being disgusting. But his nose buries itself at the crook of your neck before gives your clit a little tug. 

“Toji, please!”

And who was he to deny you when you begged so sweetly?

First, he spread your lips open with his fingers in a scissor-like motion. Then, you felt your boyfriend stuffing you full once more, causing a mini-sob to leave your lips in sweet relief. He moaned deeply at the heat that enveloped his fingers again, curling his fingers in a hooked manner. 

“S-so close, I swear,” you were letting the tears flow freely now, breathing coming out unevenly as Toji took in your words with a feral sort of glee. At the prospect of your approaching orgasm, Toji doubled his efforts. In and out his fingers plunged, speeding up and slowing down at a pace he deemed fit for your pleasure. 

“Make a mess on me, doll. Know you can do it,” he urged feverishly, sounding as desperate as you felt. Drops of sweat beaded on his temple, drenching the neckline of his own compression shirt. The headlock Toji had you in tightened just a fraction as his palm wetly smacked against your pubic bone repeatedly, causing the dewy splatters of your orgasm to leave you at long last. Your stomach tensed, ache in your pussy growing unbearable until that coil snapped and you came with an embarrassingly loud squeal. Toji hushed you, fingers slipping out and focusing on prolonging your orgasm by massaging your clit once more. 

“Thaaaat’s it,” your boyfriend grinned wolfishly as you spasmed against him. But that wasn’t enough. Not for him. You hadn’t squirted yet, and he was dead set on testing your velocity. You shouldn’t have been surprised when Toji’s fingers began its filthy rhythm once more, all whilst his lips pecked at your temple. 

“You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

the ending is rushed eek sorry

divider by @omi-resources

[zeropro]

hi I really love your art I just wanna eat it and consume its knowledge but that’s kinda impossible so I wanted to ask a bit about your process? How do you pick your colors? I really like your color palettes :))

Aw heck thank you!

Here are my color swatches since you asked:

I can go over what I remember of my thought process when picking these colors.

Lets start with Starscream since I really wasnt drawing anyone else back then. I know some of the toys has him as more of a grey mech but I always saw his body as white, but even then I didnt want it to be a pure white. I decided silver would be a good compromise, and to me silver is a light grey with more of a cool tone to it, which meant the grey of his helm and faceplate had to also be more cool toned to match. I also didnt want his helm to be too dark even tho I think it’s supposed to be black? It’s just better for readability, I use that helm color for anything that should be dark grey to black, like car tires. I gave his face a darker grey than the body since Starscream has a darker face than Thundercracker and Skywarp in the cartoon.

From there I think I just tried out different reds until I found one I liked, a bit of trial and error. I might have made it slightly muted cuz it felt less heroic? I don’t really know haha. I just know when I picked a red for the Autobots I made it more saturated. I also don’t know why I chose that particular shade of blue, since I think Starscream’s arms are usually a lighter blue? Must have just decided it worked best with the red, or maybe the reference I was using just happened to be darker.

His eyes (and the eyes of pretty much all cold constructed bots) are pure saturated red.

And then I decided all cybertronians would have blue tongues since their blood is blue.

When I started drawing other seekers I decided they should all have the same faceplate and helm color. The only exception is sunstorm, who I decided to give a warmer toned grey for his helm and faceplate. I think it makes him look out of place among the seekers, which is the point

Thundercracker just straight up shares his color pallet with Starscream, but Skywarp needed his own swatch since neither of them had purple in their designs besides the decepticon logo, and I wanted skywarp’s purple to be different from the purple used in the decepticon logo.

For the longest time my color swatches were just Starscream’s colors plus a purple for Skywarp. Ive been slowly adding colors as the need arises. I prefer reusing swatches over color picking new colors every time, like how Sunstorm and Bumblebee share the same color Yellow. That said, I’m also stingy about adding swatches too XD usually I wont add a color to the pallet until the third or fourth time I have to pull up an old comic to eyedropper from. not sure why I havent added swatches for rumble yet tbh

idk if any of that was interesting or made sense, but thanks for asking XD

[miaoua3]

Is this where we request? I’m still new to this app lol. Pero may I request a smut Minghao? The smuttier the better. Surprise me with any story line ^_^ I trust your writing hehe

yes this is where you request it😭 and its all good, happy to have received your request! and ofc you can, hope you like this!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Keep Quiet.

•Pairing: bf! minghao x f!reader

•Genre: shameless smut (MDNI), fingering, voyeurism, unprotected sex, dirty talking, angry sex, minimal foreplay, slight degradation, bathroom sex, quick fuck, spit…play? idk i def mentioned the word waaay too often in such a short story lmao, slight angst (well, maybe even more than slight angst)

•Description: one minor fight with your boyfriend has you acting like he doesn’t exist, ignoring him to your best efforts, despite you two being out in public with your friends. minghao knows a great way to make you pay attention to him again.

•Notes: writing this before i even wrote the story and i can already tell it’s gonna be a banger lmao (post writing update: i made it angsty🧍‍♀️ffs i hate whenever im on my period and get all emotional)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

you nod your head in fake cheerfulness to whatever seungkwan was saying to you, trying your hardest not to let it show that your boyfriend has his hand in your panties and his fingers almost inside your pussy right underneath the table.

it was so stupid, the whole thing-the fight, the words you both said in the heat of anger, the purposeful ignoring on your behalf, and finally the fingering under the table while all of your members are sat there on his behalf.

now that you try to think about it, the details about the whole thing seem to be gone from your head. but that just might be because minghao literally has his fingers inside you.

thankfully, everyone redirects their conversations, leaving you and hao alone for a minute. immediately grabbing his hand, you grit through your teeth in warning.

“take. your hand. out. of my underwear. now.”

minghao just leans in closer to you before he hotly whispers right into your ear “maybe if you weren’t such a little brat earlier, i wouldn’t have to have my hand inside your needy cunt to get your attention.”

you finally look him directly in the eyes for the first time since this morning, eyes burning with fire. if the fire is from anger or from neediness? who knows.

hao smirks at you, but not the kind that you find hot and sexy-the kind that is cocky, the kind that is indirectly telling you “i won”, the kind that is so condescending and outright insulting to your ego.

his fingers spread your folds open, the contact with the cold air making shivers appear all over your skin. his middle finger then gently runs up and down your entrance, your precum already gathering on the tip of his finger simply with that one move. he then uses the same finger to ever so lightly flick your clit, and it feels so good that you have to bite your lip to keep yourself quiet.

hao’s voice distracts you for a moment, his warm breath hitting the shell of your ear as he hotly whispers “if you hate it so much, and if you want me to stop, why are you so wet? hm? why is your slutty little pussy so wet from one little touch? don’t tell me-“ he stops in the name of mockingly chuckling before he continues, “don’t tell me you are into this? getting discovered by them, letting them see just what a slut you are-letting me finger you under the table. poor seungkwan-he probably didn’t even realise that you didn’t pay attention to anything he said, too distracted by being a little whore for my fingers.”

nervously looking around the table, you confirm that no one is paying attention to you two. still, the whole thing makes you feel nervous. as hot as this feels somewhere in the back of your fucked up mind, the idea of you two getting discovered makes you panic and it cuts your enjoyment in half.

almost like he can sense that he’s slowly losing you to your anxieties, he orders you in his deep voice.

