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༄.° summary “...candied plums, figs, oranges, and apricots with fine gold leaf, and more gold was being smoothed onto sweet biscuits of fried dough cut into witty shapes and drenched in spiced syrup and rosewater.”
Philip Kazan, Appetite.
♱ dynamics | as before; established dating, courtship, emotional intimacy, & spiritual alignment.
જ⁀➴ word count | 3946
ೃ࿐ warnings | bodily references, chi transfer, nothing sexual or overly detailed. credits to @/alexandra-monik-art for the aang fan-art !
𓆉⋆｡˚⋆❀ 🐚🫧𓇼 ˖° 𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐘’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 • last chapter — such a bittersweet feeling!! intentionally, the pacing becomes faster at the end — sorry if it feels rushed ☹️. enjoy reading my angels, thank you for your patience & support. 🤍 NAVIGATION FOR FIC
mist clings to atmosphere as children cling to their mothers.
it does not yield, lifting in only high places like the grandiose mountains or low leveled hills. it smooths against stone corridors, echoes around weathered pillars now light up in green moss.
mist smooths over a century of held breath.
becoming a foggy, humidified cloud upon the southern air temple’s courtyard. the avatar insisted on leading her there, as there were several courtyards with names she’d soon account to memory.
no salt lingered here.
for the mist is thin.
wispy like an anxious breath.
her tongue could taste an absence of salt, naia couldn’t have not admitted her lungs burnt. no, they tingled — almost pleasantly. a full breath without aftertaste. but strange. part of her waited for her nostrils to fill. fill with cracked coconuts on limestone ground, myrrh, and home.
aang sat settled.
his inner person seemed less restless her, less animated. he could sit and tune out. his legs are folded easily beneath him, shirtless despite the chilly air, his tattoos go greyish in pale skies. a muted light traces upon his spine — to the front of his hands — and downward towards his legs.
he had been utterly unbothered by this morning’s cold. it became innate now, naia assumed, a mental connection of withstanding biting air and relentless mist.
naia sat curious.
her bosom covered by a simple bandeau top, her body from the hips downward adorned in a simple skirt. her linen skirt proved suitable in harbor city’s heat and impractical for mountainous terrain.
goosebumps dazzled across her arms, even some of the fine hairs stood. she understood that bodily reaction well — trapping insulation. staying warm.
a fraction of her felt exposed. not from the lack of clothing, aang’s seen from her head’s crown down to most intimate places. instead, stillness came to expose her. her hands almost felt lifeless. her posture slackened. her eyes peered down at ants hiding in ground’s grooves.
“you’d place your hands like this.” aang demonstrates his palms, they rest upon his knees facing upward and open. accepting energy. releasing energy. “or like this.” his finger tips all touch now, a loose circle forms. “whichever works for you, lotus.”
“whatever feels natural,” he points to his sternum, “here.”
“i do not— i do not know what feels natural yet.”
her voice came about quieter. younger, unrefined.
naia knew spirituality.
altars, offerings, resting, prayers without ceasing.
“hey. that’s alright,” his hands clasped together briefly in his lap, noticing some part of her shuddered. perhaps it was the cold or from being observed in close proximity. “you don’t have to know you. ‘s why i’m teaching you.”
she imitated him, clasped hands.
some part of it felt deliberate, her skin brushing against itself too quickly is quite surreal. fake.
be less aware, naia tells herself.
“you wanna breathe from here,” he brings two fingers just below his navel, the lower abdomen where muscles flex. “not your chest. lower. let your stomach do the work.”
naia attempted — her breath caught shallowly in her chest. a habitual expression as her shoulders raised too. clipped breathing, the type she utilized when steadying a profuse bleed or threading needle to stitch skin together.
naia could hear her boyfriend’s smile as he spoke again, “you’re thinking too hard about it.”
“i am breathing wrong, aang.”
her sarcasm is laughable as it can be adoringly obvious.
“i’m not telling you to breathe wrong, nai. i’m telling you to breathe like you’re not being watched.”
“you are watching me?”
she proposed with full certainty even if her eyes were closed.
“‘m not actually.”
naia peeked briefly in his direction, sideways. aang’s were surprisingly closed, lashes dark against his even skin in muggy light. light that brought out an inner glow rather than pallor. his visage found true peace — peace she hasn’t seen herself even when he is asleep in the dead of night.
her chest ached. a good one.
like a flurry of heartbeats pounding at her ribcage.
he was unperformed. undone. unshed.
only in air temples or empty courtyards could he be found, places asking nothing of him but existence.
naia knew she must close her eyes too.
she pictured something beautiful.
void.
dark, formless void. only a warm obsidian colour could she feel and touch. where the chimes ring their voices differently, stone corridors echoes faint voices of wind, and a sense of completeness.
had this feeling been all-consuming before?
well, yes.
all-consuming, tearing her to pieces, her mind racing millions of miles until forced to halt and sit. sit down and accept reality, responsibility, methodology.
her hands did not beg for work. her hands twitched from today’s false memory and yesterday’s expectations.
deep down, she sought her all-consuming.
“you’re allowed to be still.” aang murmured. he’d felt the restlessness radiating off of her, trickling down her shoulders like a night sweat. “nothing is asking you for anything. don’t repress it.”
“it is foreign, aang.”
her breaths go shaky.
“i know.”
“breathe with your core.”
so she followed like he once said an hour ago now.
expanding low and not rising high. initially she felt artificial and clumsy. gradually, the breath settled somewhere between like most things learned to settle internally. no longer presenting a feigned expression, her body relearned a language naia forgot to speak.
“there.”
he continues speaking softly. feeling the shift of disorganized essence calming. “that’s it, lotus.”
curling low around their ankles is morning’s fallen mist permeating, the temple’s old structure repeated the same breathing rhythm and finally, naia let her shoulders drop by mere inches, unaware she’d been carrying them so high.
twenty and so rarely permitted the luxury of doing absolutely nothing — here became the one guided instead of guiding, letting herself, for once, be young. again.
