#their eyes are 2x bigger?

[onlineufo]

nothing makes me more mad than kpop fansite pictures

#why dont they have any skin texture #their eyes are 2x bigger? #they look ghostly #like just watch anime if those are the traits you want in someone you invest that much time in #theyre humans fr with pores pimples that sweat and do gross human things like the rest of us #making people think otherwise catalyzes body dysmorphia extreme self consciousness and insecurity #but self hatred sells i guess #mi writes #kpop

[taeminfucks]

the difference in thier faces is nuts, did sm get out the turbo photoshop for karina or something???

#mine #her eyes are 2x bigger than seulgis and she has 50% less jaw

[s-coquette]

Three’s a Crowd (2/2)

summary: Your loving boyfriend Johnny is trying to force Simon into your relationship without your consent.

warnings: slight dubcon/noncon, piv sex, anal sex, angst?? coercion

word count: 3.8k

part one

The feeling of those same honeyed brown eyes staring at you was unnerving. They were beautiful, like hot freshly brewed coffee swirling in your mug. In any other situation you would’ve complimented them, but right now you wanted to rip them out of his head.

“Simon! Hello… What are you doing here?”

You say with a forced smile, almost gritting your teeth in annoyance. Any time you heard his name you thought about what Johnny made you say while climaxing, maybe that was his cruel way of making you get used to the thought of him?

His brooding form stood in front of you at your doorway, intimidating you in your own apartment.

“Jus’ came in t’ see my boy.”

Your forced smile dropped the second he uttered those words, his boy? It almost made you want to scoff. You could see the smirk tug beneath his black mask, the bastard was enjoying making you jealous.

As you opened your mouth to rudely shoo him away and lie that Johnny was out,

“Hen.. Why are y’ out of bed-“

Johnnys tired voice came from behind you, turning around and finding him in only his briefs. You tried to shoo him away and tell him to get dressed but nothing went through his sleepy head.

“Who is tha- Simon? Steamin’ Jesus! I ken’ you’d come by.”

You were unceremoniously shoved out of the doorway while your boyfriend chatted with the big bastard. Throwing your hands up in defeat you retreated to the bedroom to sulk and get dressed to go to the store, like you and Johnny had planned the night before.

Throwing on one of Johnnys gray hoodies and a simple pair of black leggings, you sifted through the sheets to find your lost phone. Scowling when you heard your boyfriends loud laughs, wanting to rip your hair out when he invited Simon inside.

The bedroom door slamming open startled you, turning around to find Johnny grinning like he won a prize, still in his underwear.

“Woah, bun. What’s the hurry? Where ya off to? We have a guest.”

His innocent tone made you want to scream. You watched him as he rifled through the closet to find some sweatpants and a shirt.

“I’m going to the store, like we planned out yesterday.”

Your cold response made his face fall like a sad puppy. Snatching your phone finally after finding it beneath your pillow.

“No you aren’t.”

The suddenly dark tone of his voice made you stiff, it made you realise even though he acted like a soft ball of sunshine that he was in fact a grown man who had years of military experience and trauma.

“Wh- I am, we don’t have anything in the fridge and we’re running low on coffee.”

You now turned to face him, eyebrows furrowed as his face looked grim, you never witnessed that expression on him and it made chills run down your spine.

“Bonnie, we have a guest. It’s rude to leave when he’s just come by.”

“I don’t care, Johnny. He’s not my friend, I have nothing to do with him.”

That seemed to set him off more, his giant hand grabbed your wrist and tugged you along with him.

“Wait- Stop- Johnny.”

All your resistance was met with a harsh tug, a warning. You were thrown into the living room like a deer in headlights, staring at the man occupying your apartment.

Simon made himself comfortable, arms resting on the headrest of the couch, thick thighs that were probably 2x bigger than yours spread out.

The scowl on your face appeared again and you bawled your fists. Johnny ushered you to sit down next to Simon but you chose the farthest point from him.

Your boyfriend just tossed you a look and sat down next to ghost, almost hugging him.

“Wha’s got your panties in a twist, kitty?”

The loud cocky sound of his deep accented voice rumbled through you. If you didn’t hate his guts you would’ve found it attractive.

You twisted your hoodie in your hands in annoyance and mumbled out a small,

“You.”

You could sense the smirk under that damn black mask, wanting to rip it off and choke him with it.

“Bonnie! I don’t understand what’s gotten into you? What did Simon do to deserve you acting like that?”

That was your breaking point. You felt like a small child being scolded for something it didn’t do.

“You wanna know what’s gotten into me? You constantly talking about Simon! Simon this, Simon that, oh, let’s go out with him! Oh, I invited him over! Every single day it’s all about Simon! Why don’t you just dump me and be with him if you love him so fucking much since i think you’d rather fuck him than me!”

The tears stinging your eyes and the humiliation and embarrassment from your monologue making your chest heave.

Johnny looked dumbfounded while Simon just stared at you, stoic as always, but his fists were now closed.

You took that as your queue to leave.

“Wha-!”

A strong hand grabbed your wrist when you got up, pulling you down into a warm lap. Johnny held you close to him while you tried to fight the frown on your face, eyes bleary with tears.

“Hen….”

“Stop it-“

You pushed at his chest, his hands smoothed down your hair as you hiccuped on your sobs.

“Y- You come in here- call him your boy, hug him like he’s- he’s your boyfriend-“

You inhale loudly and try to wipe at your face to argue like a woman.

“You’re all- he talks about, it’s like he’s- he’s fucking in love with you! You don’t know how much that hurts me.”

Your sniffles interrupting every word.

“I jus’ wanted t’ go to the store with my boyfriend!”

You tried to continue but a giant hand cupped your cheeks and squished them together, wetting his fingers in your tears.

Your weak attempts to slap his hand away were shushed.

“Cute little thing.”

All of the emotions you just poured out and the things that have been stressing you for MONTHS, were ‘cute’. You wanted to scream. Run out of the apartment and go back to your family’s house.

Instead, your sobs got worse and you just wept while he menacingly squished your cheeks.

“Oh, hen… That’s what I’ve been trying to tell ye.”

So he didn’t love you anymore? He was fucking Simon? He wanted to break up? The thought that you’ve been in a relationship with a man who doesn’t love you back made you whimper out of emotions running through you.

“You- You-You,”

Couldn’t even articulate yourself without loud gasps in between.

“Don’ love me anymore-“

Warm hands soothed up and down your body as he brought you closer, tucking your head under his chin.

“Nonono.. Tha’s not it. I love you, so much. It hurts how much I love you. But I also love Simon.”

So your boyfriend wanted to replace you? Perfect.

“I don’t understand..”

Your confused face with crocodile tears streaming down your cheeks was enough to make Simon coo.

“I love you, and I love Simon. Simon loves me, but you don’t like him. This isnt going to work if we don’t all get a long.”

That made you push at his chest, was he crazy? He wanted to be in a relationship with both of you at the same time?

“Shhh, I ken’, hen, I ken’ that it’s selfish of me to want both of ya’. But Simon wanted to try it out. Simon is willing if you are too. That is.. If you love me. I don’t know what i’d do without you.”

You sniffled and tried to wipe at your face.

“I don’ like Simon…”

“Y’ will, bun.”

Too burned out to argue you just sobbed into his chest, every time you tried to get up you’d be forcefully shoved back. Once your cries morphed into little sniffles he loosened his grip on you. You wrenched yourself out of his grasp and got on wobbly feet, barely carrying yourself to the bedroom where you slammed the door behind.

Pulling out your phone, trying to text anyone and everyone if they had some place for you to stay over, just until you could find a new apartment.

You pulled out your old backpack and started throwing in random clothes while wiping the tears that were threatening to spill again.

You wanted to slap yourself when you remembered your laptop was in the living room.

Begrudgingly stepping out of your once shared bedroom, you make your way through the hallway and into the living room. The thing you set your eyes on making you want to claw them out.

There he was, your ‘boyfriend’, embraced in Simon’s arms. By the looks of it he was pretty shaken by what had happened, rubbing his face while mumbling something to the other.

Letting out a forced cough to make your presence known made his head snap right to you, were you going to forgive him? Give him a chance at the new ‘addition’?

Staring at the coffee table, you went straight for it. Ignoring anything he wanted to say and grabbing your laptop.

His eyebrows shot up when he realised you had slung a backpack over your shoulder. He frantically tried to persuade you, trying to get up only to fail with Simon’s strong grip on him.

Simon grabbed your forearm and threw you into them, letting out a pained yelp when your back landed on his shoulder and Johnny’s elbow.

“Stop it! You big fucking bastard! You took my boyfriend and now what do you want from me!”

You screamed at him, only to be met with a large hand cupping your mouth.

“You talk a lot of someone so small.”

The malice in his voice made you stiff, his gaze was piercing.

“I don’t care If you like me or not. I want Johnny to be happy, if he wants you to stay you’re gonna stay.”

His tone made it sound like a threat, it probably was. You nodded, unable to breathe under his hot hand.

Letting out loud gasp once he let you go, trying to scramble into Johnny’s lap.

“Look, bonnie. Simon is going to be staying with us for a while. He’s lonely at home, no one to look forward to when he wakes up, I just couldn’t let him suffer like that.”

You stared at Johnny, feeling betrayed.

“Johnny. Were you fucking him while we were together?”

The guilty look on his face was enough for you. Struggling to wrench yourself out of their grasp, Simon only locked his arms around you and made you face Johnny.

“Hen, we are still together. And yes, it was at the beginning of our relationship. I just- We’ve had emotions for each other ever since our time in the task force. We couldn’t, it was unprofessional and we’d probably get fired. Then after we got discharged we kind of lost contact, we only started talking at the beginning of our relationship, hence why um, we had sex.”

You stared at him like he was out of his mind, which he rightfully was.

“Then why the fuck are you forcing me to stay?”

“Because i love y’ too! Can’t you get it?”

The both of you were heaving with emotion, Simon just watching, the same stoic look in his eyes.

“I think that’s enough arguing. Why won’t the little lady go and brew us a cuppa so we can settle down a little’.”

“Like hell i wil-“

The death stare he gave you was enough to get you on your feet and moving to the kitchen.

You threw around the mugs, purposely clanking loudly with the spoon and furrowing your eyebrows when you realised that there was only enough left for two cups.

You sighed and made it anyway, one in Johnny’s favourite mug and one in the ratty old one you and your boyfriend avoided using.

The sight of Simon comforting Johnny and lightly caressing his mohawk just like you used to made you slam the coffee down onto the table and take a seat on the pillow next to it where you usually lounged on your laptop.

“Oh, bun-“

“Shut up.”

A frown tugged at his lips, his favourite girl hated him now.

•

The nights were the worst. Laying in bed with the two big lugs, listening to them talk like they’d just gotten married.

Your back turned to them, you’d listen to the breathy moans, the same ones Johnny used to let out with you, while they kissed passionately.

Sometimes it made you jealous that you hadn’t joined them, but your pride made you deny that.

And they did, they’d ask you countless times if you wanted to cuddle with them, kiss them, have sex with them, it all resulted in a harsh no.

Johnny took that the worst, he couldn’t continue if he saw you laying down with a pillow over your head to block out the sound of them, back turned.

The most you’d get close to them was cuddling up to Johnny for warmth. It made him happy but it also made him sad that you weren’t seeking out Simon. It was also starting to have an effect on him, he knew Johnny loved you with all of his might, and seeing Johnny so depressed over you made his heart scrunch in his chest.

One night, when you were feeling particularly depressed in your trapped state, you felt Johnny spoon you. The weight of his back and his arms around you relaxed you, made you think of the times you weren’t a prisoner in your own home.

Then you felt another pair of arms around you, Simon’s. It made you recoil, trying to wiggle out.

“Stop it- Stop it, hen! When will you accept him?”

That question made tears sting in your eyes, he thought you were going to accept him no matter what.

Johnny just sighed and pushed you against him, hovering his nose against your neck, leaving small kisses and nips like he used to. His hand wandered down, slowly, cautiously into your waistband, slipping his pinky in to test the waters before pushing his whole hand in.

You let out a gasp when he cupped your mound, his hips jerking into your yours to make you hump his hand.

“I told Simon about the time I got you to moan his name,”

That made you flush, you tried telling him to stop but he continued anyway.

“We fucked that night and i was telling im’ all about you.”

You let out a whimper, his fingers now moving to do harsh circles of your clit.

“Told im’ about your slutty little moans while he was fucking my ass. Got him off to the thought of you, hen. Made him imagine he was fucking you instead of me. Gotta return the favour, right?”

God, this man is going to drive you crazy.

He suddenly flipped you on your back, you expected to meet the softness of your bed instead you got pushed into a wall of muscle.

Trying to squirm away was no good, they only just manhandled you to stay, pushing all of your clothes off and leaving you bare between them.

Simon’s giant paws grabbed at your tits, kneading them in his warm calloused hands.

“H’ told me about these cute little tits,”

Swirling your nipples between his rough fingers before pinching them, making you yelp and jump in his hold.

“Shhh, hold on, bun. We’re going to make this work.”

His words made your eyes fill with tears.

“I want Johnny…”

“Awh, I’m here, baby. It’s alright.”

The way he talked down on you while you were being groped by another man made you sob.

“Fussy little thing, just need some extra love-“

Simon grunted before forcefully pushing his thick fingers into your cunt.

“Gotta stretch her out nice and wide, haven’t had anything in er’ in a while, huh?”

The way he was talking to you made you uncomfortably horny. You hated to admit it.

You were slowly falling into a headspace, you tried to fight it with all you could, but being surrounded by these two giant men who were talking down to you made you feel small and broken.

Johnny immediately noticed, pushing his palm against your cheek and giving you the first passionate kiss you two had shared in so long.

You let out a whine when Simon grabbed him by his mohawk, pushing him up and making him slobber all over his mask, leaving a wet patch behind.

You frowned at the sight, turning your gaze away, trying to focus on the fingers stuffed in your needy pussy.

“Jealous little lady,”

That made you whine, too strung out to form words.

“It’s okay, hen. I love y’ just as much.”

The words didn’t help, you pushed against his chest, trying to get away.

“Attention whore, that’s what she is.”

You sniffle at the harshness of his statements. His movements speed up, the slick sounds of your cunt spread out through the room. You grinded up into the stimulation, too close to your climax.

“Ah ah ah- Not so fast.”

An annoyed grunt left you, you were so soft and pliable once you got pleasure, it was so easy to mold your mind.

“Now, kitty. Johnny here is gonna fuck this tight cunt-“

Followed by a quick little smack to your sensitive parts that was surprising more than anything.

You felt his breath in your ear once he continued.

“And i’m gonna fuck his cute little ass.”

You whined and pushed at him, not wanting to see your boyfriend get fucked by another man. It only resulted in a grin and the feeling of him getting up from behind you.

You felt tears bubble up again as you tried to push him back behind you, but he was too strong for you to make an impact.

Johnnys eyebrows furrowed at the sight of you getting so distraught,

“Is’ alright, baby, I want him to,”

You just shook your head and bit your lip, hooking your arms around his neck and pulling his head under your chin.

“Fuck!”

You jumped when you heard Johnny moan out, looking straight ahead and seeing Simon shoving his fingers mercilessly into him.

You felt something sliding against your cunt and let out a yelp when you felt a bulbous tip circle your opening.

Johnny only raised his head to look at you with a grin. That’s when you felt him slowly slide in, a loud moan escaping him, after being denied of you for so long.

Simon took that as the queue to slide in too, letting out a grunt and grabbing onto Johnnys hips.

“Gonna let me fuck you, bonnie?”

You shook your head again, voice too weak to use your words. Johnny panted above you, a fucked out look in his eyes as his arms rested on either side of your head.

You both jerked up when Simon made the first move, slowly thrusting in and out of him. Johnny, vocal as he always was, letting out little whines and pants.

“St-St-ah,”

Your protests were cut out by Johnny’s rough thrusts, sending your body up and down on the bed.

“I think the little lady likes watchin’ you get fucked,”

Simon teased, doing a particularly rough thrust, making both you and Johnny moan.

“Nooo-“

You whined, eyes screwing shut.

Simon’s hand reached down and gripped your cheeks harshly,

“Look me right in the eyes while I fuck him or I won’t let you cum.”

You wanted to protest but you were met with a warning tap to the cheek, a few droplets surrounded the corners of your eyes before they got gently wiped by the scot.

They continued roughly plowing at the same pace, the way they were coordinated kind of made you impressed.

Johnny reached down and circled your clit with quick strokes, eyebrows furrowing and thrusts getting needier.

“Cmon- Cmon, hen, come, come for us.”

You stared at those same honey brown eyes and let out a loud whimper, your climax so close to tipping over.

A loud smack snapped you out of it, Simon slapping Johnny’s ass, which made him let out a whorish moan. The sounds he was making were fuelling your end.

He sped up his ministrations on your clit, his thumb circling the swollen bud so roughly you couldn’t even think.

Your bleary eyes almost crossed as you looked at Simon, the wall of muscle that his was. His chest was speckled with light blonde hairs and thousands of scars, his happy trail prominent.

You felt your legs shake as you felt the intense build up, cresting over into a loud moan, arching your back and cumming onto Johnnys cock.

“Good girl, thaas’ it.”

You heard Simon throw in his praise, it strangely making your head tingle. Johnny didn’t let up, letting out even louder moans while fucking your overstimulated pussy. The whines you let out for him to stop, that it was too much, were left out in the wind.

“Cmon, pup, cum, cum for me.”

Simon commanded, and it’s as if Johnnys body followed all of his orders, he did. Letting out a groan and pushing his head into your chest for comfort, spilling his warm seed into your used cunt.

Simon followed soon after, sticking himself to the hilt and grunting.

You let out a whimper, tears collecting in your eyes when Johnny just pulled out and left you with Simon.

A yelp leaving your mouth when the bigger man picked you up and laid you down on his chest, a hand caressing through your hair and calming down your breathing.

“I wan- Where’s Johnny-“

“Sush.”

You whined and rubbed at your face, too deep into it that your mind felt blank. You tried to push at his strong chest, hands too weak to do anything but rest at it.

“I don’ like you..”

“I know, sweetheart.”

When you looked up at him it was the first time his eyes weren’t cold, they were softer, like he was trying to comfort you.

You let out a sob and dug your nails into his chest to ground yourself. He let you.

You were still sobbing by the time Johnny came out of the bathroom, a towel in hand with a bottle of water he picked up on his way back.

“Oh, sweetie..”

He cleaned you up gently and gave you some water, not trusting you to hold the bottle yourself, before handing it to Simon for him to have a drink too.

You heaved, trying to articulate your emotions.

“Johnny-“

Was all that left you, you reached your arms for him weakly, and he pitied you and grabbed you. He laid you down between the two of them to your protest and hushed you.

And there you fell asleep, fucked out and too emotional to argue again.