“bathroom. now. wait for me there.”

you didn’t have to be told twice.

after a few minutes of nervously walking around the bathroom, you finally hear the door open and close quickly, hao’s expert fingers quickly locking the door, all while his eyes are solely focused on you.

in two big strides, you two meet each other half way, immediately kissing each other messily. you feel his saliva get all over your lips and chin, hands groping your body all over-from squeezing your neck, to squeezing and spanking your ass so hard under the skirt of your dress, you almost end up screaming.

before you know it, he’s quickly walking you towards the sink, hands quickly turning you around before bending you over the cold marble. you gasp at how quickly it all happens, hands slamming against the mirror.

you stare at the reflection, your fucked out face staring right back at you, lips still wet from his kisses, eyes hazy. behind you, you see minghao staring right back at you, hands working on quickly unzipping his pants.

as he’s taking his cock out of his pants, he angrily asks “you don’t want to pay attention to me?” before he’s quickly slamming inside your pussy, the quick movement making your walls burn at the sudden stretch. you moan through a gasp, watching as he bends over as well, his chest coming in contact with your back as he wraps a skill-full hand around your neck.

staring at your eyes through the mirror, he orders you “then don’t. only look at yourself.” before he starts basically hammering his hips into your own.

the pace he sets from the start has you seeing stars, you own eyes focusing on your reflexion in the mirror per his order.

the sight has you blushing-eyes teary, mouth open as moans freely spill out of them, saliva almost dripping out as you don’t have the strength to close them so you can swallow it down.

his hand cutting out basically all the air to your lungs, veins popping out due to the force he has to use.

you want to look at him, you want to look at him so badly, but you know that if you do, that the damage will be fatal for your pussy you. so, you keep on watching yourself, the way your whole body moves from the sheer force of his moves.

his dick is merciless-your walls still trying to get used to his girth while he’s fucking you with quick snaps of hips. the way his thickness is spreading you, better yet-splitting you open is messing with your head. you already know that you will walk funny later, but for now you settle on just letting you two get all the emotions out of your system.

quicker than you’d expect it, hao drops his other hand between your legs to quickly rub your clit. normally, you would be thrilled at this part, but something about how quickly he started doing it, not even 5 minutes of you two fucking, it makes you feel…weird. almost like he’s just trying to make you cum for the sake of you just cumming, not because he actually wants you to feel good and because he cares about your own enjoyment.

you distinctly hear his voice talk hotly in your ear, but you can register what exactly. before you know it, you feel your pussy squeeze around his cock, milking his own orgasm out of him pretty quickly.

the whole thing lasted all but a few minutes, and it feels almost…anticlimactic.

you two stay in your positions for a few seconds, breathing heavily due to the nature of your activities.

but then, before you can even react, you feel his body retreat from your own, quickly dressing himself up and tidying up his appearance.

but most importantly, he didn’t do it.

he didn’t kiss you-your lips or cheek, whatever is closer to him, and he didn’t say it. didn’t say ‘i love you’, like he always did.

something in your stomach drops, shame quickly coming to haunt you.

you immediately get up to your height and start getting dressed, both of you staying silent as you do so.

hao is thinking his words over, lips being bitten as he’s contemplating on how to resolve this problem.

to be honest, he hated this. this whole thing. he didn’t recognise his own actions, the way he acted so heartless towards you…it made him feel sick.

this wasn’t right.

no matter how high your emotions are, he should never stoop so low as to fuck simply out of anger.

he wasn’t supposed to make you feel or think like he hates you through his actions. he was supposed to make you feel loved, and appreciated. at best, he should’ve talked to you about the problem before he did anything of the sexual nature. but he was so desperate to make you look at him, to have you finally pay attention to him, that he didn’t know what to do other than to do what he did.

just as he was about to apologise to you and ask if you wanted to talk this whole situation out, a single sniffle broke out in the otherwise quiet bathroom.

hao’s head immediately snapped to you, panic hitting him like a wave during a storm. in two quick strides, he comes to stand before you only to see you looking down at the floor with tears streaming down your face as your shaky hands tried straightening the wrinkles out.

his hands immediately come to gently hold your cheeks as he asks “love what’s wrong? fuck, i ruined it all, didn’t i? i am so sorry baby, i don’t what came over me, i just thought-“

but before he can continue, you let yourself just fall into his arms, hands grabbing the back of his shirt as you hug him to yourself.

he immediately hugs you right back as he listens to your small sobs escape you, lips kissing the top of your head as countless “i’m sorry’s” slip out of his mouth.

ever so quietly, he hears you say “y-you didn’t say it.”

hao looks puzzled straight ahead of him, softly asking you “said what baby?”

through a broken inhale, you add “you didn’t sa-say ‘i love you’.”

his heart immediately drops from his chest ti the floor, realising that he forgot to say it due to the inner turmoil going on in his mind.

immediately pushing you back a bit, he sincerely yet heartbrokenly says “of course i love you, my love. how could i not? you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. i live to feel your love and to make you feel loved. and i’m so sorry if i ever made you feel otherwise, love.” he pauses for a second as he wipes your tears away, his own having to be blinked away as he looks at your heartbroken expression. “of course i love you. you are my first, greatest and last love. you are the only one for me.”

emotionally due to his words, you immediately prop yourself on tippy toes in the name of kissing him passionately yet slowly.

with no hesitation, minghao kisses you right back.

and with the kiss, you finally get the confirmation.

confirmation that even when you two are facing the troubles, it will always be you and him against the world.

confirmation that no one in this world could love you like he does.

[lovelybucky1]

dad!matt discovering you have degradation kink by accident and you're all embarrassed and tell him to forget about it but he's stubborn and honestly the fact that you're embarrassed only makes it easier to use that discovery against you. why is he so mean 😔

btw i'm in love with your blog, honestly as someone raised in a catholic environment even though i know it's okay to like a lot of things, i do sometimes feel idk... guilty? and places like your blog make me feel valid and i wanted to thank you for that

this warms my heart so much. i know im just a faceless smut writer on tumblr but im so glad that my writing has an impact on people. i appreciate you reading!! 🫶

even if you had a convincing poker face, it’d be useless against matt. he can tell when you’re lying before you even do so. honestly, there’s no point in him even asking you questions other than wanting to hear you say the answers out loud.

“c’mon, you can tell me. what are your deep, dark fantasies?” he asks, chuckling as you lounge on the couch together. your feet rest in his lap and his hand covers your shin, rubbing small circles over your skin.

“i don’t have any,” you say, matching his laughter.

matt’s smile shifts into more of a smirk and he looks at you with his head tilted to the side. “yes, you do.”

“no, i don’t,” you insist.

“i know when you’re lying, sweetheart.” he shifts so he’s facing you and he grabs your hands, holding them gently. “you know you can tell me anything.”

“it’s really not a big deal, i swear. just forget it.”

“you told me you wanted to call me dad in bed. how could this be any more embarrassing than that?” he teases, and in retaliation, you attempt to kick him in the chest, but he catches your ankle. “i can start guessing if you want.”

“dad,” you huff, pulling your foot back.

“let’s see… you want me to tie you up?” your heartbeat remains steady. “no. you want to have a threesome?” steady. “no. you want me to walk you around on a leash?” still nothing. “hmm…” you feel matt getting closer to the truth and your heartrate increases with anxiety. “you want me to be mean to you?”

your heart skips.

“that’s it,” matt says with a satisfied grin.

you whine as you hide your face in your hands. “please stop.”

“was that so hard, baby? i can be mean to you if you want,” he laughs. “i didn’t think you’d be into something like that. i guess i should’ve known,” he says as he pulls you closer to him by your ankle. “i’ve got myself a kinky little girl, don’t i?”

he takes ahold of your wrists and moves your hands away from your face, removing the only protection you had from facing your embarrassment. he makes you look at him and when he does, he can feel your pulse quicken even more.

“i can do this for you, you just have to tell me what you want me to say,” he says.

“i don’t know,” you shrug.