𝐒𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒 𝐈𝐈. 𓍼ོ
damp earth saturates by the will of the riverbank beneath naia’s feet, she knelt at its edge. hoping fresh water could accept her in manners she’s learned to manipulate salt water by.
precious jewels dribble across her palm. grazing her fingers bases, outstretched in her hand the water ripples outward in concentric rings. pouring back inside, circulating low — undisturbed lotuses pout their frilly pink petals upward towards a white sun.
mountain air illuminates grey shadowing behind them, lotuses have different demands here, so does naia.
naia’s palms press against the water hoping to break through layers of untouched surface tension only broken by rain. this current moves strangely through her fingers, albeit parts of it was warm like home.
alas, naia couldn’t find resistance.
shells could not obscure her path, or a curious fish, nor stringy seaweed.
her fingers break more and more tension, curious now — her coils blush against her face when brushed in thin breeze, her head tilts sideways slightly. her curiosity is prompted as it does whenever studying a new herb.
her body endlessly waited for salt.
salt wouldn’t come.
aang stood just traces away, giving her room needed to test the water she’d asked about in wee liminal hours. he didn’t rush her, he rarely did. you couldn’t rush nature anyways.
“ready?” he asked once her crouch became lower. his tone low enough so their stillness remained constant.
“the water feels comfortable enough,” she mutters. half to herself and half to her lover. a part of her reminded her comfortable couldn’t describe something she never knew.
hopeful is the word.
hope she can tread through what thins beneath her hands and circulates upward to form clouds.
he went inside first.
the pooling river proved deeper than face value, the surface gave way sharper to his intrusion unlike the slope harbor city’s shoreline offered. his muscular body broke the surface tension cleanly, water lapping at his hips without protest and she watched the ripples chase outward, splashing every lotus.
naia, now seated at the edge, let her feet dip in carefully. her nerve endings brightened up with the simple stimulation.
she shimmied in after him with far less grace, as she’d been full of speculation once encountering cold temperatures.
aang appeared normal, his skin not even rouging in color.
a nervous huff escaping her when the temperature climbed her calves, up to her hips. cold.
his hands found her waist easily — steadying her sense of gravity as pulling her in would further break the build up. she needed complete focus.
once fully in, her toes searched for ground and found none — the pool concaves deeper here than the shallows she was used to — no sand found her, or scaly shells, and ragged seaweed; naia’s body drifting barely against his hold.
“we can move somewhere shallow,” he offered, feeling her shift trying to locate ground.
she nodded. she wasn’t childishly scared, only uncertain in where ground ended and water greeted. they moved further along the bank until her sense of gravity touched bottom again — the water settling somewhere around her last ribs, her torso exposed now to mountain air again.
her lungs filled more clearly with fresh, thin air.
“i’ve got you,” he murmured near her ear.
she nodded again, looking down at her own palms beneath the water’s surface — pale and marked with dark pigmentation across its folds, gently distorted by refraction.
he turned her until her back found his chest, and covered her smaller hands with his own the way he did in the dusk of the ocean weeks ago — looser lacing, he wasn’t holding.
as before aang guided her through similar basic motions, only adapted in the new biome. this water lacked tidal movement and her hands, out of habit, tried to pull and push — a broad, sweeping drag of water hadn’t caught. only slipping uselessly through her fingers.
“lighter,” he said against her hair. “glide your palms, lotus.”
she adjusted her approach as the motion smoothed itself internally and began revealing more clearly, finding its rhythm in between buried memory and instruction — some from years ago, some from current events, and so a thin column began to rise from the pool’s surface. wavering, yet rising steadily like a sapling uprooting from the ground.
aang transferred a large measure of chi into her hands, loosening his hold on her even moreso.
she felt her body recollect slowly, coursing intricately that the sensation felt sharper than she once remembered, and he withdrew immediately, apologetic in his silence.
naia’s breathing stabilized yet again, the faint throb in her heart quieted. she knew he’d overcorrected, offering next to nothing in energy, causing sweet laughter under her breath at his visible hesitation.
he is the avatar and also unsure of how much was too much.
her fingers looped a small ribbon of water around themselves, ethereally wrapping against her smooth knuckles, delighted despite herself.
“keep going,” he encouraged and without a glance naia read pride all over his face.
she bended the water to her will, sort of.
guiding a languid stream, it wrapped loosely around both their wrists forming a fragile circle, dewy water catching dusty moonlight unready in allowing piercing sunlight through the day.
she leaned back against him — breathing low the way he’d taught her at dawn, her chest rising from her stomach. a calm lulling sensation washed over naia again, pulsating within her throat, lower to her heart, humming along her solar plexus.
the water looped once around her fingers, released, flowing back. returning shimmery, charged energy back to where it belonged.
she repeated it again.
and again.
her form growing surer each time, less clumsy, the rivulet holding its shape seconds longer than the prior attempt with repetition.
“can i show you something?”
naia nodded.
her lover arose a thicker stream up, his hands over hers guiding with newer clarity, and she felt the transfer of chi burn a little brighter — he had claimed needing work on this aspect — yet he carried it with such grace. grace and ease.
one of his hands loosened from hers, rising from the back of her palm as she felt fingers place something dewy and swirling behind her ear.
an involuntary gasp came up out of naia, her fingers traced it and drew back. for it was water, coiled and warped into an unmistakable curve of a petal, resting delicately against her lush coils.
“will it hold its shape?” she questioned. also amazed by the distortion of light near her temple, unable to see it fully even with her peripheral vision.
maybe,
just maybe that was the art in it.
“for a little while.” his voice held hesitance in it. “still working on that part.”
alas, aang always admits his shortcomings.
he extracted it gently, placing the water-formed lotus into accepting smaller palms. naia’s clear lotus’s shape held on a moment longer against her skin before beginning to soften and blur.
“let it go,” he entrusted the flower’s deformation in her hands.
she redirected it instead.
a slow motion across her wrist, the shape unraveling into rivulets, water finding water again, dispersing back into the pool it came from.
