#the apple shed

[josiebelladonna]

paraselenae | their eyes were watching god

pairing: will duvall x fem!oc (the apple shed)

genre: smut, western au

fandoms: motley crue, alice in chains, testament

*18+ only; minors dni*

Warnings: mutual masturbation, doggy style, barns and barnyards, slight commentary

*Please note that you are responsible for your own media consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you or make you uncomfortable, please do not read!*

Summary: adrienne comes for a visit to vince’s farm in the hills overlooking chico in hopes to get a better feel of the property, only to uncover rather torrid feelings about his black farm hand 

Word Count: 5274

Notes: the apple shed is meant to be satire, poking fun at those hallmark movies you see around christmas time (as it involves vince, a christian, alex, a jewish man, and will, a black man for kwanzaa), as well as erotic fanfic. it is not meant to offend or be preachy or anything like that but enjoyed and perhaps it can stretch your brain a bit. but i have to put this disclaimer here because i just know for a fact someone will take it the wrong way.

in the meantime, welcome to fuckuary! also on ao3 as “paraselenae” under my main name of josiebelladonna 😮‍💨

It was my second visit to the farm in the hills that overlooked that cozy corner of the Central Valley, and I had my eye set on those two farm boys. They both eluded me the first time I had come there, mainly because Vincent was such a gracious sweetheart to me, but then again, I had difficulty in finding the time to get to know the two of them. They romped about the property, with the apples in the orchard and the horses, and the times in which I did get to see them were at dinner or through passing around the property.

I had made a promise to myself on my way back home to L.A. via the plane ride that I would get to know those two boys on a closer level. I had found my way into them through Vincent’s account, but I needed the truth and the real story about them firsthand, however. I couldn’t stop thinking about those two boys, and in particular as to why they seemed so distant in comparison to both me and Vincent, especially since he said “mí casa es su casa” to them, and he had all but made them his family as well. As I peered out the plane window, I flashed back on Alex’s bright blue eyes, as blue as the sky over the top of the plane as well as the vast pocket of royal blue in the mountains down below us, that rich royal blue patch over the glimmering jewel of Carson City that was Lake Tahoe. I lowered my gaze to the snow-capped mountain summits below us, and I thought of William and that beautiful dark skin of his.

I thought of their bodies, and I closed my eyes all the while.

The two of them, so distant and yet therein resided a special secret labyrinth within them. I needed to know what resided within them, and I would have to begin from the dark earth below my feet first.

On my next trip up there, and from what Vincent had told me over the phone, it was right at the start of the harvest season for apples no less, I took the train through the valley to Sacramento and then I followed it up with the bus from the station up to Chico. During those couple of weeks, I had kept things going at school, and yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about those two boys.

If anything, I thought more about them than Vincent, whom I had initially gone up to the farm for in the first place. When he called me after school one evening, I barely said more than a handful of words to them. There was one spot on my ceiling that resembled one of the curls on the front of William’s head, right over the top of the window, and every so often, I took a glimpse up there and I pictured him there with me, right there next to me on the edge of my bed.

I wanted to care for the two of them: I didn’t care if they had nowhere to go and if things would be a bit crowded in my apartment. I needed them with me, and I needed to help them gather themselves. As far as I knew, they both struggled, especially William because Vincent had no idea as to where he even came from before then.

It was like an itch I couldn’t exactly scratch, and the fact that I was doing a great deal of traveling for such a short duration of time felt all the more daunting the more that I thought about it, especially when I knew my workload grew progressively heavier and heavier with the passage of time. No way I could travel up there all that often, but there was nothing and no one in L.A. to give me the same feeling as them.

I needed them. I needed them like how I needed soft touch against my own skin.

The day before I left, I lay in bed with my arms held out on either side of my body and I kept my gaze fixated on the ceiling over me. There was that spot in the wall again, right by the top of the window, fixed in the shape of a corkscrew.

I thought about Alex, and that long lush black hair about his head. From what I recalled, he had rather thick curls himself, and they billowed about his shoulders like the thick, luscious mane of a young lion. Those rich royal blue eyes in all their depth, as blue and hypnotic as the tides that swept across the surface of Lake Tahoe or the Pacific Ocean.

