#I need a fuckin cut and colour

[ask-ploc]

Finished up another production and just got on spring brake so I *might* asks I've had since new years eve, just need to do the digital work, but you know of my relationship with interior backgrounds 😓

[sturnioz]

fb chris and bun somehow getting wrangled into decorating a gingerbread house together only for bun to get very picky on how they decorate it and insist it needs to be the best in the frat. queue fb chris literally just rolling his eyes also, can i be ☁️ anon if it isnt taken??

part two to THIS PROMPT, but can be read as a standalone.

"a'ight, so we only managed to grab a few boxesm so we're doin' this shit in pairs, 'kay? it's me 'n bee, kitty 'n matt, bun 'n chris, jo—"

nate's voice trails off as your heart leaps at the announcement, a wide grin spreading across your face as you clutch the gingerbread pieces in your hands; already picture the creation you want to come to life.

with excited eyes, you lean over the table, scanning the slip of paper with the instructions to build. but when you glance sideways at chris, your excitement begins to waver as you notice the expression on his face — his eyebrows are furrowed, his jaw tight with a slight scowl on his lips, and his arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at the table.

you can't help feel a little disappointed, wishing he could be just as happy as you are to be involved in something like this. still, you try to shake off the feeling and not let it damper your mood as you refocus on the instructions, doing a quick once-over just as nate gives everyone the go-ahead to start.

the building part comes together super quick and easy — sticking the gingerbread slabs together with icing and top notch precision, creating a sturdy yet simple house. as you sift through the box, you lay out the colourful sweets and multiple tubes of icing, envisioning the perfect design that appears in your mind.

but then you panic a when you see chris reluctantly pick up a blue icing tube.

"no!" you quickly blurt out, rushing to take it from his hands, but he pulls it out of reach, his expression unimpressed and slightly annoyed. "don't do blue.. let's stick to red and green icing, keep the christmas theme."

"blue is fine, kid." he replies, his tone flat and dismissive.

"no, it's not," you shake your head, your voice firm despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach. "i.. i have the perfect idea, and—and we need to be the best."

chris raises an eyebrow, his annoyance clear. "this isn't some competition. we're just buildin' a fuckin' gingerbread house that's probably gonna be thrown away the second we're done anyway."

you frown at that, shaking your head again. "i'll keep it safe. i'll take it home. no blue, please—keep it to green and red. or we can use the white icing!"

you pick up the white icing tube and hold it out to chris, hoping that he'll drop the blue and take the white instead. he stares at you for a moment, prodding his tongue against his cheek, before rolling his eyes and dropping the blue icing onto the table with a thud.

he takes the white tube from your hands, muttering, "dunno why you're makin' such a big deal out of this shit, kid."

you murmur back, "i told you.. i want to be the best."

chris shoots you a glare, but you ignore it, turning back to your gingerbread house. you carefully swirl the green icing around the makeshift door, your tongue poking out in concentration as you create a festive wreath, grabbing the red icing to then create a small little bow in the middle.

you try, and fail, to hide the smile when chris leans over you, the annoyed expression still on his face as he squeezes the white icing tube over the roof of the gingerbread house, trying to craft patterns for the tiles.

but you notice his grip is a little too tight, the tube bending under pressure, and a frown tugs at your lips.

"chris you're—"

"shut up, kid—"

"but you—"

"i'm doin' exactly what you asked, yeah? so don't—"

"no i know, but you're squeezing—"

"i swear to fuckin' god—"

chris' words are abruptly cut off when the tube explodes, a sudden burst of white icing erupting from the top and splattering across his shirt. it sprays out chaotically, some drops even landing across his face, leaving streaks of sticky white against his skin.

your mouth drops open in shock, a small gasp escaping as you instinctively take a step back, your eyes wide. chris looks utterly furious, his expression a mix of rage and disbelief, and you can't help but feel concerned... also amused.

the noise immediately draws the attention of the others, who stop that they're doing and turn to witness what just happened. the frat brothers laughs and hollers erupt around the table, and nate struggles to contain himself, his laughter booming as he leans against bee, who giggles uncontrollably, her eyes watery as she tries to hold nate upright as he flails against her.

both kitty and matt are silent, but they exchange glances, their expression amused and the smirks on their faces revealing how much they're finding the situation funny.

meanwhile, chris' shoulders heave with frustration, his jaw clenched as he stands there, frozen in place, icing dripping from his face and clothes, his glare directed straight at you.

"i tried to warn you..." you say softly, your voice barely rising above the laughter around you as you nervously fiddling with your own icing tube. "you were squeezing too hard..."

divider credits. @issysh3ll

© STURNIOZ

[kagamesayu]

shidou ryusei x bimbo!reader

c/w . implied female reader, implied smut, fluff, shidou ryusei is crazy for you wc: 1 k a/n . shidou ryusei my beloved. literally obsessed with his crazy ass ugh <3 reblogs and comments appreciated ✧*.

pt 1, pt 2

imagine...

shidou who loves every bit of you. your short pink skirt that shows off your panties every time you jump around, your too tight shirts that show off your body and the way you make him feel like the smartest person in the world.

like - no baby, pikachu is not a real animal.

you bounce off each others energies so well, your dynamic is literally popular jock x popular cheerleader. he'd be at games and look for you in the stands, pointing and blowing kisses in your direction. and you'd return them in fervor, shaking your 'ryu-baby you can do it!!!' sign that was decorated with pink glitter and cut-out hearts.

he once flashed his tits to you while sticking his tongue out. you'd almost returned the favour but your friend stopped you. truly lucky for everyone, cause if you had done that ryusei would , firstly, destroy every camera in that stadium and then give everyone concussions because nobody but him could look at your bahonkers.

shidou who adores how your hands look in his. your acrylic nails that leave a delicious sting whenever they touch him beautifully contrast his own dull short nails that you manicured yourself.

"babe you need to look after your nails! at the very least let me paint a base coat!" you'd pout at him, fluttering your pretty eyelashes at him while holding his hands close to your chest.

usually when you went out together he'd hold you by the waist, but every time you get new acrylics he'd hold you by your hands. he loves playing with your nails, feeling the new textures you'd gotten.

he'll let you paint his nails too, makes you promise to get your painted the colour of his tip.

shidou who tells everyone about his beautiful partner. at this point, everybody in the world knew you were together, with how obnoxious he was about your relationship. in every interview he's able to bring you up. doesn't matter if no one asked him, he'll talk about you.

and he almost always gives them a little too much info.

"what i think of the other team? think they all suck. saw one of them lookin' at m' doll and i was gonna knock 'im out! i mean - i get it. they're fuckin' hot but they're mine."

"o-ok, well-"

"ya'll know about us right? i'm taken by her," he shows a polaroid picture of you he put on the back of his phone. "and she's mine. she's so cute too, almost sued dog treat companies cause she thought they were made from actual dogs."

"yes, let's move on-"

"and look - she painted my nails. painted them the colour of m' eyes."

"alright that's cute-"

"she painted hers the colour of my tip-"

"ANYWAYS."

shidou who loves doing makeup with you. yes he only has to do eyeliner, but he loves distracting talking to you while you get yourself ready to go out.

he absolutely adores helping you put on lip gloss. he has you seat on his lap, a hand holding your jaw while the other holds the applicator. he definitely steals a few kisses first though. wets your lips he says and you just nod along, too dumb to realise that the lip gloss does that for you.

that doesn't mean he doesn't kiss you after applying the gloss though. after making you smack your lips together he dives in like he's going for a goal, sucking and biting your bottom lip. you'd get so angry cause you'll have to clean your makeup up, but he doesn't care too much. he'll just sit there, pink smeared over his lips as you fret over your appearance.

he also loves when you help him draw on his eyeliner. he'll have his chin pressed on your fantastic titties, one of your hands on the back of his head as the other held the liner.

when this happens his eyes always seem to take in your features. the wrinkle of your eyebrows or the way your mouth is slightly open, he loves looking at you.

shidou who has to be pulled back by you every time he gets into a fight. it could be for any reason. they were looking at him funny, they were looking at you periodt, they were getting too close, anything and everything gets him riled up. especially if it involves you. his special little doll he loves so much.

he's got to protect what is his after all.

you'd hold him from behind both hands on his chest as you try to pull him away. "baby they're not worth your time!"

"those fuckers called ya dumb doll! ain't no fuckin' way i'd let that slide!" only he was allowed to call you that. he's growling, dangerous smirk on his face as the veins on his arms and neck stand up. this, you think, is when he's the most sexy.

the only way to stop him is to direct his anger into a different place.

you step closer, pressing your plush breasts against his back, the hand on his chest sliding up to his neck as the other moved to hold his shoulder.

"mm...but baby it's getting really hot here, and i really really want you." you stand on your tippy toes, pouted lips pressing against his ear as you whisper into his it.

his anger almost fully vanishes, gone with the guys who 'insulted' you. now his anger changes to something else, something more...dangerous.

to you, that is. cause you won't be walking for the next few days.

shidou who after tussles with people, lets you nurse him back to health. loves when you play doctor cause he get's all of your attention to himself.

doesn't matter if it's a bruise or if its his cut up knuckles, you tend to all his injuries with loving care. of course, you don't really know what your'e doing but it's the thought that counts! and he won't stop you when you use cute kuromi plasters on his wounds.

yes they are glittery, and pink and cutesy. yes everyone at training talks about how lovesick he looks when he stares at his fingers. but does he care? no.

[rowretro]

𝔹𝕠𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕥

✧warnings: Yandere/toxic themes, kidnapping, marriage, blood, violence, explicit stuff mentioned, somewhat sexual(?)

❁synopsis: Your parents arranged for you to marry the Park Sunghoon, who seems to be extremely interested in you, crazy in love with you one'd say. However on the day of your wedding, a turn of events lead to the dark truth behind this so called love.

YAN!RIKI X READER YAN!HOON X READER

✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧

Y/n looks stunning. Her body hugged by the expensive material of her wedding dress, the design of the swan-white dress made her look oh so angelic. It's the day. The day Lee Y/n becomes Park Y/n. A man who was extremely cold, hung out with girls that ended up sucking his dick the very night they meet, was now waiting for his soon-to-be wife to walk down the aisle, so he can settle down, and devote his everything to this darling.

Y/n, however, was wishing on a miracle to happen. She wanted to run away. A marriage she was forced into, she doesn't know him or love him. She fears him... he's a fucking mafia boss for fucksake. Yet her parents preferred money over an average art student, who barely got even a B in any of her past exams. She sighed, looking in the mirror one last time. Alone in the room, as she let realization hit her.

Feeling a little stressed, she picked up a French cigarette, twirling it around in her fingers, before putting it away. She couldn't walk down the aisle smelling of cigarettes. She looked in the mirror one last time, trying to mentally prepare herself for her own wedding. Then a miracle happened. "Fucking shut your mouth and do as I say or else I'll shoot you." A man simply said, his big hand covering almost 90% of her face, as he towered over her.

She could only see his eyes, but damn was he fine as fuck. "Oh sir sir- you don't need to do all that... We can jump out the window! no one'll notice" she said with a smile. The kidnapper, hesitant at first, decided to let it be, and lead her out, his grip firm on her wrist as he dragged her to his car. Y/n didn't fight him at all. She didn't care if she was going to die, or have her organs trafficked, heck even herself, she just didn't want to become a tortured slave to the Parks' Dynasty.