𝐒𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒 𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𓍼ོ
the fourth hour of afternoon required filtered orange sunlight, always. gold slanting through the temple’s open corridors and catching dust motes not tended to.
sunlight grew peach and muddy yellow by this hour. fighting its way to perch on windows, shine on doves, and dazzled.. skin.
naia had ground the lapis down herself around noon — azurite mixed in for flair, yet her hands stained blue carried a scent of fresh damp earth. together folded both minerals into a paste taking on an oceanic, deep hue, thinned with water until it moved the way ink should. dragging against skin finely.
sunlight and all its pretty hues dazzled her hand golden browns and darker traces & the minerals a sea of blues & aang’s faded markings dusty cereulean.
aang sat before her on the floor, cross-legged, wearing nothing but his trousers drawn up past his shins, and a towel streaming across his lap.
his forearm already turned upward and held in naia’s gentle grasp.
“you must stay awake, aang.” she told him, mixing the paste once more with two fingers — the alchemy of those minerals created a barely-there but aromatic smell.
“’m awake.” his eyes were half-closed already.
liar.
she began at his arm and forearm — arrow’s edges softened by years of sun, wind, water, and earthly weathering working the way naia understood its effects worked on anything left outdoors too long.
her thinly carved brush traced the faded line first.
aang stayed still beneath naia’s artistry, a part of her understood what it cost him — the small tremors of a man unused to stillness, patience hardly worn thin around its edges unlike his inked skin.
when her paste thinned out and took on a lighter hue, he reached for the small stone bowl himself, poured more mineral powder, a few ounces of water, & stirred it steady. so steadily for a man half asleep.
he turned his other arm over without being asked, deciding working the brush along his own forearm would be wise while she moved to his back — a silent provision of labour. habitual and trusting.
his back took longer. naia would need to be careful along the muscles of his back, the line ran unbroken from the base of his neck down the length of his spine — a blue column without mistake.
she continued in vertical procession, stopping just where his hips met the small of aang’s back.
the healer worked slowly there, her palm sometimes flat against his unpainted skin between strokes. keeping both steady.
naia offered what wasn’t quite a question, “you don’t let others do this,”
“not for a while.” aang drowsiness creates a pause. “you’re different.”
she loosely smiled, her lips tracing upwards slightly. continuing as her cheeks grew warmer. naia couldn’t help but feel flattered.
his legs came next — the line curving up from his shins, following his hamstrings before disappearing beneath where modesty asked it to stop.
she worked modestly here, her palm steadying against his lower thigh, in response aang shifts his weight when needed, helpful in the way of someone determined not to be a burden even in rest.
lastly, his forehead.
knelt before him right between his legs, naia guides his chin up gently with two fingers, and painted the final arrow from the crown of his head down toward the middle of her lover’s forehead.
he didn’t blink through it. couldn’t, she supposed, not with her that close.
aang notes somewhere in the back of his head, that her hands are always warm.
when she finished, she didn’t pull back. she merely kissed his temple and smiled against it.
the ink needed to dry now. just a few hours. the dampness would become a thing of the past by nightfall.
they both knew it.
and her fingertips remained at his jaw, learning the shape of his face in a register that held neither lover nor healer fully, as somewhere along the way naia became both.
aang’s breathing slowed beneath her touch, sleep drawing ever closer as she whispered words of sublimely gentle things.
“my hands are stained blue.”
“we should bathe.”
“when it dries.”
𝐒𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒 𝐈𝐕. 𓍼ོ
night breathes a different glow absent of market lanterns, waves hoping to make sound against westward winds, and lacking mostly an obstructed sky of clouds. today — or should she say tonight, looking up provided a clearer sky illuminated by luminaries. little dots of bursting light.
naia knew stars. memorized them.
the crux, the hunter, the scorpion, and the lion most notably.
she’d taught her younger sister their names on her cove’s porch more nights than she could count by hand.
had traced constellations into her little sister’s palm, zulie would giggle, say she wanted to befriend them.
this sky produced different configurations. some clearer, some blurry, but arranged in a different light she’s never seen back home. a newer array of constellations.
she stood a moment, her arms loosely folded against the balcony’s stone railing. curls piled high into a bun she would soon regret in the morning quietly brush up against her forehead. a liquid murmur from her lips fall — “beautiful.”
eyes still fixated tonight’s twilit heaven.
a ‘new’ ritual.
she lit incense before bed — sandalwood emits a herbal essence together blended with myrrh. an orange flame standing shiny in the abyss of darkness.
aang watched her from where he sat at their bed’s edge. “you always do that,” he fondly recalls. in harbor city she’d light candles, here she lit incense sticks. “light something.”
“i like to think it settles my heart.”
“does it help? here.”
she considered the question longer than it originally warranted. “sometimes.”
he rose, came to stand behind her. his chin resting where her shoulder curves and kisses naia’s collarbones and without asking, his fingers found the clasp of her thin gold bracelet.
she let him work it loose, after her pearlescent thicker bangle, setting both onto the small table by her oils with a care that matched her own precision.
“you don’t wear much, lotus.”
aang pulls back slightly. admiring her wrist’s delicate architecture. “jewelry, i mean.”
“jewelry gets in the way of my work. earrings, mostly. that is all i keep.” he asks many questions, naia thought to herself, always has.
“hm.” his thumb brushed once over her bare wrist, where the bracelet’s mark still lingered faint against her skin. an indentation. “less to catch the light. just you.”
she huffed something close to a laugh, though soft in its delivery. “aang..” her body turns, casting her eyes upon him.
he kissed her first. to have gotten this far is a gift, he thinks.
aang’s hand still loose at her wrist.
she kissed him back, feeling the day’s stillness buzz around her like an incessant honeybee, an exhaustion unlike her usual tiredness — fulfillment could’ve been a better word.
their lips continue meeting. greeting. embracing.
a fulfillment which came from being present all day without her armor of tasks embedded into her body, without a patient’s wrist to set or a garden needing cultivation.
he pulled back only to press another kiss choicefully softer against her forehead’s middle, unintentional in its mirroring where his own arrow ran freshly inked and drying.
“you’re quiet tonight, nai,” he murmured.
“i have rested well.” she said it plainly, a small confession dressed as observation. “i recall someone begging me to.”
“you got me.”
