#warning for a very long and incomprehensible rambling session!!!!

[deus-ex-mona]

i hope y’all had a great weekend!!!

i say, rambling about my strangely unrestful weekend under the cut because i have no friends to hear me out lmaooo

i’m only rambling here because the character limit in the tags is really annoying, and also because i really wanna remember all of the weird ideas that i threw out for my room planning in spite of my innately terrible memory, so here goes—

so, saturday! a day of rest for many, just a regular day at work for me :( but the one good thing about going to work yesterday is that i finally managed to eat this one specific food item that i’d been craving lmaooo.

on friday, this coworker dude offered to buy me (and everyone else too, really) some food to “celebrate” the weekend i guess? so i just told him that i wanted that food item (only because i’m unable to find it easily and stuff :(), and the dude actually managed to get it for me!!! granted, he bought it from a different country on his way to work, but still!!! the best part is that when the price of the stuff he bought was converted to local currency, the food came out to being literally 10 cents apiece, which was pretty funny ngl.

also, i got to hear some pretty 👀👀👀worthy work gossip, so that was fun~

and then came today. aka sunday!!!!

i found out that the apartment that my family and i would be moving into was almost ready(!!!!) and that i’d finally be getting my own room(!!!!!!!!).

so, naturally, i dragged my mother down to the apartment with me (despite her literally just coming back from visiting it with my brother) and took a gander for myself.

apart from my tiny room, the place was kinda insane ngl. they had some kind of built-in pulley system(????) for the overhead laundry rack, which you have to lower by yourself to hang your stuff on.

and also!!!! there seems to be sinks installed in the tank of the toilet bowl??? just look at it yo

that’s definitely a sink, right?

it befuddles me to no end… i asked my mother what it’s for, and she told me that i could gargle my mouth there, so that was rather unhelpful. ಠ‿ಠ

and after that, i dragged my mother off to ikea to look at the showrooms and stuff for ✨inspiration✨ and inspiration did strike!!! i managed to get great ideas about to how to maximise my space in my tiny room and even made weird doodles to illustrate my vision for posterity!!! hint: ✨shelves✨. tons of shelves!!

…but sadly, my mother rejected my suggestion of skipping the dining table entirely to attach a huge shelf to the wall instead, so we could eat like we’re at a noodle bar :( sads. home noodle bars could definitely be a thing, right?

but in the end, i guess i’ll end up missing this current tiny temporary apartment that i’ve been staying at for the past few years… i’ll definitely miss the wild chicken family that lives at the ground floor though… despite how noisy the rooster is… but oh well! life has to go on, right? may the rooster terrorise the next inhabitants of this temporary flat as well…

but aside from that, i’m definitely not looking forward to dealing with my storaged nonsense, especially my love live merch collection from ages ago. i don’t even like love live anymore, man… what the heck was past me thinking?

aaaa i hope no bugs got into my pokespe manga though… those were my treasures for sure. maaan do i have so many memories of writing/drawing bad fanfiction for pokespe. and also of n harmonia. my former friend and i obsessed over the poor dude for ages. we drew so much bad fanart of him, turned him into a frog hybrid of sorts, and even made small replicas of his waist cube during class one day… man, now i feel old lmao

sorry if you read this~! uhhhhh happy sunday (if it still sunday for you)!!!!

[rockerchick1330]

~ Flower ~ A Chris Cornell fanfiction (Chapter 10)

Hey babes! I know my recent chapter have been a little shorter than usual but its only because of how busy I’ve been with school etc. Hope you enjoy XOX!!!

Warning: this chapter does contain explicit, sexual content and please excuse any errors…

The residue perspiration veiled and lingered on my olive skin as the dainty rays of sunlight that incandescenced through my sheer, layered curtains highlighted its glisten. My rib cage could’ve barely contained the rapid, defiant palpitating challenge my heart waged. Over my nude body draped the feathery sheets, still absorbed and damp with our bodily fluids.

My eyelids were reluctant to flutter and crucify my once sweet slumber, but my ironically coupled euphoria and affliction bickered rationally. They both rambled and argued like professionally tamed politicians amongst the choppy tidal waves of my mental stability.