"THE BRIDE IS MISSING!" Mrs Park yelled as Sunghoon's face immediately changed. That shy, excited look now long gone. Within a matter of minutes, Mr Park walked over to Sunghoon, showing the Video message a certain friend had sent. "You tried to fuckin break a deal?!... I thought we agreed on sharing Park. She's mine too. Since you can't keep your end of the deal I don't see why I should." The man in the video threatened, and with that, the video cut off.

No one can have his y/n. He laid his eyes on her the very day Riki did, the 2 instantly falling in love with her. It's crazy how they helped each other out, stalking her to find every detail about her. They both knew her strengths and weaknesses, favourite colour, favourite pet. Everything. Sunghoon wanted you to himself. So he just had to tempt your parents with his money, he didn't expect Nishimura Riki to find out though.

"Yoi- pretty boy- when you gon return me? please tell me, I need to come up with a proper run away plan, can't let park Sunghoon marry me y'know?" Y/n simply said as she sat on the bed, still in her wedding dress. Riki eyed her up and down, he slid off his mask, stunning Y/n with his perfect, plush lips that are oh so kissable, a jawline to die for, fuck he's so fucking fine. Those eyes don't lie. "Done staring bride?" He asked as Y/n blinked.

"Yeah- uh anyways... when'll you let me go?... clearly you have no intention on killing me or trafficking- I-" Y/n was beyond shocked when the kidnapper pinned her against the bed, his dark, pretty eyes, empty of any emotion, how he glared coldly at her, as if he were staring into her soul. "Oh darling... Of course I wouldn't kill you.... for I have better plans for you..." He simply said as he gripped her jaw.

"I don't know... an easy death is looking like a really good option right now..." Y/n nervously snickerred as the man leaned in closer "Nishimura Y/n... let me get into my tux... you and I are getting married tonight." The man smirked as Y/n stared in shock. Riki cuffed her to the bed as he went into the restroom to get dressed. She'd have never let him kidnap her if she knew she'd have the same fate either way.

Only, Sunghoon actually seemed nice... The way his arms were always around her waist. How, despite being cold or rude, he'd still make sure she's ok and healthy. The way he'd rest his forehead against hers, reminding her of how beautiful she is. Though he was a playboy, and he was hard to trust. That very moment, she felt her wrists be free, a familiar scent hitting her nose as a strong pair of arms wrapped around her.

"It's ok baby... you're safe now. Lets go hmm?" Sunghoon said as he attempted to lift her from the bed. "Not so fucking fast Park. We had a deal..." Riki suddenly said, walking into the room, white shirt half buttoned up, his hair already done, and his coat nowhere to be found. Damn he looked hot. To be fair, Riki didn't seem awful, even though he did kidnap her. He's been giving her princess treat meant since she had first arrived...

It all went south for her since this fated day... The day she married 2 men...

✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧

[touchtheinvisiblestars]

Imagine Benny when you come to him for help

"Ben?" You call out, rapping your knuckles on the door frame. You held your other arm flush to your chest, trying to ignore the searing pain coming from your shoulder.

Knocking on the door again. You didn't know if he was home or out with the guys. You just knew where his house was and that you needed help.

"Hang on a damn minute!" He yelled from inside. Clearly irritated at the disturbance at such a late hour. You breathed a sigh of relief that he was home.

"Benny please let me in." You called, glancing out into the night behind you.

"Y/N?" His heavy footsteps picked up in speed and he yanked open the door.

Practically barging past him, you stumble into the entrance way of the house.

"I'm so sorry Ben. I didn't have anywhere else to go?"

"How about a hospital? What the fuck happened to you." He looked you over, taking note of the cuts on your face and the way you held your arm.

"Don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough. Why did you come here? Frankies' is closest to you."

"You told me I could come here if I needed to. For safety."

"Yeah but that was about- oh. Wait he did this to you?" The realisation dawned on him and he felt a wave of anger roll over him.

"I'm sorry. I just needed to get away from him, and he doesn't know where you live. Among other reasons. I would have gone to Frankie but Sam's not even a month old yet, and you don't have a baby."

"He's looking for you? To what? Have another go at beating you senseless."

"His exact words were a little more colourful and descriptive."

"Right... You need to sit down so I can clean you up. And then start over and tell me exactly what happened."

You took a seat on the very comfortable sofa. Perching yourself on the edge of the cushion. Not wanting to stain them with any dirt or blood.

Benny came back with his well stocked first aid kit. Constantly in use from his training and fighting injuries.

"Start from the top. I'm all ears." Benny prompted you as he took a seat on the footstool and started taking out some antiseptic wipes.

"There really isn't all that much to explain. I came home from work. Showered and the next thing I know he's on me like I've just told him I fucked someone in our bed. Which I hadn't by the way. Apparently some of his buddies saw me at your fight yesterday. Made up something about it and played into his jealousy about it. Nothing I could say way going to make it better."

"Fuckin' knew it. I told Will this would happen. Tell me you're not going back to him."

"Do I look brain damaged Ben? I'm not the girl that going to 'fix' him. The second he put his hands on me I was done. There's no going back from this."

A comfortable silence followed, only cut by the occasional sharp intake of breath from you as Benny cleaned you up.

"Good. 'Kay, I've cleaned up that busted eyebrow and your lip. You're lucky you don't need stitches for your hand. Can you move your shoulder or are taking a trip to the ER?"

"Ben I can't afford it. But it fuckin' hurts. I can move my wrist?" You offered, hoping it was helpful information.

Letting out a sigh, he placed down the cloth he had, "Ive fixed a fair few dislocated shoulders but if it's broken were going to have to. Can I see?"

You nodded, shifting to face him side on. He moved your hoodie to the side and his fingers prodded along you collarbone. Whimpering as he got to a particularly sore spot.

"What's the verdict nurse Miller?" You teased.

"I don't think it's broken, how this that happen exactly."

"He uh, kicked it."

Ben let out a puff of air, signaling his disgust, but continued feeling along your shoulder, "yep that's dislocated. I can put it back but I need to do it properly and quickly."

You nodded, Benny moved so he was sat behind you. Wrapping an arm around yours, he took hold of your upper arm. "Okay, what do I need to do, can you give me-"

With a sickening pop, he jolted your shoulder back into place. Letting out a horror movie worthy scream. You lurched away from him and blinked at him in shock.

"I'm sorry. It's best to just do it, warning makes it worse."

"Holy shit, that fucking hurt." You puffed out breaths of air trying to slow your heart. "But thank you."

"Try not to move it too much."

"Okay. Ben I'm sorry for just turning up here."

"None of that thank you very much. I'm just flattered you felt safe enough to come to me. I meant what I said."

"Of course I feel safe with you. You've always looked after me like I'm yours."

There was a tense silence for a moment after that as you both started at each other. Ben cleared his throat and shifted himself off the sofa.

"I'm going to grab you some painkillers. I bet you're starting to ache now."

He was right, you felt like you'd been put through a hydraulic press six different ways. Returning with a glass and a hand outstretched with a few pills in it. You gratefully took them. Downing the pills and the water easily.

"If you just drugged me I'm going to be so mad."

He let out a chuckle, "come on. If I was like that I wouldn't have wasted a good first aid kit on you. That shits expensive."

"The way you go through them yeah I bet they are." You both chuckled at the thought.

"Okay I sho-" You started to say but we're cut off by the sound a car pulling up and the engine turning off.

You heard a car door close outside. Making you freeze.

"Go upstairs now. Don't come back down until I say it's clear." Benny whisper shouted. He quickly tidied up the first aid kit and shoved it under a blanket on the sofa.

"Now!" He urged you when you didn't move.

Jumping into action you, ran upstairs, hovering on the landing.

Four sharp thumps to the front door had your blood running cold. How the fuck had he found you here?

"Will? What the hell do you want this late?"

"Is Y/N here?"

"Why?"

"I'll take that as a yes then."

"It's okay Y/N it's just Will." Benny called up to you.

Tentatively you came back downstairs. Seeing the two brothers stood side by side.

When Will locked eyes on you, he strode over and pulled you into a hug. He had always been the less affectionate of the two. So it surprised you as he rubbed your back.

"Thank god you're okay. He's been down the bar bragging about what he did to you."

"What? She's lucky she didn't have to go to the hospital." Benny seethed, "man I really want to go down there."

"Bet he missed out some bits. He was cradling his balls as I ran off."

The two of them snorted in unison, "you better have."

"Of course I did. He wouldn't have stopped. Fucker was trying to kill me."

"Well he's never gonna get the chance to again." Benny affirmed, gritting his teeth.

[slut4christopherr]

—GHOSTFACE— 👻

MATTHEW STURNIOLO

pics by : @sturnlsstuff

warnings: unprotected p in v(don’t do this!!!), riding, cumming, aftercare, smuttt, pussy eating

(if i missed any please lmk!!)

summary: matt sneaks into your room at night, wearing a ghost face costume from the horror/gore movie ‘scream’

what happens will make you wet.

a/n: ive only just started writing, so anything i need to improve please lmk and also comment if you wanna be added onto my taglist! i’m tagging my moots atm 😞 i hope you guys enjoy! this is a 1 part story‼️

you talking = white

matt talking = blue

as i finish the food i just made, i place my plate into the dishwasher and close the door, the audio from the tiktok i’d left playing.

“so you got a boyfriend?”

“why? you wanna ask me out on a date”

“maybe? so, do you have a boyfriend?”

i pick the phone back up, seeing matt sturniolo, the guy who adores eating my pussy, getting edited with clips of ghost face.

i couldn’t lie, it did turn me on.

i clicked the repost button and set my phone down on the couch.

i walked into my bedroom. swearing id shut the door as it was open a little bit but i’d must of imagine shutting it

i turn on the LED’s that wrap around my walls, to a red colour

as i’m about to get in bed, i scream as i feel a pair of cold, large hands wrap around my waist

“shh ma, don’t need t’be screamin’ jus’ yet”

i recognised the voice almost immediately

“matt. i told you to stop sneaking into my fucking house!”

matt chuckles as i turn around, he holds a voice changer upto his mouth through the mask, speaking into it, his voice came out all static and raspy

“and i said i don’t care, ma, so whatcha gon’ do? hm”

the way his voice came out from that stupid little box made my legs feel weaker and weaker every word he said

“and also, why the fuck you wearin’ that? take it off.”

he points at my t-shirt, his hands grip my shoulders ever so slightly and move me back toward my mattress, i flip down onto my back as he grips the hem of the t-shirt and rips it over my head.

i go to grab his mask and pull it up and over his head and throw it across the room, the black cape over him and his jawline, making him look so good in the dim red lighting of my LED’s

his eyes darken as he focuses on my breasts, one cold hand going to cup one into it.

he rolls my hard nipple around between his thumb&pointer finger which makes me let out a quiet moan

“mmm, i fuckin’ love the sounds you make for me ma”

his pants grow tighter by the minute and he groans and slaps my tit, making me squeal.

he gets onto his knees on the wooden floor, gripping my thighs and pulling me towards the end of the bed.

i look down at him as he looks up at me with hunger written all over him

his fingers hook into my shorts and panties, as he looks up at me again, asking for permission

i nod quickly and he pulls them down at a very, very slow pace

“matt, please.. please..”

you aren’t looking at him but you can tell he has that shit eating grin on his face

“use your words ma, what do you want?”

i let out a shaky sigh

“please matt, finger me”

matt slaps my thigh as he lets my shorts & panties pool at my ankles

he rubs a finger up my slit, groaning at how wet i already am

“m-matt, stop teasin’ baby”

he takes a deep breath before diving into my slick folds, his tongue diving into my head as his perfect nose applies pressure onto my sensitive clit

i let out a moan

“mmm fuck-fuck don’t stop!”