#s writes 🎀 #cod mw2 #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #ghoap #soap x ghost #soapghost #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #cod smut #simon riley x reader

[beiasluv]

neteyam x human!reader

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•

a/n: the domestic bliss got me so, here it is / let’s say you guys are the same age /spoilers??

masterlist

enjoy!

being a human on pandora isn’t easy as you might think. breathing air? not possible without a mask. traveling around? quite difficult with human’s capability.

but those didn’t stop you from loving this planet any less.

you are one of those babies who didn’t got a chance to travel back to earth 10 years ago, and you are not complaining.

pandora is much quieter and more peaceful (well, not yet, and we are here for fluff)

spider is one of your friends, well your only friend, until you meet netayam and the sullys. spider taught you the na’vi language, until you are fluent to a certain level. you can catch many phrases, but, unfortunately, can not reply.

you first met neteyam when you were both still young. he was practicing hunting for fish and you were exploring around the forest

“ok, near the rock, just as dad told…,” a young blue na’vi mumbled to himself and stretched back his arm, holding his weapon. splash! a loud sound echoed from the water as the fish was caught dead by the sharp tip. “yes! dad! I did it! I caught a fish!”

“…dad?” he looked into the bush as he saw your (e/c) reflected by the sunlight.

he crawled closer to the bush as he saw you running away deep into the forest. without any delay, he followed your footsteps and scents. along the way, admiring your beautiful choice of path into the damp grassy area. there, he found you napping peacefully by a tree and woodsprites surrounded you. your hair contrasted the green grass perfectly, yet your exomask covers your face from his.

“…hey,” the boy nudged you slightly causing you to stirred awake.

“wh..who are you?” you gathered yourself quickly, hiding your face from him. “oh wait, do you even know what I am saying? um…sorry, Ohe can’t tukru na’vi (I can’t speak na’vi)”

“you are funny, because you are speaking it right now, i am neteyam, who are you?” he giggled “I haven’t seen you around before, let alone a human,” he turned your face towards him. he tapped playfully on your mask, examining it as he looked into it.

“i am um…(y/n), and I haven’t left the lab that much,” neteyam stared into your eyes. “you must be spider’s friend, he told me about his friends.”

“are you related to spider?! must be nice keeping you to himself,” he fake pouted. “i want to have more human friends, my brother have five fingers like you!”

“well, you can meet me again by the lab. I didn’t left it that much, because i don’t have friends, except spider, of course, but he likes to leave me alone in the forest,” you rolled your eyes and received a giggled from neteyam.

“i can be your friend! and i promise I’ll never leave you in the forest!” he grinned showing his whitey teeth.

it was easy to say that your life had never been the same ever since

your duty patrolling grace’s tank at the lab isn’t so boring as before, and you get to meet and know grace’s legacy, kiri

neteyam would visit the lab with kiri more often, making up excuses like he wants to make sure she is okay while visiting grace.

another reason he likes to see you in the lab, because he can touch your face without the difficulties of a mask. he likes to hold your hand and especially your pinkie.

you, neteyam, and kiri became greats friends. while sometimes you would visit them in the forest; you noticed neytiri wasn’t giving spider the warmest welcome, so you learned to keep a space from her

neteyam, the being the older brother he is, is always protective of you and his siblings. you two are often teased as the parents of the group.

neteyam will carry you wherever and whenever you want. even times when you insist you can walk on your own, but he will carry you through the jungle.

tuk is very attached to you, even though she is 2x bigger than you but she’s your baby sister.

kiri is your bestieee, and she definitely knows all the tea. you will always comfort her when she gets picked on for her hands.

“these pinkies are here for special reason, it is for pinkie promises. a special promise for special someone, and you are special to me, kiri,” she smiled back.

the middle brother, lo’ak, is quite reserved at first but you’ve managed to melt his wall away. your warmth that his brother couldn’t resist made him comforted every time he is around you.

he sees you as an older sister and you’ve managed to made him listen more than his own brother. you know how to cheer him up and comfort him wherever he felt that he is his brother’s shadow. you became soft mother figure to him.

jake, being somewhat of a human, took you under his wings. he sees you and neteyam often teasing each other, and that reminded him of himself. (neteyam: one down, one more to go)

he is always glad that there is someone helping him and his wife around the house. you were there to support his children emotionally and physically, sometimes.

well, years had passed and the ‘lovebirds’ had grown stronger ever than before.

everything was going smoothly, until two reasons.

one, the sky people are back again.

two, you have grown weaker than before.

your human body was great but you hoped that you could have an avatar of your own, and coincidentally, the lab had been creating one for you. (definitely neteyam did not asked for one and definitely he did not begged his grandma to help with consciousness transfer)

“we have to take your DNA, okay? my (y/n)…” neteyam ran his hand through your head and hair calming you down. “i don’t know ways to help you other than this, i don’t want to lose you, alright? you are my best friend.”

‘you are the love of my life!’ you thought. “yes, i know, neteyam, take my DNA even if it means i am dying soon.”

“no! you are not dying, the sky people are here, well, yes, they might be your species, but you are special to me, okay?” he sighed. “I will not lose my best friend, not to a problem we have a solution to.”

“i don’t know what are we fighting for! you know that i am about to die, why then worth trying something that can be passed on for spider or other human with more opportunities and possibilities than me!”

“please, dont make this harder, okay?”

“neteyam! neteyam! nete-“ and that was the last thing you saw, netayam holding you down and a scientist with an anesthesia.

…

“grandma, how is she taking it?” neteyam strolled hurriedly around your body.

“wait out, you hot-headed boy, she’s going through…”

“what- what is going on?”

“(y/n)! (y/n)!” the blue faced boy went ahead and hugged your body close.

“neteyam, glad to see you-“ “woah- you aren’t so big anymore, my- my feet! they’re huge! woah- i have a tail? look! woah- what- my ear is like a cat’s”

“woah- woah woah, take it easy, my (y/n), that’s what i went through for 15 years, you just had it for one minute and you’re going crazy!” he giggled. “see? it wasn’t so bad after all and what’s a cat?”

“silly of you, neteyam- but why the tree of souls?”

“got cha consciousness transferred, wouldn’t have it done the scientifac- scientific ways,” he tapped your forehead slightly. “i begged for grandma myself, glad she’s helping out, or we’re doomed.”

“thank you, neteyam.”

life didn’t get easier after that, but you were now together, at last.

the sullys welcomed you quickly and warmly. neytiri had some hard times but jake reminded her once again of their past.

-spoilers-

uncertain times calls for uncertain choices, the sullys decided to move to the metkayina for shelter.

neteyam and his siblings, along with you, flew across the ocean toward your temporary home.

the flight there was risky as you guys had to travel across the storms and oceans. neteyam held you tightly within his embrace the whole flight.

the first few weeks, he often cries whenever he is alone with you, saying you are his safe house.

“i- i want to go home, (y/n), i can’t do this anymore,” he sniffles on your lap.

“i am so sorry, nete, we are here now, i miss our home too, but this is for the best for the people,” you cradled him close.

“you- you shouldn’t say sorry, my (y/n), it’s not your fault,” he grabbed your hair tight as he cried.

“ow, nete, c’mon let’s go swim and calm down,” you swayed him like a baby and sang him songs.

at the ocean villages, the leader welcomed the sullys with not the warmest welcome but satisfying enough for the time. they must live and depend on it for now, that’s the least they could do.

kiri and you got called out for having five fingers which neteyam did not take it very well. he had been hostile towards anyone who made fun of your hands.

tsireya, ao’nung, and the rest welcomed them as well, although the boys could’ve been much friendlier in your thought.

tsireya and you kicked along pretty well, she’s beautiful, kind, caring, and hot. 😳 (sorry, not sorry)

of course, you gotta tease her with lo’ak, and how she told him ‘i see you’ before you and neteyam was a disgrace. you love her like a sister and adores her so bad.

likewise, she never misses a chance to tease you with neteyam.

“please, y/n, when? when are you going to do it!”

“not now, not never, does he even like me?” you pouted. “he calls me his best friend, i am obviously in the friend zone.”

“c’mon, please, that boy is head over heals for you,” she rolled her blue eyes. “when i taught you guys to swim, he is drooling over you underwater, almost choking himself unalive i supposed,” she giggled.

“maybe he is just amazed by the ocean, it is really pretty,” you sighed.

“girl- you are not taking hints.”

and boys are boys, they were fighting on the beach over kiri. kiri stood there laughing and her brothers getting themselves into the mess. while you walked out of the water sprinting towards neteyam and lo’ak, grabbing their ears and dragging them out.

“i apologize for my friends,” you laughed politely at ao’nung’s face.

“e- erm, i am sorry, too,” he was stunned by your face, dampened by the water, and your hair sticking to your body. ‘grrr’ neteyam scowling in the background behind your back to ao’nung.

“now if you please excuse us, i am so sorry, let me know if you want me to treat your wound as an apology,” you smiled and turned back to widened your eyes at neteyam and lo’ak.

“so- sorry” “sorry🖕”

“lo’ak!”

wound-tending sessions wasn’t as fun as watching them fight.

kiri took lo’ak and you took neteyam.

earning ‘ow’s and ‘ouch’s form neteyam you scolded him while patching him up.

“squeeze my leg if it hurts.”

he did tried not to but he ended up left some red marks on your legs.

during harsh and cold times, you still find your comfort in neteyam. you guys cuddle every night together before bed, and singing lullabies together, reminding each other of home.

neteyam likes to be the big spoon but you can be the big spoon, too, ever since your human form to your avatar form.

now for domestic stuffs in metkayinaa

you guys love to swim together in the ocean, and sometimes hiding the reefs (shh, they make a great place for a kiss on the cheek)

neteyam loves your hand, he will hold them wherever you go.

he loves finding pretty shells for you and clipping them onto your hair.

ao’nung having a crush on you, and tsireya told him off. because, obviously, she is your biggest shipper.

neytiri and jake knew there is no use separating you and neteyam, so one calls for a family meeting.

she noticed how her children received an emotional support whenever they need it from you. neytiri slowly accepted you into her family and realized that you had become more than a friend to their family, but a part of them. now, she sends a heartwarming smile for you. (neteyam, two down, it’s only you babe)

“thank you, (y/n), for taking care of my family,” she hugged you. “you are a part of us, never let them separate us apart.”

“I trust you, (y/n), i see a great potential in you, take care of my sons and daughters in this time of war,” jake touched his forehead against yours.

fond moments must come to an end; the thing they dreaded the most had arrived, the sky people

you guys fought until your very last breath, and every moments felt like it is your last

“go! y/n! go!” lo’ak and spider jumped into the middle pool of the boat, while neteyam took the gun.

“okay! love! on my count okay?” you shouted back.

“no! on my count- OKAY HE’S DOWN! 1…2-“ he was taken back by your push, and as of everything goes in slow motion. your body push his against the rails and made him fall into the pool.

the bullet made its way towards your chest, and everything flashes back. your mom, your dad, your lonely childhood, meeting him for the first time, meeting the sullys, growing up together, transferring your consciousness, traveling here, and fighting along side him.

you felt an impact within your body, and his eyes widened as you both fall into the water. he cradled your body in his as you both meet the impact of the water. slowly, your bodies submerged into the water and he pulled you out…and everything seems to black out.

…

“no no no no NO!” you heard neteyam screams.

“rip that cloth, RIGHT NOW!” jake shouted. “she is losing her consciousness!” you felt a burning sensation and a tightening sensation on your shoulder.

“is she alright DAD! SHE IS SHAKING! DO SOMETHING!” neteyam cries and clings onto your body.

“y/n…” tsireya hold your hand and her wet tears dropped on your arms.

“No! My child, my guardian protector!” Neytiri screamed in agony, as she lose her voice in the attempt.

“neteyam! take her to the village if you still want to have the love of your life,” he pushed her into his embrace. without a second thought, he calls his ilu and drove head straight to the village.

the boy waited impatiently in front of the village’s nurse. he traced back and forth and his breath hitched whenever the nurse made any noise. he prayed to the great mother that she will be fine. his meals were untouched and he didn’t bothered fighting along his brother’s side for once.

he loathed the demon ever than before, he prayed his mother would’ve finish him off the second time.

it has been three days and the family is back together. they’ve been healing together spiritually and physically, except one boy who refuses to join them, neteyam. he had been sitting in front of the nurse room for four days full, until he heard a sound.

“neteyam?”

“yes? is she alright?”

“go ahead and see her for yourself,” the nurse opened the curtain.

“(y/n)? are you awake?”

“ne- neteyam? are you hurt?”

“(y/n)! thank the great mother!” he hugged your body so tightly that you might rip apart. “i thought i had lost you!” he cling onto her lap. “promise me you’ll never take a bullet for me again! pinkie promise me!”

“i can’t make promises i can not keep, love…,” you smiled and knitted your ringer finger with his. “do you know what finger is this?”

“um…longer pinkie?”

“no,” you chuckled. “this is a ring finger, a ring is put in the right side for engagement and left for marriages.”

“then i will never have to lose you with our ring fingers attached,” he rest his forehead on yours.

“how could you lose me, when i see you,” you smiled and kissed his forehead.

“i see you too.”

today’s a great day to take care of yourself, 🤍

#avatar #avatar imagine #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam imagine #avatar the way of water #lo’ak x reader #fanfiction #neytiri #neteyam x you #avatar x reader

[a-aexotic]

literally anything angsty with peeta PLEASE IM BEGGING (happy ending maybe)

your ask is command<3, i hope u enjoyed it!

cw's: normal thg stuff, not exactly canon!au, descriptions of ptsd, anxiety attack, killing, and a small kiss at the end<3

The war had ended for the country, but it certainly hadn't ended for you and Peeta. Years of trauma certainly wasn't going to end just because the rebels had finally won. It felt like the war had ended for everyone except you and Peeta.

Peeta was supposed to be happy that Snow was dead. Peeta thought that after they had won, everything he'd endured would melt away. Oh, how wrong he was.

They had won the war externally, but internally, he was still fighting with his inner demons. Sometimes Peeta felt like they had truly won the war because they're dead - they didn't have to deal with the consequences of their actions, it seemed like Peeta was enduring them instead.

He couldn't even rest without getting flashbacks of the war.

You were downstairs, getting everything ready for dinner. Today had been one of the best days you and Peeta have had since after the war. It'd been months and everyday felt like a battle of it's own for you and Peeta, flashbacks haunting you both.

But today, you both awoke with a somewhat fresh attitude. Today was the first day of spring and the birds outside were chirping, the air was getting warmer. The snow melted as well as your negative attitudes.

You and Peeta had both awoken with a smile on your faces; Peeta had slept through the whole night without a single nightmare. It was the first peaceful sleep he'd gotten since, he doesn't even remember.

You were making dinner, humming peacefully as you saw the sun was setting. You were making Peeta's favorite dinner in honor of making it a whole day without a single interruption.

Then, as you were setting up the table, you heard a big loud crash upstairs. Your fight or flight was suddenly activated, and your heart started beating fast. You had started breathing heavily and you felt as though you were back in war.

Your mind was racing with flash backs and you don't even know how, but suddenly you were on the ground of your kitchen, staring blankly as you muttered incoherently to yourself.

You were back in the arena and the boy from District 3 was on top of you, trying to stab you and your chances of surviving were becoming slimmer and slimmer until you grabbed a rock and smashed it across his head.

His body was rigid for a second, his eyes blank. His face drained from pale to grey right in front of your eyes and you saw the life trickle out of his eyes.

He dropped on you, his head head laying right beside you as the blood starting getting on your face and body. He weighed so much, you couldn't get him off of you.

You heard the canon, and the smell of it right after. You were frozen in fear, shaking.

"Y/N!" Peeta saw you sitting on the floor and he ran next to you, putting a hand on your knee. He studied your face; it was blank, no apparent emotion on your face.

You were rocking back and forth and Peeta realized that you were having a PTSD flashback. He'd never seen you in such a state before; you were usually the strong one. He felt his heart break before you as he held your hand; he could only imagine how you were feeling right now.

As soon as his skin touched yours, you jumped in fear and started to cry. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I had to! I had to kill you, I'm sorry!"

Peeta's hand left yours and then he suddenly remembers how he found you once the announcement that two victors could be crowned.

A boy that was easily 2x bigger than you was laying on top of you, dead and you were frozen in fear. He helped you get the man off of you and you hugged him for what seemed to be hours, crying into his chest. He was the only person you had purposely killed.

"Y/N, can you hear me?" Peeta says, his eyebrows knitted in concern as he stared at you. He didn't want to touch you because that wouldn't help and would only make it worse.

Your breathing had became normal again and your shaking had slowed down, you could hear him.

"It's not real, baby, you're safe. You're home. You're okay. It's over."

Your vision was blurry but you could now see Peeta right in front of you. As your vision cleared, you started to cry even more. You immediately grabbed and embraced Peeta in a tight hug, sobbing into his shoulder as he whispered calming sentences to help you calm down.

"Oh, Peeta." You cried. "I-I was back there, back in the arena and-and he was on top of me. Oh, I could feel him on me. His d-deadweight on me, and I-" you couldn't even finish the sentence because of how panicked you were.

Your eyes were red and puffy and you were shaking; Peeta hadn't seen you this distraught since the war had ended. "It's okay, you're safe now. You're here with me and I will never let anything bad ever happen to you again, okay?"

Peeta couldn't bare watching you in such a state of panic knowing he couldn't take it all away. "I've got you now, baby."

"It was going so good, too. I thought we'd finally healed from it, Peeta. We're never going it heal." You had whimpered into his shoulder.

He shook his head. "No, don't say that. We're healing. We've... We've gotten better, okay? We've had no nightmares today and only one flashback. You couldn't say that two months ago, right? That's progress."

You sniffled and you understood what he was saying. He was right. You nodded slowly.

Peeta put his hand on your face and you looked up in his eyes. He smiled at you and then leaned in, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

"I'm so grateful for you, Peeta. I don't know what I would've done with you."

Peeta was genuinely happy to hear that. No matter how many times you'd said it, it never loses it's effect on him. "Me, too, love. I love you."

You leaned back into his warm embrace as he rubbed your back comfortingly. "I love you, too."

#peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark x reader #the hunger games peeta #peeta x reader #katniss and peeta #hijacked peeta #peeta supremacy #peeta x finnick #peeta my beloved #katniss x peeta #thg johanna #thg x reader #thg finnick #thg trilogy #thg headcanons #thg fanfic #thg fanfiction #thg imagine #thg rp #thg books #thg clove #katniss everdeen #thg incorrect quotes #peeta mellark #catching fire #mockingjay #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games haymitch #the hunger games katniss

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — JT COMPHER x reader (main); TYSON JOST x reader (side); COMPHER x JOST (brief) wc — 14k synopsis — what's a reunion without some groveling?

note — this takes place a few of years after part one, go out with a bang (post-college/college au — tyson and kate are now out-going seniors!) sorry not sorry for the length of this behemoth, i got carried away per usual <3 there are more parts to come, and i would absolutely love to hear any theories/predictions if yall have any!

specific content warnings listed below the cut.

cw — cameos on cameos on cameos, we're at a party so drinking and mention of dr*gs + yacking (no description), drinking games, sorority terms/processes, me getting too invested in multiple subplots and potential background ships, soft!service!dom!JT makes my peabrain go brrrrr, everybodies a bit masochistic because i, registered heathen, am masochistic, reader’s wearing a short skirt for plot reasons, slight compher x josty, oral (reader receiving 2x), unprotected piv (i know, i know, i know i need help), me letting my brat self take the kink reins, praise baby praise, angst AND IM NOT SORRY, + happy fluffy bits... possible cliffhanger??? 