With the sheen, auroral light briefly robbing my ability to properly detect any physical reality, I utilized my invented method of constantly batting my lashes until the blur had sharpened immensely. I recognized the disheveled patches that usually developed and evolved on the surface of my frail ceiling due to Seattle’s ridiculously bipolar weather conditions.

The incredulous, sore, yet gratifying, ache still procrastinated its reliving departure from between my thighs. My flesh conducted the unmistakably warm, eventually hot, calefaction that radiated onto either of our marked bodies. Beautifully violent bruises blossomed like freshly budded hydrangeas beneath the transparency of my skin.

They were embellished with the damaged, deteriorated sickles of my crimson cells and capillaries. An avenue of said passionately, affectionate tattoos journeyed from the plump swells of my bosoms to the very elastic waistband of my nonexistent underwear.

They frolicked amongst my tender neck and danced fiercely on my frail, secluded skin. Observing the resulted contusions that clung to either of my pelvics resurrected the phantom, hungry grip he condoned on my hips. They stung delightfully when gently brushing a mere fingertip on their belmished surface.

I mourned tragically over the lack of remorse I was intended to experience after the previous, unforgettable events occurred. It was prominent that I no longer pampered any discretion, I was mentored to have no more concern. I was taught that inconsiderate sin by Chris himself.

The unusual freedom of not heaving onto a heavy burden on either of my shoulders was odd. I had patiently waited for the moment to come where my mistakes and blunders haunted and fed on my courage no more. I grew numb to the sharp, metaphorically agonizing prickling of my purposeful delinquency.

Feeling the chapped, reddened flesh of my lips glide beneath my tongue, I discreetly glanced to my right where a string of adorable, gentle snores led. Entangled amongst the sheets and his toned limbs, I smirked blithely at his grim, disorganized hair situation.

His ebony curls cascaded and shimmied across his shimmering face, greasy and moist from intense, constant sweating. I observed the pink, rosy blisters that I was certainly responsible for adorning his pale, flushed lips. A muscular, rigid arm was noosed around my bare torso, intimately latching us together without further hesitation.

Musing to myself as his nostrils flared with each and every inhalation of air he consumed, I cautiously snapped onto my side and with the generous assistance of my elbow, propped myself up. Using the pillow as leverage, I adverted a hand to fiddle his reluctant, stubborn curls behind the crescent of his ear.

Enduring to proceed with mass circumspection, I attempted to untangle the fine spheres of horrid knots that were stubbornly created by reckless activities. Surrendering to the colony of contortions not quite long after, I sighed and disregarded the nasty residue, courtesy of perspiration, that developed an oily pelt on the surface of his hair.

Instead, I utilized the tender pad of my thumb to trace the protruding sector of his jaw, certain my recent, charcoal based portraits of him had been visually accurate then. It was common for his lips and facial structure to frustrate me as a realism inspired artist.

He was overall difficult to depic and finalize, no completed piece of art could’ve ever appeared as perfect as he was.

I pursued the graceful indents of his full, internally discolored and damaged lips. I avoided the blistering temptation to interrupt his yielding slumber in return for selfish purposes. Unintentionally shuffling rather notably, I cringed and halted my minor breath to prevent his awakening.

He indolently groaned, vacillating his head in disapproval. “Hmm,” he hummed lowly, increasing the pressure and security of the strength induced hold on my hips. Discreetly exhaling sharply in relief, I was immensely startled at the sudden, incomprehensible episodes of clatters that I assumed emitted from the kitchen.

I mentally grimaced and loathed the disruptive babel. His eyelids labored and perhaps strained in attempt to open, anchors of slumber were probably hitched onto his thick lashes. Groaning in protest, his lips twitched into a slightly disgusted gripe which eventually faltered after fully recovering from his temporary death.

“Hey Starry,” he greeted with his vocals rather hoarse and queerly sexy. “You’re awake already?” His emerald flecks glinted and grinned at me much like his then aching smirk, contagiously infecting me with his joy. With a minor tilt of the head to angle his features opposing to mine, I giggled softly as I feathered and stroked his cheek.

“Yeah, but I better see-” about to explain my departure so as he could’ve allowed consent, he reflexively clung onto me in a matter of syllables. A series of several other unusual, irritating noises were heard followed by a vividly familiar string of hushes and absentminded fits of laughter.