matt doesn’t stop, all that can be heard is my moans, his groans and the slurping sound of my pussy being eaten by a man who looks like he hasn’t eaten in days

i felt a knot form in my stomach

“matt i’m gon- oh fuck- i’m-“

my words get cut off my the knot snapping as he laps my clit with his tongue, making my hips buck into his face, pushing him deeper into my heat

5 mins later…

i bounce up and down on matts large, hard cock, i used the precum as lubricant, knowing you didn’t need to use it as my pussy was literally dripping wet.

matts slender fingers dug into my skin, making sure to leave bruises

the only sounds heard is the hum of the cars driving outside, skin against skin slapping and both of our moans

“mmm- ma, m’so close”

my pussy clenches around him in response as he grips my waist and pulls me down harder onto to him

i moan as the knot in my stomach snaps for the 2nd time, my juices running down matts cock.

i feel his balls tense and his cock twitch then, hot strings of white cum colour my walls

we stay like this for a minute, catching our breath until he pulls me off of him and gently puts me on the bed and stands up, walking to the bathroom to grab a damp cloth to clean me up

“your still not allowed to sneak into my house matt”

he grins in response

“yeah? sure ma”

a/n: tysm for reading! and this was so so rushed 😭 any ideas leave them in the comments

with lots of love and a fat ass - mia!

taglist: @sturnshood @sturniololuv08 @sturniolosweets-deactivated2025 @sturniolospumpkin @chr1sslvtt @christmastreecake @chrisprettybaby @chrissturniolodailysluts @chrisweetheart @mattscoquette @mattsmedusa @mattsstarlet @mattybsgroupie @sturnsrecord @mattsobvimyfav

[apollo-likes-writing]

LAPIS LAZULI - 3. Expense.

Character(s): Kakavasha Tags: Long fic, discussions of blood and medical practices (not explicit), medical equipment, needles (not explicitly used), implied blood loss Word count: 2,771 words

Summary: More details about the day-to-day life of Dr. Kakavasha and his- er- experiments.

Author's Note: I know, I know. I'm super fuckin late. I apologise. Recently moved house and have been looking for a paid job. Finally got one, so I'm now able to work more consistently on this fic.

Also, there's a lot of medical jargon in here, so I'll put the definitions of what means what at the end. This is also on my Ao3!

As always, this was inspired by the incredible @havanillas!

Account Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Prologue

4:56pm - Wednesday

The salary of a scholar is a feeble one. 

The salary of a doctor is a little better, though only when medical, not educational. It’s all well and good having five pHds under your belt until you have to find a stable income afterwards without being crippled by student debt. With rent near Veritas Prime on the rise after every new intake of students, high taxes and course budget cuts, and the executives of the university refusing to give the faculty a raise, Kakavasha struggles greatly with his finances.

On a slightly different but relevant note: why are tuxedos so damn expensive? They are even more so if they, like in his case, need to be ordered for next-day delivery. He’s been searching ever since the work day ended, scouring the web for a suit suitable for a party as extravagant as the one he’s attending. Kakavasha is beginning to regret his prior willingness to go to such an event, but Cassandra already sent the RSVP hours ago and it would be in poor taste to cancel now. He’s looking at a minimum of 500 credits going towards this stupid thing, and the thought alone makes him sick to his stomach. He can’t help but think this is going to end up a waste of both his time and his money; there wasn’t even a guarantee that Lapis Lazuli was going to be there in the first place.

Kakavasha scoffs at himself as he scrolls mindlessly on website after website. He’s acting like a twelve-year-old fanboy about to see a famous celebrity (even though Veritas Ratio is a famous celebrity - by a technicality). Excited is too strong an adjective. Interest is better. Yes, that’s the one. He is filled with scholarly curiosity about the potential of meeting the man he's so closely compared to.

He continues his ministrations on his computer, though his eyes are completely unfocused. Blurs of colours in the vague shape of suits fly past his eyes as he looks but doesn’t see

Suddenly a flash of dark green meets him and his vision falls back into focus. It's a nice suit, Kakavasha thinks; a three-piece tuxedo with the trousers and jacket a deep forest-like colour that certainly matches his style: the waistcoat a slightly darker colour with white pinstripes. How lucky of him to find it. He swipes through the different model pictures and sizing charts and finds his size for all three pieces. Scrolling further down, he looks at the price and winces. 630 credits. Within his budget, yes, but only barely. Kakavasha sighs to himself. He doubts he'd find another suit any nicer for a lower price, so he holds back a grimace and pays for the item.

There. It’s done now, thank Gaiathra Triclops. He leans back in his chair with his hands linked behind his head, a large and drawn-out groan escaping him. A buzzing is heard and Kakavasha watches with vague dread as his phone vibrates across the table slightly. Perhaps it’s Cassandra ensuring the doctor has something to eat on his way home, or maybe it’s one of his students with a question about what they learned in the seminar today. Wishful thinking - how unscholarly of him. He picks up his phone and sees the first title of “Professor” and his habit of sighing gets worse once again.

Tapping the notification, he sees it’s an email from a colleague. His brain doesn’t exactly calculate what he’s reading straight away, though he notices words like “meeting” and “Friday” and “9am” and he gets the picture. It’s probably some stupid meeting with the black-ties of Veritas Prime to discuss funding. Why Kakavasha of all people is always asked to attend is beyond him, but that is sort of a part of his job role as the Golden Boy of the Intelligentsia Guild (well, the second Golden Boy. His predecessor abdicated). After sending a quick bog-standard reply, the blonde chucks his phone back on the table, leaning forward with his head in his hands. An exaggerated, anguished groan leaves his throat.

Well, there’s no point staying here and doing nothing. The Sigonian stands and begins to gather his things together. A few piles of independent work from his students are tapped neatly on the table before they go in a folder and into his bag. His phone, laptop, and a few other personal belongings soon follow. At the door, he scans the room to see if he missed anything before clicking the door shut.

On the way to his laboratory, Kakavasha's mind wanders. It doesn't wander anywhere particularly interesting or worthy of note; it simply gyrates from topic to topic in his mind like a plate of food in a microwave. Such is the life of a doctor-scholar-professor or whatever his title is these days. 

The air is bitingly chilly when the doctor steps outside. It's the kind of cold that makes your shoulders tense up and various strings of curses to escape your lips as you murmur “fucking hell it's cold” to yourself. A cloudless evening takes Kakavasha's attention for a moment as he grumbles at the realisation that it won't get any warmer until morning.

In the distance, the charcoal silhouette of the Intelligentsia Guild's headquarters breaks away from the rest of the dark cityscape, the peculiar pyramidal shape sticking out like a sore thumb next to the run-of-the-mill rectangles that make up the rest of the city. Inwardly, the Avgin debates whether or not he should walk the distance to HQ or spend a few (in truth, a lot more than a few) credits on a taxi. The mere thought of spending any more money after already blowing so much on a suit of all things makes Kakavasha feel ill, so he plucks up the courage to put one foot in front of the other and travel by foot.

A distant thought is plucked from the back of the blonde's mind. He could, in all seriousness, simply go home. Kakavasha’s apartment is half the distance from the university than it is to HQ. He longs for something - a bed or a sofa, or even the floor at this point; he's not fussy - to crumple into and fall asleep on. To let the sweet embrace of unconsciousness take him.

How poetic, he thinks with an amused snort. He can’t afford to take a break from his research. To stop now after all his tireless work would result in complacency. He wants his wretched luck gone. He wants to live like what he is: a human. He wants to live and die as one. His luck acts as an impenetrable barrier to living like a human. He should have died on Sigonia-IV in that vile desert he called home in the arms of his sister. But he didn’t. Because of his luck. And he hasn’t seen himself as human since. 

Hmph. What a way to bring the mood down.

Back in his body, he trudges along at a pace that lies between brisk and leisurely as his destination looms closer. He approaches a gridlocked main road. A chaotic four-way junction results in the annoyance of many drivers as heard by the incessant beeping of their car horns. Ahead of him, several irate pedestrians stand on the edge of the pavement. They wait impatiently, a few of the particularly annoyed even tap their foot on the cement below them as if trying to step on an invisible button that would make the lights change colours faster. This junction is notorious for its inconsistent traffic system. There are even moments when all four traffic lights for their respective roads are green at the same time, resulting in complete chaos.

However, the second Kakavasha steps up to the traffic lights, green promptly turns to red and the pedestrians around him breathe a collective sigh of relief. A particularly portly businessman beside the scholar takes notice of his approach and chortles in an ugly manner.

“Oh, aren’t you lucky? Be glad you didn’t have to wait for these blasted lights to change.” Kakavasha, unsure on how to respond, nods and stays silent. That always happens: the blonde cannot remember a time when he had to wait for a traffic light to turn red. Such is the life of a lucky man. His pace quickens as he crosses the street and quickens further once he realises the aged businessman wishes to continue his one-sided conversation.

6:04pm - Wednesday

It takes utter discipline and pure strength of will not to put his back to the wall and sink to the floor once Kakavasha arrives at the Intelligentsia Guild’s HQ. Perhaps it was the freezing temperatures or the sun deciding to hide away under the horizon that made his journey here seem so long, but the scholar feels as if he’s just walked a marathon. 

Headquarters is still busy despite the time of day. Men and women of science flit past him in a whirl of white lab coats, clipboards, and briefcases. He waves somewhat half-heartedly to the receptionist as he weaves through the crowd. Kakavasha hunts through the inside pocket of his jacket and retrieves his lanyard, tapping it on a scanner at the elevator. As if on cue, the lift lands on the ground floor and out comes a stream of scientists and scholars. A few dip their heads in his general direction in a gesture of recognition, and he returns them all with a professional nod. Once the cramped space is clear, he steps in and taps 67: the floor number of his laboratory. 

He swears this stupid elevator stops on every second floor. At this point it’d be easier to take the stairs. The Avgin genuinely debates stepping off and doing such a thing for a good two minutes or so until his thoughts are interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. His head twists to the right to see a squirrel-like woman with a tattered notebook and a pen in hand. 

She clears her throat nervously. “Uhm, you're Dr. Kakavasha, right?” she asks, pushing a pair of circular glasses up her nose.

The Sigonian’s features remain neutral. “The very same,” he replies. “Do you need something from me?”

“Er- forgive me. This isn’t very professional of me, but could I, uh- could I get your- erm-.”

Kakavasha decides to take pity on the woman. “Are you asking for my autograph?” 

“Yes please,” she squeaks, her skin turning a bright pink as she hands him the notebook and pen. 

“Do you want it on any specific page or does it not matter?” he questions in a monotone manner as he flicks the book open. In the back of his mind he knows he’s being incredibly blunt and potentially rude. He’s usually more friendly when speaking to his admirers, though after such a long day, he can’t find it within himself to be amiable to anyone.

The woman swallows in a comedic fashion. “Uh, no! Anywhere is fine.”

He nods and scribbles his signature on a random page. The ink dries up slightly in the middle of it, so it looks a little skewed and messy, though neither of them comment on it. He hands the notebook and pen back to the woman.

“Ah, thanks so much! My son is a big fan of yours. He’ll love this,” she smiles. 

Kakavasha nods. “I’m glad.” The woman dips her head in response, before promptly realising she’s reached her floor and waving goodbye to the doctor as she exits.