“don’t lie to me,” he says. “tell me.”

“like…” you trail off.

“like?” he mocks.

you rip the bandaid off. “whore and slut and dumb and pathetic,” you blurt out. “just be mean.” you said it so quickly that the embarrassment of your words doesn’t hit you until they’re all out. that’s when you realize that matt is doing this on purpose. “you asshole,” you huff.

“don’t be mad, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “i’m just doing what you want, right? making you all flustered and embarrassed is mean, isn’t it?”

you cross your arms and attempt to turn away from him, but matt anticipates it and stops you by pinning your arms at your sides. he moves to hover over your body and places his knee between your spread thighs.

“and you like it, don’t you?” he asks, this time more serious. when you don’t answer, he says, “tell me.”

“yes, i like it,” you whimper as he tightens his grip on your wrists.

“yeah, you do,” he smirks. “now tell me, do you want me to bring you to bed, or do you want me to fuck you on the couch like a slut?”

you don’t have to say a word. your rapidly beating heart tells matt everything he needs to know.

[cuntycompost]

Genuine question, how could something like this be undone?

I mean obviously that level of *heavy* socialisation and internalising is pretty hard to do anything about, and I’m not going to spend all my spoons trying to “fix him” on the wrong guys but like..

Idk, I’m reminded of my grandfather(/Nana’s partner) a lot in conversations like these - he grew up in a really sexist “you have to be a strong man with no feelings”/“the only thing that matters is your work ethic” environment, but at his core is really sweet. As an adult he fell for my Nana, who is Very Much Empathy First and is essentially the matriarch of my extended family (on her/my Mum’s side).

Over the years I’ve watched him deal with those internalised ideas being challenged (ie: my Nana letting us live with them when we were older teens getting into work “because that’s what family does”, & him having to face that worldview after growing up in a place where that was *not* what family did)

He’s not exactly the same ‘kind of guy’ described here, he’s very loving and never took on the idea of viewing women as objects (only men, lol) - but my point I guess is that growing up with him has taught me that people can tackle these ideas, and changes can be made.

Idk. I spent a day once at this socialist men’s group (they were at an event I was at, but I’m unfortunately not able to attend their regular meetings) and they/we were talking about little ways to challenge men who were making sexist comments about women (bc challenging that with them, as men, can unfortunately mean they’re more likely to listen to you and has been proven by a few of us to lead to introspection and change from them)

But I wonder about these more wide-spanning worldviews,, what would be an effective way of challenging that with men without having to bring out a lot of words and ideas they’re not already aware of?

I guess some little things like “what, so if you met the coolest woman you’ve ever met, but they took a photo of their food, you wouldn’t want to get to know them?” and/or something like “why women with [descriptor] specifically?” to encourage them to think a bit more on it could be a start?

But then for the second one I feel like the response would be something like “cause they’re all selfish” or “[some other nebulous idea they don’t really understand, calling them feminists or leftists or something]” and idrk what the best response to that would be.

Idk, I hate seeing shit like this. My circle of friends is mostly queer and anarchist or socialist, but I’m a guy (trans FTM, but generally pass) and sometimes straight men talk to me (ie at work). I really want to use that position to try and help these guys challenge their worldview, but the problem is that they have so little words or understanding that it’s hard to know how to get shit through.

For lack of a better phrase - Men are Stupid

Does anyone have any advice or ideas on how someone in my position (or generally!) can get through to them?/how to talk about these things to people who lack prior understanding of how the patriarchy works etc.?

Obviously so many men are just fucked and genuinely evil, but the people I talk to are college aged(usually 17 or 18-early 20s), deciding on what their worldview will be going forward (and open to input from people around them), and often… unfortunately… getting a lot of disgusting new ideas from online gurus🤮

The longer I exist as a loudly proudly gay man the more I think that cishet men aren't actually attracted to women.

[pazzi5351]

Can’t be friends.

Paige x Azzi

Word count: 1.2k

An: an anon asked for this and I started it yesterday then I had dance then the knicks were playing (they lost💔) and I’m just now finishing it k bye hope ya like! Also I added like no fluff and lowk leaving it on a cliffhanger cs idk what else to add🤧

————————————————————————————

Paige and Azzi had always been, different. Their parents noticed it when they first became friends. Their teammates noticed it when Azzi stepped on UConn’s campus for the first time, and Paige’s mood drastically changed.

The only people who didn’t seem to notice were Paige and Azzi themselves.

They went along with being “just best friends” though, the lines between that and something more had been crossed years before.

They went along with being “just best friends” until the glances between them lasted a beat too long. The hands on backs rested lower. And, the tension between them was so thick, people were starting to see it.

Especially their teammates.

“Ok Paige. What the hell is going on between you and Azzi.” Ice asked Paige, while watching the lobby screen of their fortnight game.

“Yeah,” Kk chimed in. “You guys are like, super, weirdly, close.”

“Bruuh. What are y’all even saying right now?” Paige asked, with an incredulous look on her face.

“We’re asking, friend to friend, if you and Azzi have something going on.” Ice said, matter of factly. “It’s totally chill if y’all do, I mean, we don’t care, we just wanna know.”

Paige slowly put her controller down, and turned to look at her friends. “There’s no way you’re seriously asking me that. Right? Me and Azzi are just friends. Why’s that so hard to believe? Sure, we’re close but, y’all are close too. It’s the same thing.”

Ice and Kk shared a look.

“No. It’s not the same honey. Not at all. I mean sure Ice and I are close but, you and Azzi, y’all are close.” Kk said, putting emphasis on the last word.

“Define ‘close’. Because since Azzi and I are just soo ‘close’, I’m sure you have examples of our ‘closeness’.” Paige said, rather defensively, for a reason she couldn’t name.

“Sure,” Ice nodded. “You open her water bottles, drive her car, when she very clearly has a license; you bring her snacks, text her asking if she ate or if she’s hungry, you bring her food without asking, you always, and I mean always, let her steal your clothes, but when I ask you say no, or you ‘don’t know where it is because last time you saw it Azzi had it.’ What else Kk? That’s all I got.”

“Oh I’ll go on,” Kk responded. “Paige, you literally have carried her out of the bar when she was ‘too tired’ to walk, I’ve watched you make snack bags for her, and for away games, you carry her bags and yours to the bus so she, and I quote from you, ‘doesn’t strain anything holding her bags because they’re heavy.’ There’s a lot more, but you look shocked right now, so I’ll let you sit with that.”

When Ice and Kk finished, Kk was right. Paige was shocked. She never realized how much she did for Azzi. All of it was just second nature to her, like taking care of Azzi was her birthright.

All she could say to her friends was “Oh.”

Ice raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? Just ‘oh’?”

Paige blinked, like she hadn’t even heard the question. “I didn’t—I mean, I just… I don’t know. That’s just how we are.”

Kk crossed her arms, gaze steady. “No, Paige. That’s how you are with her. There’s a difference.”

And maybe Paige should’ve argued, should’ve denied it again. But instead, she sat there, controller long forgotten in her lap, a cold dread settling in her stomach.

Because they were right.

She didn’t sleep that night. Her mind kept playing scenes back like a highlight reel: Azzi asleep on her shoulder during the flight to South Carolina. Azzi curled into her side on the hotel bed, scrolling on her phone while Paige absentmindedly braided her hair. Azzi in her hoodie. Azzi in her car. Azzi everywhere.

And the way her chest clenched whenever Azzi smiled at someone else like she used to only smile at her.

Paige rolled over, staring at the unread text.

Azzi💗: “u up?”

She didn’t reply.