Chris didn’t regard my proposal whether it was whom my assumption indicated or intruding individuals, he had other intentions for me. “I had a dream about you last night babe,” he seductively purred, placing his hands, palm planted firmly, on my buttock cheeks.

He certainly enjoyed groping and touching inappropriately from the information and habits I had scribbled down figuratively.

The previous alerting crashes and melee that seeped down the corridor and channeled from the kitchen weren’t of my concern then, Chris was. After feeling my body urgently tense and prepare itself for intercourse due to his bare, rock solid shaft brushing against my skin, my thoughts tunneled on only one particular person.

It stung agonizingly when clenching my sore lips between my teeth then. He mimicked my position, fielding his elbow right into the indent of his pillow. Permitting him to stroke and physically interfere with my figure more, he took advantage of the compromising status.

“Hmm, was it good?” I whispered, barely audible from anxiousness. A fierce, smoldering desire promptly recouped the hollow of the prior aching results of intense sex. I was expeditiously startled by another, agitating interruption.

Similarly to the unidentified cacophony that previously occurred, my mind flickered to and fro, contemplating on what I should’ve probably been more implicated with. Furrowing my brows when my suspected culprit babbled incomprehensible phrases amongst his accomplices, Chris ensured to avert my then short spanned attention back onto himself.

“I don’t know-” he taunted, his unexpected python slither around my wrist hooked and reeled me into his intended snare. “You tell me.” Navigating my singular, flushed hand to his lower region, I felt myself blossom crimson on his indirect demand to fondle with him.

“O-Oh, Chris,” I blushed and tittered with a timid shadow casting its scarlett shading across my cheeks. Feeling his erection slightly tenacious and glistening brushing against the very tender tips of my lacy fingers, a smirk twitched and tugged hastily at the corners of his lips.

Imprudently continuing his fond distraction, he gestured my content hand away from his merely touched genitals. Instead, he conducts my fleshly pale palm to his lips, pressing a suggestive kiss against the apprehensively perspiring skin. With a properly plotted clamp on my arm and hip, I squeaked at his cagey ambush succeeding.

He maneuvered my naked figure onto his bare thighs, ironically before his prominent, swollen member. Shedding the draped sheets off of my body to rake my nude flesh in admiration, a breath hitched in my mid throat as the paranoia muttered of the unintentional buzz diffusing down the corridor.

Briefly speculating my smoothed curves and jagged flaws, he murmured hotly. “Want me to show you how good it was?” I glanced thrice at my rapidly heaving chest, guaranteeing that my defiant heart was properly chambered in its provided cage.

I felt my saliva evaporate, its wet residue abandoning my mouth dry. Words were the least of my abilities considering my lack of it after his daunting persuasion. “Answer me,” he firmly snapped with his expression contorting with the solid, fixed purse of his lips.

“I-” I could’ve barely configured simple vowels, far beyond a single word. He brutally bared his teeth snarling at me with an infinitive level of sex appeal. I enjoyed his animalistic, sexual approach to intimate sessions, especially when I was plunged and forced into submission beneath him.

“C'mon, talk babe-” he growled fiercely, bounding both my wrists into a bundle between one of his iron fists. His interrogation was followed by a string of ringing pierces which I eventually grew accustomed to disregarding.

“Y-Yes,” I managed to choke, swallowing the clump of bubbling anticipation that was lodged within my gullet. He cocked a brow and his lips curled into a satisfied grin at my tiny compliance. “That’s my girl,” he commended, releasing the clad, flesh bonds from my wrist and instead migrating them to the base of my hips.

Kneading my pelvics with his calloused plam, he jerked his chin in a specific motion, gesturing for me to levitate on the caps of my knees. With his assistance in levering my body, I felt humid beneath the casted shadow of his libidinous sneer.

Attempting to wax my ears seal of the then religious, anonymous din that wafted throughout the apartment, my mouth fell agape gradually. The flimsy ligament tendons at the base of my neck surrendered, allowing my head to tilt back in ultimate ecstasy.

My eyes revolved within my sockets, sluggishly rolling as I felt him pry himself into me. Somewhat an even mixture of a broken whimper and sympathetic sob expelled from the depths of my strained vocal chords. My body immediately perked, courtesy of ensuing intercourse.