By the grace of whichever Aeon has decided to look down on Kakavasha today, he arrives at his own floor quickly afterwards. He reaches his personal laboratory promptly and plops himself on the stool by the desk. On it lies his computer monitor, a microscope, a few packets of sterilised needles, and some sanitary wipes; as well as a few scattered papers in various states of comprehension after countless experiments that lasted long after burning the midnight oil.

The blonde turns his computer on and opens up his research notes. Lines and lines of typed words concerning previous experiments, methodologies, and plans pop up. Clicking a tab at the top of the screen, he reads: “Experiment Progression”.

Date: TUE xx/xx/xxxx

Experiment No: #482

Aim(s): 

To discover the recessive “luck” alleles in subject’s genotypes by recreating specific DNA sequencing in a sterile environment.

To discover a way to destroy or alter the recessive “luck” allele without harming surrounding DNA helixes and/or sequences.

Method (UPDATED): 

Extract blood from subject and separate plasma from blood cells via separation centrifuge.

Examine plasma DNA helixes via microvolume spectrophotometre and absorbance microplate reader to single out correct allele.

Find out a way to recreate or duplicate DNA samples under lab conditions.

Find a way to destroy or alter specific alleles under lab conditions.

Recreate experiments on a larger scale to create cure.

Administer cure to subject.

Notes: In experiments #439 to #481, it was eventually discovered through testing that the recessive “luck” allele is found in the blood plasma DNA of subject. As such, further extraction and experimentation of subject’s blood plasma is required to continue research and development of cure.

Below these notes are audio recordings. Most simply act as an instrument Kakavasha used to get his thoughts and hypotheses on record without having to put it into written word. Others have his blunt opinions and irritated ramblings. Unfortunately for present-day Kakavasha, past Kakavasha didn’t have the foresight to label which ones were which, so he’s going in blind. He brings the cursor to one of the recordings and clicks play. The sound of his own tinny voice makes its way to his ears.

“This is… a breakthrough. An annoying breakthrough, but a breakthrough nonetheless. I had hoped that the specific DNA genotypes that caused my overt luckiness would be in something more easily collected, like bone marrow or skin tissue, but no. I'm going to have to extract a lot of my blood for this. It wouldn't be a major problem if it weren’t for my inherent-” a pause, as if he was mulling over which word to use, “eh- distaste for needles, but so be it. 

There is a rustling of what sounds like paper in the background for a few seconds before he speaks again.

“I managed to call in a favour with Hu Xu next door to borrow his separation centrifuge. With it, it'll be a lot easier to separate my blood plasma from my blood cells. Singling out specific DNA genetic sequences is going to require more complex machinery and will be difficult to acquire, but I’m sure I can pull some strings and flutter my eyelashes and manage it. I fear that means I’m going to have to speak to,” an almost comical, audible shudder is heard, “ugh- Sharon, but I suppose suffering through her – oh what’s the word – bleating is a necessary evil. In experiment #483, I need to extract a few vials of blood and separate the blood plasma before putting them in adequate storage so nothing is damaged. I’d like to give a formal apology to the future-me who has to deal with that.” 

With that, the recording ends and Kakavasha throws some Sigonian slurs at his computer screen under his breath. Great Gaiathra Triclops, why was yesterday’s version of himself such an asshole? He grumbles and pushes himself up from his chair to grasp the packets of sterile needles on the other side of his desk. 

This is going to be a long night.

–

00:04am - Thursday

Date: WED xx/xx/xxxx

Experiment No: #483

Aim(s): See previous experiment. [LINK]

Method: See previous experiment. [LINK]

Notes: Following on from experiment #482, two dozen (24) vials of subject’s blood have been extracted and blood plasma has been separated via centrifuge. Plasma samples now safely stored in a cryo-fridge for future testing. 

When the recording plays, Kakavasha’s voice sounds fatigued and a little jumbled.

“Hm, the plasma samples have been collected and put into- er- storage. I may have gone a little overboard, but I need as many viable sources of my own plasma as possible. Nearly 500 experiments have come and gone, and I am bar-” his voice slurs together. “Ahem- excuse that- I am barely any closer to the end goal from when I… from when I began.”

Quiet follows for a peculiarly long time. Two minutes go by in utter silence. If an outsider were to listen to it, they’d think the recording ended.

After this prolonged silence, a weak voice sounds out.

“I’m getting desperate.”

--

Definitions: Allele - Two or more versions of a DNA sequences that make up your genetic makeup. You get them from your parents and can be recessive or dominant. Genotype - The genetic constitution of an organism Separation centrifuge - Basically a machine that spins around super fast and separates substances based on their different properties using centrifugal force Microvolume Spectrophotometre - Something used to examine DNA Absorbance Microplate Reader - Something used to examine DNA

[finalfrontierpublishing]

So it's been a while since i posted any books - mostly because i've been hiding my progress like a little sneak.

I just finished this bind last night of The Desert Storm by @blue-sunshine-mauve-morning, or really it's volume 1 out of like ??? 15, maybe. Please take whatever i say with a pinch of salt (I have had 0 sleep for more than 24 hours, and that tends to make me a little very sleep-deprivation drunk a.k.a. unhinged). Okay, on to thoughts! The Desert Storm was foisted onto me by @celestial-sphere-press who told me under no uncertain terms that I WOULD FUCKING LOVE THIS SHIT. Well, I did. This more than 1 million word epic about Ben Fuckin' Kenobi is pretty much god-tier fanfiction. It reads like a goddamn novel. I can never think of canon again without thinking that this good shit should be canon. I read it and then consumed half of it within a week, and I have zero regrets. @blue-sunshine-mauve-morning, i absolutely love you and love your writing. It is the best thing since sliced bread. It is better than sliced bread.

I also had the benefit of @celestial-sphere-press saying, hey would you want to use the typeset? MY GOD, i am grateful. I love this fic, i would have typeset it if it hadn't been typeset but Des did such a beautiful job that i am absolutely in awe and thankful that she and the author allowed others to use it. Look at it - it's so beautiful. I only had to think hey, i just gotta design the cover and et cetera and so the book happened.

Please also check out @celestial-sphere-press 's amazing post here and here, who is the only person i know who's started and is almost complete in fanbinding this epic, and is also making an author a copy of the entire series.

Some stats, if you will.

96215 words || 380 pages

Title font: Ghaomiec

I took some inspiration from starblight bindery's lovely desert scape as well as this amazing cover of Dune which i own. I love that the landscape emanates Dune vibes while being oh so Tattooine - just sand and heat, relentless loneliness and melancholy. This fic centres around Obi-Wan Infinite Sadness Kenobi so it needed SAD VIBES TM, which i tried to deliver in desolate landscape form.

Also thank the heavens for Renegade members, who in a masterful stroke of Group Buy Saves Money, managed to source extra-out-of-production colours of Colibri and help a fair number of us get really cool limited edition versions of bookcloth. I am now a proud owner of a lorge stash of Duo and Colibri of which i am now sitting on like a shifty dragon with a hoarding problem. Good luck getting your bookcloth now, Folio Society, ha ha (gloating)! This particular bookcloth is Colibri Copper which has been wholly stashed for The Desert Storm series. I am leaning on transitioning to Malachite for Rise and Fall when I get to it.

The front cover design was done with a stock image and converted to a PNG, which i then fiddled with and did some HTV magic with. It was remarkably easier to weed than expected. I tried something new and ironed the design on the naked bookcloth first before gluing it to the boards, which was a new challenge in making sure everything was aligned.

Endpapers are marbled endpapers (Renato Crepaldi) which I got from Hollanders, which perfectly fit the colour scheme of the bind. The only hiccup was as I was cutting, I realized the sheet was running in the opposite direction of his usual papers and half the size, and only yielded 3 A5 size endpapers and so my heart went noooooooooo. oh well. i guess i will use it for quartos.

Endbands are my favourite - silk in 3 colours in the french doublecore style (as i was binding this i did not have the mental capacity to handle the difficulty of 4 strands). the truth is i usually only can do 4 when I have higher brain function and am willing to spend 80% of my time unraveling it from getting tangled.

I also forgot to mention I had mild fuck-ups, I got glue on the front endpaper which I had to hastily remove with wet cloth, and the back square is preposterously bad but I'm ignoring it for now.

Anyway, i've actually managed to complete a few other binds which have not been mentioned here as they've all been gifts/ surprises or event books in some form. I am SO EXCITED, also because I am travelling in the latter half of July to San Diego and L.A. and I get to meet some bookbinding friends in the flesh. Renegade is fucking amazing y'all. I am ready to embrace these crazy lads who have enabled me for the last 1 year, even when i'm the solitary (1) weirdo from my country of origin in the server. Also... potentially bookbinding trip early next year??? I am enthused.

[crimsonred-hi]

Everything, Everywhere

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Reader

Warnings:

Summary: his lover is laying there, laying under 6 feet under the grass. Gone to the world. The love of his life: gone. Yet, he stills comes every week, to smile at her, and tell her that one day he’ll join her, but he promised her to live to the fullest… so he will.

He sits there, in front of the stone. It’s a pretty stone, with flowers painted on it, because his mother tried to make the stone pretty by painting on it.

He smiles at her, cutting the ends off the flowers he bought for her, making sure to cut them at a 45 degree angle so they last longer. It’s a bouquet of spring flowers, because the season is changing and he is going to the U.S. for a couple months, he wants the flowers to look right of the time.

He places the flowers out, making them look nice. He’s always known that the fact he never got over her was considered weird, but how could he: she was perfect and now she’s gone.

“How are ya doing, love?… I hope your well, I’m well. My life is going well… it’s weird, not having you around to fight of the groupies.”

He laughs warmly, smiling with that twinkle in his eyes, taking a memory of her arguing with a groupie because the girl was getting too close to him.

___

“Honey, why were you being like that?”

His lover grumbles from the side of him as they walk home form the pub, her arms crossed and his jacket over her shoulders.

“She was too fuckin close! She was too close. I didn’t like it.”

He sighs, moving closer, arm draped over her shoulders, pressing his lips too her forehead.

“Y/n, I’m not going to leave ya for some lass in the pub…”

She grumbles again, but she becomes a little less tense with his words.

___

“You were a funny gal… you really made me happy…”

The light in his eyes is lots at the need to use past tense when talking about her… she’s gone.

He can’t admit it, he doesn’t want to: why would he want to. He loves her, he can’t stop his love for her, but she’s not coming back. SHE IS NOT COMING BACK. He can’t say it out loud…

“I’m going on tour soon, I’m going to (your home city)… I’m gonna see your parents, celebrate your birthday with them… I’m so thankful that they let you stay in Ireland with me… I’m so thankful…”

He smiles back at the stone, her name cared into it with a curvy font. ‘Loving Daughter, Sister, Friend and Wife’. They weren’t even married, they never got the chance to get married, but her parents surprised him by putting wife on it: he cried when he read it. He wept and wept.

He still weeps.

He fiddles with the flower on her grave, trying to distract himself from the pain.

“Ermmm… I’ve got another album coming out… and I read that book you got me for my birthday, why didn’t you tell me you annotated it? I cried when I read your handwritten…”

He laughs warmly, running his hand through his hair.

“Your handwriting is so messy… and what possessed you to write in that awful purple pen?”

___

“Christ! Why are ya writin’ like that?”

She giggles, poking the pen into his arm, drawing on his arm and hurting him at the same time.

“Oi, I like this pen, it’s a nice colour.”

“It’s also blinding.”

He grumbles standing behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, kissing the back of her head and nuzzling into her hair.