“i know.”
he didn’t press further. he learned with her a principle of allowing emotions to set and sink.
she climbed into bed first, the sheets cool and becoming familiar beneath her weight. possibly linen from its smoothness, or wool in its mass.
aang followed after blowing out the last candle with pursed lips and incense’s thread of smoke curling as it succumbed. toward that same unfamiliar sky still littered in stars she could not name.
he settled behind her, arm draped loose over her waist as established one late evening.
“goodnight, lotus.”
“goodnight,” she breathed, already halfway in sleep’s direction, “my love.”
𝐒𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒 𝐕. 𓍼ོ
liminal spaces could only be accessed whenever the soul got quiet. there’s this parting between consciousness and unconsciousness — fragile and disembodied.
dusk swirls around, quietly lulling naia elsewhere not far but not close between aang’s arms. she could feel the separation.
or perhaps — her brain fought in the pursuit called over analysis. the over analysis of resting to be exact.
rest, she mumbles.
alas no mesmeric feeling or enrapturing loss of control can describe it, no.. only it is simply closing her eyes and falling back.
after all, she can still feel aang’s nearby arm that secures her tightly against him. like a reverie, like a soft lullaby carrying no malice, like glassy eyes shedding needed tears.
relax, she tells her mind.
“i love you.” his lips murmur, pulling together three inconspicuous words. something tells her aang’s words are quite inconspicuous, but in wee hours those words become audible. audibly clear. loud even.
she’s no longer asleep nor lulled into a false sense of dream-like certainty. an untouched part, deep within, buried and wrapped in different emotions — care, hope, warmth — reminds her,
of the act of loving in return.
“i love you too.”
reciprocally loving in return.
𝐒𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒 𝐕𝐈. 𓍼ོ
bodies keep score, like a floraison as her fingers trail without thinking toward the pond’s curve, an old and practiced motion possibly learned in early years — manipulating water, her proprioception registers yet again.
and she isn’t startled by any of it. matter of fact, naia belongs here, belongs where oceans become diaphanous, flora is vibrant and varied in frequency, & the air is fresh.
she thinks it’s fresh.
but air changes. takes form. enchants. orients.
orients before sound, before sight, before touch like the water beneath her and spirits, she feels it.
a presence drawing close — would closer even cover how near it’s become?
footsteps follow after.
step. step. step.
his feet barely press against the grass that shoots up and blooms meadow-green.
he’s steady. always steady. sometimes lively.
the weight of the ground barely shifts now and he’s stopped moving.
a part of her knows he’d never been moving after all. for it would be impolite to move during conversation; honeyed words of appreciation fall from her lips, and the frogs croak.
she knows who it is before she turns.
she doesn’t look yet, not yet. she chooses to hear him first — he was finishing his sentence after all, their conversation had not traveled toward any newer details naia needed to retain.
Any idea when you will be updating “So Very Had To Let Go”? Been loving the series so far ❤️❤️
hello nonnie dearest !! i am indefinitely planning to keep on working on svhtg, just don’t know what to do with joe & daph’s story at the moment — hence why i’ve branched into other characters, people, etc.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
warnings ,, fluff, established relationship, caleb just being the sweetest bf ever, use of the pet name ‘angel’ & ‘babe’, reader is a makeup influencer and easily flustered, allusions in taking place months after the love island competition ♡
( mina talks! ) been working on this concept for a while now; hope you all enjoy!! also fun fact, this is also my makeup routine that i do everyday ( but in deeper shades than mentioned ) ♡
˖ ୨୧ “hi guys!” you waved in front of your camera with a huge smile, as you typically did with all of your videos. “i’m back with another get ready for you all, but i’m not alone!”
your dog, venus coincidentally barks then before she was immediately brought into view via your boyfriend, his messy hair implying the fact that he’d just woken up from a nap.
“yes, for the first time in goddamn ever, my beloved boyfriend has finally taken at my bribes and pleas and has allowed me to make him my protege.” “angel, what the fuck?”
“he’s letting me do his makeup today, guys!!” you cheer happily, venus jumping down from caleb’s arms as he sighs out. “after weeks of blackmailing him with seafood boil trips!”
you gesture for him to come over with a huge smile on your face, your boyfriend having no choice but comply, a tired smile stretching on his own face as he came over to stand in front of the screen, waving at the phone. you hand him your makeup band to put on before immediately grabbing at your makeup bag, picking out your sunscreen to show at the phone screen.
“first we’re gonna prep his skin with some sunscreen,” you slather on layers across his face, his face twitching from the cold feeling before he relaxed as you massaged the lotion in.
“at least look a little excited! c’mon, smile babe!”
caleb just laughs lowly as you reached in for your primer next. “i’m gonna use my elf grip jumbo primer now on him.”
“guys i swear, this stuff is actually holy grail; like you all need to rush in stores and get this.” you praise before taking note of your boyfriend staring at you intensely.
“you’re staring.” “because you’re pretty.”
you feel your cheeks begin to heat before you scoffed out a laugh, still lathering on the rest of the primer. “flattery won’t get you out of this one, cowboy.”
“cause god forbid a guy compliments his girlfriend.” caleb sighs as you continued on with your daily makeup routine on him, grabbing your too faced blush to amount onto his cheeks, along with your fenty beauty diamond highlighter to stroke on his cheeks.
all of which caleb couldn’t help but smile as he watched you talk to the camera on your steps animatedly. he loved nothing more than seeing you do something you’ve loved for months now.
“okay, now i’m gonna curl his lashes and use,” you collect the mascara sitting across the bathroom counter. “my essence lash princess mascara. i’m using my brown one since his lashes are brown.”
“close your eyes.” you instructed softly, lifting under his chin as caleb blinked his eyes closed, allowing you to curl each of his long lashes before using the mascara.
“i hate how you have longer lashes than me,” you complain, a teasing grin tugging against his lips as you dragged his chin down further. “and lean down more! you’re too tall.. with your 6 foot headass..”
“has anyone ever told you you’re bossy as heck?” “please; you love it.” you counter, earning another laugh from caleb as he nonetheless leaned down more for you as you applied more coats of mascara to his lashes before showcasing him to the camera.