My breasts plumped with my nipples erect and anxious to be fiddled and pinched. My body reflexively jostled as his shaft stimulated my inner, clenching walls whilst impaling me deeply. His erection firmly contacted with every patched sweet spot that lingered within me.

“F-Fuck-” he grunted, urging me to latch fully onto him. “You’re so fuckin’ tight.” The sheen glimmer of previous perspiration regenerated and seeped out of his flesh back onto its comfort zones. Gnawing onto the chapped surface of my lower lip, I attempted to muffle and contain my beseeching melodies of pleasure.

Burying himself to the extreme hilt, I convinced myself to rely on muscle memory to grow numb to his ridiculous abundance of circumference and length. “Mhm, ride me,” he muttered brazenly, inviting himself to abetment in the guidance and preferable advance of my hips.

I felt myself go peach, my crimson blood rushing the the skin barrier of my body and radiating its undying heat. “B-But I d-don’t know how to-” I paused as an unintended groan bubbled in my rapidly scampering chest. I scorned admitting my inexperience and lack of knowledge to him.

“Hmm, like so babe-” he eased control of my hips and with his might, drifted me in alternated ways vertically on his bare thrust. Biting my lip equally harder and gasping, I absentmindedly carved my preserved, manicured fingernails into the prominent muscle of his chest. He leered confidentially at my laboured attempt to prevent myself from spewing aloud.

“You like that?” He breathed, vividly enjoying the proper illustration that occurred between my thighs. Slightly grasping the gist of humping him, his necessary assistance was decreasing by the mere second. I sharply inhaled, panting softly. “Mhmm, yes.” A coy grin jerked at his lips, lapped between his teeth to postpone his obscene usage of profanities.

Not expecting it then, I squealed when he lurched his hips in an upwards motion. He repeated the pattern which only grew arduous to stifle and whine my agonizing pleasure out. “Moan for me,” he growled, cleverly coaxing me into my usual screaming massacre. “You know you want to.”

“S-Shit, oh, hmm,” I groaned, establishing the massive crest of my bliss. When sheathing his length properly, my neglected, throbbing bundle of nerves intimately brushed against his torso. Using the occasional contact to my advantage, I grinded against him harshly, bucking my hips to increase depth and strengthen pressure.

My clit eventually amplified into a rosy, red hue as blood rapidly swelled and increased its sensibility. Chris, realizing my genitals aching condition, exchanged mischievous, sly gazes between my pubic area and my constantly shifting face.

Teasingly grazing the calcified pad of his thumb on the plump flesh, I whimpered with knitted brows and pleading glimpses within my irises. “Faster,” he snarled indirectly to my pace. Forcing myself to bare and be content with the violet arousal that seeked me, he planted a bare finger on my clitoris.

Only then, a shuddering tremble escaped my lips in the attire of a moan. “Ah, I thought you’d love that,” he grunted with a pleased grin plastered across his pale face.

Eager for more dominance, he swept me flat onto my glistening back in one, swift shift. “Oh! Hmm, shit!” I began spilling my denied moans and shrills, him encouraging it all the more with his rapid penetrating. Feeling his pelvics firmly clasp and cleave to mine, I buckled my hips and permitted every single inch of him in.

“Chris! Oh!” I panted as he occupied both his filthy hands, one fondling with my chest and the other consistently edging me through intense clitoris stimulation. “Oh, I-I’m gonna-” my heeding warn was apparently interrupted by the presumable rummaging that conjured behind the door.

“Fuck yes babe,” he allured optimistically, appearing more ridged as his orgasm tempted him physically. “Cum for me, hard.” Panting and grasping orally for air, I flung my head back, allowing the curvy arch of my spine to smooth. “I-I’m so close for you,” I moaned loudly, jerking my pelvics to contract around him in a fitted grope.

“Fu-Fuck, I’m so-” my throat grumbled and boiled with groans of ecstasy. Pressing his hot, fevered lips against the sheen, shimmering surface of my olive skin, he migrated his tongue to my disregarded bosoms.

“Oh my God,” I wheezed as he constantly struck and hammered at my alleged g-spot. “Mhmm! Oh, Chris, p-please.” He rubbed my clit until it was visibly palpitating, excruciating to execute an epic climax. “C'mon S-Starry,” he grunted, obviously irritated and harassed by his taunting peak.