“Come on, ya couldn’t have just written in black or blue?”

That sets her off, now she’s talking his ear off about how much she hates blue pen, his heart just melts as she talks with her hands.

___

He laughs that full belly laugh, the laugh that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners and makes his smile wide, gorgeous.

“God! You were so fuckin funny! Good God… you were extraordinary…”

His thoughts break through, usually he would think about his own music when he was at her grave, Work Song is a constant in his mind… but he did that song with Noah Kahan recently, all he can think about is Everything, Everywhere… the title alone makes his breath shoulder, she was everything, she is everywhere.

“We cried, ‘oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh’

Everything, everywhere

I wanna love you ‘till we’re food for the worms to eat

‘Till our fingers decompose

Keep my hand in yours…”

The lyrics are soft on his lips.

He’s sang to her before, dead or alive. He felt like she was listening, he knew she wasn’t. He never believed in ghosts or the afterlife, it’s a warming concept, but is it true? He doubts it is. But he finds warmth in knowing that the plot next to his lover is bought and waiting for him.

It’s sad… he bought it the same day he bought hers.

He knows he’s still young, he knows he could find another, he could find many more… but the sheer idea of having another woman the way he had her makes him sick. It feels like cheating.

“Ya know, I made a song…. I make loads of songs, you know that… I made one about us… well, I’m telling the people it’s about characters in Dante’s Inferno…… it’s about how I would do it again… I would love you again even with the knowledge of what’s to come…”

“It’s a nice thought… well not nice, but ya know what I mean… I love the idea of meeting you again… even if it’s in hell.”

He sighs, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Christ… what I would do to have you here or be there with you?”

He sighs, looking at the time on his phone… he’s gotta go. He doesn’t want too.

“I’m sorry, honey… I’ve gotta go… I’m sorry… I’ll visit when I can… I’ll be back I promise.”

His words are too soothe a nonexistent being, the being is gone, yet he still acts like he’s talking to his living lover.

He blows her a kiss, and leaving her grave behind. His heartbreaking yet again at having to leave. Wishing he could lie in the ground with her forever…

Im sorry. Im so, so sorry.

[smanfa]

a handful of my favourite drawings this year

gonna just bury a personal post in here too, give it a read if you fancy:

as i've said a few times, this is the first year in a long time where art has had no monetary component for me, and it still took a little while, but i feel like this is the year where i've actually managed to de-program myself from years of being a Twitter Artist, and switch over my mentality from drawing what i think people want to see, to what i want to make, and also learn not to force myself not to draw if i don't want to, and on that note i dunno if i'm just feeling residual burnout from the years of grinding out for twitter or what, but i was kinda surprised how small my appetite for drawing actually was

that said, when i do draw now, i know it's because i'm actually really excited to be doing it and i feel like it's shown in the results tbh, there's way less drawings this year where i felt like i'm just going through the motions and drawing for the sake of getting something out there, and i look back at basically everything i've drawn like "yeah, that was cool, and i had a lot of fun making it"

part of that is that i've also discovered just how important it is to actually enjoy every part of my art process, i've sorta just cut out parts i don't enjoy - i'm way more willing to just leave things looking slightly wonky, and i haven't done any fuckin lineart this year at all, i've cut that shit out entirely because i don't like doing it, instead i just spend 10 minutes cleaning up my sketches and go straight to colouring and it feels like nobody's even noticed, it rules lol, and i've put a bit more focus on making things that feel like "scenes" rather than just "pretty girl in white void (with optional background circle)", not that all my art needs to be that, but it's been satisfying taking the time to just draw little simple backgrounds or focus on building an overall vibe, rather than just the character

tl;dr dumbass girl learns to have fun drawing again by not giving a fuck

love u lot <3

[daddy-issues-galore]

Noel Gallagher x f!reader - Sitting on Noel's face SMUT

Warnings: 18+ readers, face sitting, pussy eating, tit play

It was somewhat of a challenge for Noel getting the front door open what with you stood in front of him kissing and sucking on his neck (not that he was complaining). Eventually he managed to open it and picked you up as he kicked the door shut behind him, the pair of you laughing as he did.

Noel carried you upstairs, bumping into the walls a couple of times and knocking a vase of as you went, neither of you caring as you made your way to his bedroom, your lips locked in a messy kiss. With a soft moan, Noel fell back onto the bed with you.

You let out a heavy breath as you pulled back from him and sat up in his lap. You gave him a mischievous grin, your fingers toying with his open collar where chest hair was peaking out, “I have surprise for you.”

Noel’s eyebrows raised as he leaned up on his elbows, “Another one?”

You nodded and leaned down to give him one last kiss before getting up and running off into ensuite, closing the door behind you. Noel let out a frustrated groan as he laid back for a moment before he sat up and stared at the bathroom door. What were you up to? Noel shook his head with a soft sigh and decided to get undressed, his jeans becoming extremely uncomfortable thanks to your teasing.

Once stripped off to only his boxers, Noel sat at the foot of his bed and waited for you to emerge from the bathroom. Ten minutes later, the bathroom door slowly creeped open and Noel looked up, his eyes filling with lust and hunger as you stepped out. You looked breath-taking in the baby blue, baby doll.

Noel licked his lips as he stared at you, words failing him.

“Should I be worried? Don’t think I’ve ever heard you be this quiet for this long.” You teased as you stepped closer to him.

Noel gulped and looked up to meet your gaze. “C’mere,” Noel ordered, a smirk curling at his lips.

Excitement bubbled in the pit of your belly as you quickly moved over to him and straddled his lap, crashing your lips against his as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Noel’s hands gripped your hips as the two of you shared a sloppy, heated kiss. You ground your hips against his, brushing your lace covered core against Noel’s hard cock, moaning into his mouth as you did.

You pulled back taking a deep breath and rested your forehead against Noel’s. “You like it then?” You giggled.

“Like it.” Noel kissed your lips briefly then your cheek and jaw. “I fuckin’ love it.” He kissed down your neck making you moan softly. “Man city colour, anorl.”

Your head fell back with laughter as Noel smirked against your skin. “Knew that’s where your head would go.”

“Not my fault… I’ve seen ya’ in a kit shirt, ain’t I. Bet you look well fit in just that and nowt else… fuck, need to fuck you in-”

You held his face in between your hands and crashed your lips against his, cutting his words off. You pulled back with a smirk, “Want me to put yours on?” You teased.

Noel shook his head with a smirk, “Not now.” He kissed you again and moved his hands down to knead your backside. “I do want ya’ to do somethin’ though.”

You raised your eyebrow, “What?”

Noel smirked up at you as he gave your backside a squeeze. “Ride me face.”

Your breath caught in your throat, “Really?”

Noel nodded, “Really.” He pressed a kiss to your lips. “C’mon.” He gave your backside a pat before lifting you off his lap and placing you down beside him.

Noel scooted back in the middle of the bed, laying down on his back atop of the blankets moving the pillows out of the way. You crawled up the bed towards the headboard, removing your panties before you carefully settled over Noel.

He let out a breathy, “Fuck,” His hot breath tickling your sensitive skin. Noel’s hands spread over your thighs, his fingers digging into your soft skin, pulling you closer to his face. God, you smelled good. His breath tickled your already wet pussy making you shiver. Noel wasted no time. Your mouth fell open letting a strangled moan escape. Noel’s tongue flicked over your clit a few times, dipping inside your slit before he took your clit in between his lips.

You tried to keep your pace slow, but it was hard. Your hands squeezed the headboard tightly as you sped up. Your breath catching in your throat as he moaned against your pussy, his fingers digging into your flesh as he held you close to his mouth. “Oh, fuck, fuck,” You moaned, rolling your hips against his mouth.

“Touch yer tits.” Noel moaned into your pussy, his palms kneading your thighs as he pulled you even closer.

You cried out, your head thrown back as you moaned loudly as Noel’s nose nudged your clit adding further stimulation. You pulled your baby doll down, so it sat under your breast and began playing with one, pinching and twisting the nipple as you held tightly onto the headboard. Noel watched you intently, bucking his hips up into the air. Beautiful. Fuckin’ beautiful. He suckled your sensitive clit harshly, causing you to throw your head back in pure ecstasy. Your orgasm shot through your body like electricity, making your body vibrate.

You tried to raise yourself away from Noel’s face but he wrapped his arms around your thighs and held you close. “Oh, god,” You groaned and shook your head. “Please, Noel.” You moaned as he carried on licking and sucking. You looked down and met his gaze, feeling him smirk against you and pull another orgasm from you. “Fuck.”

Noel eased up this time and finally let go of you. You practically rolled off him and fell to the bed beside him. Noel smiled proudly and wiped his hand down his face, collecting the mess you had made. “Fuck, that was hot.”

You nodded trying to catch your breath. “Your turn next."

Noel barked out a laugh, "Give us a minute, yeah? I'm fuckin' old."

You giggled and rolled over snuggled into his side. "We've got plenty of time." You kissed his chest.

[sweetzscore]

What if I fakeposted about my ocs. What then

-24 notes

🛸 ang3l-baby follow

Me: [after talking about aliens n space for 3 hours] I dunno I just think they’re kinda neat

🌌 cosmicgirlthing follow

Your record is actually four hours

🛸 ang3l-baby

Sometimes I just black out and talk about doctor who a lot too

32 notes

💣 emooooeeeekid follow

Ive had girlfriends before which is really weird because I am the most idiotic loser ever. Bitch what do you see in me

🌌 cosmicgirlthing follow

This is true you are very much a loser

🎬 samthehotdog follow

I second this

💣 emooooeeeekid

Listen here you little shits

128 notes

🎬 samthehotdog follow

I’m very publicly intersex and my favourite thing about this is that I am a high schooler and my classmates get rlly confused all the time and its so funny

🎬 samthehotdog

I like to ask them why they’re so interested in my dick (or lack thereof) and they usually just combust or something

💣 emooooeeeekid follow

high schoolers are very invasive an insensitive so I like to give them the funniest answers possible

I once told a kid that when I was born they asked me if I wanted a dick or a vag and I couldn’t decide so they gave me one of those multicolour pens where you click down the things to get the new colour

🎬 samthehotdog

That. Is the best thing I have ever heard

241 notes

🍊 bowser-jrjrjrjr follow

Theres so many fucking fags at my school I hate this stupid place

🌌 cosmicgirlthing follow

What are you doing on this website

🍊 bowser-jrjrjrjr

Stfu tranny

🛸 ang3l-baby follow

I go to OP’s school and I can confirm he is very stupid and mean and nobody with any sense actually likes him

🎬 samthehotdog follow

Lmaooo

339 notes

💣 emooooeeeekid follow

Vent under the cut

read more

💣 emooooeeeekid

Fuckin got you didn’t I

🌌 cosmicgirlthing follow

Go fuck yourself

💣 emooooeeeekid

Don’t mind if I do

🧢 jord-the-trans follow

There’s something wrong with both of you

63 notes

💣 emooooeeeekid follow

>be me

>have a crush on a guy

>guy likes someone else

>other guy is homophobic, used to be my friend but dropped me when I came out

>dont have the heart to tell my crush

Hes gonna get his heart broken either way and like :((( UGHH i just want him to like me

🎬 samthehotdog follow

Oof thats rough pal

🧢 jord-the-trans follow

Yeah Im real sorry abt that Val :(

A little off topic but I didn’t know you had a crush?