Staring up at the Alpha Chi house is like stepping back in time. 

Like trying on an old pair of shoes you found while deep-cleaning your closet only to find their once-perfect fit gone. Growth is funny that way; you never realize just how far you’ve come until it pinches you.

You’ve outgrown this place, though not from a lack of love or any great tragedy. It occupies a different place in your mind, just as you’re a different person than you were three years ago. 

Your younger self would balk at this development, wouldn’t believe it’d one day feel too small. You can’t fault her for that near-sightedness. In college, your whole world existed on one street. You had everything you needed then between two stop signs.

But your world is bigger now, and your needs are different too. 

Still, it feels good to try on your past for the night. Even if it's a tad ill-fitting. 

The drive between your new life and your old one hadn’t been too bad, but that’s probably because you didn’t do much of said driving. JT got the engine going before you could even make a grab for the keys and, despite spending the last year in the literal trenches of clinical rotations and shelf exams, refused to switch at the halfway mark. Yet, your boyfriend is practically vibrating with excitement as you cross the all-too-familiar threshold hand-in-hand. 

“This is so weird,” JT remarks, his lips low to your ear. His musky cologne, warm and woody, does its best to soothe your nerves.

As you survey the crowd, you nod. 

He didn’t need to elaborate further for you to understand because you were already thinking the very same thing. Watching students, the vast majority as unfamiliar to you as you are to them, milling around your old haunt stirs an odd, uncanny feeling akin to a surreal dream. You’re well-acquainted with the setting, almost to an uncomfortable degree, and you don’t think you’re all that different, but everything still feels foreign.

All the right pieces are there, and you’re sure you’ve put them in their proper places, but the image won’t behave.

You quickly realize the only thing that’s misplaced is you. Grief hangs from your back like a wet blanket. 

“Look what the cat dragged in, boys!”

A burst of riotous laughter shakes much of the gloom from your system.

Gabe Landeskog barrels into your boyfriend like an overgrown puppy. Gray-blue eyes twinkling under the rainbow of LEDs, he embraces you both in a warm hug, not minding that the spontaneous act of affection has just cost him an entire Solo cup.

“Compher and the missus,” the blonde addresses you both with a wide grin and a big palm to a cheek each; he gives JT’s a quick pat but merely cups yours. 

His breath still smells of spearmint and something spicy, an imposing combination your eighteen-year-old self could never find comforting. Just another thing that's different now. If you could package the scent for all the little moments of nostalgia, you would. 

“I was starting to think we’d have to drag you from the city kicking and screaming, but alas! You've left the cozy, vanilla bubble of your own volition for a weekend of debauchery with your favorite degenerates.”

JT’s affectionate eye-roll is big and dramatic even in your periphery. The levity brings a smile to your face. It grows wider and wider, enduring until your cheeks burn. If anyone deserves some light-heartedness, it's your sleep-deprived, perpetually-stressed boyfriend.

“A night, Landy. We’ve got to be back by tomorrow night to relieve the dog sitter,” your boyfriend amends with a pat to Gabe’s flushed cheek, returning the favor. 

The older man groans like the overgrown boy he is and will always be. “Look at you, Mr. Responsible. All domestic and shit. With a fur-baby and everything. I bet it’s as well-trained as your firstborn.”

Your eyes follow the line drawn by Gabe’s strong chin past the entryway through to the room used for table-top drinking games.

Half-kneeling on the rickety table you helped customize a few years back is Tyson Jost, head tilted to the sky as he guzzles down the center cup. More beer spills down his chest than into his mouth, effectively turning his white tee sheer. The crowd is comprised mostly of giddy sorority girls who don't mind a bit. 

Free booze and a free show—lucky them!

Once the plastic cup is empty, he crushes it in his palm before sinking the balled plastic into the basketball hoop on the adjacent wall. The converted dining room swells with hoots and hollers so quickly you would’ve thought Tyson emerged from some mythic quagmire, blood-soaked and victorious. But there are no winners in Rage Cage; everybody loses.

Tyson’s loopy grin falters when he registers you and JT on either side of Gabe.

You would like to say nothing’s changed between the three of you over the past couple of years. That you’re just as close as you’d been in college, that distance hadn’t done as much damage as it has.

You'd be lying if you did. 

You tried your best to keep him in the loop; you really did, but that didn’t end up mattering much.

JT hardly had time to socialize with you most of the time, and you’ve practically lived together since graduation. He, like you, tried, but at some point, his bandwidth could no longer accommodate Tyson’s sporadic texts and calls. Many of which came in the dead of night, when your boyfriend’s head was either buried in a textbook or in the pillow beside yours.

Whenever you could, you invited the forward to spend the weekend in the city with the two of you. You even went so far as to offer to put him up in a hotel between your and JT’s respective apartments, knowing your adult salary could stretch further than the Atomic tips he was splitting with Tyler. He always had something conflicting going on, and it didn't feel like your place to question the authenticity of his reasons, so you just kept extending the invitation, hoping things would align eventually.

After finally taking the leap and signing a lease together, you decorated the guest room with Tyson in mind. He’s yet to see it, still.

Your little Kate, on the other hand, needs a frequent flyer program.

A small part of you felt this shift was inevitable once JT went from best friend-slash-unrequited crush to full-blown, live-in boyfriend. Despite Tyson’s insistence on you finally hooking up and “putting everyone out of their misery,” his smile didn’t meet his eyes when JT broke the news that it wasn’t a one-night thing.

Maybe his “little crush” hadn’t been so little after all. 

If that’s the case, you can't blame him for avoiding your slice of grown-up love like the plague. It just would've been nice if he hadn't left you in the dark, wondering where and how you fucked up enough to get iced out.

Tyson responded to every third or so text of yours, so you mostly kept up with him and his life through Kate, who briefly dated him between ill-fated Gunnar stints, and social media. You weren’t sure how often he spoke to JT; after several attempts that ended with your boyfriend clammed up and irritated, you stopped asking.

Judging by how tense he is beside you right now, you have a pretty good guess.

“Yikes,” Gabe drawls. “Trouble in paradise?”

You remain carefully quiet, allowing your boyfriend to decide what, if anything, to share. This—whatever it is —feels like it's more so between them two than Tyson and yourself.

JT clears his throat so hard it cuts through the music blaring through the packed house—some remix you don’t remember learning the words to. “Trouble? Nah, Josty’d have to give us the time of day for that.” 

Gabe laughs, but you know JT isn’t trying to be funny. You can taste the undercurrent of bitter resentment. It’s impossible not to without an artificial buzz.

There’s no time to dwell because a flurry of red hair darts through the crowd dispersing out of the dining room and straight into your arms. A fresh, but faintly-candied scent tickles your nose as the cool metal of a bracelet digs into your neck. 

Kate.

“Fuckin finally!” The almost-grad squeals directly into your ear.

Definitely drunk. Or high—or both. 

“Don’t look at me,” you say, beaming when she pulls back. “I wasn’t driving.”

Kate swats JT’s chest with her open palm. “And this is why we don’t let you drive anywhere, Grandpa.”

The playful jab makes your smile deepen. His driving made her tardy to a ZBZ charity gala one time over a year ago when she made the mistake of hitching a ride with you, and she’s probably brought it up a million times since. Kate pretends to hold a grudge, JT pretends to find it aggravating, and you get to sit back, enjoying the warm camaraderie overfilling your cup.

The pair have been friends almost as long as you've been friends with either of them, but since your graduation, they’ve settled into something more serious and more genuine. Where your connection to Tyson wilted outside the conveniences of college, your relationship with Kate matured and flourished. She’s more than just your chapter-appointed Little Sister to JT now, having become more of a true sister than anything else. Hence the juvenile teasing.

“Well, we’re here now. Alive.”

Your little snatches your hand in hers, tugging you away from JT, who feigns offense.

“And now I’m stealing your girlfriend in retribution for making me wait. Go do… whatever it is you two heathens used to do at parties. We have a pong title to defend.”

“Excellent idea, Madame President,” Gabe declares, hands roughly massaging the male ginger’s shoulders. He tosses a wink in Kate’s direction.

Before the other ginger can drag you away for good, your boyfriend catches your free wrist, pulling you back to him so his lips can find your ear. Breath hot, he drops his voice an octave, “President’s bathroom. One hour. Nod if you understand.”

Your chin dips, quick and subtle confirmation.

“Good girl.”

As your respective keepers separate you, JT shoots you a wink of his own. Then, you lose him in the crowd.

Kate leads you through the sea of party-goers to the living room, her grip on you tight and comforting. Her thumb rubs small circles on the inside of your wrist as you approach the table, almost as if privy to your worry. Kate is incredibly perceptive; she can read someone’s mind without even looking at them. With you, her Spidey senses transcend county lines, so it’s no real surprise she deduced your current condition from no more than your erratic pulse thumping against her palm. 

When you reach the bustling folding table commandeered for the BP tournament, Kate does all the talking.

It’s not too hard to get on the bracket despite the late entry with two newly-minted Alpha Chi brothers manning the post. The absolute last thing they want to do is get on the bad side of the president of their sister chapter (Kate) and the girlfriend of a legendary former chapter president (you). The pairs for the current game are only a couple of throws in, so it’s going to be at least ten minutes before it's your turn.

“You, my dear, look thirsty,” Kate declares through a mischievous grin.

You let her pull you towards the kitchen across the hall but have more difficulty than you expect actually getting there. Every few steps, someone stops either you or Kate. Mostly the latter, but she’s quick to show you off to whoever’s trying to seize her attention. Apparently, Kate’s been building quite the mythos of your time on campus, and it’s very… dizzying, to say the least.

“Kit-Kat!”

Kate abandons the poor freshman boy shooting his shot (and missing fantastically) in favor of the feminine voice sliding into the conversation.

In the blue-ish hue washing over the small space, you’re having a hard time placing her, but she seems very keen on making your acquaintance.

“Blake Meyers,” the newcomer announces, extending her hand with a smile.

You take it, giving her your name and a matching expression in return. The flattened vowels are distinct and recognizable, as is the last name. 

“Meyers?” you ask, attempting to work it out.

“Ava’s younger sister,” Kate interjects. “And one of our best steals this past recruitment.”

Blake blushes so brightly her freckles disappear.

You remember that feeling. What it was like to have an older member, especially someone as established and accomplished as an outgoing ZBZ president, go out of their way to make you feel special. You have zero doubt Blake will be walking on air for the foreseeable future, any of the common little doubts about whether or not she made the right choice vanishing.

“I was really hoping I’d get to meet you tonight,” the freshman tells you bashfully. “Kate gave the most beautiful speech about you and your legacy on Preference Night, and when she told me you might be coming with your boyfriend, I had to put a face to the name. And Jenny was the one who pref-ed me, so it seemed like—I don’t know, a non-negotiable?”

Jenny is one of the twins Kate took her junior year, and she couldn’t have picked better. It gave you peace of mind knowing your Kate would have good people around her once you couldn’t physically be there for her.

You won’t be surprised if Jenny takes Blake as her little. Kate pref-ed her, and before that, you pref-ed Kate. It’s basically a family tradition.

Not long after you thank Kate for her generous words and Blake for her kindness, Thomas, one of the new initiates in charge of the beer pong table, flags you down for your game. Not ready to end your conversation, invigorated by the breezy, jovial chatter your new life lacks, you tug Blake along with you.

Between exceptionally beautiful throws (if you do say so yourself), you learn more about Blake and her roommate and fellow ZBZ spring initiate, Emory. They pepper you with questions: about your first-year college experience, advice on getting the best room possible on the sophomore floor for mandatory live-in, whether or not you got anything particularly valuable in the various leadership positions you held, and what fraternities to steer clear of. You’re more than happy to answer them all. Kate sprinkles in comments and jokes occasionally, but she mostly defers to you so she can celebrate the end of a smooth second term as president.

Once Kate and you have successfully defended your title, you pass the torch to the future of your chapter. Blake and Emory make quick work of the first challengers and are close to a similar sweep with the second pair when your little remembers her earlier mission: refreshments.

This time, you both keep your heads ducked as you speed through the dancing bodies and make a beeline for the dinged-up lockers propped against the wall. You can’t help but smile when you see her reach for the lock—your old lock.

Every upperclassman (and a few select friends of the chapter, like Alpha Chi Sweethearts such as Kate and, once upon a time, yourself) is assigned a secure, personal locker in the oversized kitchen for quick access to personal items. During parties, they essentially become personal coolers. At your very last formal chapter meeting, you will-ed the hunk of metal down to Kate, along with the more sentimentally valuable items you wanted to leave behind with her.

“Wait, can you even drink?” Kate asks you from where she’s kneeling. Sarcasm scrunches her brows together.

“Hilarious,” you reply with a playful glare. “And before you loudly ask about the non-existent fetus like the devious bitch you love being, don’t. Unless you want to give JT an aneurysm."

Kate fishes out two slim, chilled cans as she grumbles about how boring you two have become in your “old age.” She shoves a ratty sweatshirt—an old favorite of Tyson’s—back into the small locker, quickly refastens the lock, and scrambles the dial. Then, she returns to her full height beside you.

“So, do you want to tell me what that wink from Gabe was about?” you ask, brow cocked.

“Do you want to tell me what your horndog of a boyfriend whispered in your ear?” Kate counters.

“Touché.”

Kate cracks open a Spindrift Spiked and slots it into your waiting palm. She taps the rim with her own, then sighs back against the cluttered kitchen island. She’s going to crack, you know it. Kate, even when she has a secret she wants to keep, never stays quiet for long. Especially not when you’re the one doing the asking.

“Okay, so, d’you remember how Tyson was, like, completely apathetic after we broke up right before Heaven & Hell last Halloween?”

You nod, recalling how irritated she was over FaceTime while you helped her pick a costume out of your box of hand-me-downs. You did your best not to laugh because Kate was clearly distressed, but it was kind of hard not to when she was buried in a heap of red and white feathers, wearing a too-small tutu dotted with rhinestones.

Kate takes a sip of the spiked strawberry lemonade before elaborating, “Well, I was understandably pissed—Don’t give me that look, okay? I know I broke up with him, but he shouldn’t have been that blasé that soon—so, I hatched a plan.”

You shake your head, laughing. Kate and her schemes.

“I wasn’t planning on taking Gabe as my date, but when I ran into him at Atomic the day before… I don’t know; I just couldn’t resist. I mean, Tyson worships the man. If anyone’s getting a reaction, it’s Landy. I had to.”

“And?” you prod. 

“And…” she stalls, eyes darting around the kitchen in search of pesky eavesdroppers, cheeks lit up like a Christmas tree. “…we might’ve done it in the backseat of his truck.”

“I’m scared to ask where.”

She buries her face in your shoulder. “The venue’s parking lot.”

Your eyes bulge so hard you, for a split-second, worry they’ll pop out of your head onto the sticky hardwood and land amongst the discarded cans.

“And I didn’t tell you because I was so scared you and JT would hate me,” Kate moans into your skin. She shifts to peer up at you, hesitant. “You don’t, right?”

“I don’t think I’m even capable of hating you, Katie-Kat, let alone for something as silly as banging a hot blonde,” you giggle, and she’s quick to join you. Lowering your voice, “Especially the hottest of hot blondes.”

“I’m so telling JT you said that,” she teases, pulling away.

You shrug and take your first sip. “Go ahead. He’ll agree.”

“And this is why you’re my favorite couple,” she says, bumping her hip against yours. “The worst part is Tyson didn’t even care about that either! At the post-game, when he saw my lipstick smeared all over Gabe’s neck, he high-fived him. Tyson fucking high-fived him for screwing me. His ex-girlfriend! How supremely demented is that?”

“I wish I had an explanation for you, but I don’t. I’m starting to think I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.”

Kate takes hold of your unoccupied hand and squeezes it three times.

“I’m guessing things haven’t gotten any better?”

You shake your head, eyes downcast like there’s something super interesting between the floorboards. “I know he’s busy, and we’re busy, but he’s acting like our friendship meant nothing.”

“Not to start a therapy session in the middle of a rager, but did you... did you ever actually talk about That Night? I know you said JT whispered, but how positive are you that Josty didn't hear him?"

A few months after That Night, your guilt was on the brink of hemorrhaging. It was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped; you broke down in the middle of Talladega Nights. Fucking Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. All fat tears and snotty, incoherent spiraling, your chest heaved as JT rubbed your back. He was quiet, more concerned than confused, until you calmed down enough to explain what’d been weighing on your conscience. 

Then, your boyfriend looked clueless—because he was. JT didn’t remember his heat-of-the-moment pseudo-promise to taint Josty’s image of you.

After a scene or two, you broached the subject you’d both been avoiding since getting together. You wanted to apologize, and not that you needed JT’s permission, but you felt it wasn’t entirely your amends to make. He agreed but was adamantly opposed to operating on assumption alone. If Tyson was truly upset by the pillow talk he overheard, JT reasoned, he was old enough to be frank about it.

You found yourself agreeing, but also not? On the one hand, you could see this being an instance of your anxious mind making a mountain out of a molehill, finding fault where there’s none. But you knew Tyson, and you knew how sensitive he could be. 

Something shifted that night. You’d known then, too, even in the hazy afterglow. His despondency wasn’t subtle, and it wasn’t uncommon for his dejected expression—his forced smile dipped in feigned nonchalance—to visit you in therapy sessions or in your nightmares.

But every time you typed and re-typed one remorseful novel after another, every time your gun-shy thumb hovered over his contact, every time you nearly drove out to your alma mater to track him down… You couldn’t get yourself to see it through. 

At first, it was the nerves, the fear of hearing his pain and seeing his anger. Then, it was your own temper, stoked by indignation, that rose with every sign of withdrawal. Now, it’s just plain, garden-variety sadness.

It was—is disappointing how cleanly he severed ties. There one day and gone the next, no blow-out fight or melancholic hear-to-heart. Tyson was there; he was within reach, but at the same time, not at all. The casual dismissal is worse than outright rejection; the door ajar but wholly uninviting.

"In the moment, I was certain he didn’t. Now? Fuck, the percentage drops every time I replay it in my head,” you murmur, remorse bogging down your confession. "I know you made a point not to bring it up when you were together, but did he ever, I don’t know, say anything?"

Kate shakes her head. "No, sorry. But it's not like we actually did much talking anyway."

You snort despite your woes.

“Alright, that’s enough doom and gloom for one night. How’s my nephew?” Kate asks, bright smile chasing the blues away with all its might.