It was as if he had seduced me from the side of the driveway, and he had not even intended to do such a thing.

I closed my eyes, and I thought about his body in particular.

From what I recalled, he had a very beautiful body, very tall and slender with those lithe hands and fingers, perfect for a touch and a few more sweet caresses on my own skin. The few times I passed him in the farmhouse, I caught a glimpse of his lips, in all their fullness and softness, a pair of ripe little cherries all for me. I thought of caressing his little lips when I saw him again at the farm.

To kiss those lips. To feel his body.

I had no toys on hand, but I did have the power of my own fingers, however.

I spread my legs and reached down for a touch. I started out with a touch on the denim given I still had my pants on, but I nibbled on my bottom lip and unzipped, and tugged my jeans down onto my thighs. I slipped one finger into the hood, right upon that little nub that was my clit.

The softest touch sent a shiver up my spine and immediately sent my heart into a frenzy. It was so easy for me to cum.

I pictured his body pressed up against my own, that slender little chest pressed up to my shoulder and that svelte slim tummy at my hip. His lithe little body against my own plush flesh. His hands on me.

I yearned to hear his voice in my own ear. He never said a word during dinnertime the nights I was there, and thus, I was curious about his voice. William had this smooth low tone, like a fine glass of red wine. But Alex seemed so cute and sweet, especially whenever I caught him looking over at me while he took a bite of food or sipped on his apple cider. There was something behind those blue eyes, something vast and secret.

I touched that little nub of nerves within my hood with the smallest swipe of my index finger and my thumb, and I let out a gasp as I pictured Alex right on top of my body. No way he could fuck me right then and there, but I pictured his leg hooked around my hip and my thigh, and his chest upon my own. I needed to feel him: there had to be a way to him when I went up there in the train again, but how?

And no way could I imagine a plan right then, especially as I came right there in my own hand: I let out a mellow gasp, followed by a low moan from the back of my throat. My heart pounded in my chest, and I breathed harder and harder, as if I had just been running a marathon of sorts up to that point. I refused to open my eyes, however: I wanted to lay there forever with Alex on top of me. He ran his fingers down to the front of my throat.

Alex shot out the tip of his tongue at me as if he mocked me for coming with such ease, and then he licked the side of my neck, from the base all the way up the side to the base of my jaw.

And that was when I opened my eyes, and I realized he wasn’t there.

And yet, he still made me cum twice in my own fingers. I raised my hand out of my underwear for a look at my fingertips.

If only he could make me do that in person once I made my way up there.

That next day, right before sunrise, I boarded the train out of L.A.: it would take me along the coastline up to the Bay Area and then I would have to take a bus across the northern end of the Central Valley over to Chico: it was a new adventure for me, riding up that railway solo. All the while, I had brought a little journal with me, one about the size of my palm and bound in black leather. I was prepared to write out all the things that I wanted to say to Alex when I saw him there at the farm, and yet, even as we launched out of the utterly stunning work of art that was Grand Central Station, I could scarcely bring myself to write them out for my own taking. I flashed back to the night before and the fantasy of his tongue on my neck and those deep blue eyes seducing me whilst covered in shadow.

Oh, what a handsome, sensual boy. And yet, I couldn’t think of the right words.

Then again, it was still early, and they hadn’t brought out the coffee in the parlor car yet. It made no sense as it was so natural and so real the night before. I gazed out the window across the aisle from me to the rolling tops of the buildings against the fading darkness, and then I turned my head to the left for a full view of the ocean tides, which rose high up with the rising sun.

The ocean. Alex’s blue eyes, as rich and blue as the lake, and as the Pacific Ocean.

If only I could translate everything that I felt about him, everything that I fantasized about him, onto paper and without sounding desperate towards him.