💣 emooooeeeekid

Haha nope. No crush here. I dont have any crushes nosireee

🌌 cosmicgirlthing follow

Real subtle mate

42 notes

🛸 ang3l-baby follow

Im just gonna make it clear right now if you don’t think that straight aces are lgbt i need you to get the fuck off my blog right now

🌌 cosmicgirlthing follow

are you vagueposting abt your boyfriend’s haters

🛸 ang3l-baby

Die mad

402 notes

anonymous asked: wait you have a boyfriend ???

🛸 ang3l-baby follow

Actually @:reedinthemarsh isn’t my boyfriend he’s my wife

🍬 reedinthemarsh follow

When did we get married also when did I transition???

🛸 ang3l-baby

It’s only a matter of time

💣 emooooeeeekid follow

GELP???

26 notes

💣 emooooeeeekid follow

My parents think that me being non-binary might be confusing for my little brothers but I explained it to them once and they immediately understood, said “okay” and then asked me what my 2nd favourite colour was

13 notes

🌌 cosmicgirlthing follow

URL check

Cosmic: nope

Girl: nope

Thing: sure why not

[mexxs-blog]

Fool me twice.

part two to the rebuilt series; part 1 here

a liv morgan / dominik mysterio / rhea ripley fanfiction series.

trigger warnings: manipulation, forced (?) subspace, bad bdsm etiquette, triggering subjects, choking, physical abuse, verbal abuse.

Why was this happening again?

Rheas mind swirled, any thought she managed to form becoming incoherent before she managed to dwell on it for too long. So many emotions had swelled in her chest, overwhelming her senses, and merging into a gaping hole until it was impossible to act on any of them. She could only stumble and let herself be dragged on by Dominik and Liv.

Think. She had to think. What had happened? She had a match against Liv, with Dominik at ringside. He had obviously interfered multiple times, and she had almost lost. But with her title clutched weakly in her fist, that wasn't her main concern. She had won.

Had she?

She hadn't won, really. If she had, would have won her title and been left alone, instead she's being pulled away by Dominik and Liv. Her old dommes. They shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be letting them near her.

Why was she allowing the two people that had hurt her so badly to be around her again?

It was her instincts. They had both previously been her dominants for so long, her submission to them was instant, uncontrollable, and very much unwanted.

A sharp shove to her back broke her out of her scattered thoughts, and she stumbled forwards into a darkened, spare room. She spun on her heels, facing Liv and Dominik, forcing her lips into a sneer.

"You're both fuckin' insane. I don't care what I had with either of you, we'll never have it again," She snapped, her voice shaky and her body stiff.

Liv exchanged a fleeting glace with Dominik, the hint of a dangerous smirk flitting across both of their faces. They turned back to Rhea.

Rhea knew the warning signs. She knew how pitiless the pair could be by themselves, let alone together. But she had to hold her ground.

"Now move,"

Rhea spat venomously, taking a bold step forward towards the door the pair were standing in front of. Neither flinched.

"Move! Before I beat the fuck out of both of you-"

Rhea's threat was cut off when a fist collided with her jaw, her head snapping to the side and her title falling from her hands. With a blur of movement, she found herself pressed against a wall, a hand pressed against her throat and a larger body pressed to her front.

Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, her jaw aching from Dominiks wicked right hook. Surprise coloured her features as she froze up under Dominiks hand. He had always been such a... kind, gentle dominant when they were together, but now? Rhea could feel his rage, it had seeped through his pores and breached every of inch her skin, leaving her cold, heavy, and hopeless. People really do change.

"Rhea, my sweet girl..." Livs voice rang out from behind Dominik condescending and cold. Goosebumps rose on Rheas arms, the hair on the back of her neck standing up.

"So bold, so brazen... Yet so wrong," Liv muttered, appearing at Dominiks side. Her hands snaked around his chest, clasping at the front, over his heart. She continued.

"If you don't feel for us the way you used to... then your body wouldn't still react the way it did three years ago for me, and a year ago for Dominik..." Liv drawled, unclasping a hand to reach over for rhea, trailing a hand up her exposed side. A choked gasp escaped Rheas lips as a jolt of unwanted, burning desire made her stomach drop.

"No..." Rhea choked out, her neck flexing under Dominiks hand as she strained, having nowhere to go but desperate to move.

Both Dominik and Liv exchanged hungry, smug looks, both chuckling.

"Yes... Give into it, Rhea. Give into us. We'll give you exactly what you want. What you need. We'll help you realise that this is what you crave." Liv hissed, her voice sultry and sinful as she peered at Rhea over Dominiks shoulder, still dragging her nail down her side.

Rhea could do nothing but gasp, shivers of pleasure licking up her spine, her body scorching hot under their intoxicating touches. She didn't want this. She didn't want them, but it felt so, so good, in the most intoxicating, disgusting way possible.

She nodded jerkily, the pressure finally making her crack, her will dissolving.

"Okay..." she whispered through dry lips.

This wouldn't be like the prior years. This was a fresh start for her relationships with Dominik and Liv, right? Yes, this was them, rebuilt.

[achillean-knight]

Woe, doodles be upon ye

HC's below the cut if you're absolutely interested in my Spiderverse Noir HC's + his world 👉👈

First the ones I agree with that I've seen a shit ton of people mention >:33

- He is a fatherly figure to Peni. I can imagine when they see each other again, she'd run to him and give him the biggest fucking hug ever. She experienced her Canon Event between ITSV and ATSV too, right? So I can see her needing comfort so badly, and the only ones she ever truly grew close to were Noir and Ham.

- He'd 10000/10 get along so well with Hobie. Along with Hobie legit mentioning his hatred for the AM, PM and fuckin NAZIS IN THE COMIC ,

he'd be rambling so much with Noir about common interests and get along so well with him. Imagine he badazzles him in punk attire and based on this image:

(I'll link where I found the image tomorrow when I'm on my laptop lol if I remember) but based on this image, he teaches Noir how to play the guitar and shit and OUYGG I WANNA SEE THEM INTERACT (they're my fave Spiderverse characters so 👉👈)

- OHOHOHO He loves the colour purple. So much. He can't see it, ofc but he has such a love for the colour that he sees any beautiful colour- or well, of what he can see of colours, and thinks every pretty colour is Purple.

- MJ see's Noir/Peter as a brother and he see's MJ as a sister in turn. There is no romantic attraction at all. Yeah, this means MJ see's Aunt May as a nice Aunt Figure she can go to and talk to about things.

Now onto some of my own headcanons- or some that I don't see mentioned a ton. These have probably been said before but oh well, these are just what I like and my brain go BRRR

- Felicia is taller then Noir. (For those unfamiliar, Felicia is a character from the comic.) Yes that'd probably make her freakishly tall based on how tall Noir is in the movie, but that comic panel of when he first meets her rots in my brain.

- Felicia still has her mask from her ordeals. However, unlike how she pushes away Peter, they actually become friends again. Comfort each other. They swore they'd never be in a relationship again.

- Noir is a combo of both his OG comics personality and 2020's comics personality. I see movie noir as anywhere between 19 - 21. He's learning and developing as a human still. He's calmer and kinder and resembles how his personality is in the newer comics, however, based on this deleted scene LOL, makes me think he looses his shit easily and goes actually feral.

(here's the link to where I found the video BC I actually saved the link lol yeah it's reblogged by yours truly, but the full post is there.)

- Oh yeah, Noir most definitely adopted Ding Ding btw. He probably is nearly at the newer comics stage of his life, being a private eye and such, drinking his fucking egg creams like newer comics noir SBSBBS So he found and adopted Ding Ding.

- Despite being young (19 - 21) he has serious eyebags man, dudes sleep deprived 😔 I'm also heavy on the Spiderverse portrait of him unmasked that I don't really draw/see him with facial scars but he could totally have them after the shit he went through 💀

- Noir is a part-time singer. I will not elaborate.

There's so many other things I wrote down that I want to share, but they're on my computer 😭 so you get these for now hhhh

Sorry if they're half-assed, it's 10:30 pm, I am tired

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

V ║ Appaloosa

Jack Daniels x f!reader

{ Part 4: Strawberry Roan | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 6: Mustang }

Rating: E

Summary: You and Jack play house for a day.

Warnings: This is filthy, light angst, feelings, flirting, insecurities, sexual innuendoes, protected sex, fingering, dirty talk, language, mention of food, no use of Y/N

Word count: 2.9k

Notes: Cowboy Jack and his Darlin' are back. This is a bit of a transitional chapter as we move into the second part of the their week together, and shit's getting real 🥺 I know it's been a while, and I hope this doesn't disappoint ❤️

Appaloosa: An American horse breed best known for its colourful spotted coat pattern.

Jack can’t remember the last time he missed his alarm. 

When he slowly comes to, the room is quiet, the digital beep from his phone that you must have switched off but an echo in his ears. He exhales heavily through his nose and turns onto his side, where he finds you burrowed into your pillow.

You stretch languidly as Jack drapes his arm over you, warm and heavy, his bare skin finding yours under the duvet. His baritone rumbles in your ear. ‘Mornin’, darlin’.’

You smile as he presses a kiss to your temple. You mumble back, ‘Morning, cowboy.’

‘Sleep well?’

Shifting onto your back and blinking up at his face hovering just above you, you nod and let your gaze trail over his rumpled hair, his warm eyes, still hooded with sleep, and lips curled into a gentle smile. The morning light spilling through the window chases away the tailend of the chill from last night, and the air in the room is ripe with the musk of sex and slumber. You hum and pull him in for a chaste kiss.

‘Do the horses need feeding?’ you ask as he settles between your thighs, holding himself above you on elbows either side of your face.

‘No, I left the feed out for them last night,’ he answers, but stays still otherwise, as if he’s letting you take the lead on how this morning should play out.

You run your hands down his back, sliding slowly against his skin as you feel goosebumps bloom in their wake. Cocking your head to the side, you say, ‘So theoretically, if your guests don’t feel well -’

Jack’s brow immediately furrows in worry. ‘You don’t feel well?’

You shake your head, soothing your palms over his lower back as you reassure him, ‘No, I feel perfectly well. It’s just,’ you pause and bite your bottom lip. ‘Just theoretically - could we stay one more night?’

You can tell it’s not what he expected to hear, but the way his gaze darkens just ever so slightly doesn’t escape you. His voice comes out deeper when he finally says, ‘But we’re going to miss all the sights we were going to see today.’

With a slow nod, you reply, ‘I know.’

Jack shifts, taking his weight off one elbow so that his hips slowly but surely brush against yours. ‘We’ll have to take a shortcut.’

You don’t mean for your words to come out so breathless, but they do anyway. ‘I understand.’

Jack’s voice drops to a throaty whisper. ‘We’ll have to ride extra hard tomorrow to make up for lost time.’

‘How hard?’ you prompt, wrapping one leg around his waist, your breath hitching when you feel his hard length sliding through your folds.

‘Very hard,’ he breathes through gritted teeth, his large palms cupping your ass and squeezing greedily, pulling you flush to him.

‘How about I show you how hard I can ride, cowboy?’ You grin against his lips. ‘Will it put your mind at ease, sir?’

Jack groans and takes your lips in a searing kiss, rocking against your dampening core before pulling back to growl, ‘Not fuckin’ likely, darlin’.’

Jack’s never been one to cut work. Hell, he’d never even taken a sick day until his wife’s accident. After the funeral, he’d packed up his truck and headed straight into the woods, where he spent the entirety of three months in silent solitude in the depths of the forests.

Then he went back to work, and he’s never stopped since.