Finally, our hot moans merged and seeped into one, combined song that perhaps the classified intruders outside heard vaguely. My hips circled and bucked, emitting an undeniable scream of delight from me as I snuggly clenched his twinging shaft.

“Ah! Fuck Star!” He moaned, rivaling my slurred sounds. I whimpered with a slight quiver, thoroughly enjoying the tingling, hot sensation of his creamy ejaculate spewing and evenly coating my insides. “Fuck, son of a fuckin’ bitch,” he swore explicitly, harshly thrusting his high out on me.

“Oh! D-Don’t stop!” I cried, curling my toes in perfect unison and tensing my internal muscles. “Oh shit! Oh! I’m cumming!” I screamed immodestly, clenching my pelvics tightly as I hit my edge harder than I had prepared myself for. Shock waves of undescribable satisfaction washed upon my dry shores, bringing its moisture and heat. My warm, thick fluids lubricated him, spurting ounce after ounce.

“F-Fuck! Oh God!” I squealed as he ensured to ride me out, extending the lengthy release of my orgasm. The temporary pleasure soon faltered away and what left residue was the previous, sore ache between my thighs.

Huddling his hot face into the crook of my greasy neck, I sighed in delight as his rib cage barely secluded the thumping of his heart. Adorning it through his muscular pecks, I snaked my feeble, trembling arms around his torso.

Not a sliver pang of remorse pricked my heaving chest, he was all I needed then. We both spared a brief session to regain proper inhalation as he was reluctant to halt his constant touching.

Levering his lips to my flushed ear and gently brushing his cracked lips against the outer shell that met my lobe, he breathed. “You’re so good, I love you so much Starlett.” Not physically able to reply obliged with his pronounced, sincere word, I gasped and wheezed.

“I-I love you more Chris,” I laboured to whine, my voice slightly croaky and faint which my loud encouragements were certainly responsible for. Ascending his face and sluggishly adhering his shiny, damp forehead against mine, he swallowed hard as his salvia hadn’t assisted in the moisture of his lips.

With the hitch of his breath, he began, “I love you mo-”

I was astounded at how subtly I prevented my alarmed cry of terror when the bedroom door suspended open by familiar hands. Stifling my horrendous shrill beneath my salty, humid palm, Chris immediately cocooned me securely within his biceps to avoid the reveal of my naked flesh.

Straightening his posture when he sat up erectly, he cradled me on his lap whilst the recognizable figures parading the door stood attempting to seem unfazed.

“Ew,” ebony haired Sean defeated the clumsy, wailing silence as the three acquaintances traded rather bold, swift glaces. The tattered, rugged drummer grimanced in disgust at Chris and I, tousled nude within the boundaries of my mattress. “How awkward.”

A rather amused, blonde headed Layne battled with the twitch of a grin on his pink, naturally puckered lips. His chipped, craggy locks were a shade of albino bleach, not quite the pale, healthy complexion he glowed with. His defiant, stubborn hair was obtained relatively tidy with a fushia, fringed slab of cloth.

The contorted sneer of repulsion hadn’t yet filtered from the enlonged, keen face of Sean. His attire was quite odd, usually gay with flashy colours and incorrectly paired complimentary hues. He stood like a titan above a regular, or perhaps short, Mike.

Mike and Layne both shared similar flares of entertainment as Mike confessed his statement then. “Well, Jerry owes me ten bucks now.” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, nudging Sean whom inspected and adverted his eyes to the damp fluid patches on the wrinkles sheets.

A pair of upcycled sunglasses with a cheap black tinting that could’ve probably never prevented sun glares combed Mike’s voluminous curls away from the chiseled, angular shape of his face.

“Right when I though you and old Su were gonna tie the knot,” Layne chuckled, immediately earning furrowed brows and a contagious frown from myself. I snapped to a confined Chris, lips pursed as the twitch of his eyes signalled an explicit string of profanities to a suddenly solemn Layne.

“Tie the knot with that bitch?” Sean snorted, swiveling out of his once scornful aversion. He flipped his failed attempt of decently teased hair to bare the lack of cloth on his squared shoulder. “I’d rather die.” “Well I’d rather do what Chris did,” Mike jeered, flicking his chin to a stagnant Chris and I, Chris still reluctant to glimpse at me.