“so this is how he looks currentlyyy!” you emphasised with your hands as though you were showcasing something. “i think he looks cute; how about you?”
“you know i’m happy if you’re happy, angel.” caleb shrugs, watching you clap your hands excitedly as the heat from your cheeks earlier had returned before you went into filling in his brows with your brow pencil, grabbing your charlotte tilbury lip pencil for his lips and eyeliner and finishing the look off with your pink dior lip oil for his lips as well.
“and this is the finished look!” you beam, venus barking happily from below as caleb revealed himself to all your future viewers whilst you just squealed happily. “like doesn’t he just look soooo bonita guys??”
“whatever you say, babe.” “oh, i knew you’d like it!” you cheer happily, planting a chaste kiss across caleb’s cheek before going to film for your outro.
and all whilst your boyfriend couldn’t help but watch you in complete adoration.
The son of a Mexican national fatally shot by an Immigration and Customs Enforcement officer in Houston says he was a hardworking father who
This shit breaks my heart. I can empathize with this as the daughter of a man who worked construction and struggled for years without legal status. Whatever the situation may have been, Lorenzo Salgado Araujo should not have died, he should not have been shot by ICE. The amount of people that died as of March of this year was 46 while in custody of ICE or in detention facilities. This has been the highest number that has been seen in two decades. THIS SHIT SHOULD NOT BE HAPPENING!!
in other news lets talk about the black boy who was killed by his white 'friends' and was fount by the cajun navy in the water next to the island he was at for the fourth. and how his friends lied about having his phone AND what he was wearing..
bombshell!cameron cade. 𖤓 stealer, ladies and gentlemen
𖤓 bombshell!cameron cade. twenty-seven. starting quarterback of the saviors. many will say that his suave and charm will have you thinking you fell in love with a prince. the way he lightly and respectfully holds a woman’s hand during a conversation, or the way his reserved demeanor changes for the sake of whoever he chats with. tight-lipped expression turned to all of his pearly whites showing; his broad shoulders relaxing as he lets himself ease into the villa; eyes of amber with speckles of brown crinkling as he chuckles at the joke that was just made
𖤓 bombshell!cameron cade. a sweet talker, captivating, and can talk a woman out of even forgetting who’s she coupled up with. the way his words string together as he converses feels like a magnet pulling you towards him; as much as you try to fight it, you just can’t. going from compliments about you to the way his eyes hold yours; sharp, cold, supposed to keep people away, but it keeps you closer to him. you can’t even look down without the feeling of his eyes telling you to look at him
𖤓 bombshell!cameron cade. not scared of any of the boys cause he came here with a purpose, with a selfish purpose at that, to steal and find a girl. he pulls any and everyone for a chat, girls and guys, to get a feel of the villa. Immediately, he informs the boys that he wanna take their girl and maybe fall in love. aye, don’t hate the player, hate the game
𖤓 bombshell!cameron cade. makes mini dates for the girls he’s interested in. he wants to show the girl(s) that he wants to take their connection seriously, and show her that she deserves to be considered and seen. during that date, he is listening attentively and getting a feeling of how the girl feels, not just about him but also about romance, love, her views on things that shape her
𖤓 bombshell!cameron cade. respectful, but a bit physical. he ups the levels of physical touch, following after your comfort level; caresses your leg as you chat with him, brings himself closer by holding onto your finger, at times tempted to lay his head on your lap and listen to you talk, but as for now, distance and respect for your couple !!
𖤓 bombshell!cameron cade. extremely transparent on who he wants and has no issue going after her. whether it be bringing her breakfast before her couple does, heightening his charm to woo her, or even taking her up to a more secluded location, just have her couple be a bit antsy. he’s already a competitive man as it is due to his job, fighting for the girl he desires and wants is nothing to him
𖤓 bombshell!cameron cade. recoupling night feels like a night of reassurance and poetry spoken to you under the moonlight. the way he describes you makes you feel like the only girl in the world and always winks at you before he starts his speech. dare i say after casa, he started adding, “lady in my life” before announcing your name
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𝒊𝒊. 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 ꫂ᭪݁ pure fluff, probably a few curse words (likely abbreviated), suggestive teasing, reader is partially dumb blonde coded, & everyone sounds chronically online.
@ y/nsdigitaldiary como se dice… this is my super niche spam acct with only baddies on it 👀👀
( 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗐 . . . )
⤷ @ melaspinterest “esta es mi cuenta de spam de súper nicho” yw queen 🥹
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ melaspinterest u speak spanish ?
→ @ newhampshiregrimreaper @ y/nsdigitialdiary Did we forget Melanie is Dominican
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ newhampshiregrimreaper oouuu shi i didn’t know that !!
⤷ @ whiteboyoftheyear Guys what does “oouuu shi” mean 🤗
→ @ holiertrinity @ y/nsdigitialdiary i thought we said only baddies on this account :(
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ holiertrinity he’s the exception i guess
→ @ holiertrinity banish him with haste
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ holiertrinity okay shakespeare i see u
→ @ normalgirlcoded thou shouldst remove him now..
→ @ holiertrinity @ normalgirlcoded see this is the baddies we keep on the spam acct. aniya ily.
→ @ normalgirlcoded @ holiertrinity mwah mwah
⤷ @ corbingpt @ core five ! whole house mad 😂😂😂😂 caleb my dawg is THE baddest
→ @ holiertrinity who is u feeling like?? u can go with her man too
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ corbingpt matter of fact, who let u in ?
→ @ corbingpt @ y/nsdigitialdiary i hacked the mainframe 😤
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ melaspinterest come get ur situationship
@ y/nsdigitaldiary picked up my hobbies again cus a girl couldn’t sew in the villa (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
( 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗐 . . . )
⤷ @ whiteboyoftheyear Look at how creative my girl is 🥹
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ whiteboyoftheyear awhh stop it 😽😽
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ whiteboyoftheyear come over ??
→ @ whiteboyoftheyear @ y/nsdigitaldiary I’ll come at six-thirty, you want anything?
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ whiteboyoftheyear just uuuu ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ (pick up white thread at michael’s, i need to fix a collar on one of ur shirts)
→ @ whiteboyoftheyear @ y/nsdigitaldiary (Will do 🫡🫡!)