But right now, he can’t bring himself to care that he’s putting a blemish on his perfect record - not when his eyes are on your tits as you bounce on his cock, the pulse in your neck rabbiting under the scrape of his teeth when you throw your head back, nails digging into his shoulders and grounding him to the moment. In the back of his head, he hears the bed creak underneath, an off-key violin to the tune of your gasps and moans.

‘Fuck, darlin’, you ride me so well,’ he praises you, one hand coming down to smack you on the ass, which makes you stutter something incoherent as your pussy clenches around him.

‘Told you so,’ you somehow manage to reply smartly, prompting a growl from him as he thrusts up into you so hard that you nearly fall off his lap. ‘Jack!’

‘Just testin’ how well you stay on a buckin’ bronco,’ he sasses back at you with a debauched grin.

You bite your lip, hips desperately grinding against his. So close that your insides are trembling, you let his comeback slide, begging instead, ‘Do it again, Jack, please, gonna cum -’

He leans forward and presses a desperate kiss to your lips, his words catching in his throat as he feels you break around him. ‘Anythin’ for you, darlin’.’

Tequila’s battered truck rattles up to the Halfway House a few minutes after nine, the metallic grunts of the engine breaking the still of the morning. Jameson sits patiently on the passenger side, but his tail is thumping excitedly on the seat at the sight of his favourite playground in the mountains.

Whistling to himself, Tequila rounds the truck to let the border collie out, who bounds headfirst towards the paddock. Looking up, he grins at the sight of the three horses still in the stables.

Champ owes him fifty bucks, and he intends to collect.

He knocks anyway - his mama taught him manners - and he gives it a couple more tries before letting himself in, leaving the door ajar if Jameson wants to come in. 

The house is silent, only the floorboards creaking under his boots as he makes a sweep of the living space. Remnants of the night before are scattered about in wine-stained glasses, empty dishes and dying embers in the fireplace. 

He gotta give it to Jack. Man’s got moves.

Humming quietly to himself, Tequila pulls open the fridge door, the interior light flooding him in orange as he pokes his head inside, and his eyes light up at the half-eaten chocolate cake. He shrugs and reaches for it - might as well have a second breakfast while he waits.

And he doesn’t have to wait long. He’s just finishing up the last of his slice at the dining table when he hears movement down the corridor to the guest bedrooms. There’s a flush of the toilet and a trickle of water, then Jack emerges in just his jeans, head down while he does up the fly.

‘Mornin’ sunshine,’ pipes up Tequila, louder than he needs to. He enjoys the way the normally calm and collected cowboy jumps a foot in fright.

Rubbing his palm over his eyes, Jack groans and stumbles over his words. ‘Oh fuck. Sorry, I meant to call. Our guest - uh, she isn’t feeling well, so we’ll be staying one more night. So that she can - get better.’

Tequila crosses his arms, one eyebrow arched. ‘She isn’t feeling well, huh?’

‘Yeah, um - something with the food,’ mumbles Jack as he stalks over to the kitchen sink to pour himself a glass of water, which he downs.

‘Losing your touch in the kitchen, Daniels?’

‘Shut up, Teak,’ glowers Jack, steadfastly avoiding his friend’s gaze as he busies himself with moving the dirty dishes from the kitchen counter. He turns on the hot water and squeezes far too much washing up liquid into the stoppered sink. Grabbing a sponge, he begins to aggressively wash up.

Tequila watches with a pleasant smile and comments, ‘Funny choice of attire when our guest can walk in any moment, by the way.’

Spinning around with soapy hands, Jack opens his mouth, ready to make up another excuse - when his eyes alight on the box of condoms haphazardly ripped open lying in plain sight on the table in front of the other cowboy. 

Pointing what he hopes is a menacing finger at Teak - as menacing as it can be with suds sliding off the tip of it - he growls, ‘Not a single word from you, understand?’

Tequila flashes him a shit-eating grin. ‘C’mon, a thank you would be nice. I drove into town specially to get you those rubbers, you know. Did I get the sizing right, by the way? Not too loose?’

Jack resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. ‘How did you even -’

‘Like recognises like,’ winks Tequila.

Rolling his eyes, Jack turns back to the dishes and says, ‘Just get the fuck out of here before she wakes up.’

‘I can’t,’ he protests. ‘I gotta collect your dirty laundry and strip the beds. Bet I only need to strip one bed though.’

The front door whines on its hinges - it really needs a good oiling - as Jameson runs into the house, barking at the sight of Jack, who gives him a wet pat on the head. 

He freezes when he hears another door creak, but before he can sound the warning, you pad out of the corridor and into the living area in just his shirt, your eyes still squinty with sleep.

‘Did I just hear a dog -’ you stop abruptly in your tracks when you spot Tequila waving to you.

‘Mornin’ sweetheart,’ calls out Tequila with a two-fingered salute. He turns to Jack and pronounces, ‘Well, she hardly looks rode hard and put away wet, does she?’

You blink, your limited morning brain power preoccupied by Jameson, who’s shimmied up to you wagging his tail. Scratching him behind the ear, you try to muster a response to Tequila’s rather cryptic remark. ‘I mean, um, maybe not in so many words -’

Jack cuts in from across the kitchen. ‘Darlin’, do not answer that. It’s a southern sayin’ and he’s just tryin’ to wind you up.’

Tequila wriggles his eyebrows at you playfully. ‘Wind up the birthday girl? Never! Happy birthday, by the way. I’m guessing Jack showed you a good time?’

‘Get outta here, Teak!’

He surrenders with his palms up, vacating the kitchen table. ‘Alright, alright, no need to shout, Daniels. I’ll be back tomorrow then. If you decide to stay another night, just send a text,’ he pauses and gives you a suggestive wink. ‘We can always send a car to pick you up instead at the end of the week.’

Whistling at Jameson to follow, Tequila calls out over his shoulder in farewell. ‘Keep your saddle oiled and your gun greased!’

As the door shuts behind him, you burst into laughter. 

‘What the hell did he just say?’

The afternoon light filters through the half-drawn blinds over the bathroom window, casting shadows on the tiled floor that only grow longer as the lazy hours tick by. 

The water has long gone tepid, your plans for what was meant to be a quick bath alone derailed when Jack climbed in after you.

The condoms are in the bedroom, and neither of you are inclined to leave the tub, so he has you spread in his lap, your tits heaving just above the waterline. Bubbles cling to your nipples as Jack draws slippery circles on your clit, sucking hot kisses onto the side of your neck.

‘Harder, Jack. Mark me, please,’ you beg. His cock is hot and heavy in your hand, and you feel him twitch as your words hit home.

‘Yeah? Want me to fuckin’ brand you, darlin’?’ he growls into your ear before sucking on your skin so viciously that you cry out, thrusting his fingers into you as you start to cum. You stroke him harder, feeling him tense behind you before a violent shudder goes through his body, harsh breaths in your ear as he lets go. ‘That’s it, darlin’. So good for me, cummin’ so hard on my fingers like that while I mark you -’

You slump bonelessly into Jack’s chest when your high passes, and you tilt your head backwards so that he can kiss you fully on your mouth, tongues meeting languidly, your nails sliding into his wet hair to pull him closer.

Nose in your temple, he eyes the blooming hickey on the base of your neck with a deep grunt of satisfaction.

Jack’s voice is warm against the shell of your ear as he ambles up behind you, big palms leaning on the kitchen counter on either side of you. ‘Is it regressive of me to find the sight of you cookin’ very sexy?’

You smile, not looking up as you measure out the dried pasta. ‘It might just be that I’m wearing nothing underneath your shirt.’

You shriek when he draws up the hem to see that you’re not lying, ducking to press an open-mouthed kiss to the side of your naked hip before wrapping his arms around you.

‘What’s on the menu, chef?’ he asks, chin on your shoulder.

‘Carbonara,’ you answer, the ingredients you found laid out on the kitchen counter, along with the freshly cut parsley that Jack got from the garden.

‘With cream and peas?’ he asks dubiously.

You toss him a look over your shoulder. ‘Didn’t peg you for a pasta snob, cowboy.’

He chuckles. ‘I’m not sure who will want to wring your neck first - Poppy or the Italians.’

‘Good thing I can count on you to get me out of a spot of trouble, can’t I?’

‘Depends on how good that carbonara is,’ he teases, letting out an exaggerated oomph when you gently elbow him in the stomach in rebuke. He adds, ‘You didn’t have to cook, you know. I would’ve been happy to do it.’

‘You deserve a break,’ you say as you crack an egg for the sauce. You pause, the words caught in your windpipe as you hesitate. When they do come out, you don’t sound as nonchalant as you would’ve liked to. ‘And I wanted to show you that I can feed myself when you’re not around to cook for me, cowboy.’

It’s the first time any mention of what lies beyond this week has been articulated between you two. The air shifts, and for a split second, the unwelcome weight of reality suddenly looms over you, all-consuming - until you feel Jack shuffle on his feet behind you.

His calloused palms close over hands - you’ve completely overbeaten the egg mixture while your mind wandered - and you set the bowl and fork down, your restless fingers gripping the edge of the countertop instead. 

‘I have no doubt you will manage without me,’ he says, almost diplomatically.

But when his hands find your waist again, he holds you tighter.

Out on the deck, next to the stairs, stands a serious-looking telescope. Over the carbonara - a home run, by the way - you remind Jack he promised a couple of nights ago that he’ll show you the constellations. Warm from eating in front of the fire, you venture outside afterwards with just a thick blanket draped over Jack’s shirt, your legs bare from mid-thigh down.

But the cowboy’s not very inclined to keep his end of the bargain.

‘I could fuck you all day,’ he hums distractedly into your neck.

You roll your eyes fondly. ‘You have fucked me all day.’

‘I want to fuck you all day tomorrow, too.’

‘Cowboy -’

‘And the day after.’

 ‘Jack - ’

‘And the day after that.’

You know he doesn’t mean to, but your heart sinks at his casual mention of days after - how many more do you have left before it’s just… after? 

After this week.

After this trip.

After Wyoming.

After Jack.

You can hear the sands shifting. You can no longer tell the top of the hourglass from the bottom.

But you can’t dwell on that - not now. 

‘You said you’ll show me the stars, cowboy,’ you try to redirect the conversation as he slides a hand under the shirt and squeezes your breast. You arch into his touch - it is beyond your comprehension how your body is still responding after all that he’s tirelessly wrung out of it today.

‘Don’t worry, darlin’,’ he quips, his other hand delving underneath the layers to cup your bare pussy. ‘I’ll make sure you see stars, all right.’

Then he bends you over the white railing - the blanket discarded at your feet and your shirt hitched up around your waist - you faintly hear the clink of his belt buckle and the rustle of a condom packet before he’s pushing into your wet cunt. 

Your bottom lip stings as your teeth close over it, his fingers lacing with yours on the bannister as he thrusts into you. His moans fill your ears as you take him, his cock ramming into you so hard that you’re pinned to the railing on your tiptoes by the sheer force of his fucking.

‘You can be as loud as you want, darlin’,’ Jack coaxes. Facing the other way, you can’t see him, but you can almost hear his teeth grind as he fights to hold on. ‘Let me hear you, please, I need to hear you -’

He has you panting into the Wyoming night sky, the sweet sound of his name on your lips something that he will remember you by - months from now, when he sits on the porch on his lonesome, another cohort of strangers fast asleep in the bed that you two once shared on a crisp midsummer night.