I needed a distraction of sorts. I also brought one of my weather journals and my meteorology textbook with me: it wasn’t like I had nothing to do on that train ride, but I kept that image of Alex in the corner of my mind, all the way up the coast through Ventura and alongside the Pacific Coast Highway to Santa Barbara, and then up into San Luis Obispo and the narrow valley between the Central Valley and the ocean up to Paso Robles and onto the Monterey Peninsula followed by that little crescent-shaped bay, about a hundred miles due south of San Francisco: the whole ride up we had a thick marine layer over the sky, a proverbial blanket as if Mother Nature wanted me to cozy next to Alex at the farm when Vincent had his back turned.

I was certain that Vincent was the one for me, and yet, I couldn’t help but feel that he served merely as the gatekeeper. When I thought about it as we snaked through the lush green hills outside of Monterey, I wondered if he really had any idea whatsoever about my inclinations to his farm boys. He seemed like such a stud, one who could take any girl he wanted back home to the farm with him for a good time whenever he visited Los Angeles and the Bay Area, but he had forgotten one small thing and that was me, the first girl that he had brought back home with him.

Thus, was the notch in the proverbial armor. I peered out the window to those rich blue bay waters: the marine layer persisted, but the sun hung over the hills just prior to high noon in a thin veil of gray haze. It all reminded me of Alex, from the blue waters to the fact that he had that little gray plume at the front of his head. The boy shone like the sun, the brightest rays over the crest of the hills, while his face was as round as the full moon against the blackest sky.

While William reminded me of the gentleness and the power of the earth, Alex had me looking up to the sky overhead. The sky and the ocean. None of us would exist without either one.

We reached the Bay Area within an hour, and I boarded the bus that would take me back home to the station in Chico and then Vincent picked me up there and took me back to the farmhouse.

His long blond hair shone in the California sunshine, and he cracked a smile as the bus lumbered up to the grated stop. I stepped off with my bags slung over my shoulder and upon my back. With a kiss hello and helping me bring my things into his truck, he whisked me away to the hills and the farm itself. All the while, I almost felt as though I was imposing on them, simply because they did the farm work and I only traveled up to visit: there had to be more for me to do there than just hang out and do very little, except with the work that I had with my journals.

And yet, it all to me in a whirlwind and a flash of sorts once we reached the house.

Will had invited me out to the barn for the night after dinner, and yet he never fully explained as to what he had in mind for me out there. The way that he had said it to me reminded me of the times in which I had overheard some secrets in the classroom growing up, and they had piqued my interest: he whispered it to me when we were in the kitchen doing dishes together, and Alex had gone into the back of the house for something.  

While in the kitchen, he lowered his eyelids at me, and the pearly whites of his eyes further accentuated themselves at me: his dark skin, so smooth and tender, like the finest heaviest wood straight from the darkest corner of the forest in the heart of the volcanic valleys due north of us; the kinks of his hair, so tightly coiled and lush, as if they beckoned the caress of my fingers right then and there. I thought about that spot on my wall by the window in the shape of a corkscrew: it was as if he had called me over to him through the back of my own mind, as if I had overlooked him for the sake of lying next to Alex.

“What’re you doing?” I asked him in a near whisper. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he moved in closer to the side of my face, as if he was absorbing the smell of soap on my neck.

“I was hoping to see you again at some point,” he breathed right into my ear. “Meet me out there in the barn about an hour after we eat. Come alone, too.” He then opened his eyes and flashed me a wink before he stepped away from me.

I watched him leave the kitchen and a wave of warmth swept over me, as warm as the sun outside of the house. It would only be a few more hours, especially since dinner would be ready before the sun had set behind the other side of the valley out there.

It wasn’t until our dinner of freshly cooked vegetables, pork and beans, and bread freshly baked in the bread oven in the rustic, warm dining room over the course of the week when I could brush my elbows with Alex again. He leaned back in the chair next to me with his free hand rested upon the table next to his plate, and those bright blue eyes fixed on the edge of the plate: every so often, he raised his gaze over to me for a quick moment, and then he looked back down to his food before him. I looked over at him and the crown of his head and that little plume of gray over his forehead: it was like a little tuft of cirrus clouds against the blackness of his head, as cool and delicate as anything in the sky before a rainstorm.