⤷ @ corbingpt tell melanie to pick up her damn phone
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ corbingpt u don’t even sound like corbin. reveal urself.
→ @ corbingpt @ y/nsdigitialdiary we both know who i am.
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ corbingpt no we really don’t, i’ll let that ai bitch on my spam but sincere u know damn well i blocked ur manipulative, selfish, pathetic, disloyal, weirdo ass so do everyone a favor including me & log out 💝
→ @ whiteboyoftheyear @ y/nsdigitaldiary I lowkey hope that heart was sarcastic ☹️
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ whiteboyoftheyear time of irritation : 10:44 pm .
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ whiteboyoftheyear caleb sweetheart i am sarcastic sooooo sarcastic 💝💝💝
→ @ whiteboyoftheyear @ y/nsdigitaldiary Were those hearts sarcastic too 😓?
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ whiteboyoftheyear ik i should’ve kept this spam baddies only.
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ whiteboyoftheyear & no, idiot. turn off ur autocaps while you’re at it 🤍
⤷ @ newhampshiregrimreaper Let’s do a poll because Zach’s being a fucking cunt again!!!! Break up? or break UP.
→ @ brycesheadband @ newhampshiregrimreaper break up so my gorgeous baby trin is not staying up till midnight on the phone with you crying abt dada zach..
→ @ newhampshiregrimreaper @ brycesheadband Fuck you. Calling my man dada in the same breath you call Trinity gorgeous is outrageous.
→ @ brycesheadband (reply to himself) ! oh who would’ve said such a thing? how rude.
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ brycesheadband ‘dada’ are we serious ? don’t get added to my block list. also kayda please break up.
→ @ kcundercover @ newhampshiregrimreaper square up instead shi i’d watch
→ @ corbingpt @ kcundercover tf? kayda is not a parlay
→ @ holiertrinity @ kcundercover i hate agreeing w corbin ☹️ +++ kayda break up with zach and marry me
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ holiertrinity trin i’m unsure of corbin’s acct even being himself & a polycule with bryce and kay sounds a HOT mess
@ y/nsdigitaldiary he da real art & he paints me like michelangelo 😽
( 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗐 . . . )
⤷ @ normalgirlcoded bby what does the caption imply
→ @ captaincarlsaveahoe @ whiteboyoftheyear CALEBBBB 😭 Can we convince the girls to go on a double date?
→ @ whiteboyoftheyear @ captaincarlsaveahoe I had the same idea no way!
→ @ captaincarlsaveahoe @ whiteboyoftheyear Great minds think alike 😇
→ @ whiteboyoftheyear @ captaincarlsaveahoe y/n reporting from caleb’s acc, aniya isn’t getting her slippers back because they’re not HERS. hers are a lighter shade.
𝒊𝒊. 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 ꫂ᭪݁ pure fluff, probably a few curse words (likely abbreviated), suggestive teasing, reader is partially dumb blonde coded, & everyone sounds chronically online.
@ y/nsdigitaldiary como se dice… this is my super niche spam acct with only baddies on it 👀👀
( 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗐 . . . )
⤷ @ melaspinterest “esta es mi cuenta de spam de súper nicho” yw queen 🥹
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ melaspinterest u speak spanish ?
→ @ newhampshiregrimreaper @ y/nsdigitialdiary Did we forget Melanie is Dominican
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ newhampshiregrimreaper oouuu shi i didn’t know that !!
⤷ @ whiteboyoftheyear Guys what does “oouuu shi” mean 🤗
→ @ holiertrinity @ y/nsdigitialdiary i thought we said only baddies on this account :(
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ holiertrinity he’s the exception i guess
→ @ holiertrinity banish him with haste
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ holiertrinity okay shakespeare i see u
→ @ normalgirlcoded thou shouldst remove him now..
→ @ holiertrinity @ normalgirlcoded see this is the baddies we keep on the spam acct. aniya ily.
→ @ normalgirlcoded @ holiertrinity mwah mwah
⤷ @ corbingpt @ core five ! whole house mad 😂😂😂😂 caleb my dawg is THE baddest
→ @ holiertrinity who is u feeling like?? u can go with her man too
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ corbingpt matter of fact, who let u in ?
→ @ corbingpt @ y/nsdigitialdiary i hacked the mainframe 😤
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ melaspinterest come get ur situationship
@ y/nsdigitaldiary picked up my hobbies again cus a girl couldn’t sew in the villa (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
( 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗐 . . . )
⤷ @ whiteboyoftheyear Look at how creative my girl is 🥹
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ whiteboyoftheyear awhh stop it 😽😽
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ whiteboyoftheyear come over ??
→ @ whiteboyoftheyear @ y/nsdigitaldiary I’ll come at six-thirty, you want anything?
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ whiteboyoftheyear just uuuu ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ (pick up white thread at michael’s, i need to fix a collar on one of ur shirts)
→ @ whiteboyoftheyear @ y/nsdigitaldiary (Will do 🫡🫡!)
⤷ @ corbingpt tell melanie to pick up her damn phone
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ corbingpt u don’t even sound like corbin. reveal urself.
→ @ corbingpt @ y/nsdigitialdiary we both know who i am.
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ corbingpt no we really don’t, i’ll let that ai bitch on my spam but sincere u know damn well i blocked ur manipulative, selfish, pathetic, disloyal, weirdo ass so do everyone a favor including me & log out 💝
→ @ whiteboyoftheyear @ y/nsdigitaldiary I lowkey hope that heart was sarcastic ☹️
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ whiteboyoftheyear time of irritation : 10:44 pm .
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ whiteboyoftheyear caleb sweetheart i am sarcastic sooooo sarcastic 💝💝💝
→ @ whiteboyoftheyear @ y/nsdigitaldiary Were those hearts sarcastic too 😓?
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ whiteboyoftheyear ik i should’ve kept this spam baddies only.
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ whiteboyoftheyear & no, idiot. turn off ur autocaps while you’re at it 🤍
⤷ @ newhampshiregrimreaper Let’s do a poll because Zach’s being a fucking cunt again!!!! Break up? or break UP.