For days after that, Paige pulled back. Not enough for Azzi to call her out, but enough that the gap started to form—small, but noticeable. She stopped waiting outside practice for Azzi. She made excuses to ride with someone else. She laughed at her jokes but didn’t meet her eyes.

And it was killing her.

Because nothing had changed—but everything had.

The final crack came on a Tuesday after team workouts. Everyone else had left. Paige was gathering her stuff when Azzi stepped in front of her, arms crossed, face unreadable.

“You mad at me?” she asked, quiet.

Paige blinked. “What? No. Why would I be mad?”

“You’ve been avoiding me, Paige,” Azzi said, voice firmer now. “You don’t even look at me.”

“I’ve just been tired.”

Azzi scoffed. “Don’t lie to me. You suck at it.”

Paige’s hands tightened around her hoodie. “I’m not avoiding you.”

Azzi’s gaze narrowed. “Then why do I feel like I did something wrong?”

Paige swallowed hard. “You didn’t.”

“Then what is it?” Azzi asked, voice low. “Because if you’re gonna push me away, your best friend, at least tell me why.”

Paige shook her head. “You don’t get it.”

“Make me get it,” Azzi said, scanning Paige’s face for any type of answer. “Because I can’t fix something you won’t tell me.”

Paige scoffed and shook her head. “That’s the thing, Az. You can’t fix it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s me,” Paige said, finally meeting her eyes. “It’s what I feel when I look at you. It’s what I do, for you, without thinking; like carrying your bags, buying your snacks, giving you every part of me like it’s nothing. And it’s not nothing. Not to me.”

Azzi’s lips parted, but she didn’t speak.

Paige’s voice cracked. “I don’t know when it stopped being just friends, but I know I didn’t even notice until it was too late. And now I feel it all the time. All the time, Azzi. And I didn’t want to say it because if I do, everything changes.”

Azzi took a slow step forward. “It doesn’t have to change, P.”

“I’m scared.”

“So am I.”

There was silence.

And then Paige, barely above a whisper, said, “I think I’m in love with you.”

Azzi didn’t move. She just stood there, slightly taken aback, breathing slowly, staring at Paige like she’d waited years to hear those words.

Then, finally, “Good. Because I’m in love with you too.”

They didn’t kiss that night, no. It was two girls, with a long history together, sitting on a bench, still sweaty from practice, hands shaking slightly as they reached for each other. It was quiet. Heavy. Real.

They didn’t tell anyone right away. Not because they were hiding, but because Paige wasn’t ready to say it out loud again.

When the team asked where they’d been—when they snuck away during a night out or vanished from the locker room after practice—Paige would shrug, let Azzi answer. She couldn’t bear the teasing, the jokes. Not yet.

It wasn’t until Ice caught them in the hallway—Azzi standing too close, Paige’s thumb brushing over her knuckles—that someone finally said it.

“You’re together, huh?”

Azzi nodded slowly. Paige froze. Azzi noticed.

Ice smiled, small and sure. “Took you long enough.”

And Paige’s chest loosened, just a little.

[schlattschlut]

Hands On - Schlatt x Reader Smut

You just really like Schlatts hands and he doesn’t mind one bit

If you haven’t, I suggest just taking awhile and looking at his hands because…. jesus. (Also yall… ask box is open if anyone wants to offer up ideas !)

cw: Smut, fingering, Schlatt shoves his fingers down your throat idk, also squirting cause why not

wc: 1017

Schlatt was sat at his desk, typing away quickly before moving his cursor around the screen; editing the video he had just recorded a few days ago. As he clicks around the screen, his free hand comes to rest against the outside of my thigh as I sat sideways in his lap.

He wasn’t even looking at me, deep in thought on his editing as his fingers traced over my skin softly. My eyes were trained on him though. Watching the way his fingers moved, the patterns he traced leading my mind to dirtier places.

It was safe to say I like his hands, I enjoyed the way the muscles flexed as he ran his hands over my body; the way his palms would flatten over any part of my skin, reminding me just how much bigger he was than me.

I lifted my own hand from the arm of the chair to run my fingers over his own, tracing his knuckles softly before gently grabbing his palm in both my hands, lifting it from my lap.

Schlatts concentration on editing is broken he feels me lift his hand up. His eyes are on me now, watching the way I examined his fingers so closely. His cheeks heating up as I press a kiss to his finger tips. “Doll, what’re you doing?” He asks softly, letting go of his computer mouse to run his hand over my back slowly.

“Nothing.” I mutter quickly, my eyes still trained on his hands. “Just admiring you.”

Schlatt smirk, raising an eyebrow at me. “Is that so?” He asks teasingly, lifting his thumb to run along my bottom lip. “Admiring me or my hands?”

My cheeks heat up at the comment, “Well your hands are a part of you…” I counter quietly.

Schlatt just laughs, pushing his thumb past my lip, running it along my teeth before pressing it against my tongue. I whine, my tongue moving across his thumb; wanting to taste more of him as I blink up.

“Jesus.” Schlatt says softly, “Such a needy little thing.” His words are teasing, but he knows just how much my body actually craves him in every form and he loves it; my love for him is one of his favorite things in the universe. He was often in disbelief of the things about him I found so endearing.

He pulls his thumb away for a moment before replacing it with his middle and ring finger, pressing my tongue down as he pushed them further into my mouth; trying to see just how far he could get them.

My eyes stay on his as I allow him to push them further, drool dripping down my chin. “Dirty girl.” He mutters, pressing his fingers forward again, “So used to me you don’t even gag.” His words are taunting.

I pull away, my cheeks heating up at his comment. “Like it’s a bad thing…” I mumble defensively.

Schlatt laughs, tracing his wet fingers over my bottom lip before pushing them back into my mouth again. “I didn’t tell you to speak.” His voice his gruff, his tone turning incredibly dominant in a moment.

He just watches me for a bit, enjoying the way I took his fingers so well. It was like a lightbulb went off in his head as he pulled his fingers from my mouth, pushing my skirt up my legs before dipping his fingers into my underwear. He doesn’t even warn me as he pushes his fingers into me, my back arching as I mewl and squirm in his lap. “Schlatt…” I whine.

“What?” He asks condescendingly. “I thought you liked my fingers.”

I whimper, my head falling to his shoulder as my breathing becomes labored. “I… I do.” I mumble softly, my breaths turning into whines as his fingers repeatedly hit the spongy spot inside of me, stars flooding my vision as his fingers moved diligently.

“Then don’t whine.” He grunts, his fingers picking up pace and pushing themselves deeper as he pressed his thumb to my clit. He pulls my head back by my hair, exposing my neck to him as he places soft kisses along it, followed by sinking his teeth into it just enough to leave a mark.

My eyes close, my head lolling against him as my breathing only got quicker. “Please.” I whine, grabbing his wrist in an attempt to keep him close as his fingers only get faster. My release builds quickly, stronger than normal, my entire body tingling as I struggle to hold back.

“Not yet.” He says firmly, his fingers not stopping. “You can hold on a little longer.”

I bite my lip, trying to distract my mind from the growing flame in my stomach. “Schlatt.” I whine softly, hiding my face in his neck as my fingers played with the hair on his neck; my legs starting to shake slightly.

I whimper again, “I can’t-“ I gasp, “Schlatt, I-“ I try to warn him that I couldn’t hold it, but my body took control and I was coming all over Schlatts pants, my thighs glistening as they shook against his movements. Countless whispered praises and pleas escaping my mouth as his fingers slowly work me down.

I hide my face in his neck, bracing myself for the teasing and berating I was sure would follow. “Holy fuck.” Schlatt mutters, “That was really hot.”