It’s a distraction and a good one, too. She listens intently as you prattle on about the bi-weekly training sessions you’re starting next month to help with the leash pulling and the ridiculous pet parents you’ve met at the dog park near your apartment. She inquires about the fluffy lamb she brought over the last time she stayed with you—it lasted all of a day in his over-excited grip—then gushes over another variation she saw last week while getting litter for Salem, her diabolical tuxedo cat.

By the time Kate has your phone in her hand, swiping through the designated album and asking more questions than each picture really warranted, you’re feeling a bit better.

Noticing the clock, you stumble through a totally-not-suspicious excuse to venture upstairs—alone. Kate shoots you a knowing look but doesn’t give you a hard time. To be honest, she’s just glad you came tonight. Instead of a witty jab or half-hearted guilt trip, she slips a gold foil square into your unsuspecting palm and sends you on your way with a supportive swat to the rear.

Access to the second floor during parties is typically mediated by two to three gatekeepers, depending on the scale and projected rowdiness of each gathering. Three’s the magic number tonight: two up-and-coming juniors and an outgoing senior. They grant you passage with little more than a nod of acknowledgment.

“What? No riddle this time?” you tease over your shoulder.

The senior, an engineering major with a penchant for brain teasers, answers with a hoot. Cale Makar shakes his head, both amused and flattered you remembered his signature move. His puppy crush on you is an open secret. “I was given strict instructions to ‘keep the shenanigans’ to a minimum with you, Your Majesty.”

“JT?” you venture a guess, hand paused on the paint-chipped banister. He’s the only one who still sprinkles in the silly nickname these days.

“Landy, actually.”

Well, close enough.

You shouldn’t be surprised. It wouldn’t be the first time the former chapter president enlisted Cale, his little, to assist in your and JT’s more salacious antics.

As soon as Gabe had the defenseman under his wing, he was putting him to work. Not that the younger blonde particularly minded, as his affinity for creative, slightly devious schemes rivaled that of Kate’s. It was Cale, you later found out, who ran interference during Semi Formal… while you were defiled on the balcony.

“Still doing his bidding, I see.”

He counters with that lopsided “Get Out of Jail Free” grin. “What can I say? The man puts up a mean bribe.”

As if cued, Cale’s companions, who you now recognize as Alex Newhook and Bowen Byram, step into view. In Alex’s raised grip is a case of Labatt Blue, and in each of Bowen’s, a bottle of bottom-shelf cabernet. You doubt the trio would notice or mind the subpar quality, though. Between their happy heads, Cale fists a bottle of champagne you know he’ll misplace before he can polish it off.

“Jesus, how drunk is he?” you tease, the follow-up to an exaggerated gasp.

Sure, the quality’s shit, but their haul is far more valuable than your appraisal of their job; it’s a frat house, not Buckingham Palace.

“Not drunk enough to not see you here with us.” Cale’s voice tapers off, his pale eyes tracking someone stalking down the hall before nervously flicking up to the ceiling, “…and not up there with JTC.”

JTC — Talk about a blast from the past.

An anticipatory tingling erupts between your inner thighs just knowing he’s up there right now waiting for you. This is the part of your “homecoming” that excited you most and had been since the moment your boyfriend pinned the invite from the alumni association onto the fridge.

As blissfully domestic as your life together has become, it lacks the spontaneity your college life had been brimming with. Your sex life could never be categorized as mundane or clinical, but you’re finding it difficult to replicate the adrenaline rush stealing secret moments inherently provided.

Sometimes, in your more (admittedly) desperate moments, you’ve caught your fingers moving beneath the sheets to mindlessly chase the thrill of those fleeting intimacies, despite how awful the constant wondering and wallowing felt then or, maybe because of it, pain and pleasure are uniquely human indulgences sought in equal measure. When intertwined, they’ve been known to satiate masochistic cravings the way a sad movie or a sprawling, high-speed rollercoaster might.

However, this time, your risk-spurned euphoria will be at your own hand. The newfound agency—the ability to choose when, how, or if any risk is involved—has you darting up the stairs with a fire under your soles.

Before you round the corner and disappear down the hall, you make sure to call out, “Thank you for your service!” accompanied by a two-finger mock salute. You don’t stick around to catch their responses, though.

As you make your way down the dim corridor, you run smack into a very giggly Sarah Jones, just shy of your destination. Eyes distant and wide, she attempts to apologize for something—Something about sabotaging the Big-Little pairings your senior spring?—but it’s more bubbles than actual words. You nod along, still not quite sure what you’re accepting an apology for but too antsy to forge ahead to play detective. Your purposeful strides went unnoticed in her cloud of intoxication and nostalgia, but Erik Johnson, who’d been JT’s vice president, mercifully ushers his inebriated fiancé out of your path by the shoulders.

You offer him a faint smile of gratitude as they head in the opposite direction.

Over the music, you faintly hear Sarah begin chattering on about something unrelated, your reunion long forgotten already. You can’t help but chuckle a little on behalf of your younger self, who would’ve gawked at snobbish Sarah Jones drunk and voluntarily slumming it in a ramshackle house on Greek Row. And sporting a rock from a Degenerate on Ice (her nickname for your brother fraternity, not yours), too? That would’ve been the icing. But, the older, more mature, once-weekly-therapy iteration of yourself is happy she’s happy.

Thoroughly amused but happy nevertheless.

As you reach for the tarnished doorknob of the president’s suite, the rickety door flings open to reveal your boyfriend, all flushed cheeks and frenzied eyes.

JT pulls you inside, lips easily taking possession of yours, the heel of his lived-in/loved-on sneaker nudging the door shut. The hinges groan in protest to the rough treatment. Still fussy as ever. This house is a goddamn time capsule, you muse. Neither of you has the patience for benevolence. If it jams, it jams. That’s a future-self problem. Diligence now would only slow you down.

And would a prolonged stay on memory lane really be all that bad?

Your boyfriend cages you so close that when he manages more than panted praise between hot-and-heavy touches, the words barely fit in the gap between your mouths. “I was beginning to think you stood me up, sweetheart.”

The light-hearted accusation is semi-whispered, somewhat hoarse, in the way his voice always sounded when he came home from a long shift at the hospital downtown or post-game at the height of his collegiate career. JT isn’t a hard person to read—downright wolfish when he’s homing in on a target—but the low, raspy tone makes his intent glaring.

Your body thrums with anticipation.

“Never,” you croon back. A breathy moan sweetens your voice, courtesy of the calloused hand inching up the back of your bare thigh, bypassing the hem of your skirt with no effort or resistance. Arms looping around his neck, you make an inquiry: “Is there a reason we’re in your old bedroom instead of, I don’t know, the king-sized bed in the honeymoon suite you insisted we spring for?”

Tufts of faint copper tickle your cheek. Your boyfriend lands a kiss on your crowd-warmed forearm. Then, much to your displeasure, he steps out of the tight embrace.

“Y’know, I remembered something earlier when I was downstairs,” JT supplies in an apparent non-answer.

He guides you, as understanding rises in your mental periphery, through the barely-lit space toward the Jack-and-Jill bathroom between this room and the next. Then, he flicks on the secondary light, the dimmer of the two, before tugging you over yet another threshold. His fingers twitch at his sides, lascivious.

You stare back at him expectantly, vision tunneling as you wait, wait, wait.

The latch might as well have been a starting pistol; the subtle click ringing in your eardrums like the sonic crack of a live round; his breath a plume of smoke from a charged muzzle well beyond its flash point. Pent-up, needy tension burns hot and burns brighter. Residue from the night prior aflame; you, a moth seduced.

JT drives forward. Stalking, like a cat on a bird, until he’s pinned you to the door. His dash was easy, made short and hasty by the starting block eagerness in your dilated eyes.

Mouth descending on your sensitive neck, hips grinding his want into your squirming form, harsh belt buckle nudging just right with each sharp rut.

“There’s still one thing left on my college bucket list.”

He sinks the candor in with his incisors. Not hard enough to break the skin, but that was never his intention. The sting is a reminder. Of your shared past, of his unwavering desire—of who is in charge.

Message received. Loud and clear.

JT leans away to admire his handiwork. One big hand poised at your jaw, and the other braced beside your head, keeping your shyness from blocking the perfect view; you’ve never been able to hide from him and never will.

His curious thumb deviates from the original objective to caress the skin, now splotched violet and angry. Softly, at first, like he’s committing the damage to memory. Then, emboldened by a sudden piercing hiss forcing itself from your throat, JT pushes down on the tender spot. The cruel, unexpected pressure pulls pitiful bleating cries from your undulating chest.

This is no longer an expedition to gather intel; it’s a primal instinct.

For a few moments, he just holds you like this. A cloistered existence made worthwhile by him occasionally digging deeper into the column of your throat, the pressure taking on a raptorial quality. Your boyfriend wears his herald grin at a rakish angle. It unfurls with refined delicacy, an effective diversion for his next endeavor. Breathe like a precision instrument; the sharp phantom-edge fans across the sucked-raw skin with unhurried ease.

There isn’t enough alcohol in your system to dull the twinge — and you’re glad for it. It’d be a crime to dilute a burn this good, this all-consuming. You crumble between him and the door, your world only this big. His name tumbles out with a pulled-candy moan, completely devoid of dignity.

JT’s chest rumbles beneath your clammy palms. “You gonna be a good girl and help me tie up loose ends?”

His strawberry-blonde crown dips to nuzzle your cheek. Hot tongue tracing an experimental line, JT groaning as it does. The muscle trawls for tears you didn’t realize you shed, humming through the pursuit. The low-pitched moan sends a chill straight down your spine right to your toes.

The hand gripping your jaw lowers so his fingers are able to coil themselves around somewhere more advantageous — your neck. Your eyelids flutter, woozy. His firm squeeze, just enough to make everything spin and keep you still, has become blissfully familiar over time, but your breath still hitches like it’s the first.

“Hm, sweetheart? Don’t be rude. I asked you a question.”

Your lips part, a barbed retort to his condescension on your tongue, but all you can push out is the strangled yelp of a wounded animal.

The hand by your temple no longer rests against the door. In the fog, it snuck up under your skirt; JT never meant to get an answer out of you; he just likes to watch you squirm. Likes to have something to reprimand you for.

His nimble fingers dance over the thin, sodden material pulled taut over your heat. Less touching, more hovering. Small, lazy movements that betray how well he can play your body. They float above the tingling bundle of nerves, further movement pending, contingent upon your obedience.

“P-please,” comes your pouted whimper.

“Focus for me, pretty baby. Tell me what I want to hear. Come on, let me make things easy for you. I can feel how badly you want to — and you aren’t in a position to be difficult, are you?”

You give in, and though the words you babble are largely unintelligible, JT’s ultimately satisfied.

“Such a good listener I’ve got myself. But you’re always to eager to please, aren’t you? You might throw stones from behind that tough girl act, but it’s just that: an act. I have a puddle in my hand to prove it.”

His frankness sears your face.

You’ve acquired a tolerance for his raunchy silver tongue through months of close proximity, but the mechanism is shoddy at best. Stalls and misfires galore. Against all odds (said “odds” being his fingertips toying with the edges of fabric between your thighs), you summon up a tawdry retort from the growing arsenal. “Don’t l-let it go to waste, Compher.”

It's not your best work, but much better than the slurred gurgle that preceded it.

He loves how you manage to be any sort of cheeky with him, even with your head swimming, stuttering and all.

“I don’t think it matters, sweetheart. I know there’s no shortage. Plenty more where it came from.”

With your knee, you nudge his hard-on and supply some honey-tongued snark of your own. “Is that your ego, or are you just excited to see me?”

Your boyfriend chokes out short-lived mirth. Then, with an accompanying smile, his tongue presses to the inside of his cheek. Amused, but by the sting of the remark’s undeniable truth, not your cleverness. The protrusion moves just below his bottom lip as he swipes the muscle over his teeth, a half-second sardonic gesture. It calls attention to your impudence without dignifying it with a verbal reply.

His brow lifts to negate any confusion, feigned or otherwise. “Are you going to keep being a brat, or are you going to let me fuck you with my fingers?”

You gulp down your ready-mixed wisecracks.

“Nothing to say now?” JT taunts. “Funny how that works.”

Fuckin’ wisenheimer. His voice is so haughty you have to bite your lip to keep your foot out of your mouth, unwilling to jeopardize your impending pleasure for short-term gratification.

Your boyfriend’s smugness—and your subsequent annoyance—becomes irrelevant when your panties are roughly pushed to the side, and his thick finger slips past your taut entrance. Tip to knuckle in one succinct trust; your startled gasp drowns out the noise rising up through the floorboards.

Hips bucking forward—you just can’t help yourself—you're in search of some friction to marry with the blinding stretch. He’s made the tensile opening accommodate far more in length and thickness, but not like this. Rarely does he create space where there is barely any, having forgone tenderness. Slowly widening a gap with gentle pressure, not demanding room like it’s already his to occupy.

Your surprise drips down his hand.

The bliss—the relief, is palpable. Your head dips into the crook of his neck, and the gravity of the situation felt for the first time.

Before, you didn’t see any substance in a tipsy frat bathroom hook-up. The older you got, the more pointless it seemed, especially with an established, long-term partner. The novelty wasn’t lost on you, of course, but that’s all you’d written it off as.

Countless collegiate nights were spent imagining one like this one. A moment where your inescapable feelings for him would be matched outright. When the pressure of his stifled emotions would build too fast to keep them from boiling over, too mighty in stature. Suddenly overcome by unrequited feelings of his own, unable to uphold all the ridiculous unspoken platonic conventions with the same authority he commands now.

This is important. For your past and present selves. The significance of this overdone, soapy teen drama scenario cannot be overlooked because it underscores the progress you’ve made together. Years of dancing around one another, the unconventional catalyst and nontraditional timeline, every hushed conversation in the wee hours before responsibilities wake, the sleepless nights and the snooze-filled afternoons—this ostensibly clichéd moment is an amalgamation of it all.

One thought rises above the frenzied rest: Was this here all along?

Is this what was waiting on the other side of the aimless pining and the confusion and the hurt?

The journey might’ve been fucking hell, but the view from here is pretty damn heavenly.

Overwhelmed by your epiphany and his dexterous motions, you moan into his skin far louder than your pride would’ve otherwise allowed outside your shared apartment.

His arrogant laughter grates before it really registers. Venom secretes from your salivary glands when it does, but the melted retribution never makes it past your lips. His second finger robs it of the opportunity, and the third sends all thoughts out your ears. The light circles over your clit cloud your vision, nails digging into his jersey-clad back—I’m feeling nostalgic, he’d said. In more ways than one, apparently.

“S’good—wanted this for so long, Compher—k-kept wishing it was you that night, not Miles.”

JT seethes at the admission, curling his fingers until your knees buckle and you’re entirely reliant on him to keep you off the floor. Even as your mind slips further and further away, your hips manage to move in time with his hand. Meeting each stroke with equal hustle and vigor, a clear end goal on the horizon.

Then his thumb drops away, his hand coming to a halt, and he steps back. 

Away.

Frustration pushes the amassed tears waiting in the wings down your cheeks. Emotion runs down your face; a heavy spill indeed.

“I don’t ever want to hear another man’s name outta your mouth when it’s my fingers buried in your pussy.” His jealousy is well-polished. Manicure-smooth, like he’s been maintaining its luster in preparation for this very occasion. "—'specially not the motherfucker that made sure I heard all your pretty sounds through the walls.”

You’d grin if you weren’t so miserable.

That’d been your intention. It wasn’t anything Miles had or did that made him different from the rest of the chapter (who all, at one point or another, tried their luck with JTC’s hot best friend), just simply when he decided to shoot his shot. The only reason you’d been out in the first place was because you reached your breaking point, no longer able to stomach what you felt for JT, and you made sure Miles knew this before you let him call an Uber.

Despite playing for the same team, the pair shared a touch-and-go rivalry. You never knew if the intensity would result in a sweeping victory or an in-house, all-out brawl. If they ever saw eye to eye, you’d of never known. Miles needed no convincing to push JT’s buttons.

There was some heavy petting, nothing more. The only time Miles saw you undress was to change into the pajamas he lent you before knocking out on his futon, leaving you to take the bed. But JT didn’t know that. If sitting in their chapter house’s kitchen at 5 o’clock the next morning didn’t raise suspicion, the non-Compher borrowed t-shirt and ruffled hair certainly did.

Back then, he refused to ask. Even though you could see how badly he wanted to pry. Miles didn’t have anything he worth sharing, so JT was left to fill in the blanks.

You’d tell him the truth later, but right now, you wanted to see what milking his assumptions could get you.

“Did you like what you heard?”

His jaw ticks. Your hips push against his with a knowing simper.

You lean forward, closing the space he forced, lips barely brushing his ear, “Did you get off on it? Fuck your hand picturing yourself in his place… wishing it was my pussy instead?”

You hear the thud before you feel your head against the door or his hand back around your throat, his fingers deep between your walls again. The everywhere-throb makes you laugh. Giggle, really.

He squeezes until you’re no longer capable of mockery. His pace hastens, leveling out only once your thighs have started shaking around his wrist, knees cutting off his circulation elbow-down. Somehow, he keeps going despite the icy tingle. His determination overrides physical discomfort, knowing how close you’re getting. Feeling it in the distinct fluttering around his digits, seeing it in your trembling, swollen bottom lip.

“You’re so full of shit.” His mouth twitches at your throaty moan. A defiant hint of levity circles his pupils; he never stays riled up for long when it’s you yanking his chain. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You kiss him then, messy and crude, love-drunk. He tastes like your chapstick and gin, with a biting citric aftertaste —Grapefruit, maybe?—and you suck it in like you haven’t had a drop of water in days. And, in turn, he drinks down every choked sob and nonsensical half-thought you babble, every drop shooting straight to his loins.

He drives into you with fervor, humming as his tongue slips against yours, iron bulge omnipresent. The hand around your neck loosens but never leaves its post, thumb stroking your pulse point. I know everything about you, his movements whisper. Over and over, in and out. He, just as much as you, gets lost in the repetition.

“Don’t want him, never wanted him. Jus’ you—Always you.” It comes out slurred, mushy like your head, like your heart.

JT’s cock isn’t immune to affirmation and twitches through his too-tight jeans. Groaning, “Go on, sweetheart. Scream my name. I want every single person in this house to know exactly who’s fucking you this good.”

You do just that, writhing on his hand, eventually burying your face into his warm neck when it gets to be too much. He continues fucking you, and you continue crying for him, the pathetic little whimpers muffled now by his body.

JT guides you through the rest of your orgasm, as he always does. He watches your face carefully on the comedown, searching for any sign of regret or discomfort. When he finds none, he cradles your shaking form against his solid chest, the hand that, only moments ago, tore you apart, soothing you back down to earth. Once you’ve settled, he walks you back and away from the door.

A startled yelp falls from your lips when you feel the chilly edge of the countertop. You pull away from your boyfriend, brows furrowing with confusion.