→ @ brycesheadband @ newhampshiregrimreaper break up so my gorgeous baby trin is not staying up till midnight on the phone with you crying abt dada zach..
→ @ newhampshiregrimreaper @ brycesheadband Fuck you. Calling my man dada in the same breath you call Trinity gorgeous is outrageous.
→ @ brycesheadband (reply to himself) ! oh who would’ve said such a thing? how rude.
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ brycesheadband ‘dada’ are we serious ? don’t get added to my block list. also kayda please break up.
→ @ kcundercover @ newhampshiregrimreaper square up instead shi i’d watch
→ @ corbingpt @ kcundercover tf? kayda is not a parlay
→ @ holiertrinity @ kcundercover i hate agreeing w corbin ☹️ +++ kayda break up with zach and marry me
→ 𝜗𝜚 @ holiertrinity trin i’m unsure of corbin’s acct even being himself & a polycule with bryce and kay sounds a HOT mess
@ y/nsdigitaldiary he da real art & he paints me like michelangelo 😽
( 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗐 . . . )
⤷ @ normalgirlcoded bby what does the caption imply
→ @ captaincarlsaveahoe @ whiteboyoftheyear CALEBBBB 😭 Can we convince the girls to go on a double date?
→ @ whiteboyoftheyear @ captaincarlsaveahoe I had the same idea no way!
→ @ captaincarlsaveahoe @ whiteboyoftheyear Great minds think alike 😇
→ @ whiteboyoftheyear @ captaincarlsaveahoe y/n reporting from caleb’s acc, aniya isn’t getting her slippers back because they’re not HERS. hers are a lighter shade.
⋆ ͘ . ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 𝑠𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠 rekindling passion with an old flame often poses as derogatory, sincere makes it picking his poison at learning you’re the same girl. sweet at the edges, wanting what he cannot provide underneath.
⋆ ͘ . ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 hurt, comfort, sensual themes without sexual acts (eroticism), fluff, kisses used as an analogy, & unstable romantic dynamics.
⋆ ͘ . ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 𝑑𝑦𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑐𝑠 situationship!sincere can’t let go, nostalgia-led interactions, bittersweet feelings, rekindling feelings, and overall the act of loving someone who’s fixed image of you happens to never change.
ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐ ྀི 𓈒 my di𝚊𝚛𝓎 𓈒 ୨୧ ! masterlist — sincere’s lowk evil in this just as irl, a shame his facecard gone to waste. # freemelanie & enjoy reading angels 🤍
❛ you’re holding me and holding back ❜
— i know you, faye webster.
╰┈➤ situationship!sincere, who swears up and down late night texts when his mind clouds over in a drunken haze, is the appropriate state for communication. a common saying? a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts. inclining you to listen earnestly, scraping whatever you can between the lines of his babble.
𓋜 his tone pierces through the line and only your phones act as barriers — his cries are gentle upon hearing but sting as a warning. you’re a coward.
𓋜 insincerity despite your lover situationship’s name is ironic. enough irony bubbling bitterness behind your sternum, void & null promises, reminiscence disguised as recollection, dreaming for touch unavailable to him.
𝒾. “why do you only call me when you’re drunk,” your lips pull together, almost taut. the vaseline sheen still plastered from your skincare routine begun forming a bitter, rosé taste. “drunk and lonely on top of that.”
𝒾𝒾. “‘cause y’the only one who pick up.”
❛ [i’ll] quiet down if it’s what you want ❜
— i know you, faye webster.
╰┈➤ situationship!sincere, whose kisses tentatively trace your lips. his kisses are sopping in intention, his eyes reman opened — observing each and every figure etched upon that face he’s grown to love as he desires, his nose brushes yours. his kisses are difficult. but darling.
╰┈➤ situationship!sincere, presses his oral affections everywhere. any piece of body attached to you is touched, soaked expensive cologne clogging your mind into oblivion. oblivion whitens at the second. brightening the corners of those big, unassuming eyes he’s derived innocence in. he often wonders how many kisses it’ll take to break down what he can build.
𓋜 his hand engulfed your mouth and you could smell the aromatics he presses at his pulse points. throat, inner elbow, forearm, wrist — repeat three times. three is your lucky number.
𓋜 three. one oblivion. two glides of his tongue against your skin. three jitters crawling up to capture your spine.
𝒾. “you look like you jus’ saw heaven.”
𝒾𝒾. “sin—sincere.”
𝒾𝒾𝒾. “yea. say my name.”
❛ so tell me what you're looking for,
is it a picture-perfect girl ❜
— i know you, faye webster.
╰┈➤ situationship!sincere, who is back to weaponizing convoluted rhetoric whenever he feels his ship steers down south. you quip a sentence laced in wit and justification, hardly ever wrong with him. he knows you’ve bared your heart in all ways that matter. obtusely speaking, he dodges and deflects before wrapping it in a guise of sudden affection.
╰┈➤ situationship!sincere, then continues with his sudden affections which bring out a sway as a pendulum does. back and forth. side to side. left-right and all over again. often times you visualize yourself as the metal ball centered — wherever the common trend is, you follow.
𓋜 poetic speech or not, sincere found a way of fitting: sensitive, figuratively, ‘all roads lead to rome,’ grandiose, and one too many filler words in his (what it seemed to be) soliloquy. a soliloquy? seriously. tears dampen your face from beneath eyebags until reaching your jaw. he has the audacity of a man, truly. a man who cannot see through those luscious curls that he is perpetually wrong.
𓋜 acknowledging he’s wrong is easy, sitting in his wrongness and creating change is easier — considering there would be less angst sitting between you. but sincere is a man not of his word but his deed. so, you watch him ‘swallow’ his pride.
𓋜 his shoulders turn in slightly, his elbows rest upon his knees, his posture no longer releases an air of certainty rather superficial trepidation. volatility. and worrisome feeling.
𓋜 drunken babbles often return in sober vision as cowardice shifts its path. good luck.
𝒾. “sincere.”
𝒾𝒾. “beloved.”