Notes: It was so much fun writing Tequila into this chapter after Jack and Darlin' have had so much alone time together! I know this was quite a short chapter compared to what's come before, but I think a lot of my anxiety was actually coming from chapters running (which means more time and more editing), so I think we might be seeing more compact chapters from now on.

I'm thrilled to see so many new readers these few weeks, but I noticed that most only like the chapters. This is a gentle reminder that comments and reblogs are strongly encouraged ❤️ We writers put in so much of our free time on our fics, all we ask for is meaningful interaction to keep us going!

Horsey notes: I was googling Southern sayings that Tequila could deliver as a punchline, and ridden hard and put away wet was so perfect that I laughed out loud when I discovered it because it was so on-theme!

The phrase describes someone who looks unwell, and has a horsey origin. You never put a horse away wet if he's sweaty or washed down, they should always be towelled or brushed dry. This is covered in the last chapter when Darlin' scrapes Whiskey dry after hosing him down.

[baldval]

ART DECO PART 3!₊˚⊹♡

characters: valentino x gn!reader

wc: 2.2k

warnings: cursing, allusions to smut, mentions of drug use, sligthly ooc val.

a/n: decided to give you guys a whole lot of fluff as an apology for last chapter, hope you like this!!!!

series masterlist!

"-and I mean, I know it's a fuckin' tough challenge to make her look good in blue, but I think we can do it. I don't know what's Vox obsession with that colour, like- our whoole campaign doesn NOT have to be all fucking blue. I don't even know why we need a campaign. We've got enough people on our side, and I got a call from Zeezi this morning - I'm gonna see if I can convince her. So, we definitely need you in that fuckin' meeting."

Silence.

"Are you even fucking listening to me? Hello?"

"... What?"

"I said, we need you at the meeting this afternoon. Vox made me promise I'd show up with you."

"Oh. Yeah, sure. Whatever."

Velvette looks you up and down carefully, brows quirked in curiosity.

"The fuck is going on with you? You've been super weird these last couple of weeks."

That confirms your suspicions that Vox hasn't told anyone about that day at Valentino's apartment. You were wondering if he had.

"I'm just... tired. I'm fine. Don't worry about me, okay?"

Velvette doesn't look convinced, but nods anyway.

"Come on," she says, jumping from his chair. "We better get to that meeting early, Vox wants to talk strategy."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You're sitting silently, curled up in an expensive leather chair. Vox and Velvette are talking business, the complex jargon going straight over your head. You're in a world of your own, completely detached from your current reality, when you hear it.

Velvette says it off hand, not thinking anything of it. You watch as Vox flinches ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly. Your throat tightens, your heart kicks up in your chest. Then, she says it again.

His name.

Valentino.

"I know if you push him the right way, Valentino could do anything you want him to do, you just need to make it look like it's his idea."

Valentino.

Valentino, Valentino, Valentino.

The word plays on repeat in your mind, like a broken record. Vox's eyes flick to you, as if to gauge your reaction, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction. You haven't spoken since your argument, which makes most work things hard, considering he is your boss. You worried Velvette was starting to suspect something, seeing as how she always had to deliver messages from Vox to you.

"Yeah, yeah, I know we can use him, I just think, maybe, he's a bit... how can i say this? an impulsive bastard?" He glances at you before he says. "I know he's been doing some things I know he's regretting."

Velvette is oblivious to Vox's reluctance to speak on the subject, clearly.

"Well it's Valentino, when is he not impulsive? can you fuckin' talk to him or something? You know, I think you're like the only person he'll actually listen to."

Vox's eyes are darting between you and Velvette frantically.

"Yeah, sure. I'll talk to him."

You scoff under your breath, but he hears it.

"You got something to fuckin' say, Princess? Huh?"

Princess. You haven't heard that one in a while. It was a nickname given to you by the rest of your coworkers, seeing as you were pretty much Vox's favourite employee. At least you used to be. He wants to get under your skin, throwing the term in your face.

"Nothing you haven't said already," you say, biting your tongue, Vox knows you're lying.

He's about to make another sarcastic remark when Vox's assistant enters the room, cutting the moment short. You're not sure if you're grateful or spiteful.

One by one, your coworkers file in, taking their seats at the table. You're holding your breath, sitting at the edge of your chair, waiting for the inevitable. You can predict it now, the way you're going to feel when he walks in - chest tight, lungs knotted, fists clenched.

Valentino walks in, and the opposite happens.

You exhale your held breath, and relax slightly. The tension leaves your shoulders for a moment, your lip gets released from in between your teeth. It's like seeing him has cured you, even temporarily. As if he's your own brand of medicine, your personalised prescription.

His eyes catch yours, and you have a silent conversation. So much is said in such a short time.

Hi. Hi. Are you okay? No, are you? No. Not at all.

The room is oblivious to this emotional exchange - except for your boss. Vox watches Val's every move like a hawk. He's trying to figure out if the two of you are still together, still sneaking around behind his back. Val hadn't spoken to him since he stormed out of his apartment, meaning he has no idea about the events that occurred after his departure.

The meeting goes off as usual, full of tension and sniped remarks. You don't listen to a word anyone says, too focused on keeping your attention away from Valentino across the table. You're determined not to look at him. You know that if you do, he'll see right through you. He'll know how you really feel. And that is something you're not at all prepared for.

"Okay, well, if no one else has anything they'd like to cover, I think we're done here. Meeting adjourned."

Everyone rises from their places, shaking hands and having quick discussions before leaving through the tall glass doors. You stay put, in no rush to exit. Vox approaches Valentino, and you watch the exchange with a clenched jaw.

"Hey, uh... yeah, we need to talk. I think we should talk."

Val takes a long, hard look at Vox, before chuckling humourlessly.

"Hmm... Not sure if I've got something to day to you though."

Your boss stays stuck in his place, staring at the floor beneath him. As Val leaves, he can't resist running his fingers across your shoulders gently. You look back at him, but he's already gone.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Home doesn't feel like home anymore.

Everywhere you look, you're reminded of Valentino.

You're in the kitchen, and all you can think about is the time the two of you slow danced in the middle of the night, slipping and sliding on the tiled floor. There's a half finished bottle of wine on the counter, abandoned in favour of gliding around the room in your socks. Val clicks on some low, jazzy music, and pulls you into his arms. You feel like you finally belong somewhere.

You're in the bathroom, and you can't stop thinking about when the two of you took a bubble bath together, lavender scented steam filling the air. Your back is pressed to Val's chest, sitting in between his legs as he massages the shampoo into your hair. He's humming softly, a song his Mother used to sing when he was a child. There's not an ounce of tension in either of your bodies. You feel like you finally belong somewhere.

You're in the living room, and you can't avoid the memories of curling up with Val on the couch. He always lets you pick the movie - sarcastically rolling his eyes at your choices, but never protesting. You sit there for hours, bodies tangled together like two pieces of the same puzzle. You feel like you finally belong somewhere.

You're in the bedroom, and you can't stop picturing the way that Val would take you apart and put you back together again. Before him, all of the sex you had was quick, transactional, impersonal. But it was different with Val. He genuinely cared about your pleasure - learning your body inch by inch, memorising it like a sculptor. You allowed yourself, for the first time ever, to let go. You put your soul in his hands with full faith. Lying there, limbs intertwined beneath the soft sheets, there was no doubt in your mind. You belonged somewhere.

And now that safe place is gone.

Home doesn't feel like home anymore, and it's all because of him. You could move at the drop of a hat, find a new apartment tomorrow if you wanted. But you can't. You can't leave all of these memories behind. As painful as they are, they're all you have.

You turn on the TV, and flick through the channels, you stop at a commercial that seemed to be promoting a free hotel that worked as a rehab for sinner. What a stupid idea. Yet you sat and watched the whole thing, unable to tear your eyes away from the screen. When it ends, you turn it off, and sit in silence.

You sit there for hours, in the quiet, just thinking. About everything. You found the whole thing stupid, of course, but there was something that stuck with you.

Sinners wanting to change.

It seemed as if the minute anyone got into hell they had 2 options: kill or be killed. Hell felt more like an extension of life rather than a punishment itself, maybe that was the punishment.

All of a sudden, you're sick of waiting. Sick of being told how to do everything. Sick of trying to conform to these ideals that people are placing on you. Fuck them. You are already in hell, you have to keep living for you.

You're pulling on your shoes and grabbing your keys before you can even process it. You call the number for a car, but no one answers. Fuck it, you'll run if you have to. If it means you get to hold the man you love in your arms again.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

The knocking on the door is so loud, Valentino's half convinced he's about to be murdered. He swings open the heavy oak to be met with the sight of you, looking like you just ran a marathon.

You stand still for a moment, staring at each other, as if you can't believe what you're seeing. You're here, in each others vicinity again. It'd be so easy to reach out and touch him.

So, you do.

You barrel into him, jumping into his arms, throwing yours around his neck. He catches you easily, holding onto you as tight as he possibly can. You wrap your legs around his waist and press yourself even closer, as if to merge both of your bodies into one being.

You breathe him in, and it's the first time you've taken a full breath in weeks. He smells the same as he always did, floral and woody and expensive and yours. He still smells like he's yours.

You don't realise you're crying until you pull away from him slightly, and see the wet spot on his t shirt. He puts you down and closes the door, locking it behind you. He grabs your hand and leads you into the kitchen, parting from you to pour two glasses of wine.

You jump up onto the counter and part your legs, Val coming to stand between them instinctively. He places a hand on each of your thighs, warmth seeping through his palms. You're face to face, unsure where to start.

"Darling," he breathes. "What are you doing here?"

He sounds unsure, almost scared. If only you knew how frantically his heart is beating in his chest.

"I'm already dead," you reply quickly. "I'm literally in Hell. It can't really get that much worse. And if it does, I'd rather have that if it means I got to choose that path."

Valentino looks at you carefully, brow quirked in confusion.

"Honey, are you on drugs? Because they're really not good for you, you know."

"Says the man who did coke off my ass last month," you tease defiantly.

He fights back a smile, but it curls at the corner of his mouth. You grin at him, hands moving towards his neck.

"I'm not on drugs," you reassure. "I was just watching tv, and it kinda put everything into perspective. We should get to choose what we do in our deaths. We should get to try to change our path. Why am I so stuck to an eternity trying to appease stupid concepts of success?"

He smiles at you softly, nodding as you continue.

"I just - this is hell. We get to do whatever the fuck we want, we're fucking dead. I make a choice for myself, and all of a sudden everything I've worked for is gone? How is that fair?"

"It isn't," he agrees, squeezing your thighs in reassurance. "Vox's a hypocrite. Do you know how many stupid decisions I've watched him make over the years? He thinks he knows everything, but he doesn't."

You lean forward and press your forehead to Val's, exhaling the tension from your shoulders.

"I'm really sorry," you whisper. "For everything. I treated you horribly, and none of it was your fault."

"It wasn't your fault, either. You know that, right?"

"I don't know. It's so hard to get a view on things when they're happening. But when I took a step back, it gave me a clearer look. And it made me realise something."

"And what's that?" he murmurs.

"I realised that I cannot live a day without you, Valentino. I don't want to."

"Thank God," he breathes in a laugh. "I've been going fucking crazy here without you."

You beam a grin at him, so bright it's a wonder that the lights don't shatter.

"I love you, and I won't apologise for it," you confess. "Whatever the consequences are, I'll accept them. Nothing can touch me when I'm loved by you. You're like my own personal armour."

Val leans forward and captures your lips with his, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. You get completely lost in each other, revelling in the feeling of being back together. You feel like you can finally breathe again. The other half of your heart has returned.