His hand taps the outside of your thigh. "Up."

You’re having a hard time keeping your eyes open, let alone stringing thoughts together, so the command is met with inaction. Impatient as ever, JT wordlessly hoists you where he wants you and sinks down to his knees, big hands cupping yours.

“What’re you doing?” Strained, barely above a whisper.

He stares up at you with dopey, lovestruck eyes. “Come on, Compher. You can gimmie another one, can’t you?”

You aren’t an idiot. Often sleep deprived beyond belief and, more often than not, fucked-out on JT’s… Well, anything—but definitely not an idiot. You knew exactly what that loaded gun of a pet name implied the moment he used it. It first slipped out during a frantic supply closet rendezvous midway through your company’s holiday party, then a few more times in the months after.

It hasn’t lost its sparkle. It does make you more and more impatient each time he flashes it, though.

Fuckin’ tease.

Your fingers burrow in his hair, tugging from the root until his eyelids flutter prettily. “As long as you let me return the favor after—need to taste you so bad.”

“Deal,” he mumbles into your skin a half-second later.

His hands push your already-short skirt up, bunching it atop your hips and out of the way. Your boyfriend takes the time to remove the fabric barrier this time, and you don’t miss the way he tries to slip them into his back pocket without you noticing. Likely because it’d normally be a tease-able offense.

But not tonight, not right now.

Instead, you let a shiver speak for itself. The risqué gesture reminds you of the pair he used as a pocket square when his parents took you two to a celebratory dinner following his white coat ceremony. The rumble of his chuckle tells you his mind went there, too.

JT leans in, big eyes never moving from yours, his warm exhale fanning over your swollen folds. The tooth-marked bruise forming on the side of your throat pricks in tandem response. The action, a repeat of your boyfriend’s earlier antics, naturally yields similar enough results. He catches on, inching forward to—

Something bangs against the door.

His face falls; your heart seizes.

“Occupied!” your boyfriend barks, hands paused but gripping you tightly. He looks like he’s on the verge of exploding.

A full, lilting sound barrels into the door—too-good-to-be-true laughter. His breathy timbre is an unsteady balance of cocksure and skittish; a preference for one side or the other is blurred by the wood in its way. “It’s me, dickhead.”

Then, the curtain is lifted. A pocket of silence ushers in a stillness that cracks like a bolt from the blue.

Shocked doesn’t even begin to cover how you feel right now. You most definitely suffered a concussion somewhere in all JT’s reprimanding; you’re hallucinating right now. That, or the singular seltzer in your system magically turned psychotropic after consumption.

Waiting in the threshold is Tyson Jost. A quarter-drunk fifth of Jack in one hand and that goofy, irrepressible smile plastered on his face. Almost frozen in time—good-humored, untouched. As if nothing’s happened, nothing’s changed. Suave, and standing there like he hasn’t ignored you for months on end, like your and JT’s absence in his life wasn’t felt the way the Tyson-sized void in yours was.

Idle and morose, his eyes are the only defectors to his blasé demeanor. Timid and downturned, akin to a kicked puppy, they beg you and your boyfriend to assuage his guilt. An olive branch, a white flag in the wind. Amid their vulnerability, they still manage to cut into you in a way that feels too intimate, too honest—too much.

The worst part of this charged maelstrom is knowing Tyson isn’t capable of being cruel on purpose, then or now. It's bittersweet.

Careless or callous, it hurts all the same. It’s difficult to sift through the muck and decide which feelings should guide your actions when there’s no easy place to lay blame.

A gnarly, muddy morass of emotion climbs out of your gut and fills your throat, threatening to make an appearance each time you dare to exhale. You’re nervous and confused, elated and optimistic, angry and reproachful. The burn of betrayal rushes up your neck and across the bridge of your nose, but all the words you’ve stockpiled for this rainy day stick to your tongue like tar. Dark, thick, and flammable—your silence is probably for the best.

Bronze eyes, somber beneath the fan of flaxen lashes, adopt a strange aloofness that doesn’t suit his face. Lacquered just so as to protect the gooey softness beneath, the finish does nothing to obstruct or disguise his desirous longing or a brand of blues you’ve never seen in him before.

The intensity of your braided gazes is sanguine at best, duplicitous at worst, but disorienting all the same.

Anxiously, you chew on time; you’re trying your best not to swallow minutes and hours in big gulps. Your attempts to savor their confounding guilty-pleasure flavor are as futile as hoping the animosity would dissipate on its own. Or wishing the distance was just a nightmare you were on the verge of waking up from.

JT’s pulse races against your skin. He’s just as affected, just better at hiding it.

“Took you long enough,” is what JT says in greeting from the floor, dry words flung over his shoulder to curb the growing tension. Blithesome and biting and far more hospitable than you imagined.

All you can do is blink, slack-jawed; there are pieces you’re missing.

JT chuckles at your expression. He pecks your inner thigh to regain your attention. “Fuck now, talk later. Sound good?”

His words crack any and all inhibitions. Like opening the door to a cage, his reassurance grants your mind and heart the permission to succumb to the wave of emotions—lust overtaking the pack with ease.

Eyes still stuck on the ghost in the doorway, you nod your head in agreement. It’s as if you’re afraid your voice might rupture the bubble.

“Figured you’d be a little parched, baby.” Tyson, voice becoming jocular as ever, wags the bottle as he shuts the door behind himself. His tone might be light-hearted, but his gaze is anything but. Starved is the only way you can think to aptly describe the shadow. “And we can’t have that, now can we?”

You barely register JT vacating the prime real estate to accommodate his best friend, and subconsciously, you scoot closer to the edge. You knew you missed him, but you underestimated how needy you’d become if he ever stood before you again.

Both men notice.

Grinning, Tyson takes hold of your jaw. His hand emits a small tremor of unease, hesitant where JT had been demanding. The accidental brush of his fingertips over your boyfriend’s trailed claim rattles free a melancholic whimper. Your eyes glaze over, watering as your neck cranes up at him. He gently tilts your face to the side to assess the damage. You can feel his eyes raking over the marred skin, a sensation akin to your boyfriend’s weaponized breath. Goosebumps rise in their wake.

In reference to the Neanderthal surveying you over his shoulder, Tyson sniggers. “Filthy bastard.”

Charming as ever.

“She deserved it.” JT’s nonchalant shrug is more dismissive than his verbal nod.

Wicked eyes twinkle. “Oh, I don’t doubt that.”

You pinch his side, offended. Nevertheless, you purr at the certitude dripping from his husky vibrato.

He yelps and bats your hand away. “Got you good, didn’t he?”

You nod.

The baby talk-adjacent voice is demeaning, but with your only shield burning a hole in your boyfriend’s back pocket, lying about the effect it's having would be pointless.

Propriety is becoming increasingly moot, as this conversation circling around you carves space for new possibilities.

“Poor thing,” Josty hums, his thumb coasting back and forth over your jaw. His breath is smokey-sweet, honeyed. “M'gonna make it all better. Open up, baby.”

It’s something straight out of an early aughts raunchy teen comedy, the way he holds your mouth open to pour whiskey straight down, doing so without the lip ever touching either one of yours. The thin stream drags slightly as it goes down, but you’d never know watching the pillowy spirit disappear into you. You’re too eager to impress them both to give in and react—to the burn in your throat or the circumstances of this affair. You guzzle the oaky vanilla-clove flavor, smiling dumbly at the toasted aftertaste, all too happy to take anything and everything you’re given.

Still, either by virtue of Tyson’s lingering tipsiness or your inattention, some of the amber liquid escapes over your bottom lip, dribbling over your chin and down in between your cleavage. There isn’t enough time to consider wiping it off; Josty’s mouth is sucking you clean before the bottle even hits the counter beside you.

“Would be a shame…” Tyson starts, briefly interrupting himself with a succession of wet, open-mouthed pecks he’s decided to spoil your décolletage with, “…to let it go to waste.”

JT’s begrudged scoff cuts through the trance. “Jesus, kid. Where’d you learn that? What the fuck have you been doing? Or should I be asking ‘who' you've been doing?"

Tyson flinches at the coarse overtone the questions carry. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sort of reaction only you’re close enough to feel. He just laughs into your neck rather than humoring JT or feeding into whatever he’s implying.

You’re too woozy to toss in your two cents in favor of either side.

Cold countertop lapping up your wetness, the burning palm cupping your face to aid the pursuit of sugary lips, the memory of his tongue gliding over your sticky skin—your boyfriend a few paces away, watching. That’s more potent than any liquor, mixed or straight. It doesn’t take long for you to pull away, in a there-but-not state of mind, to slouch against Tyson’s chest. Head heavy, warmed and spinning.

Happy.

“Somethin’ special, aren’t you?” Tyson muses as he kneads the tender spot where your hairline meets your neck. You peck his forearm.

“As sweet as this reunion’s been, you came up here for a reason. Get to it; we don’t have all night. I imagine La Tornade will be wanting his bathroom back eventually.”

You whimper at the sharp edge of his voice, even though you weren’t the intended target.

JT’s dark drawl was laden with protective affection for you, his devotion hardened by a hue of discontent reminiscent of a paternal chide. An outsider looking in might not see beyond the mediator-in-shining-armor ruse, mistakenly pruning away JT’s thorny pain and rotted grief, but you know better. The situation and him. While genuine, his defense of your bruised feelings is a trojan horse for his own. He’s conveying his rage how he can: under the guise of selflessness.

Tyson gulps, eyes downcasted, then nods. He understands as well as you do. When he finally looks up, the shadow’s fallen over his face once more, cloud drooped low overhead.

“You’re scaring me, Josty.”

This makes him laugh, his mood brightening a tad. “If anyone should be scared, it’s me.”

In your periphery, you catch JT urging him to continue with a stiff glare.

“I-I’ve been such an ass. I—I just care so damn much. About you. About Compher, and our friendship. When you graduated, m-my whole world changed. Like someone gutted my life, scooped out all the good, comfortable stuff and left me with the shell. I felt like I lost my people. Like I was left behind. And then I had to watch you two get closer than ever—without me. It fucking sucked, and I didn’t cope well. Didn’t cope at all, really. Kate’ll tell you, she took the brunt of my tailspin.”

You can’t help but snort despite the thick emotion welling up behind your eyes. The boys smile, too. Things look up.

Tyson takes your hand in a tight squeeze; his pulse jumps into your palm. “But that’s no excuse for what I did—didn’t do. How I treated you. You were trying so hard, and all I did was punish you for it. For constantly reminding me you guys are there and not here. For moving on with your life like you’re supposed to.”

He claims JT’s old spot knelt between your parted knees. “And I’m sorry. So deeply sorry, baby. Please let me make it up to you—let me apologize properly.”

Tears of his own shine up at you from his flushed cheeks. Gently, you take his face in your hands, rubbing away the spilled emotion with the soft pads of your thumbs.

A silent pardon.

The walls throw back the echo of his low, audible content—of relief.

“Is this okay?” His voice is barely a whisper, dwindling to a hush as the question tapers off.

Too determined to quiet his audible fear of rejection—and to have his mouth on you as fast as humanly possible—to bother with words, you nod immediately.

“With how much she’s been dripping onto the counter since you walked in, what do you think?” JT interjects, mood vastly improved.

Your cheeks and neck heat just as he intended.

The younger forward chuckles, hands massaging up and down your sensitive thighs, gripping them as if holding himself back from lunging too soon.

A predator lurking in the brush, lying in wait.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything. Didn’t want to embarrass her.” He winks up at you, confidence rising to the surface once more. You have to fight to maintain eye contact; he’s that stupidly attractive. “ —was try t’be a gentleman.”

You’re a flurry of butterflies, a whimpering mess.

Tyson wants to tease your body; it’s in his nature. But he won’t. Namely, because he can’t. No matter how good some old-fashioned edging would eventually make you feel, he’s already on JT’s shit list as is.

Besides, he’s only been fiending for a taste since you introduced yourself to him. And there's no time like the present...

Your guttural scream—an appropriate, albeit mortifying reaction to his baby pink lips enveloping your swollen clit—pumps his chest full with pride. Tongue flat, he charts the length of your heat with a gentleness you hadn’t thought your collective excitement would allow for. His hands coast over your legs, syncing with his mouth, until he physically cannot wait any longer. One final pass, one so agonizingly slow your greedy hips thoughtlessly vie for more of anything, brings his wistful, fidgeting digits to rest at the apex of your thighs.

“Pause.”

JT’s clipped command is a bucket of ice water.

Your vocal annoyance is matched by Tyson’s, but you both know how delicate a game you’re playing.

With his thumb still lazily swirling to your clit, Tyson’s inquisitive head begins to turn around. Before he gets anywhere worthwhile, it’s swiftly spun back into place by your boyfriend’s firm hand.

You can’t even convey how hot you find JT’s fingers casually twisting in his friend’s curly mop—just the way you love; all you manage is a warbled, mostly airy cry. Your distressed state worsens watching the show unfold between your lax, parted knees: reluctant, fluttery lashes over neon cheeks; a rosy, glistening bottom lip sacrificed to cage mousy whimpers, his ragged breathing betraying all effort toward feigning indifference to JT’s self-assured manhandling.

Your boyfriend snickers at your expression, a fish lingering open-mouthed for a surface sip, an ill-attempt to supplement a natural mode gone inadequate. No matter how much oxygen your widened jaw draws in, it never feels sufficient. A bottomless pit, a balloon with a fatal puncture wound. Gone before your depleted brain could make use of it.

“Have to make sure he does it right, don’t I, sweetheart?” JT’s voice is smooth and low, charring by the second; he’s enjoying the view as much as you are.

Tyson rolls his tawny eyes. Half-hearted annoyance. “Controlling much?”

“I know what my woman needs.”

The look you share with your friend is unequivocally feral.

And the growl JT hurls back, a low-pitched rumble permeating the tight space with little effort on his part, is just plain mean.

His attitude could not be more arrogant. The cavalier persona makes you shiver, and Tyson’s breath hitch. Humming, your boyfriend tugs on his curls until the two’s eyes are locked. Inescapable. The brunette gasps as he tries desperately to hold his eyes open, waiting with bated breath.

JT licks his lips, triumphant. “Open her up for me, will ya?” Mischief catches in the light as quickly as it falls into your boyfriend’s lap. His grip tightens, and Tyson whimpers like a naughty puppy caught red-handed. “Don’t screw around, ‘kay? She needs all the help her tight pussy can get, and we don’t have all night.”

Panting, his nod is the only affirmative he can muster up. And the only one his limited range of motion will allow for. Smug and pleased enough, JT all but throws his friend into your fire, his nose bumping where you’re most sensitive. 

You actually yelp.

Holding your torrid gaze, Tyson dips his marriage and middle into you. You groan out what you meant to be his name—But who knows? And who fucking cares?—unable to control yourself while he’s finally touching you like this. Finally back.

Tyson finger-fucks you at an even pace, steadily pushing you up the hill. His satisfaction is tangible when he pulls out and away, so very delighted by your wonton hiss of annoyance. Even more so when the volume hikes up in response to the slippery pads of his fingers circling your clit. Your lewd whines harmonize with your audible arousal as he works it back into your fragile skin, playing with your wetness, utterly fascinated.

“What d’ya think, baby? Think you’re wet enough to take another finger?” JT’s tone is as cocky as his stupid rhetorical question. He, however, made no move to conceal his growing impatience.

“Mhmm,” you murmur, head like a rubber ball hitting the pavement. Still, you remember your manners. “Please—c-can I? Can I have another?”

His smile is pure adoration, dreamlike.

JT’s reverent eyes stay with you, but his words pour down over the eager man on the floor as he coaxes you halfway to heaven. “You heard her, kid. Give the lady what she deserves.”

Kid—Tyson hates when people call him that, but he especially loathes JT's usage. There’s barely an age difference, but with the way everyone acts, it might as well be decades. It seems like no matter what he does to prove himself, he’s still the baby. Every additional candle is like an annual slap in the face, a mockery that won’t end.

He can feel anger and frustration curdling low in his stomach just thinking about all the attempts that fell flat, and he decides to put the grumbling to good use. The vibration is red-hot and deliberate against your responsive, slick center, irritation like lighter fluid.

He gives you more than just three fingers. He splays all three—wide. Even as they stroke your soft inner walls, Tyson keeps you stretched so as to leave no slack. Your boyfriend wants you open? Tyson will fucking tear you apart, happily. (Yes, spite is a factor.)

Highly sensitive and spread to the limit, you ascend far quicker than usual. Fisting a bushel of golden-brown curls, nails digging rapt half-moons, you guide his willing face to the necessary places to see yourself through. Every slight adjustment has your entire body jerking haphazardly as it struggles to process the rocketing shockwaves.

JT’s hand retreats—only slightly—to make way for yours, to give you more leverage to fuck yourself through it. Less than a foot away, your boyfriend’s chest heaves in time with yours, his eyes pits of lust you dive into with clumsy enthusiasm.

During one particular, delicious pass, the tip of Tyson’s tongue catches your strained entrance, and when you unexpectedly gush against his mouth in response, he begins lapping over and around your carnal connection.

“Holy shit — Ty, I-I’m — I’m — “

The denouement of your climax is nothing short of glorious, as rude of a sentence interruptor as it was. Half-mewls and purred praise rain down from your loosened lips, eyes screwed shut.

Tyson melts over the way you take control of your orgasm, so unabashed and authoritative. You go after what you want; he respects that majorly. And getting to feel and taste what makes you tick doesn’t hurt either.

Neither do you and your pretty, throbbing walls cutting off blood flow while your boyfriend tugs his hair from behind.

“Just like that, keep fucking her through it. Did so good—doin’ so good for us.”

JT’s praise sends the brunette’s unoccupied hand right to his bulge.

This is the best he’s felt in months.

There’s the mythical balance of bliss-to-tension to key up his senses, shooting white-hot tingles of want from his head to his feet and flaming between his ribs, affection for you. You forgive him, JT forgives him, and, most importantly, he forgives himself.

He feels buoyant with his face coated in your climax, so much so that it runs down from his chin to his neck, staining the collar of his beer-soaked tee; he hopes you might return his favor later.

Josty’s guilty hand is knocked away by a firm toe.

“Y’haven’t earned it, bud,” his mentor chides.

The delinquent appendage flops lamely at his side for a split second, then lifts beside his nose to join its partner at your slick core. As if remembering there’s work to be done, a goal to attain. Beneath this new asset, your achy, spent clit pulses, egging him on with every thump, thump, thump.

Tempting him to do something, to take it further…

He thinks about it. Fuck, does he think about it—you can see the tape winding in his eyes.

JT can read Tyson’s mind through his skull, apparently. “Don’t even think about it, kid. Her last one’s mine, but you’re more than welcome to watch from right here.” —Your boyfriend points to the remaining space between the sinks, knowing it’ll be close quarters for you both— “Just remember: I only said watch. This is groveling, not a treat.”

And Tyson does. Without question or complaint, he’s just fine sitting next to you, sitting pretty.