I lift my head at his words, blushing softly, “Really?” I mumble. “I thought you’d be mad I didn’t listen…”

He laughs, shaking his head and slowly pulling his fingers from me. He lifts them up to examine them better in the light, appreciating the way his hand shimmered. “Can you do that on my dick?” He asks seriously.

I gasp, my face heating up more at his question. “I don’t know.” I say softly, “I’ve never done that before.”

Schlatt raises his eyebrows, a proud look crossing his face. “Only one way to find out.” He mutters, lifting us both from his chair and leading me towards the bed, pulling me down into it with him quickly.

[bihexualandferal]

man, it sucks when you find a new artist/blog that you really like and then you find out who they really are when they post stuff like this. sad :(

Y’know Persimmon, I have family living in a wartorn country too (Venezuela) that nobody seems to know of/care about, and you don’t see me yelling and swearing at people about it. People don’t make those posts about caring for yourself despite horrible things happening around the globe because they’re apathetic to the plight of others. It’s not about racism, either. Idk why you’re choosing to make this into an issue about race when that has nothing to do with it. Plenty of people still post about Palestine all the time. Plenty of people in this site are POC and have families in or around the war zone who are suffering, just like you and your family. Even others who are white (or at least not Middle Eastern) and have no stake in this issue still care, like I do, because nobody should have to suffer the way Palestinians are suffering right now. I promise people of all kinds care, even if it doesn’t seem like it.

The real issue here is: it’s simply impossible to care about every single bad thing going on around the globe all the time. Ever heard of empathy fatigue? Even reading all the horrible headlines without looking at harrowing footage takes a toll on people’s mental health. If you can’t do much to change the outcome, forcing yourself to keep up with all the bad things in the world is exhausting and unhelpful/useless.

It also has to do with how much direct action people can take to fix the issue. A lot of people on this site live in the UK, so they are able to enact some change by voting and such. But not many people here have the power to change what is happening in Palestine except by donating or spreading the word (and a lot of us are too poor to donate). If we could fix it, we would. But that isn’t possible. So all we can do is take care of ourselves as we try to help in whatever small way we can. And it isn’t a bad thing to be a bit “selfish” and focus on caring for your own mental health before anything else. I think you could use a bit more of that self-care yourself tbh.

The point is, you’re attacking the wrong enemy. Obviously, racism exists online and offline, and it is easier for people to care about things that directly impact/relate to them, I won’t deny that. But those people making “take care of yourself” posts in regards to not doom scrolling on certain global issues are not being racist. That’s absurd. Other people care about the issues and people suffering from them that you care about, regardless of their race, even if you can’t see it.

I understand why you’re upset. I would be too if I were you. And again, I understand your and your family’s struggle. I have family in Venezuela who are starving and living in constantly fear under Maduro’s regime. They often do not have access to basic food, water, electricity, and medicine. They are afraid to walk to school or work for fear of being killed in the streets and people looting the clothes and groceries off their bodies. They are afraid to say anything negative about the government, because they could be listening and reading their calls and messages, and if they are caught, they would be kidnapped and tortured to death. And my mother and I cannot even save them because we live in the USA, and under our current hostile and xenophobic administration, they will likely be sent off to a concentration camp in El Salvador if they try to immigrate here.

I never see any posts raising awareness or charity money for Venezuelans. And of course that makes me sad and angry. But this is based on a lack of information and not necessarily racism. I know if others knew about this problem, they would care. And so I talk to them about it, honestly, factually, and without judgement. And I also understand people’s need to back away from the issues for a little bit and care for their own mental health. Whereas making condescending posts and lashing out at people who also have valid points (even if they misunderstood the meaning of your post) is not helping anyone nor accomplishing anything. It just makes you look like an asshole. I hope you reflect on this and act appropriately in the future, because this kind of behavior is very disheartening to see. I truly admire your artwork and have empathy for you and your family’s struggles (immediate and extended).

Wow it's crazy that no one is making any cloying "you deserve to not give a shit about the world ♡ take care of yourself ♡ you deserve to be happy ♡" selfish posts about the callous treatment trans people are receiving in the UK, it's almost like apathy is a doom reserved only for the people being genocided in the global south! Yes both things are bad yes it's obvious that many many white liberals are also white queer people who are often racially and culturally biased and do not have reserves of compassion for oppression they personally cannot identify with! "Me! Me Me me me me!!!!!!"! That's all I hear so often.

This isn't about my trans siblings in the UK, they have my heart, my soul. This is about the people who are selective in who they choose to ally with ^-^

[pixele-layton]

You know seeing somebody liked your post is nice. But seeing somebody comment “THE FUCK YOU MEAN MILK?!?!?!” is way more satisfying 

[sturniololuvz]

can you do something where maybe chris’s daughter asks nick to help her get birth control, and she tries to hide it from chris, but he’s actually understanding about it? idk i hope that made sense lmao it’s been a long day

“Grown Conversations”

Y/N stood in the hallway outside Nick’s room, shifting her weight between her feet. She’d been pacing for ten minutes, mentally rehearsing the conversation, psyching herself out. Her hands were clammy. Her stomach? A full circus.

She finally knocked.

Nick opened the door, eyebrows raising when he saw her face. “Everything okay?”

“I need to talk to you,” she blurted. “Privately.”

Nick stepped aside. “Always.”

She sat on the edge of his bed, chewing her nail, unsure where to start.

Nick sat across from her, careful not to rush. “Take your time.”

She inhaled shakily. “I was wondering if you could maybe… help me get on birth control?”

Nick blinked.

“I’m not—like—I’m not being reckless or anything,” she said quickly. “I just… I’ve been thinking about it. And I didn’t know who else to go to.”

“Not your dad?”

She bit her lip. “I’m not ready for that. He’ll freak. Or… I don’t know. I just didn’t want him to see me differently.”

Nick stayed quiet for a second, reading her face like he always did. “Okay. First of all — thank you for trusting me. That means a lot. Second — this is totally normal, Y/N. You’re growing up, and being responsible about your body is a good thing.”

She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

“I can help you figure it out,” Nick added. “Go with you. Be there. But I also think… at some point, your dad should know. Not because you’re doing anything wrong — but because I think he’d want to be there for you.”

Y/N stared at the floor. “What if he’s disappointed?”

Nick leaned forward. “You’re his daughter. He might be surprised. He might need a minute. But he loves you. He’ll get it.”

⸻

She didn’t tell Chris.

Nick did.

Not in a tattletale way — more like a gentle heads-up, over a quiet cup of coffee the next morning.

Chris’s reaction wasn’t what Y/N expected.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t panic. He just sat back in his chair, ran a hand over his face, and said, “Wow.”

Nick waited.

Chris eventually nodded. “She’s growing up.”

“She’s smart about it,” Nick offered. “She’s not doing anything reckless.”

“I know,” Chris muttered. “I just… I remember when she was five and refused to wear pants because they were ‘too bossy.’ And now she’s talking about birth control.”

“She still refuses to wear jeans,” Nick added dryly.

Chris huffed a laugh. “True.”

Later that day, Chris found her in the kitchen. She tensed when he walked in.

“I know,” he said gently. “Nick told me.”

Y/N’s face dropped. “Dad—”

“I’m not mad,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “You’re being safe. That’s all I care about. And… I get why you went to Nick first. It’s easier, sometimes, to talk to someone who’s not your dad.”

She blinked, stunned.

Chris opened his arms. “C’mere.”

She fell into the hug.

“You can always come to me, though,” he said into her hair. “Even for the big, uncomfortable stuff. I’d rather know than have you feel alone.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Don’t be. Just… keep trusting the people who love you. We’ve got your back, always.”

⸻

That night, she left a sticky note on his bedroom door.

thank you for not freaking out. you’re a pretty cool dad.