𝒾𝒾𝒾. “somebody’s going to tell you one day — your metaphors are not only confusing. but frustrating. so frustrating. and i’ve sat here, again and again. i feel stupid. i have made questionable decisions when it comes to you; i think letting you in again was one of those.”
𝒾𝑣. “i let you in just as much as you let me in. you can’t just — turn the tables once shit hits the fan. we’ve gone through this before, baby. i’d do it again and again, til’ i get it right. my communication isn’t the problem here—”
𝑣. “sincere. you’ve lost my point.”
𝑣𝒾. “what’s your point?”
𝑣𝒾𝒾. “you can’t communicate. you deflect. you hurt my feelings and expect false promises to make me feel better.”
𝑣𝒾𝒾𝒾. “you’re entitled to feel that way.”
❛ i know
i know
i know
you ❜
— i know you, faye webster.
╰┈➤ situationship!sincere, finds pleasure in comfort. comfort isn’t foreign in your once reawakened situation, in fact comfort became steadfast. expected even. waking up to you tucked into his side, bonnet askew, edges peeking through yet frizzed despite their meticulous styling hours ago, and a detail he might carry forever — your eyes. unending, ruthless in stripping him down. drowning in sincerity with how they’re shaped, molded so innocently with lashes that flutter. he wants comfort. he seeks comfort. comfort lies in you. fuck.
╰┈➤ situationship!sincere, comfort never lies in his bed anymore. meaningless sex, late night calls unanswered, texts left on delivered or at times discarded before typed. his body aches at knowing you’ve left. you’ve left. not metaphorically, not in idioms, not in irony. morning calls quietly, dew drops slide off windows, birds chirp melodies, and yet his love still left.
╰┈➤ situationship!sincere, peels back old promises you once counted him on for. leaving former connections behind, oriented on today and not yesterday’s woes. yesterday’s woes still accept him though. he plasters it on his story through borderline lackluster soft launches. was he masquerading? or an old picture of … ? is this the picture-perfect girl?
╰┈➤ situationship!sincere, chronically adds insult to injury. he is free in posting whatever rekindled flame no. 2, but posting a floral bouquet from he who shall not be named is worthy of crime. quite frankly, three months have passed, towns separate you, lifestyles shifted — nor could he find comfort in you.
𓋜 instagram ! @ 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗿𝗲.𝗿𝗵𝗲𝗮,
has messaged you in sleep mode.
𝒾. @ 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗿𝗲.𝗿𝗵𝗲𝗮 • replied to your story ⟶
❝thought we had sum special, you moved on hella fast❞
❝ik you saw ts❞
❝knowing you, you gon respond in the morning❞
❝imy❞
❝we used to be good tg and i don’t want you forgetting that.❞
❝i know you. you’re coming back.❞
❛ i’ll still remember all i’ve learned ❜
— i know you, faye webster.
╰┈➤ situationship!sincere, who can pin point to the minute he met you. you were above every standard, unlike every standard. different. the swoony eyes speaking words he once felt deaf to, lips tumbling magnetism from how you articulate words femininely. securely. presenting an essence nearly magical — like a ray of shiny light as a waning moon cried against it. you were sweet.
𓋜 a tiny set of stairs before a path to a porch is never the most ideal party seat, but in a room of aromatic smoke, dim lighting, and alcohol which reeks. he could find solace in talking to you — a friend guided him towards the mystery he could never solve. how to find something sweet at the edges?
𝒾. “you’re different, sincere. honestly, i never use this word, but you’re refreshing. you just — you make me feel a feeling i can’t name. i really like you’re maturity, how you talk, and i—”
𝒾𝒾. “could say the same about you, beloved.”
𝒾𝒾𝒾. “beloved?”
𝒾𝑣. “i’m an old soul. beloved suits you anyways, you got this special thing. makes you beloved.”
୨୧ THINKING ABOUT 💭
៸៸ modulo yuuji as your boyfriend . . .
୨୧ ៸៸ boyfriend yuuji is very physical without even realizing it. a hand on your lower back whenever he walks by, fingers brushing yours before holding your hand, as if testing the waters.
୨୧ ៸៸ boyfriend yuuji will bite you. not hard, not out of anger, just purley out of affection. random, soft little nips, usually when you’re teasing him or getting a little too cute for his sake... same energy as pulling you closer or hiding his face in your neck! he just needs to do something with all that loving he has for you.
if you complain, yuuji will just laugh and say it was just a “baby bite”. but when you start frowning he immediately caves, thumb rubbing over the faint teeth marks, soft little apology murmured against your skin, pressing a quick kiss, batting his eyelashes up at you to earn your forgiveness.
୨୧ ៸៸ boyfriend yuuji apologizes all the time. soft, repeated “sorry”s into your shoulder. mostly for things that aren’t even his fault… things you don’t fully understand, but comfort him nontheless.
୨୧ ៸៸ boyfriend yuuji doesn't sleep very well, or very often. waking up in the middle of the night from vivid dreams of the past . . . but he relaxes everytime he wakes up to you by his side.
୨୧ ៸៸ boyfriend yuuji whose a retired puppy at heart. he’s still soft at his core, just… a bit slower now. he gets weirdly proud over small achievements: “i fixed it!” “told you i could make it better!” and he looks at you like he’s waiting for that soft praise.
on top of that, yuuji isn’t fond of loud environments anymore. though he now refers quiet places, late night walks, soft music in the background . . . the small things that ease the soul.
୨୧ ៸៸ boyfriend yuuji will get random bursts of energy out of nowhere. you could be eased up on the couch, and suddenly he’s trying to wrestle you or pulling you off. “c’mon, get up.” “for what yuyu???” “i dunno yet!”
yuuji also loves to pick you up randomly , showing off his strength — simply laughing his ass off as you beg him to put you back down.
୨୧ ៸៸ boyfriend yuuji whose still yuuji . . . just more yuuji than ever.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
i pray everyone gets their collective chaos together once fb season rolls back around, the tag is a mess yet again & we know what tag i’m referring to !
i know i'm technically on a break but... the concept of joe x british football player... (as in like football ⚽️)... perhaps she plays for chelsea in the women's team and gets transferred to a team in the us... let me do some research and see if this is plausible, i'll report back