He’s always been the perfect teammate. Always willing to do whatever it takes, regardless of the role. The only difference is he no longer wants his anxiety to be the sole motivator behind said selflessness.

Finally ready to play fearless.

JT helps you down; Tyson hops up.

Immediately, your attention fractures. Split between messy brown curls and lust-blown pupils and your own disheveled appearance: smudged makeup, knotted hair, mauled neck, and spit-stained, bruised lips. Thank fuck you’re graduated and gone. Otherwise, you’d never live this down—Kate might treat you to a taste of would-be campus humiliation later if she’s feeling particularly charitable, though.

Your boyfriend’s grip is heavy on your hips. Happy to have you back. You feel one hand coast over your lower back and down to grope your ass as if trying to keep you in the palm of his hand. White-knuckle hold withstanding, JT presses his chest flush to your backside and uses his free hand to yank every remaining hindrance to your navel.

He wants you on display.

Your gasp is rivaled only by Tyson’s pitiful whimper and twitching, touch-happy fingers.

The ginger’s chuckle is molten and deep, mouth barely a breath from your ear, his eyes pinning Tyson still.

Your mind rewound back to when he made this proposition, wondering how the hell you got from there to here.

“Bend over, sweetheart. Arch that back nice and pretty so we can show Josty what a good girl he’s been missing out on—what a filthy thing you’ve turned into.”

As soon as you’ve done just that, your boyfriend drives home. It’s fast and dirty; primal. He knows there’s no need, but JT marks his territory anyway.

You watch Josty’s mouth part like he’s about to ask you something. Staring through his eyes as if ducking into his pesky daydreams and up-too-late musings, all specifics watery and indistinct.

Ultimately, you wind up disappointed by silence. But, with the slow return of your boyfriend’s bare cock between your soft inner walls, it dawns on you; JT had used a condom last time. Even made Tyson retrieve it for him. The depth of your relationship is sinking in; that’s what you’re now watching. He’s mulling over the information, caught somewhere between wanting to swallow his guilt one go and choking on his own assumptions.

JT follows your charged concern, performs a similar triage, and then gives you a concise nod through the fogged-up mirror.

I’ll handle it.

At that, your walls noticeably ease, and he shudders, groaning as even more of him sinks deeper to occupy the newfound space. He gets a few strokes out before Josty slots his body between your palms to lean in. Here, he does something that collapses the simple but effective status quo. 

“Fuck, kid. K-Keep doing that.”

Keep rubbing your clit.

Keep playing with you.

Keep being an accessory to his pleasure. To yours.

Be present.

Be here.

“Such a fucking mess, baby. Don’t know how Compher gets anything done with you there, sweet and ripe for the taking.”

The two halves of Tyson’s demeanor are antithetical, and infuriatingly so, a saccharine smile split open by filth. It paints a sordid picture that must stand for itself, as you find it impossible to pluck out of thin air any coherent thoughts.

Be that as it may, your friend did not set out for a reply. At least not one other than the befuddled stuttering you’re doing.

A familiar palm shoots to your raw neck—tender, inside and out—lightning quick. You're yanked up before you can blink. JT mercilessly nips at the gaps in between his tight grip, hips pushed just as firm against the swell of your backside.

Still, he furthers their madcap banter. “I dunno either, Josty. And, believe me, the little vixen sure as hell doesn’t make it any easier. Sometimes I think she’s tryna milk me dry for good.”

If Tyson Jost were ever going to cream his pants—post-pubescence, it would be now.

Like, right fucking now.

The proclamation of your third orgasm is wondrous. Proud. Grateful. One of your hands flies back to catch the nape of JT’s neck to steady yourself as he continues pistoning in and out of you. Tyson's generous touch stays, too.

Your back arches this go around, head rolling against your boyfriend's shoulder before slipping back down towards the counter, free palm absorbing the impact of the abrupt sway. Too much, too much—it’s all too much for your tender muscles and soupy brain to handle. You surrender to the plethora of sensations, each more overwhelming than the last—half-collapsed back against into your boyfriend, half-crumbled forward into his best friend’s damp, tented lap.

“Not gonna last, sweetheart—y’feel too damn good, s’tight and warm, always strangling my cock—know you’re close, too. Gonna give me what you promised, Compher? Please, pretty girl—need to feel your perfect pussy squeezin’ me dry.”

It's refractory; your world goes from washed-out to vivid and back, over and over, as though impatiently flipping between channels.

You’re a tangle of sticky limbs and physical reverie, blanketed by a warm afterglow and cleared air. Body scaffolded by muscular forms on either side, your mind gives your body permission to slacken at last. JT’s arm winds around your midsection when it becomes clear the all-consuming exhaustion is giving way to the relaxation that eluded you for so many months. Tyson massages your arms, your hands still cemented to his knees. Your head drops to his shoulder, too heavy for your bruised neck.

For a long while, no one says a thing. Not intentionally or for fear of disturbing the peace; there’s simply no need. No words exist to shoulder that much weight, none able to capture precisely what emotions swirl between you. Silence says enough—silence says it all.

Banging cuts through your sex-drunk stupor. Again. The abrupt sounds function like metaphorical smelling salts, restoring consciousness and rousing decorum laid dormant. Your mutual, unadulterated bliss circles the drain in the absence of a psychological plug, ripped free, half-baked.

JT reluctantly leaves you empty and dripping, tucks himself away, and cracks open the door—only as wide as is necessary. Behind his imposing physique, you remain hunched over Tyson, waiting for your boyfriend to make the problem go away; you’re too tired to take any initiative.

Golden hair and familiar grey-blue eyes fill the gap, shining in your periphery. Barely a sliver, that’s how much of this your boyfriend’s willing to share with the world. You like that, and judging by his lopsided grin, so does Tyson.

“Paging Mrs. Compher!” Gabe hollers over JT’s head. “Clean up on aisle ‘Kate.’”

Just hearing her name puts you back in action. Damn you, maternal instincts.

You scramble to right twisted fabric and smeared makeup to a soundtrack of expletives. It’s pointless, though, because nothing settles how it should. No amount of smoothing, brushing, or tucking seems to help. Hazy vision and the legs of a newborn fawn don’t exactly lend themselves to effective primping.

And it’s not like you’ve got a hickey-remover magic wand stashed in your purse, either. 

Accept your fate, you acquiesce with a sigh.

Tyson does a piss-poor job muffling his laughter, which lands him a crisp swat to the chest.

As you stumble over, you catch the end of your boyfriend’s irritation. “—and you’re sure there isn’t anyone else to hold her hair back? Why can’t you do it?”

The gears in Gabe’s skull clank so loud you can hear them over the audible chaos seeping into your haven—he’s intoxicated, not stupid.

“CupKate wants her mommy.” The blonde winks at you over JT’s shoulder. His tongue gives a knowing click of approval at Tyson’s equally disheveled state. “And what do you care, Compher? Smells like you three already made your express trip to Pound-town, USA. How was it? I hear the weather’s hot and steamy this time of year.”

“Real mature, Landy, real mature,” JT scoffs.

The sound just revs him up. “Says the fucker who’s locked in a frat house bathroom with his girlfriend and his best friend. One of whom, might I add, looks like they got mauled by a hormonal freshman after a high school dance.”

“Can you two go measure your dicks, I don’t know, anywhere but in the way? I have a child to tend to.” 

You almost have to laugh. At the situation and at the words coming out of your mouth. At Kate, sick to her stomach like a kid who ate too many sweets on a holiday. 

Years have passed, but you’re all still the same.

“Me-yeoh!” Gabe sing-songs while miming what you assume are claws scratching at nothing.

Again, his drink is the sole casualty of his jubilation. A golden wave sloshes over the rim and onto the floor. The spray makes JT’s jaw tick.

The former winger offers a sheepish grin in repentance. “Whoops?”

Your boyfriend steals a glance to check that you’re decent, then side-steps out of your way with an exasperated sigh. His dilated gaze flits over your ruffled appearance, shamelessly drinking in the state of your throat but tripping over the questions dancing in your eyes.

He juts his head in Landy’s direction with a sardonic eye-roll. “Go on. Save your damsel, Mother Hen. I’ll fill you in on in the Uber back to the hotel.”

“Meet you out front?” You ask, and he nods.

You dart back to Tyson, plant a chaste peck on his flushed cheek, and then repeat the gesture with JT and his peeved lips. It’s faint, but they instantly soften for you.

Before they know it, you’re slipping out the door. Gabe gets an affectionate pat on the shoulder as you squeeze by him before you disappear in the direction of the Girls Only bathroom; no significant differences, only marginally cleaner and occasionally stocked with helpful accouterment—chivalry isn’t dead!

Lingering in the wake of your departure, Gabe sways like an inflatable man on the curb of a car dealership. A smirk twists his lips. “Nicely done, boys. Nicely done. Can’t say I thought we’d see the day—or that either of you had it in ya—but I feel like a proud father.” He wipes a phantom tear, the final straw. “Makes you wish you listened to Daddy Landy sooner, huh? Think of all the lost ti—”

JT slams the door in his face. Through the wood, Gabe cackles.

The two men slip back into sync as they wordlessly scrape themselves back together with the time and privacy you were not afforded. 

As JT yanks his jeans back into place, his belt clanking around like a bell’s hourly chime, a black velvet box tumbles to the floor, and Tyson’s stomach along with it.

The air shouldn’t, but it turns on a dime. Their progress is seemingly more fragile than expected.

“If—uh, wow.” A crunchy, anxious bark of a laugh cuts his thought in half.

JT doesn’t interrupt; he holds space for the blossoming discomfort.

Tyson rubs the tense knots along the back of his neck as his eyes drill into the floor. “If I’d known this would be our swan song, I would’ve tried to enjoy it more. I don’t know—savored it, I guess?”

“This,” JT says, scooping up the dud he hopes isn’t hanging fire. “— is what I wanted to talk to you about earlier.”

Before they got into it in the garage, before they’d been forcibly separated by Erik and Nate. Before they, punch-drunk and drunk-drunk, teetered between tears and anger in the shadowy, too-quiet backyard.

They spun in circles until they had nowhere to move but on. To make amends, to stumble through chary half-apologies that mean more than they say.

JT’s alleviation was short-lived; his calm trepidation squashed before it could fly. Tyson now understands why.

Tyson balks. “Me?”

Your boyfriend sighs through his nose, pinching the bridge. He’s bidding time. Digging for the right words but knowing there are none.

“I love her—and I know you do, too. I’m not upset; she makes it hard not to fall for her.”

Tyson’s head hangs lower, chagrined.

JT continues, “I’m going to ask her to marry me, but I didn’t want to do it without talking to you. Without making sure you’d be okay. Eventually. The last thing I wanted was for you to be blindsided or to feel even more left out.”

Tyson can’t help but snort at the sheer absurdity. “Left out… God, how pathetic am I? Getting all butt-hurt over a relationship that isn’t even mine.”

“Pathetic was going AWOL.”

Josty winces. He doesn’t argue because he has zero ground to stand on.

“But feeling something? Far from it.”

“I didn't—don’t want to take her from you. You have to know that, Compher.” The hurt’s been hammered from his voice. Left behind is softened sincerity.

JT’s smile is just as downy. “I do, and you’d be wasting time by trying.”

Josty chokes on an unforeseen bubble of laughter.

You love JT Compher so openly and ardently it might as well be a neon sign plastered to your forehead. He’s always been it for you. There’s never been any competition, Tyson Jost included.

“Thank god we got this ironed out before the wedding,” the older forward chuckles as he leans back against the counter.

They’re side-by-side, as they should be.

“Why’s that?”

JT digs into his other pocket and pushes something into the palm of his best friend, whose cheeks flame tout de suite in response. With a bump of his shoulder, your boyfriend tacks on, “Something to remember tonight by.”

Tyson shoves the memento into his own pocket, then raises a quizzical brow.

Your boyfriend grins.

“The best man pining over the bride while giving the groom the cold shoulder would make for an awkward wedding, don’t you think?”

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[wjehfshs]

Na’vi boys + Spider and them in a relationship w u ^^

Includes: Neteyam, Lo’ak, Spider, Rotxo, and Ao’nung

Authors note: I kinda already did this briefly when talking about what they want in a partner but I wanted to go into more depth about it. Also Spider is now involved. It’s also really hard to write for Rotxo, sorryyyy

SOME suggestive comments here and there but no smut! Or anything graphic or detailed!

Neteyam

Me might be nicknamed the Mighty Warrior, but for you, he’s weak in the knees

Kiri and Lo’ak always make fun of him for how he always becomes cuddly with you the instant he’s just a little bit tired

Just like his mama, whenever you two are alone, he’ll rub his face up against you, any place he can reach

Yes even if you’re not officially mated/too young to mate, he’ll do it

He gets compliments from other people in his clan a lot but they don’t do anything for him. But when YOU compliment him, he’s silently giggling and kicking his feet. You swear his head just got 2x bigger

His nicknames for you consist of “love” “my love” “sweetheart” and “beautiful one”

If you’re bigger than him he’ll also throw in some “my warrior” or even a “palm tree” (as if he isn’t 8’2 😭😭)

If you’re smaller than him (especially if you’re human) he’ll call you “my little one” or “my star”

He’ll always get you to pass something to him just so he can touch your hand while you pass it over

He literally acts as if you two aren’t in a relationship and have seen each other fully naked

He’s such a dork at heart

His favourite places to kiss you are your forehead and right next to your lips

Not that he doesn’t enjoy a kiss on the lips, but he knows it frustrates you so he’ll kiss you right next to your lips and then when you look at him like he just told you he was gonna break up with you, he chuckles and kisses you properly on the lips

I can guarantee that you will not be cold when sleeping with him

He’s like a radiator

But if it’s hotter outside, you’re trying to push him off as you have sweat dripping down your face as he has his head on your chest and his arms tightly, and I mean TIGHTLY around your waist

He likes to bathe with you

Not in a creepy or horny way

…okay maybe in a just very slightly horny way

But he likes to be able to hold you close, it feels intimate to him, and calming

Dude you will have his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he starts drooling if you run your hands through his braids

He’ll be purring n shit too

Do that and either his loincloth/tweng is thrown off somewhere else or he’s kissing you all over. Depends on the mood

He likes to have his arm wrapped around yours as you go for walks around the forest and find ponds/lakes to sit near

Or maybe instead the beach if you’re at the Metkayina clan

Although he always ends up getting in the water for some reason

It’s like he can’t help himself

And then he’ll try and drag you in with him, cuddling you as you try to slap him on the chest for getting you wet

Then he’ll press a kiss to your head and mumble to you “I’m sorry my love, I couldn’t help myself. You always just look so pretty and all I want to do is smother you”

He doesn’t really check you out per-se, but admires you

Tail wagging and everything

The dorkiest and silliest smile on his face as you do whatever you are doing

Then you catch him and he looks away, trying to act non-suspicious (he’s so suspicious)

Lo’ak

Now Lo’ak doesn’t even care

He just checks you out

I mean he cares if he’s caught, acting all cool and calm

He acts as if he wasn’t just drooling from the sight of you

When he’s sleeping he’s either twitching likes he’s having a seizure or he’s dead asleep

And when he’s dead asleep it’s like he decides to just weigh 2 tons

And you can tell it’s a good sleep too

He’s drooling, face smooshed up against something (usually you) and he’s sweating

If you’re laying on top of him he’ll roll over just to crush you in his sleep

And if you’re human, say good bye to any form of blood flow because you’re not getting him off you

He will not wake up for anything, you could scream in his ear and he won’t even move

But if you manage to actually get out of his iron grasp, he immediately wakes up and drags you back. He acts as if you’re his life line and if you stop touching each other he’ll drop dead

His favourite past time with you is to chase you around the forest/beach

It seems weird to other people but for you two, it’s actually a lot of fun

He’ll go a little slower if you can’t run as fast

Once he finally decides it’s enough he’ll catch up to you and pick you up off the ground, spin you around and kiss all up and down the back of your neck

He likes to kiss you on the back of your neck and on the lips

He also likes to have you on his lap a lot, makes him feel closer to you

He’ll rub his face against your head and he can’t help but smell you

He likes to smell you

That sounds weird but your scent comforts him

His love language is biting

Just nipping at you

He’s seriously like a giant chihuahua

He calls you names like “beautiful” “my one and only” and “baby”

He could listen to you talk for hours

Not even about anything specific, you could just be yapping about anything that comes to mind and he’ll listen with hearts in his eyes and a goofy smile on his face

Sometimes he’ll intentionally bring up things you like/things you could talk about for a long time just so he can listen to you talk

He’s guilty of falling asleep on top of you while you rant about whatever

He just can’t help it, your voice is one of his favourite things about you

He gets jealous easily though

He trusts you, but he’s insecure within himself

So anytime he thinks someone’s getting a little too touchy or flirty with you, he steps in and makes it a point to hug and kiss you

And he will try to always have you either on his lap or at least next to him so he can hug you

He’s not obsessed with PDA and he doesn’t mind if you dislike it, but he also isn’t opposed to the idea of it

He actually finds it comforting to know that others know you two are together

If you have any work to do, wether it be chores for the clan or work in the lab (obvi depends if ur Na’vi, human or Avatar) he’ll follow you around and bother you

Kissing all up your neck and spine while you work, whinging about how your attention isn’t on him

He goes through phases. First it’s trying to distract you, then it’s feeling rejected and sulking, then pretending he actually doesn’t care abt what you’re doing, then it’s getting all way up in your face about what you’re doing, and then it’s just acceptance. But usually by acceptance you’re done with whatever you had to do (this part is all light hearted if someone acted like this genuinely it would be a little weird and concerning)

When you are finished though, he’s now lying on top of you, crushing you with his weight as he rubs his face all over you

He can’t help but always touch you in some capacity

Tail wrapped around you

Hand in yours

Arm around your waist/shoulders

Spider

Okay so first and foremost, he will try and act all tough and stronger than he to impress you

ESPECIALLY if you’re Na’vi

He once claimed he could pick you up so you sat yourself down and he got maybe your feet off the floor (you totally didn’t do it yourself to make him feel better) before he had to give up

“Look I totally could! Todays just not a good day”

If you’re human and shorter/around the same height than him, he definitely could, but he always does it wrong and hurts himself

It’s not that you’re too heavy for him, he’s just not cautious and picks you up wrong, hurting his back in the process

He likes to sleep on top of you, sprawled out like a starfish and on his stomach

He sleeps pretty long so if you’re Na’vi you can probably just easily pick him up and put him to the side

But if you’re human, then you probably can’t, so you’re just going to have to wait there until he wakes up

And trying to wake him up before he’s ready either just won’t work or will end in him becoming grumpy

Once’s he’s grumpy he demands you give him a kiss to make it up to him (he’s like a big ass baby)

Oh and his kisses (especially his morning kisses) are sloppy and have no thought behind them

He means them but he just goes for it, he doesn’t care where the kiss lands, just as long as it’s somewhere on your body