Every so often, whenever Vincent and I spoke with each other, I would catch him looking over at me with his lips parted ever so slightly and his eyes big like a pair of marbles: on the other side of the table, I noticed William with his eyes on me as well. These two farm boys, on either side of the table across from me and Vincent, stayed silent with their eyes fixed onto me.

I could feel the tension there between me and the two of them, and I wished I had something sharp to slice right through it to break through to either of them, only to make a choice between the two of them. All the while, there was Vincent to the right of me: I was surrounded. Me, of all people in the world, of all the girls, surrounded by three boys: they chose me.

And this was about to reach a head when I told Vincent as to what William had told me when I showed up there at the house. I helped him clear the table and clean some dishes, and then I watched William head out there to the barnyard through the side door.

“Wonder what he’s doing,” Vincent wondered aloud as he dried his hands.

“He wants me to come out there with him for—something,” I replied as I tugged on the hem of my shirt.

“What’s going on out there?” he asked me with a sly smile upon his face.

“Oh, nothing. He just asked me to help him out there quick after the sun goes down.”

“Out in the barn? You know there’s no lighting out there, right?”

“He has a lantern,” I pointed out. “Whatever he has in mind, I'll see it. I also wanna do more around here. You know—help out a little and whatnot.”

Vincent squinted his eyes at me.

“That is so kind of you, Adrienne, babe. We’ll have s’mores tonight, though, okay? Alex and I'll light a fire in the stove and we’ll roast those big marshmallows together, all four of us.”

“Sounds good,” I said with a wink.

“Now, run along, you little scamp.”

Whatever William held in store for me, I was eager to find out. This wasn’t anything I could put in my weather journal or anything else: I had to know. I sought out the answers like a science student, and once Vincent’s back was turned, I bowed out of the farmhouse with the final rays of sunlight at the crown of my head to light my way across the dirt and gravel to the doors of the barn on the far side of the pasture. Indeed, there was William by the barn doors with a wrought iron hurricane lantern in hand.

A new round of nightfall fell over us about as quickly as it had left, and I was eager to be there once he lit up the lantern and the amber glow of the flame washed over his oval face and his dark skin: it almost looked as though his skin was made of gold, complete with a fine layer of dark patina to accentuate it.

“Are you with me now?” he asked me once I came within earshot: he spoke with a voice so smooth and husky.

“I am,” I proclaimed with a dash of spirit, and he gestured for me to follow him in through the barn doors. He raised the lantern up to the main part of the barn, followed by the rafters up in the ceiling and on the wall across from us. I closed the barn door behind me, and he held up the lantern in between us: the light shone over the full curvature of my body, and I tucked my thumbs into my jean pockets just to drive him crazy with my curves.

“So, how do you want to do this?” he asked me in a hushed voice and with a clearing of his throat.

“How do I want to do this? Hey, you invited me out here, little Willie.”

“Little Willie? Is that what you called me?” He let out a hearty chuckle at that, and then he brought the lantern in the direction of the rafters and the other side of the barn: I followed his gaze, and I saw the strands of hay in the second level across the floor there. Even from there, I could tell there was quite a bit of hay up there: I lowered my gaze to the far-right side of the floor and lo, behold, there was in fact a ladder that led up to the second level of the barn. “Would you like to take a roll in the hay?”

“Roll in the hay, where?” I joked with him, and he chuckled and nearly dropped the lantern all the while. Lucky for the both of us, it was an electric lantern rather than a gas-powered one.

With the light at my back, I led him over to the ladder, and I climbed up there first.

I nearly fell headfirst into the pillows of hay, but I caught myself on the edge of the hard wood that kept it all in place up there. I crawled through the hay until I found a spot dead center of it all, and I rolled over onto my back: the bottom hem of my shirt rolled up my body and exposed my belly to him. He set the lantern down on the bare wood right next to me, and he remained upon his knees: from that alone, he looked as though he was towering over me.