Chris stuck it in his wallet.

He kept it there for years.

⸻

[vioartemis]

Forever hers

(wilderness! Lottie Matthews x wilderness sensitive! fem! reader)

Back with another Lottie thingy hehe 🤭 again idk what I did but here you go hope it makes sense 😭

Warnings: s3 spoilers kinda, mention of blood, tasting blood while kissing, mention of Lottie axe murdering someone

Ever since you had found the cabin, you had a bad feeling about it, like something bad happened in this place. That ended up being proven right when Lottie found a dead body in the attic.

Even before that, you spent as much time as possible outside of the cabin, only going in to sleep. The forest was a little more peaceful, the air was less thick, but whatever was in the cabin was still out there.

You didn’t want to alarm anyone so you kept your worries to yourself, just like those weird carving in some trees, the same that were in the attic around the dead guy. Whatever it meant, it couldn’t be good, but again everyone was going through too much to add anything to it.

Then everything went so fast you could barely register it; Lottie started having weird visions, Laura Lee tried to fly an old plane and… well it didn’t end well, then Jackie froze to death, and some of your remaining teammates joined Lottie’s weird rituals.

You didn’t participate in those rituals, rather staying inside with Natalie and Shauna. They didn’t believe in Lottie’s visions, and you said you didn’t either, but truly you weren’t sure.

Sometimes when you were outside, the rustling of the snowy leaves sounded like whispers, the wind felt like it was purposefully blowing around you, like it was trying to go through you and leave something behind.

It was stupid though, right? It’s not like trees could talk or anything…

Yet here you were, in front of a tree with one of those weird carvings, fingers lingering on it. Maybe it was worth a try, whatever Lottie told the others…

You closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, like you heard her tell them, listening to the wind, to every sound around you. After a few moments, you started to feel a weird sensation, like something was touching you, to a deeper level than just physically.

The feeling persisted, and you started to hear some kind of whisper. It was difficult to understand, you weren’t even sure you were hearing words, but if you had to associate it to something you knew, it would sound like…

You were suddenly brought back to reality when someone bumps into you — or rather you bumped into them. You blinked a few times, a little confused, to find Lottie in front of you, holding your arms.

You looked around, obviously not in front of the tree anymore, and notice footsteps in the snow, yours.

“Are you okay?”

Lottie’s soft voice made you turn back around to face her.

“You walked straight into me, were you daydreaming?” she continued

“I… yeah I must have been…” you reply, still a little confused as to how you got here.

Lottie could see that there was something more that you weren’t telling her, you seemed preoccupied, more than usual. Her hands slide down your arms to hold your hands.

“Did you… did It talk to you?”

You looked up at her, her eyes soft and… almost hopeful.

“I’m not sure…” you start hesitantly “it was like… like whispers? But it wasn’t really words… more like… like an idea? It’s hard to explain…”

“It’s okay”

Lottie smiled and cupped your face gently, looking deep into your eyes.

“We’ll figure it out together. We’ll start with the morning meeting with the others, and then-“

“No no, wait… I don’t want anyone to know…”

Your words surprised Lottie, and they even surprised yourself to an extent. You didn’t know why you said that, why you didn’t want the others to know. There was just this thing inside you telling you to keep this between the two of you.

“But why…? You’re special, It likes you, talks to you, they should know-“

“Lottie, please…”

Lottie’s smile returned after a bit, and she gave you a little nod.

“Just us then”

She waited for a sign of approval, which you gave, before resting her forehead against yours with a content smile. You could feel her scar against your skin, a little bump, and even when she pulled away, it felt like it was still there, like a sign of the connection between you.

After that, Lottie was always by your side. The morning meetings were the only exception; you had made it clear you didn’t want to participate.

The rest of the time though, she was happily glued to you. It felt right to be with her, like it was where you belonged.

She’d walk with you deep in the forest, away from the cabin and the others. She’d make you sit in the snow, holding your hands, sometimes holding you against her, arms around your waist. She’d help you understand how the wilderness was communicating with you, her soft voice guiding you.

She seemed so happy to have you like that with her, to know that the wilderness liked you as much as she did.

You didn’t seem to make much progress, but it didn’t really matter. It wanted you to be close, that you understood.

You spent the rest of the winter like that, in the forest during the day, sleeping together at night.

Then when spring came, after the cabin burnt, you slept in the same hut. During the day, you’d go to a small clearing you’d found, drinking some tea Lottie made you.

She had lost her connection to the wilderness and was trying to get you to have visions, maybe hoping she would have them too. You’d lay on the ground, head in her lap while she’d stroke your hair.

Even after losing her gift, her presence helped you communicating with It. Without her, the whispers were just indistinct sounds. When she was with you though, they became more clear, like she could filter the sounds.

One day, while you were in that position, you placed a hand on the back of her neck, pulling her down to you until her face was only a few centimeters away from yours. She didn’t say anything, just giving you a curious look.

“It’s okay” you started quietly, pulling her a little closer “It wants us to”

And so you kissed for the first time, there in the middle of the woods. The wind blew around you, a few leaves fell on you two. It was pleased.

So you did it again. And again. And again. It became a kind of ritual, a way to feel closer to each other, and to It.

Maybe you’d lost your mind, kissing her after she just axe murdered someone, his blood all over her face, its taste on your tongue.

To the others, you were definitely too far gone, but they didn’t get it. How could they? They never had her soft lips pressed against theirs, her tongue tasting them (in more ways than one), her fingers on their skin.

They could never understand what you two had. It was more than anything they could imagine, a connection deeper than just physical or emotional. It felt like floating, being transported in a whole other world.

Maybe your connection to the wilderness had something to do with it, maybe not. Either way you didn’t care, as long as you could be forever hers.

[markkiatocafe]

hi idk if you’re taking requests but could i get she fell first but he fell harder type of ordeal with haechan? reader really likes him & doesn’t mind showing it, but haechan brushes her off, she finally takes a hint, but he actually liked it, he was just flustered but now that she’s stopped he’s realized he’s in deep with her and doesn’t want her to stop??

intro : dreamscape

𖠚 warnings: they’re baking cookies, haechan calls reader “pretty,” multiple times, other than that quite fluffy i think!!!!

𖠚 synop: haechan doesn’t realize his feelings for you until you do something about it. you don’t intend to make him want you, but, hey, you’re not complaining.

𖠚 pairing: fem!reader x downbad!haechan

𖠚 w.c: 725

𖠚 a/n: hiii anon!!!! i am taking requests ><!!! i hope you like this :33 i love this trope (plus any cheesy trope in general tbh) sm….. this was also sm fun to write, so i hope it’s as fun to read!!!!

you’ve been friends with haechan since highschool. although, only a few months ago did you start to realize that you honestly have some pretty deep feelings for him.

you were never one to really hide your feelings, you made jokes and sarcastic remarks about how you felt towards haechan multiple times before, but usually he just brushed it off or made a flirty but clearly friend-zoning joke back. you had even flat out told him you liked him one time, and he just replied back, “who wouldn’t like someone like me?” so, you felt he established your place pretty clearly.

until recently.

recently, haechan had started to be more… clingy. it was in small ways, asking you to come over more often, letting his hand brush against yours if you both reached for something, pulling away at the last millisecond, and he even started making teasing remarks towards you. so, today you decided to confront him.

not really confront him, he wasn’t a criminal or something, but you were curious where all this clingy nature came from so suddenly. today you were going over to his house, to make cookies and watch a movie, so it was all laid out for you, anyways.

you were currently working on the cookies together, music playing from haechan’s speaker in the background, a demo he had been working on. he was giving you the, “premium best friend preview privileges,” as he called it. you were busy cutting up the dough with the metal cookie-cutters you brought, which were in the shapes of leaves.