He’s so nervous like all the time

Just wants to impress you

Lo’ak once told him, in order to impress you, he should do a front flip off a low down enough tree when you were looking

He managed the flip, but when he landed, he accidentally twisted his ankle

You saw it happen and tried to get him to go to med bay but he swore he was fine

It was only until one of the scientists saw him limping into the lab later that day when he finally caved and went to med bay

Now back on the carrying thing

If he can carry you, he’ll insist on holding you bridal style while he trudges through a small stream over to the other side

Even if you’re perfectly capable, he still insists on it, makes him feel strong and protective

He likes to sit next to you, hold your face and bump noses with you, giggling and smiling as you whisper to each other and look in each others eyes

Not only does he enjoy doing it, but he also knows it makes Lo’ak gag every time he has to see it and he likes to tease his best friend

He’ll bring you things he found around the forest

You have an assortment of random rocks and now dried plants/flowers he found pretty

If you’re Na’vi, he’ll play with the tips of your fangs (yknow? Like feeling them) when you’re cuddling

He also will sometimes grab your tail and wrap it around him while you two are cuddling

If you try and scent him (bc I’m pretty sure the Na’vi scent their mates/partners) he’ll be so proud for the rest of the day

Walking around like he’s hot shit

“Yeah [name] scented me, they’re totally obsessed with me”

Like he’s not constantly talking and thinking about you

His nicknames for you are “sweetie” “mine” and “softie”

He likes to call you softie because it doesn’t matter your body type, to him, you’re just a big softie

If you’re Na’vi he’ll add in “blueberry” as a nickname because one of the scientists showed him what they where and he decided that was a great nickname for you

He likes to kiss you on the tip of your nose and your shoulder

He’s picked up the chasing habit from Lo’ak

He loves when he can chase you around the forest

Rotxo

He’ll often hold your face in his hands, squishing your face and pinching your cheeks like he’s some grandma

He’ll sleep curled up next to you, his head on your shoulder

His hair gets in your face but you don’t mind since it’s very soft and clean (he takes very good care of it)

Or he’ll spoon you. He would like to be the small spoon sometimes but his front gets cold so he prefers to be the big spoon so your back can warm him up

His nicknames for you are “my light” “my sunshine” and “love”

He puts a lot of emphasis on how you’re his guiding light almost, that you make his days better

His favourite places to kiss you are on the lips and on the stomach

He also likes to have you on his lap as much as he can

His head on your shoulder as he presses his cheek up against yours, his arms around your waist, pressing occasional kisses to your cheek

More on the kissing you on your stomach thing, when he hasn’t seen you for awhile or he’s had a long day, when he sees you again he’ll run up to you, pick you up so his face is pressed against your stomach as he kisses all over it

He can’t help but blow some raspberries on it too, it makes you laugh and your laugh is like a drug to him

He spends a lot of time weaving and making things for you

His tail can’t stop wagging when he sees you wearing whatever he made for you

Being a soft lover obviously has its perks, but he can also become insecure when you have any friends/anyone talks to you who is taller, stronger, and more confident

He’s the sad kind of jealous

When he gets jealous he becomes sad and avoids you

He automatically assumes the worst case scenario so be prepared to have to comfort him and reassure him that you love him and him only

He’s not really with it a lot of the time (day dreamer fr) so sometimes you have to hold his hand and guide him places

And it’s really awkward if you’re human, you’re so tiny compared to him yet you’re leading him around and he’s just stumbling over his own two feet

He likes to dance with you at celebrations and ceremonies

It doesn’t matter if you know the dances, he’ll teach you. Or you’ll both just do your own thing together, giggling and laughing

If you’re human and at a celebration, he’ll always try to guide you away from the crowd so you don’t get fucking stomped to death

I like to think that he secretly wants to be a healer/helper of the Tsahík, but his parents want him to become a strong warrior like all of his friends are doing

But he’s secretly picked up on tips and tricks (thanks to Ronal feeling bad for a 7yr old Rotxo bawling his eyes out because he wanted to help ppl but he couldn’t)

So if you ever get hurt, he’s rushing to your aid and helping you

Not only is he skilled in healing, but he’s also great at emotional comfort

He knows just what to say and when to say it

Not only that, but he’s just like a big old teddy bear

Cuddly and soft

He dotes over you a lot

His favourite activity with you is weaving and visiting the spirit tree

Even if you can’t connect to it because you’re human, he’s fine with just sitting on his Ilu with you or going to a nearby beach close enough to still watch the animals swim around the spirit tree

To him, it’s romantic. And if even you can connect to the spirit tree, you don’t always. Sometimes you two just go there to sit and talk, have some alone time from the clan

It’s actually where you two had your first kiss

Ao’nung

Ok so we all know it’d definitely be an enemies to lovers kinda thing

Or at least a redeemed bully who secretly likes you

I wanna go into some depth about Ao’nung with human reader so prepare for that

At first he’d HATE you

Not only out of, yknow, reasonable hate for humans, but also partly out of fear

But he’d rather die than admit that he was a little scared of you

It started off with avoiding you, always on guard around you, his hand automatically placed on his knife that was hanging off his hip, just in case

But then when he realised how… harmless, you really were, he calmed down

The fear and anxiety turned into bullying and teasing for your “weird appearance”

He secretly found you cute, but he wouldn’t even admit that to himself

So he started targeting you, purposefully sitting next to you at communal dinners just so he could make witty remarks about how slow you eat due to have to lift up your mask each time and having to breathe between each bite

Then it switched to the obvious “why do you have four fingers?”

Then to nicknaming you “little demon”

And it just kept going

It finally stopped when one day you smiled at him

That’s all it took

He found your smile so captivating and radiant that he finally had to admit he liked you and he could no longer find it in himself to be hostile or teasing anymore

So he actually tried to form a friendship

During the actual relationship, he will regularly pick you up and inspect you

Comment on how soft and squishy you are

Comment on how small compared to him you are

Comment on your weird yet adorable appearance

Ok so here, it doesn’t matter if you’re human, Na’vi or avatar

He will leave love bites

All over you

And if you wear Na’vi clothes/clothes that don’t cover as much, it’ll piss you right off

Because you’ll be trying to do a daily task and people will be staring and giggling because there’s a giant fucking bite mark right on your neck just the right size and shape of Ao’nungs teeth

And the way he apologises? Leaving a “soft kiss” on the love bite that eventually turns into a hickey

He can’t help himself, it’s like he goes feral and loses all sense of shame and control as soon as his lips touch you

He’s also a scenter

He’s very protective so he makes sure you smell of him every god damn morning

He has 3 ways and 3 ways only of sleeping

Curled up next to you in the fetal position with his tail wrapping around you

On top of you

You on top of him

His favourite places to kiss you are the neck, on top of your head, and literally just anywhere that gets you flustered

He likes to tease you

He makes a game out of it too

“How many times can I fluster them today?”

Whispering suggestive shit in your ear and giggling when you try to get him to shut up

Or hugging you from behind and tracing circles over your hip/waist/stomach

And his favourite, kissing you and slipping a little tongue in there right before he pulls away

He’s such a little menace

His nicknames for you are “my star” or “my little star” if you’re shorter than him, “love” and “sweetheart” but anytime he calls you sweetheart it’s in a whiny way that he draws out to get your attention, like anytime you’re busy doing something, he’ll call you sweetheart in a long drawn out way with a fake whiny voice to get your attention

And if you’re human, he never really let go of the “little demon” nick name, but he’s switched it now to “my little demon”

In public he’s not not affectionate, but he dials it down a bit, but as soon as you’re in private, he’s all over you

Face in your neck, arms squeezing you so tight you struggle to breathe, and probably lying on top of you

He’s insecure and wants to be just like his father, so any time you compliment his skill in something, he’s secretly blushing and giggling. But he puts on this “yeah, it’s whatever” persona to seem cool

One of his favourite activities with you is to go swimming with you

Especially if you aren’t from the reef, seeing your eyes light up at everything in the ocean makes his heart swell

If you’re human, your mask annoys him. He understands why you need it but he can’t kiss you and it frustrates him

So if a lab is set up at the Metkayina clan, he’s elated to finally have somewhere he can freely kiss you

#avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #Neteyam x reader #lo’ak x reader #Spider Socorro x reader #Rotxo x reader #Ao’nung x reader #neteyam headcannons #lo’ak headcannons #spider soccoro #Javier socorro #spider Socorro headcanons #spider headcanons #rotxo headcanons #Ao’nung headcanons #avatar headcanons #avatar x you #avatar teens #avatar twow teens #avatar twow #headcanons #fanfic #romance #romantic headcanons #fluff

[flintandpyrite]

Foundationless string pieced border: how-to

Step 1: cut some strips of fabric 2x+1” as wide as your desired border width. I wanted a 2.5” border strip (which will become a 2” border with seam allowance) so I cut 6” strips. Then use your rotary cutter to wonky cut them into strings. The more wonky you cut them, the more interesting the finished border, but if the angle is too steep it becomes hard to truly improv because you won’t get a straight border.

Randomly sew 12-14 of these strings together, first in pairs, then in 4s and so on. The only rule I followed was to put thin ends against thick ends so each piece ended up a rough rectangle rather than a bigger triangle. Press the seams to one side with your iron:

Wonky, but not too wonky. When I place my 6” ruler on you can see that 5” fits neatly in the middle:

Trim off the excess from each side to make a straight 5” wide rectangle:

Cut the rectangle in half to make two border strips:

To join the strips you will probably have to square the ends of each or you won’t get a straight line. To do this simply use the right angle of the ruler to trim each end and sew together:

Then join them! If you make several string rectangles at once you can alternate so it looks really random. You may have to re-press the seams on the back once your border strip is done.

I learned this technique from the books of Gwen Marston, in particular her inspiring Liberated String Quilts, which you should definitely check out of the library, it totally opened my eyes to all these techniques I had never even considered. Also check out Freddy and Gwen Collaborate Again for more wild ideas.

#string piecing #quilts #quilting #patchwork #my projects #postcards from Sweden quilt

[viciouslyyearning]

Fuck it big beefy cecaelia named Akos supremacy

I'm specifically having thoughts about little differences between him as a cecaelia (octopus merfolk, tentacles instead of a tail and in my thoughts literally 2x the size of regular merfolk) and his darling lil mate the very much handsome merfolk that is you! Flowey and shiny tail and half his size! There have to be things between species that he'd have difficulty with!

Like... Say for merfolk, intertwining tails between a mated couple. It's the biggest display of vulnerability and comfort and trust cause your inhibiting yourself from swimming if you gotta GTFO! And it's very close physically some close friends or family might wrap around towards the tail fin but there's still freedom to move if ya gotta but mated couples (romantic or platonic tbh) wrap their tails as much and as closely as they can.

Akos doesn't have a tail. You do.

He'll find you staring at his tentacles while you're lounging in his cavern, tail flicking lazily with this silly smile as you're -what he can assume- daydreaming about something.

It isn't until he reads more on merfolks courting habits specifically that he realizes why. And he's both a bit heartbroken that he can't do what your fellow merfolk can with you but also absolutely beaming with pride and just so much love that you might even be thinking about him in such context.

It isn't until you find the slate he had been reviewing the topic on that he finally confesses his thoughts. Once you realize he knows what it means, you easily reply that you've already figured out a solution.

When you hold your arms out to him and give the simplest demand of "Hold me." Happily, he wraps his arms around your upper body, the quickest of his inky black tentacles circling around your tail as they always do. It isn't until you laugh to yourself that he begins to question what you're thinking.

Once you point out how his tentacles wrap around your tail, all you have to do is easily swirl your tail in similar motion and you're effectively intertwined.

Akos stares at your tail curled around his tentacles for a few moments before letting out a Shakey breath.

At your sudden concern he just breathes in relief and tucks your form back into his. He worries so much that you might miss out on something you'd find in a relationship outside of him. It just scares him but he won't admit it.

I also like to imagine that cecaelia have certain habits of their own, such as longer resting periods and higher intake of food. A creature twice the size of his mate might not notice that whenever he prepares a meal he gives them a portion as big as they are, or that every time they sleep together, they'll settle down with him certainly but always have something to occupy their time as he holds them and falls asleep, and once he awakens again they're already awake and fiddling with something else.

Once Akos finally does notice he begins to ask if you're feeling well. In his eyes you hardly eating or sleeping and that's not good.

He almost ignores your desperate "I'm fine!" For a full day, instead doting over you as if you were sickly. Once you finally make him realize,

One: you can't eat everything he gives you because the portion is bigger than your tail most days and your stomach just isn't that big, neither is your second stomach.

Two: you require far less sleep than a far bigger predator, your light and quick and don't burn as much energy hunting or swimming as opposed to him, so you'll happily lay with him every time you both rest but you can't sleep as long, you'll just keep waking up

Then he finally listens and calms down, just differences in species figuring it out and making it work I live for this shit

#x reader #mermay #akos my beloved #monster x reader #cecaelia x reader #merman x reader #monster lover

[signanothername]

I keep getting new followers

Hello hello! Welcome to my turtle sanctuary of weird random ideas that’ll probably make you wonder what I’m on fr

Anyway have these random ICIMI au sketches (2 of which are old and the last which is relatively new)

For the new followers who probably have zero idea what’s that

What’s ICIMI au? Aka “in case I make it,” is another F!Leo goes to the past au except it’s a fluffy healing journey fic in which Hueso basically adopts F!Leo and shenanigans ensue

You’ll be following Leo on his journey as he reconnects with his family and a normal world without war in small baby steps, as he learns to let himself grieve, forgive himself for past mistakes he shouldn’t have blamed himself for to begin with, and unlearn some bad habits connected to his self worth

He explores his world a second time, going down memory lane and reminds himself of all the beautiful things he lost for so long, getting to enjoy the little things in life, all under the watchful eyes of his beloved Tío, as his Tío isn’t taking any bullshit and is very insistent on helping his blue kid heal and grow bigger than his grief

Let’s hope Hueso has enough energy to deal with a 2x times more problem causing, reckless and stubborn version of his little Pepino :)

#literally every time I get to writing all I can think of is ‘oh poor Hueso’ #bone man is gonna have some sleepless nights cause of Leo #probably a heart attack or two #but he can’t help but love the blue boi sm #PEPINO IS HIS SON OK??? 😭❤️🌷✨ #in case i make it au #ICIMI au #would recommend exploring the short version of the au tag it’s a lot more organized #anothers art #rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt leo #future leonardo #rottmnt future leo #future leo #rottmnt future leonardo

[amberkoyuki]

Is this.. Possible?

Star of the show: 𝓚𝔂𝓸𝓳𝓾𝓻𝓸 𝓡𝓮𝓷𝓰𝓸𝓴𝓾

F!Reader

You a Royal in this family. You had large wings maybe 2X bugger than your body. You'd never seen a fallen angel. There were many fallen Angel's out for the royal family due to their kind being locked away. One day you were exploring your house without stupid security watching over you. You hated how your parents couldn't trust you. They only weren't around because there was a big party going on and you'd managed to sneak away.

When you came below into the chambers you saw so many fallen Angel's around. Wings faded black. Dark like the night. You'd seen one managing to break free. The moment you heard the loud metal thud you started running to the stairs. The fallen angel with fire like her flew after you with high speeds. He was holding the end of a broken sword.

You felt his strong broad arms wrap around you and cover your b mouth to prevent any screaming coming out of your mouth. "hello there." He spoke in a cold monotone voice with zero interest in you. "what a pretty little Angelito." (Spanish speaking Kyojuro is just..😍) "I think I might make you mine. Mine to fuck. Mine to pin down and take all my pleasures in. After all your family took away my mother for marrying a fallen angel when not being one herself." He spoke in annoyance despite having a smile on his face. His body was beaten up and bruised a bit.

His wings expanded out to their full size. They were almost as big as you.. Maybe even bigger. He rubbed his clothed dick against your ass. "Hmm. I can tell your a virgin. A royal wouldn't lose their Virginity until after marriage." He had a shit eating grin on his face. "I'd love to be your first time."

You were squirming trying to get away. All you felt was discomfort.. You yourself had never seen a cock or even felt one.. So of course you were feeling uncomfortable. He could see it on your face, so then he put a bit of distance between you both. "Your mine Angelito."

He threw you over his shoulder and started walking away. He didn't give two shits about any other fallen angel there. Your ass was near his face while you were squirming. you began screaming for your parents. They couldn't hear you over the music. "Stop screaming so much little Angelito, they'll hear you" he chuckled, you just roller your eyes "that's the point." You said sharply. "Well why would you want to go? I'm only gonna claim you tonight." He sounded like it was normal. "We just met. And I'm not even yours." He stopped and put you down. "do you wanna do it at my house?"

"Don't you guys live in caves?" You thought about it. A cave, rocks like that are very cold like Ice. It sent a shiver up your spine. "Yeah what about it." He said confused. You could tell he didn't live in castle unlike the angels. Fallen angels were treated Like shit. It was like racism but based in your wing color.

"Sorry Angelito I forget that you live in a castle. It's not that bad honestly" he sounded like a soft tune.. One that you could get used to. "you have siblings who can rule this kingdom you don't have to stay"

"Are you sure this is right.." You glanced outside.. You didn't want to stay. But it felt wrong to go at the same time. You really never had choices like this in your life

Should you stay or go.?

(Got lazy so left it on a cliffhanger it's not that long because. Idk it's just not that long should i make this a series🤔)

(I'm working on so many stories I'm stressing myself out🙂)

#amberkoyuki #kny x reader #amber's lore #koyuki amber #rengoku kyojuro #amber koyuki #kny kyojuro #koyukiamber #kyojuro #kimestu no yaiba #kny au #kimetsu no yabia #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny rengoku #kyojuro rengoku #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kny x y/n #kny x female reader #demon slayer kyojuro #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #hashira #kny hashira #flame hashira #flame pillar

[ohnomytummy]

Here's a tummy ache scenario for ya...

A and B both enjoy belly aches and the things that come with that, much like you and me. So one day, they decide to have a competition. They will eat the same amount of gummy bears (somewhere between 30 and 40) and have to hold it as long as they can because the person who can hold it in the longest wins. And the winner gets full control of the losers belly for 24 hours.

Considering how many gummies you’ve eaten in the last 24 hours I think you would beat me in a heartbeat (or maybe not considering it’s consequences 😉)

Before starting, A and B get into their loosest, comfiest, dirtiest clothes to prepare for the day’s events. Towels are washed and sheets are prepped for re-lining the bed, just in case.

They start in the morning, already confirming they’ll have nowhere to be for the next two days. A, being a bigger glutton for extreme belly aches and torment, finishes the bag before B can get down 10; B’s stomach has turned on a gas faucet and bubbles are starting to float and pop all over the top like foam. B, trying to hide their rapidly growing discomfort, watches the movie the pair put on in stoic silence. From the corner of their eye, they can see A peering at their middle.

“I can see your stomach pushing against your sweater. Your silence is fooling no one, babe,” A pries playfully, poking roughly into B’s stomach.