“Let’s get this party started, shall we?” he offered me in a hushed voice. Through the golden light, I watched him lean back a bit: he brought his hands to the zipper and gave it a gentle tug down. I hoisted myself up onto my elbows as soon as he dropped his pants and showed off his long, large black dick to me. The amber light of the lantern shone over his skin, in all its smoothness and softness: he really did look as though he had been crafted out of the finest gold there was there in the California mountains. We weren’t too far away from where the Gold Rush initially began in the 1840s, after all.

“I ain’t little,” he assured me with a little shake of his head: his tight curls wiggled a bit around the crown of his head, and he showed me another sly little smile.

“Whoa.” I raised my eyebrows at the sight before me.

“Yeah, it’s the real thing.

“My—My goodness.” I pressed a hand to my chest. Granted, this was the first time I had ever seen one exposed all for me in my life, but I swore that it was going to be the biggest dick I had ever seen in my life, should I ever see any more dicks.

“You can touch me if you want,” he told me. “Get me going. If you get me going, I'll get you going as well.”

“Would you?” I begged.

“Absolutely. Where do you like to touch yourself?”

“My clit and my nipples,” I said; I sat up and I peeled off my top and set it aside. Without further hesitation, I unhooked my bra, and I let the cups slide off my breasts and the straps fall down my shoulders, all just to titillate him. The golden light of the lantern washed over my own skin: though I lacked the smooth dark beauty of his flesh, I did have milky white breasts with dark nipples, and the light made it look as though I had gold coins to await him on the next ride over the river. And it worked: I looked over at him, and I noticed he was already moving and firming up a bit. I had to do the deed on my own part, however.

I lay back down on my back and, with my bra on my belly, I reached up for a fondle of my own nipples by the power of my own index fingers. I opened my mouth by a hair’s breadth, and then I locked eyes with him. Out of my peripheral vision, I noticed him reaching down for a touch on his dick.

I lowered my gaze to below his waist, and I caught sight of his index finger caressing along the rim of the hole there at the end. He inched closer to me, so his knees remained right next to my own.

We were touching and masturbating together, right in front of each other. And the more that I thought about it and the fact that it was merely myself and him alone there in the hay bales, there in the rafters, the more I wanted to do it.

“Adrienne? William?” Vincent’s voice floated up from the barn door, and it came about with such haste that William dove forward and landed right next to me. Breathing hard, he held still and kept his gaze on me and his hands on either side of his head as if he was about to pick himself up into a push-up position. “Are you guys alright? You’ve been in there an awful long time.”

“Yeah!” I called out from the rafters, and William flinched from the sudden loudness of my voice.

“Sorry,” I whispered to him.

Silence down below, then the door creaked shut and William and I both let out low sighs of relief.

“That was close,” he told me in a near whisper.

“Yeah, I'll say,” I said. “It’s kind of hot, though.”

“It really is,” he added with a slight raise of an eyebrow. I gave my nipples another caress, and all the while, I kept my lips parted for him. He rolled over onto his side and propped up the side of his head in the palm of his hand.

“Want to take it to the next level?” he offered me.

“And what would that encapsulate?” I asked him in a hoarse voice, even though I had had plenty of water to drink over dinner.

“Since I don’t have any protection, and I have my pants off, do you know how to do it doggy style?”

“That’s when I get down on my hands and knees and—”

“Oh, yeah, you know it.” He flashed me a wink, and I showed him a mischievous grin. All it took was a few touches on my part to get me riled up.

I took off my jeans all the way, and I rolled over onto my hands and knees for him. I shook my ass at him a little bit, and he treated me to a gentle squeeze followed by a light slap on the back of my thigh.

It was a bit difficult given I had never done it like this, or on hard wooden floorboards, or with someone like Vincent right outside of the door, but I relaxed every inch of my body and William held onto my hips. He thrust gently at first, and his erection jammed right into my ass: we had no lubricant on hand, but he still did it even if it was dry and rough at first. I closed my eyes and let out a low whistle as he thrust harder and harder.

It was wild to think that we had touched ourselves in front of each other not even a few minutes before, and yet, we were both set on it. I opened my mouth and let my tongue fall out, the dirty dog I was. I breathed harder as he thrust harder.