“here, let me do it,” haechan suddenly spoke up after fiddling with his phone to play the right song and connect to the bluetooth speaker. he walked over to you, gently moving you out of the way and taking the cookie-cutter from your hand. “don’t want you to get a cut on those pretty hands, do we?” he said, his voice having that signature flirty tone, although, it was too real. too genuine to just be a joke this time, the same way it had been sounding way too much recently.

“why have you been acting like that so much lately?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously, crossing your arms across your chest.

he tilted his head at you a little bit, still cutting the cookies, a tiny smirk playing on his lips as he shrugged. “what do you mean, pretty?” he replied, feigning innocence.

you put out your hands, holding them out just like how you held his heart so tightly without either of you even realizing it. “that!!!” you pointed a finger at him. “that tone!!!”

he shrugged, letting out a soft laugh. “i don’t know what you mean, i’m just being me.”

you rolled your eyes, huffing. “you do know what i mean, because you’re smiling. you do that when you lie,” you retorted.

he couldn’t help but feel a little, tiny bit of warmth in his chest that you even noticed that. he brushed that to the side for now, though. “i can’t be affectionate to my best friend?” he asked, drawing out the words at the end. as flirty as he was, he was so stubborn to admit it when actual feelings were behind the flirty comments and nicknames.

“you know that’s not what i mean.” you replied, your voice a little more serious now, “your voice has this, like… underlying tone. like i’m the most special thing in the world.” you said, as your voice got more serious, it also got quieter. it didn’t dawn on you how it would be a little odd to talk about this so directly. implying that someone has feelings for you is… nerve wracking, especially when there’s a huge chance they could just brush it off as nothing. “knock it off.” you added at the end, your voice back to a relatively normal volume, trying to add that lightheartedness back to the conversation at hand.

haechan let out a soft sigh. the sad thing was, he couldn’t say you were wrong. he placed down the cookie cutter, opening the oven and placing them in. “maybe you are the most special thing in the world,” he said, his voice quiet, thoughtful in it’s own way as he turned the dials on the stove to turn it on. “at least, in my world.”

[maybejj]

Okayyy now what about JJ’s (or everyone’s, completely up to you) reaction when reader comes back to the island after being away? I didn’t know if she would surprise all of them together or maybe try and surprise them all individually? idk just thought it would be cute!!

you come home and jj feels whole again.

jj maybank x gossipgirl!reader

warnings: swearing, slight panic attack ?

notes: decided to just focus on jj! will be doing the rest of the pogues reunion eventually!

it had been 3 weeks when you told your uncle you were ready to go back home. he tried to get you to stay longer but you missed your friends. you missed staying up all night talking with sarah. you missed john b’s crazy rambles. you missed the chateau. you missed home.

but most importantly, you missed jj. you hadn’t talked to him much since you left. you wanted to focus on healing, mentally and physically.

physically, you were doing better. all the bruises and swelling had gone away. you were perfectly fine. on the outside.

mentally? it would take awhile. what he did to you betrayed the deepest parts of your trust. destroyed a part of yourself you didn’t know if you could get back. but damnit you were going to try. so for now, you just wanted to go home and heal with your friends.

the boys would have a lot of questions. you know they would. but you don’t know if you could bring yourself to tell them. you could barely think about that night without wanting to throw up. your chest would get tight and you were pretty sure you stopped breathing when his name got brought up. so you decided to focus on something or someone that made you feel whole.

which is where you found yourself now. outside the chateau.

the twinkie was gone but jj’s bike was out front and you caught a glimpse of his blonde hair through the window when you were walking up the driveway so you knew he was inside.

you smiled gently. you had missed him. just seeing his fluffy blonde hair already had you smiling like an idiot.

you took a deep breath before you walked through the front door.

“bro i can explain the broken glas-“ jj’s words stopped when he turned around and saw you standing in the doorway. he was pretty sure he was dreaming because there was no way you were right in front of him. you had never mentioned when you were coming home so seeing you standing in front of him with the same jaw dropping smile he had engraved into his brain made his heart stutter.

“miss me?” you tease him while taking a step closer to him. it was like your words broke him out of the trance he was stuck in because the next moment you’re being squished against his chest, face tucked under his chin, legs being lifted off the ground.

“holy shit! you’re actually- are you- fuck!” he swung you around a few times before setting you down. his hands automatically cradling your face.

“you’re actually home? is this real? did i smoke too much weed?”

“don’t you always?” you smile while placing your hands over his.

you could tell he was still processing your presence and didn’t respond to your retort, “fuck, is this real? this can’t be real. why didn’t you tell me you were coming back? i would’ve planned a party or got some beer or even ordered that cake you like from the bakery down the road-“

you place a hand over his mouth to stop his rambling.

“i wanted to surprise everyone. guess i did a good job.” you see him nod his head while he removes your hand from his face. he’s staring at you like he’s scared you’ll leave again. his eyes go soft, his forehead rests against yours.

“i missed you so fucking much.” his lips are so close to yours but you don’t move and neither does he.

“i missed you too.”

“sarah said nothing happened at the party and you were okay but i swear to god if adam did-“ you swallow thickly at his words, heart clenching in panic.

you squeeze his hand in fear, “i don’t want to talk about it. i’ve moved on. we’re over and that’s all that matters.”

you can tell in the way he studies your face that he doesn’t want to drop the conversation but because you asked he does. he can’t risk running you off again. it would destroy him.

“okay. i’m just glad you’re home.” he brings you in for another hug. he arms are wrapped fully around you and his chin rests on the top of your head while he squeezes you tight, eyes closed.

this is the best he’s felt in the past month. it feels like the world starts turning again. like the days won’t be so dreadful. he can feel the hallow pit in his chest fading away every time he feels you breathe.

“why is there glass everywhere?”

jj’s eyes pop open and he winces while surveying the room, “uh… don’t worry about it.”

the glass on the floor may be broken, but he no longer was.

tagging my old gossip girl peeps <3: @hopelesssheaven @annasturn0lo @sheisntyou @onelonelybitch @marleymarleymarleymarley @pr3tty-pink @freyawhitexxx1 @aesthetic-lyss @voidangxls @kathryn-maraudersversion @hotvampdragon @jaydaaasworld @sunflouer04 @coriiiioooooo @xdbug-bob @rafe-cameronswife @idiotussupremus @grapejuice32 @dr3wstarkey @ineedtherapy1 @moustacherryismyhusband @davinashifts333 @barnesboo1967 @mirellef2001 @lillell467 @spenceatiny18 @obxshift @justsomerandompersonintheworld @thepopcultureaddict @justdamnpeachy @acidfeens @starsval @cali-888 @vivian-555 @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @moonywhisp3rs @jaes-last-words @itsmimi16 @crvcified-kinx @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @tbhashtonn @bbyg4rl

[ghouljams]

Idk honestly I could probably write a really in depth analysis on the prevalence of the blue/brown eyed Ghost debate, and what it means in terms of fandom politics especially when coupled with whether Ghost is a natural blond or a brunet, but I doubt anyone wants to hear about the political implications of people pushing most popular character in the series as aryan...

well, i for one would absolutely love to hear about it, but to be fair my degree is in media studies so fork found in kitchen

but tbh is it surprising that this kind of discourse (along with the whole Gaz “not being interesting enough” bs) is a prevalent discussion in a military propaganda game fandom? probably not lol

i also agree with your take that his eyes are brown as part of his character development and that it feeds into the complexity of the dynamics between them

anyway, don’t feel pressured to talk more about it if you don’t feel like it, just wanted to let you know that at least one person would read all of it lol

Much love!!