“Hey, don’t cheat,” B whines, gently pushing A’s hand away.

A rolls their eyes and curls into B’s side to lovingly rub the top of their stomach. “Fine, fine, I’ll be nice. If you finish your bag.”

“That’s mean,” B jokes, stuffing another handful in their mouth. Mid chew they start complaining. “Swallowing hurts my stomach,” while guiding A’s hand over the bloated top of their abdomen, dramatically sighing for effect.

“Rules are rules,” A stands their ground and adds their other hand to B’s tummy for rubs of encouragement. B moans softly as rumbles erupt from their stomach, soon they start forcing up burps to relieve the growing pressure, but with A’s hands on their middle they keep eating until their bag is finally gone.

“Happy?” B rolls their eyes and adds their own hands to their belly, which already feels like it’s filling with air and is beginning to round like an inflating rubber ball.

“Very,” A kisses B’s cheek and puts their head on their shoulder, cuddling into the blanket to finish the movie. A’s tiny middle is slowly beginning to fill with gas, but they’re willing to ignore the tightening feeling in their guts to tease B, who’s got a much lower tolerance for sugar free sweets.

As the day progresses and morning turns to afternoon, B remains uncomfortably round, tight, and nauseous. “I feel like you made me pour a packet of yeast down my throat.”

A begins asking B to get things from around the apartment just to watch them get up and cradle their gut while they walked. The bottom of their sweater is riding up so A can see the bottom of B’s belly—bloated and strained with gummy sludge. On one such errand (getting a water from the fridge because the one on the end table was warm), just as B opens the fridge and bends over to get A their beloved water, B feels their belly drop as a gurgles rips from their belly button to the bottom of their belly. All A hears is B moan quietly from their spot in the kitchen.

Obviously curious, A gets up to check on B. A’s own middle is 2x its usual size, but all their feeling are some tight, strained gurgles. They’ll be in the bathroom at some point, but not anytime soon. A reaches the kitchen, their hands teasingly placed on the sides of their tummy to extenuate their bloat, and asks sweetly, “need any help?”

“Not unless you’ve got any pepto,” B mumbles, closing the fridge and handing A the water.

“What?” A takes the drink, their fingers lingers on B’s. A heard B loud and clear.

“Oh hush,” B sighs, embracing A’s bloated tum, pushing their middles together, popping a series of small bubbles B can feel all too much, making him burp sickly. “I don’t feel good.”

“Oh?” A’s eyebrows raise in concern, but their eyes twinkle. “How long have you been—“

“Two hours,” B moans, placing A’s hands on their underbelly. B blushes, embarrassed. “You’re gonna win…”

A giggles sweetly, rubbing B’s slop filled belly firmly, eliciting even more whimpers and desperate moans from B. A watches as B’s thighs clench together, relishing in the look on B’s face as they feel a slippery gurgle slide across the hand placed on B’s guts. “Yeah.” A kisses the top of Bs tummy. “You need to go, don’t you?”

“So bad,” B’s whole face goes crimson as they whimper.

“And you can’t hold it anymore?”

“Please,” B begs. “I really can’t.” A warm, sick cramp rushes through B’s belly and they desperately clutch and lean into the counter top. “Oh g-god…I need to go now!”

B sends A a pleading look, understanding the consequences of their actions but desperately not wanting to make a mess in the kitchen. A steps aside and B rushes to the bathroom, clutching their belly and stripping their clothing as they go. By the time B reaches the bathroom, they’re naked and groaning, slamming the door shut before A can follow them inside. But that doesn’t stop A from sitting outside the door, listening for nearly a half hour while B moans and swears as their belly gets sick from the candy.

The 24 hours might have to come from you ;)))

#anon #tummy fantasy

[bellaramseysgf]

Little bunny (M.W)

Warning(s); pure fluff,Mikey being the best caregiver ever,age regression,modern day au☺️

Pairing(s); Mike Wheeler x Girlfriend! Reader

Summary; after a bad day Mikey decided you deserve a new friend.

A/n; sooo I wrote this for lils ( @munsonsdreamgirl ) that’s it, congrats on 1000 followed babes🥰

Also, Mikey is 19! He’s aged up n if you don’t like it you can suck a giants toe<3

Mike could see it the second you got in his car that you weren’t feeling like yourself. The way you were sluggish and you seemed to move almost like slow motion. He caught it in the way you forced the smile and saw the far off, spacey look in your eyes. How long had you been in headspace? Or more importantly how long had you fought it.

“Hey baby, bad day?” You shrugged and Mike leaned over to kiss the side of your head. “I need to pick up some stuff for dinner, you wanna come or go home?” He gave you plenty of time to process through it. “I wan’ come!” He nodded and cranked his car back up.

“You wanna play a game?” You looked over at your boyfriend “mmm, what kind of game Mikey?” He smiled at the soft tone in your voice “okay pick a color and whoever can find it first wins” you nod and think for a minute. “Uhhhh pink!” Mike nodded. “Hmm pink? Ooo that’s gonna be hard to find! That’s a good choice little one” Mikey smiled at the way your face lit up at his praise.

He reached over and tucked some of your fallen hair behind your ear. “Such a pretty girl, I love you sweetheart.” You squealed and your cheeks went red. “Luv’ you too Mikey!” He chuckled and continued to drive the pair of you mostly forgetting about the game.

“I’m after 3 things okay? Just three nothing else” you nodded and held up 3 fingers “jus’ three! Got it.” Mikey held onto your hand while he grabbed a basket walking you through the store. All at once you gasped “pink!” You pointed to a small box of cake mix and it took Mike a second to remember your game.

“Look at that, you won. Alright honey what do you want?” You shrugged and latched yourself back to mikes arm. “Jus’ want Mikey” he smiled and leaned down to peck the top of your head “such a sweet girl, cmon let’s continue” and your did.

Mike was headed to the check out when he felt a tug and then you let go of his arm running to a small bin. “What- baby, don’t run off!” He followed after you and you tugged out a big pink bunny plush. “I can has?” The stuffed animal was at least 2x your size and Mike giggled at the way it swallowed your figure.

“Mhm, you’ve had a bad day. Princess deserves a new friend.” You held out your hand for Mike to take and waddled your way to the the self check out. Mike was holding in his laugh watching you waddle back to the car with the giant plush. “Little one, here why don’t we switch? Don’t want you getting hurt” you agreed and Mike handed you the one bag taking the plushie under his arm.

You both got settled in the car and he sat the giant plush into the back seat. “What’s gonna be their name?” You buckled “uh…uh…uh…mmmm” Mike waited patiently “mmmmm…Mikey?” Mike grinned and kissed your cheek “that’s a good name babydoll.” Now, to add it the pile of other Mikeys.

You lugged the bunny back into your shared apartment with Mike, dragging it all the way to his office and leaving it beside his desk. “Angel? Do you wanna help?” He asked and you nodded “can you open this up and pour it into there?” He asked and you followed instructions. “Thank you! So helpful!” He ran a hand over the top of your head and you giggled. You stood by and watched Mike cook messing about inside the kitchen.

“Princess? Will you set the table?” You nodded and grabbed his plate and then your smaller one sitting them next to each other. You repeated the process with silverware and cups he got the bigger and you got the smaller. “You want a lid?” You shook your head “M’a big girl!” Mike chuckled and sat the food onto the plates.

Once settled you stared at your plate for a minute “baby? You not hungry?” He asked and you looked at him then your plate again. Mike sat his fork down and picked yours up feeding you bite off your plate which you accepted just fine, doing little wiggles. “Yeah, that’s my big girl” you smiled, keeping your mouth closed because of food.

#mike wheeler #mike wheeler x reader #mike wheeler x y/n #mike wheeler x you #Mike wheeler x little!reader #tw: age regression #aged up!mike wheeler #stranger things fic

[tvgals]

Could you do a head cannon about Eren and a fem reader who's insecure about her butt not being big ?

this is lowkey so cute shutup

eren x fem! reader

notes: i feel like this is too big to be a head cannon but oh well

looking into the mirror you frowned. all your life, you’ve been compared to the girls in your grade that had bigger butts than you, that had developed faster than you. every pair of pants you own, every skirt, every dress you feel doesn’t flatter you, but your boyfriend, eren, find you fine in whatever you wear.

‘hey, you ready to go?’ eren asks, pulling his chain out his shirt, sitting on the bed to slide into his red thunder 4’s. ‘yup.’ you sigh. you hope to god eren doesn’t notice so you can leave without any confrontation. you and eren make your way into the living room. you grab your purse and your phone that was laying on the charger, and you two leave. you and eren eventually make it into the lobby of you two’s apartment complex, not without you noticing the secretary with a butt almost 2x bigger than yours, you look away and grab eren’s hand, almost as if he would disappear. you and eren walk to his 2022 LS hybrid, him opening the door for you. eren walks around the car and sits in the driver’s seat. you’re looking out the window, trying not to make any eye contact whatsoever with eren.

‘what’s wrong?’ shit. ‘nothing. i’m fine.’ you retort, almost too fast to be believable. ‘baby, we’ve been dating for..i don’t know how long, i know when something’s wrong. did something happen?’ you put your face in your hands and take a deep breath.

‘i feel like..i dunno..i feel like my ass isn’t as big as everyone else’s, like, you’d wanna go for someone who maybe wasn’t…so small in the back? maybe you’d wanna go for one of those instagram models or something.’ you confess, twiddling your thumbs in your lap. ‘woah, woah, woah..baby, what? you’re more than any instagram model i’ve ever seen, if i cared to look. you’re so perfect baby.’ eren says, pulling you over the console and onto his lap. ‘from your hair..to your tits..to your ass…and to all ten of your toes.’ he trails his fingers down your body, ticking your feet, you giggle. ‘stop, eren!’

‘but in all seriousness, i love you, y/n’

‘love you more eren. thank you.’

#black reader #anime #eren aot #aot x you #aot fluff #aot x black reader #aot fandom #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #aot eren #aot x female reader #aot x y/n #eren x you #eren yaeger x reader #eren x reader #*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* eren thots

[dark-cynder49]

Ultimate Squishy Guide!

With this, The squishy Hiatus is lifted!

SQUISHY ANATOMY BREAKDOWN!!

I will be giving decently detailed explanations on what Squishies look like and the probability of other traits! So!! Let’s go ahead and get started!!

Mochi and Friends’ updated designs can be found HERE

(Warning: This will be a very long breakdown! So sit down, Strap up, and enjoy!)

Eye Types

A squishy’s eye type is based on the overall personality of the squish. The dominant personality type determines the eyes. There are four different eye types and both hollow heads and filled heads can have any eye type.

Every eyes except the closed eye require a highlight in it. 

If the parents of a Squishy have two different eye types, the baby will have either eye type, depending on which personality the kitten takes after more.

Normal eyes: Calm, Prideful, Romantic, Integral, Leadership Qualities

Sad eyes: Timid, Docile, Sweet, Innocent, Motherly, Pacifist

Angry eyes: Aggressive, Dominant, Annoyed, Moody, Strong-willed, Hard headed

Closed eyes: Ditsy, Spaced out, Carefree, Peaceful, Irresponsible

Tail Types

There are four different tail types, however, some tails are only for Hollow heads and some are only for Filled heads.

Just like eyes, if the parents have two different tail types, then it’s a 50-50 chance of which tail the kitten will have. UNLESS the parents are both a hollow head and filled head then the kitten will have the same tail as the respective parent.

Squishies can now Loaf partially and completely. Partial Loaf, the legs still stick out, but head and tail are tucked in.

Full loaf is when you can’t see any limbs and everything is tucked in. Squishies only fully loaf when they feel safe and comfortable.

Self-Care and Elasticity

So yes! Squishies have toe beans!

The only way the beans appear is if you squeeze the paw or they’re stretching.

They don’t have “fur”. It’s best to describe their skin as the skin of a peach, but softer and the fluff doesn’t fall off. There isn’t a part of their body on the outside that’s not cover in the soft “fur”.

Squishies like to groom and clean themselves. It’s one of the few times you’ll see the existence of a mouth other than while eating. They Groom themselves about an hour a day in intervals. 

They also tend to groom each other as a form of affection. 

As well grooming, Squishies pull on each other’s face and tails as sign of affection or a general sign that they want to play with each other.

The extent of the elasticity of a normal squishy is about 2x. You can stretch the length of an appendage to about double the original length before the Squish will start to feel pain.

Size Chart

1 Year: Fully Grown, won’t grow any bigger (AVG. Height 6 inches)

10 Months: Reaches Sexual Maturity, able to reproduce (AVG. Height 5 inches)

6 Months: All Reproductive Organs finish developing as well as all of their Senses. (AVG. Height 4 inches)

2 Months: Gender is fully recognizable, Sight is starting to develop. (AVG. Height 2.5 inches)

Newborn: Only has a few senses, only able to smell and hear. (AVG Height .75 inches)

Squishy Fur Patterns

There are three different types of fur patterns that a Squishy can potentially have. 

The possibility of a Squishy to even have a pattern in the first place is around 40%, with the pattern gene being recessive if neither parent show signs of having patterns. 

If one parent has a pattern, then the kittens will definitely have patterns, just maybe not the exact same pattern as the parent. The gene for patterns is random in selecting a pattern, but the shared parent pattern has an increased chance of showing up more often.

A squish can only have ONE PATTERN visible, even despite having the genes for all three.

Face and Back Speckle will be a pale version of the main body color.

Stocking color will be a muted and darker version of the main body color.

Squishy Litter Sizes

Squishies are known for having large litters. They have about one or two litters per year if they’ve found a mate. 

There is no such thing as an infertile Squishy, the only way the litter will fail is if there are outside stress factors or extreme physical trauma effects the Squishy while carrying. 

The average pregnancy will take 2-3 months. Kittens feed off of Mom’s milk until they turn 2 months old.

Adult: Squishy, Squish

Baby: Kitten, Litter, Squishlette

Squishy No’s in Design

There are features that just don’t exist or won’t happen within Squishy Biology, no matter how hard you try;

No robotic parts: Squishy skin and metal does not mix well. If you try to replace a body part of a Squishy with a robotic replacement, the Squishy will end up dying no matter what you try due to a severe allergic reaction.

No Wings: Biologically, it’s impossible. Squishies aren’t meant of capable of having wings. Their bodies aren’t structurally sound for bones or cartilage.

No colored/Unusual eyes: The only colored eyes a Squishy can have is black. Even if the Squishy is black in color, albino or any other thing, the eyes will still remain black. Please only use the allowed eyes.

No powers: Squishies don’t have super powers of any kind; no telepathic, no kinetic, or super strength or anything like that. 

Showcase of Squishability

Don’t over-squish them. They really hate it and if done for long enough, it will cause permanent harm or possibly kill them.

Squishy Mouth

It’s EXTREMELY rare to see a squishy open its mouth. The only two guaranteed times will be during meal time and while it’s grooming

They don’t have teeth, but have strong enough jaws to bite into things like fruit and vegetables.

If you guys have ANY QUESTIONS relating to Squishy anatomy and/or biology, just ask. This took a long time, so I hope you guys like it!! 

#alan becker #animation vs animator #animation vs minecraft #squishy lore #squishy anatomy #squishy master post

[frostbite-the-bat]

WHAT AN AMAZING COLLECTION !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i love the dragons protecting the display OOOOOOOUGH SHARKS TEETH YEAAAAAAAAA Do you have any specific favorites? (& What about them said Pick Me to you? (i love rocks sm but have none space so i only have a lil bag of my own) )

YESS!!! THANK YUOU!!! and ofc i gotta have dragons B)

and HMMM OKAY lemme THInks

so *now* pick and buy gems at trinket stores whenver i go travelling and see any tha i just dont own yet (or if theres a piece that's really pretty to me that i DO have, but it's just unique and cool and i want it)

but back then id just..! buy whatever was Cool to me . id always buy so many at once my god

my favorites are defo my extra silly fancy lookin gems!! lemme show em here (older pics) (some are fancier bc i took them for my personal collection list google doc)

bismuth!!

these quartz! i was told they are some type of quartz! these are special to me because i got them a year ago during a school trip to germany - i only had a few euros on me and i ended up spending it all on gems. we checked out the christmas markets and there was an friendly old fellow who was selling gemstones and other things! he even had a cutter and could speak english. we chatted a bit and i listened to him talk about things (like how these lil fellas are formed. i know nothing about chemicals but i just think these things are interesting!!!! i actually get most my gems from giftshops near cave tours because i love visiting them and think it's interesting ^^

anyways he had a little box of various "rocks" that could possibly be geodes that he'd cut and see if they are! the price depended on their size. he said that i could guess with the weight and feel of the "rock" and let me pick from a few that could possible be ones. i said it didn't matter to me if it's gonna be hollow or not, since it's cool to me anyways!

so while my classmates waited and stared at me i just watched this guy cut it nicely in half like this - and he then even cut the smaller flatter piece of it, too. it was very nice! it's also where i bought the tooth, the bismuth, and some other things that i forgot as well... oops. i got a lot of gems

this shimmery pretty goldstone / aventurine glass ! wacky picture quality but i don't feel like getting new pics (+ im on pc now) (lie: i ended up getting new pics later)

. it's a man-made lil' mineral, but it's very lovely regardless! i honestly only care about the "realness" only i it's a scam of some sort. any rock, trinket, gem or mineral, man-made or not is very niceys to me. (i still want an opal tho i only got an opalite which was mislabeled. i dont think on purpose since these stores sometimes accidentally mislabel or misspell things. or use czech names which gets confusing. yeah i may have inaccurate names for some of my gems but i try my best to be accurate. im no pro im just a collector little beast)

some type of peacock ore! (either treated chalcopyrite or bornite, as i've previously written down. i'll trust my past self)

aura quartz! one of my first 3 pieces ive ever gotten that sparked my collection

all of these little fellas i bought at the same place for really cheap! filled my lil collection quite a bitso. i loves tghem. theyre like cereal To Me

in order: garnet, carnelian, emerald, tusquoise (why isnt this one in my list. oh my god how many gems did i miss. i still have a few to add that ill list on the list later that i need to re-check what gems they are. lord.) opalite, chalcedony, snowflake obsidian, obsidian (?), onyx. + not pictured an aquamarine which...? i cant find? im not checking if i put it behind a bigger gem and i cant FIND IT.

i really need to do a new and better gem list . oops. i cant always rely on my memory for these names

my EYES! in order: tiger's eye 2x, hawk's eye, bull's eye

my funny silly mosly multicolor fellas idk they fit the Vibes. i likes thgem (appreciae this secion i had to make sure and like re-identify half of these but i still could be incorrect)

in ORDER... lapis lazuli, sodalite 2x, elbaite (most likely), chrysocolla, rhodonite, blue apatite, amazonite, kyanite

dalmatian jasper and unakite

...some kinda jasper?

so ya!! thats some of my Rocks. this took a while bc i had to look what some of these are again @_@ i loaves them . todays guzma enrichment: this

#[answered] #guz rock tag #<- FOR FUTURE REFERENCE.