Even if it was a bit tricky to get moving at first, there was something about it. Maybe it was the fact that he was sticking his dick right into my ass and it tickled more than touching my own clit, maybe it was the fact that the barn door didn’t close all the way, so I knew Vincent was down there and for all I knew, he was eavesdropping on us, but I started to giggle at the feeling. My heart pounded. I was moist. I was more than moist; I was absolutely wet. My hands slid and slipped across the wood underneath me. I breathed harder and harder, and all the while, I was trying to keep it down so Vincent wouldn’t hear me.

William then leaned over my back and reached underneath my body for a feel of my skin, from the fullest part of my belly as it hung down to the floor up onto my breasts for a feel of my dark nipples. I breathed so hard that I swore that I wouldn’t be able to catch my breath as I came for him right then and there.

He kissed the side of my neck and then he ran his tongue up the side to the base of my jaw.

The only thing that would make this even hotter was if Alex was there next to me to round out a menage a trois.

But I was going to come again for William, nevertheless. And something told me that he was about to blow, as well.

Without a second thought, I lifted my right hand from the hard, dark wood, and I pressed it to the side of his face, and I planted my lips onto his own: I shut my eyes to engulf myself in more darkness, more black gold from the California hills. He thrust a couple more times into my ass, and then he pulled out. I could hear something liquid splashing down right behind me, to which he followed it up with a low moan and a whistle.

I turned my head for a glance back right as he ran his fingers through those tight curls on his head.

“You okay?” I asked him, panting and in a broken voice.

“Phew, never better. Lucky for you and me, Vince barely comes up here, so—he won’t see this little mess I just made here. Watch yourself when you’re rolling over and sitting upright, too—don't really want to get it on your shoes or your jeans.”

Indeed, I was cautious as I moved my right foot back and I rolled over onto my hip, and I gazed back at him and the flustered but euphoric look on his face.

“I hope I’m not too much of a complete pain your ass today,” I blurted out, to which he blinked several times at me, stunned.

“Why would you think that? We love having you up here. Really, Alex and I always look forward to seeing you come along to visit us. I know Vince does, too.”

I showed him a little smile.

“No one knows anything,” he told me.

“Not a soul,” I vowed to him with a wink. “Where’d you put my bra, by the way?”

[is-this-yuri]

A feast

the crunchy part too.. what good taste

[leechworldstudios]

I can take a whole apple

[starswirly]

Changing seasons :] (Nightmare -> Jokublog)

[thatgirlwithasquid]

mmmm okay but having Amy just barely having her heart start beating moments before she was killed (and her clear JOY at that) will forever be one of the most heartbreakingly cruel things ever. the writers knew what they were doing with that. hurting me right in the feels

[kijosakka]

After leaving Bridgette, stuck to a frozen pole... How Alejandro would react to Assistant Noah saying that he knows what Alejandro is doing, but Noah honestly doesn't care?... What if Noah only cares about how Alejandro unfairly treats Owen?

ASSISTANT NOAH: "None of the people on this show are exactly innocent angels either, so if the guys are dumb enough to fall for your charming tricks and the girls let themselves be swooned by you despite having boyfriends, then they deserve to lose." 🙄

i do think this instance would have add some in the way of later plot, what with london and the eel comment -- as established up until around germany, assistant noah has a neutral-positive view of alejandro:

(though ngl just considering his general mannerisms i am leaning more towards neutral -- character arcs and whatnot, neutral > negative > positive, so his ribbing comes off as uninterested as he is, more like general commentary on what's happening)

anyway its post-egypt and not much further and i don't think alejandro would expect, at this point, to react any different -- assuming that he would assume noah was coming up to rib him about the challenge again.

on noahs end, there is no real distaste for alejandro (....yet), emphasized by his seemingly unimpressed that no one catches onto alejandros scheming -- implying that noah sees it as something obvious.