- Morph

Ghoul thoughts under the cut because I love media analysis and rambling

You hit the nail on the head by bringing up the Gaz "not being interesting" bullshit in relation to this entire thing because I absolutely see the crux of the brown vs blue eyed Ghost debate being a debate over which eye color is "better" which has inherently racist roots.

And as an immediate disclaimer: I am not saying that headcanoning Ghost with blue eyes makes you racist, I am not saying that headcanoning Ghost as blond makes you racist. I am simply pointing out that the way we view certain traits has been and will be filtered through a lens which requires an examination of our own values/beliefs.

It is so intensely interesting to me that in a fandom with a history of racial exclusion, for a media property that upholds whiteness as the pinnacle of virtue, that upholds western ideals and values as the height of moral purity, that places the good guys in a position where they can do NO WRONG despite having a higher torture rate than the bad guys, that a faceless character would be arbitrarily assigned blue eyes and blond hair despite textual/in game evidence to the contrary (yes there is evidence).

Now maybe I am just sensitive to certain things because I paid attention in school and know what a dog whistle sounds like, maybe that's all this is. However, within a fandom that seems to cater so hard to white women and has racist bullshit popping up every other week, I think... maybe we should examine why we want Ghost to have blue eyes.

I find that with faceless characters headcanons always exist within the hopes of making them more attractive. The idea that they would be ugly under the mask is antithetical to the wish fulfilment of fandom, so it makes sense that people would come up with a face for them. But then why are so many faceless characters made into skinny white blonds? Surely people would want some diversity- oh no, wait...

So we make Ghost blond. Alright, I mean he was a brunet in the comics and in the one scene where we see him take his mask off he's got dark hair, but I guess there were too many people with dark hair on the 141 already, so we gotta mix in a blond. But then why the blue eyes? He has blue eyes in the '09 comic, but in every cutscene we see in the '22 remake his eyes are brown. There's already two members of the 141 with blue eyes, so we don't need another one for diversity. So then why give Ghost blue eyes? If you want him to be closer to the '09 version why make him blond as well?

It's because people want to make him attractive, and in the dominant racial zeitgeist blue eyes are attractive. Which... I mean do I need to ask why? It's because they're a white european trait and people still hold white features as the attractive ones. Same with the blond hair. That's why WW2 Germany designated Blond hair and Blue eyes as the "true German" traits and created a whole class for them "aryan."

So what are the political implications of creating an aryan character out of the most popular character in the series (one who has minimal voice lines and minimal canon backstory in the reboot) within a fandom that regularly disregards/ignores the main black character? It's the continued upholding of whiteness and a specific kind of whiteness as more valuable than others. I'm not even going to say more valuable than blackness, I would say more valuable than other white traits. Why are blue eyes more attractive than brown eyes? Because they're more "white." Why is blond hair more attractive than brown? Because it's more "white." Why is a blond haired blue eyed Ghost such a popular headcanon despite evidence to the contrary? Because he's more white that way.

Now I like blond haired Ghost. I think it's an interesting addition to the color pallet of the team, and I like that it makes him look more like a ghost to be so washed out. But I think fandom has a habit of following what becomes popular within head canon spaces and making it fandom canon, and so many of us don't examine why a headcanon might pop up. Where did Ghost having blond hair come from? When did we all decide that was what we were going with? Why is it even a debate whether or not he has blue or brown eyes, and why does it matter?

If I said right now that Ghost 100% in canon of the '22 game has brown hair and brown eyes, would people get mad at me? And why? Why would it matter if he had brown hair and brown eyes? Does that make him less attractive? Why? Why does it matter? Why do you want him to have blond hair and blue eyes? Why do you care? What is the difference between blue and brown that makes it so important? For God's sake look at the societal conditioning that you've been put through! Why does it "make more sense" for him to have blue eyes if he's blond? Why?

Every single idea we have of what is and isn't attractive has been designed for us by the society we live in. Consider what ideals are being upheld when deciding that the "hot" character is blond and blue eyed while also discarding the black character. Being anti-racist and dismantling your own racial biases is a long and constant process, but it is so vitally important. And once we start examining those biases all sorts of shit starts popping up.

And before someone comes in and tells me it isn't that deep: maybe you should look at why you need it to not be that deep, does it make you uncomfortable to think that you might be feeding into these biases without realizing? And who does it benefit to have it not be "that deep" is there perhaps a group of people that would want you to not examine your preference for blue eyes and blond hair? Some sort of brotherhood perhaps...

[karaaaak]

Look, idk why, but ada gives me like neglected child vibes. Like the type of kid what would do anything so that their parent noticed them. Gave them a shred of their attention.

Don’t take my word on this, I can’t actually look up things abt this bc I have no WiFi rn.. this was written on a note at 4am okay.

Buttt, you can see my vision right? Like a small Ike child, that is Ada (which is just cute to imagine. Like I would die for art if them younger, official or not idc), going to extremes for attention for her parents. Whether that be purposely getting hurt, starting fights, making up things, going above and beyond to do everything right plus a little more, etc.

Maybe overtime she realized it was a lost cause and turned to external validation, like men for example. Men like Thomas (or Mr Tamerlane. I call him Thomas simple because I fucking hate him and I’m not calling him by Tamerlane).

Side note since I’m kinda talking abt families. This will probably end up a separate post in the future if I don’t come up with something against it

Also CW for abuse, since I am talking abt Pluto

Due to the Edgar Allen Pluto story the Pluto is based on, The Black Cat. I personally believe that Pluto has many other siblings.

I think that because in the story, The Black Cat, the narrator (which is the character plutos dad was based on), has many pet. His favorite of the pets being his black cat, Pluto. Overtime the Narrator becomes and alcoholic. He begins abusing his pets. For a long while he avoids hurting Pluto, since he is his favorite. But once night when he comes home from drinking Pluto scratches his leg, and in a drunken rage his cuts the cats eye out.

Much, much more happens in the story but that’s the part I’m focusing on.

Also adding kinda to this. After that incident in the story Pluto, the black cat, begins to avoid the narrator. Clinging onto the narrator wife (yes for some reason the narrator has a wife still. Even after murdering animals, honestly poor girl. She gets killed too btw..). I point this out bc it was odd to me that Plutos (nevermore Pluto) response to fear is to cling onto somebody for comfort. Most of the time this ends up being Duke, since he’s normally closer to him and trusts him. But I’m sure he does this with multiple people (I can’t think of them off the top of my head rn). This fear response could be because pre-death Pluto would do the same to his mother. He would come to her for safety and/or comfort.

(Side note in the side note. Later in The Black Cat, if I’m remembering correctly, I’ll have to fact check in the morning. The fact the cat, Pluto, starts constantly hanging around his wife, upsets the narrator. I think that’s is one of the reason that led him to killing the cat)

Anyway this post has been way too long, and I don’t think that “side note” is rlly a side note anymore. Anywho, as I say in all of my long posts like this. If you have any feedback, catch any mistakes, have tips for how I can improve my writing. Genuinely please do tell, whether that be through a reblog, comment, etc. I look at all my notifications so I highly doubt it will go unnoticed. If you like my long writings like this (which if you do, literally thank you so much 😭) then idk, maybe I’ll post more of these. If there’s anything you have questions abt, want be to try any cover (god that sounds like way to professional. I’m talking like I’m well know lmao) then do tell me! I love love reading people thoughts. Like it makes my whole day.

Well, that’s all I’ve got to say for now! I’ll post this in the morning and see if the algorithm picks it up. Thank you so so much for reading!