“How did you fuckers even get in?” Chris interrogated harshly, attempting to channel his feelings through the comforting grasp on my hips. Presently, Sean was about to answer said question, only to be interrupted by another obvious whirl that mad Chris’ inquiry rhetorical.

His singing echoed throughout the apartment whilst he skipped merrily through the corridor, the heavy soles of his boots probably ringing like pierced bells in Ty’s sector beneath. Mumbling random melodies, he shuffled between Mike and Sean, not fully aware of the compromising situation Chris and myself were placed on a pedestal for.

“Goodmor-” his black pupils dilated at the awful, humiliating sight. The chestnut in his irises glinted and his already grinning mouth fell agape as he emphasized his dramatic gasp. “Well, well, well, Jerry owes me ten bucks!” He repeated the assumed bet him and Mike waged on with guitarist Jerry.

Briefly bumping fist with the mused bass player, he twinkled and gleamed at us. “So when’s the wedding?” His waterline was over drawn and exaggerated with crusty coats of Xana’s unused, expired eyeliner. His blonde flecks of hair were scattered and nestled in peculiar ways, expressing his lack of maintenance. His lips were stained with the regular use of crimson lipstick he applied, apart of his usual stage fashion.

“Yeah! And where’s the peanut butter?”

I scoffed and shook my head, already piecing together my faithful, absolute regret…

★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Chris POV

“Hmm, so-” his permanently ecstatic eyes scanned the kitchen to ensure no one would’ve over heard our conversation. It was apparent that the uninvited guests had the least of concerns since they continuously bickered and shifted on the sofa.

“How was she?” I attempted and failed at my trial to prevent from grinning. Smacking the lid of the scarce peanut butter close and not wasting the coat that thickened on the knife, I shrugged and Andy smirked. “She was-” I paused, licking the residue sweetness off of the cutlery and tossing it into the sink with a metal clatter.

“She was fuckin’ holy man.” He laughed heartily, leaning off the edge of the loitered counter and snickered to himself. “Why’d you say that?” I pondered his question. Star’s virginity definitely wasn’t what made her so pleasing to enjoy in bed, it was what I had assumed as the submissive role she often coveted. Her concentration wasn’t on being in charge, like majority of girls.

“She just had this spark,” I explain, struggling to piece an objection together. “I was dominating for once.” He whistled and wriggled his brows. “Aha, so she’s a little princess, ain’t she?”

“She just prefers being vulnerable,” I muttered, fighting another leer. “She likes me in control.” “Is she like that in reality?” He switched from sex to general life wise. “I mean, is she able to cooperate and shit?” I lurched my shoulders and slumped them, abruptly converting my reply since I was fond with Star’s decision making.

“She is, unlike Susan.” He winced and pursed his lips, mimicking a fart with his mouth amusingly. “What are you gonna do ‘bout her?” I contemplated, mentally slapping myself for even double thinking it. “Break up with her, duh,” I muttered, adding. “She caught Star and I making out anyway.”

“Ouch,” he sniggered, “What happened then?” “Ah, she just yelled like normal,” I snorted, downing my mug full of freshly popped beer. “She never really reacts any different.” “Dude, she’ll make the record company drop your label,” he reminded me bitterly. “You know she’s got a lotta power.”

I gritted my teeth and dug the excess peanut butter from the grooves of my teeth. “I can just get us another manager.” Andy seemed doubtful, but he came to terms with the idea. “I guess, I mean, unless you guys break up and she continues managing.” I laughed, truly caught by his assumption.

“Of course not! If she continues managing us she’ll cancel all our tours and showes and call it an accident on purpose man.” He chuckled and nodded. “Probably.”

We fell silent shortly, Andy snapping another beer open and me finishing the few dishes. “Can I ask you something Chris?” He mumbled. “What’s up?” I allowed his question. He grinned and softly asked. “Do you really love her man? Star I mean.”

I felt myself flutter oddly at the mere mention of my love for her. “What do you fuckin’ mean Andrew?” I snorted with wide eyes. “I’d fuckin’ die for her.” He seemed impress. “Damn, you must dig her.” “I love her, I wish things weren’t so complicated.”

Andrew Wood was my counsel and one of my best friends. It occurred to me that I wouldn’t have been able to manage my own life without him. It occurred to me that I would’ve have to one day, and it came too soon…