^ tinged by bias by virtue of being on the crew and seeing behind-the-scenes clips and footage or not, to be so blatant about 'if they don't know, they deserve it' does mean that noah believes it to be something people should be catching onto (also worth mentioning that through him specifically telling owen, he offers more leeway for him in the face of this; favoritism.)

anyway, recap (for myself, mostly): alejandro's perception of noah up until this point is basically 'guy on the crew who ribbed me once' and didn't gloat about any of his strategies to avoid having a paper trail of his manipulation.

ergo -- this alters alejandro's pespective of noah drastically. because, again, noah is part of the crew and therefore not a threat to his game (and in fact could only really be an asset through this to alejandro), so for him to also be so outwardly comfortable with alejandro's manipulation signifies him as a kind of confidant role; someone alejandro can gloat to in small moments as long as he's careful about who's listening, because noah doesn't care.

as for how that changes london -- well, previously, noah would only take up that kind of confidant role post-london, once the cards were out on the table and alejandro goes with his flirting deflection thing. now though i do think it adds if he takes up the role earlier:

because, well. conflict. in alejandro's eyes, noah is taking on, again, that confidant role that he himself grows quite comfortable in, seeking reprieves from the competition that don't damage his game like how heather does suddenly insulting him behind his back and becoming very outwardly vitriolic and distasteful.

however in noahs eyes, alejandro is two-timing -- he'd probably assume that alejandro is aware (probably assuming he's watched previous seasons) that him and owen are friends, and thus assume he's trying to have his cake and eat it too, through being friendly with noah but being so vocal about his dislike of owen. they're a Package Deal, doesn't he know that?

anyway my point here is that it opens up a lot of opportunity for alejandro to be hurt/confused and retaliate in whatever ways, and for noah to assume he's just doubling-down and thus have it sour his opinion more. misunderstand is what i'm saying here.

.........or comedy of errors. both. both are good.

[blueflyingturtleontheway]

Life without glasses day 2

I would like to make a formal apology to Apple White - baby, sweety, beloved, I now understand you completely, I, too, would be a bitch if I had to live my whole life like that

[soup-mother]

yea so my job on the cult compound leftist commune is to write 15 posts a day explaining how private, profitable land ownership in what basically amounts to a settler colonial small business is actually not only "totally in line with communism but don't ask me to provide a source because marx is a tankie" but also "punk af".

this is because communism is when there's small businesses everywhere, and when instead of land being owned collectively by society, it's owned "collectively" by like 4 people who are basically just land investors.

[hellonoblesky]

Me not feeling well all week vs the fact that I'm going back east next week keeping me sane

[dogboyklug]

i keep forgetting to psot these so here they are

tabby (aka tabitha) & her baby nonbinary adultgirl goldy (aka pepper) . and also masa bc i LOVE. masa i love her

i need an excuse to mention her backstory somewhere so .

ESSENTIALLY tabby is a relatively well-known model in the scene, employed under the One Good Fashion Designer & Manager wynter kabila who i will post abt later. she met her gf goldy (who is coincidentally wynter's long lost baby cousin) by chance at a club and immediately bonded

she wants to be a zoologist... and has a vague interest in agriculture gained from her ex in law who i might mention in another post. she works as a model both bc it's good goddamn money and also bc she really wants to inspire others to wear fashion and is exhausted by the monotony nd truly awful designs on the market. she makes her own clothes from time to time also... but whenever wynter offers to help her sell her designs she panics and gives them to him. oops.

[vanivanvanilla]

so . how we feeling after zam and subz’ streams .

[josiebelladonna]

paraselenae | the scorpion's nest

pairing: alex skolnick x fem!oc x william duvall (the apple shed)

genre: western!au

fandoms: testament, alice in chains, motley crue

*18+ only; minors dni*

Warnings: double penetration

*Please note that you are responsible for your own media consumption. I came here to write and relax, not police you.*

Summary: alex and adrienne in the kitchen

Word Count: 3158

“Get on top,” I whispered to him. 

Alex gripped onto my knee, and he showed me his tongue. William stayed on my right side, with one hand on my shin all the while. Two hot farm boys, right there right before my very eyes, and both of them with their cocks out for me. Of the two of them, Alex had the most beautiful one in all his slenderness and sleekness, as if he was made all for me; William meanwhile had a nice big dark one, a nice big dark dick. 

I was as wet as I would ever be for the two of them and their long, lanky fingers. They caressed over the insides of my legs and down onto my lips. Two boys fondling me at the same time. I never thought anything like that would have ever happened to me in my wildest dreams. 

I was about to have sex with two boys at the same time. Both of them on top of me. One right after the other. Their dicks swapping out for the other like a little tag team. 

Alex held onto me and loomed before my face as he dipped inside of me with such ease. We locked eyes as he moved along so slowly and so tenderly; at one point, he reached for my lips and pressed a finger there to keep me silent. We were so quiet, and all I could do was lightly whimper when he pressed his lips onto my breasts. 

William on the other hand, moved along at a slightly faster pace. He drove in a bit on the hard side, and yet, he managed to lock eyes with me. Both of them were quiet and tender, however, with their full lips and the way that they both wanted to feel me as well as fuck me. 

And the next thing I knew, there were two of them within me. I was at the center of a little threesome, and the two of them were getting me at the same time. I didn’t even know that it was possible, especially with my own vagina. 

How the three of us got to that point, however, was a question for the ages. 

All I recalled before that point was the fact that the three of us were out there in the apple shed together, and we had some time to ourselves in the meantime as Vincent had left the farm and made his way down the hill to the heart of town for some things to last us until the next rainfall came about within the next week or so. I had nothing better to do in the house. 

I stayed in the farmhouse for most of the morning with my weather journal plunked open on the kitchen table. I didn’t have my Galileo instruments with me, but I did have my concurrent knowledge of the outside world with me, however. The grasses began to poke their green and lush heads out from the cold earth out there, as how they should be in late wintertime following a healthy rainy season over the previous winter months: indeed, I relished in the greenery for that time being as I knew that more rain and snow was upon us before winter was up. Hell, I imagined it snowing well into March and beyond the spring equinox because this was Northern California and, up in the mountains, no less. 

I jotted it all down in the pages of my journal. Vincent did have a thermometer and a barometer outside of the kitchen window, and yet, I had no idea if they were accurate, especially the thermometer because it never moved an inch from the moment that I woke up that morning. 

Alex scurried into the room right then, dressed in a plain white T-shirt and faded blue denim jeans, and with his long black curls in flyaway fashion all around his head like a rich voluminous mane. 

I showed him a little smile as he padded past the table into the kitchen for something, and that something was a yogurt cup from the fridge. 

I paid very little attention to him as I wrote in my journal, my own personal weather report. He lingered at the edge of the table with his deep eyes fixed on the window beyond me. It wasn’t until he was right next to me when I realized he was reading that page of the journal. 

“Forgive me for looking over your shoulder, Adrienne, but this is all so fascinating here,” he quipped in a single breath, which smelled of fresh blackberries. 

“It really is,” I told him as I wrote down the date in the top right corner. “It’s why I went into meteorology, simply because it’s just so interesting.” 

He took his seat there at the right side of the table, and he leaned back in his chair as he ate that freshly homemade blackberry yogurt. 

It wasn’t until right then when I paid close attention to his facial features outside of the helmet of black hair and the little glimmer of gray at the crown there, to those little dark eyebrows that seemed almost lopsided in appearance and the full, aquiline tip of his nose as well. There was also the little freckle on the side of his neck, right at the base about the size of a pencil eraser. 

“I know, I'm funny looking,” he confessed, and he licked the spoon and lowered his gaze to the floor beneath us. I shook my head at that. 

“I think you’re handsome, Alex,” I said, and he cracked an unsure smile at that. 

“Handsome?” 

“Yeah. I think you’re quite handsome, actually. I think you’re kinda—kinda hot, actually. Now that I really look at you.” 

He squinted his eyes at me, and then he leaned back in the chair. He bowed his head so his brow accentuated those deep eyes. I could feel something within me as I locked my eyes with his, as deep and cool as the coldest water at the bottom of the well. 

“You seem so tender,” he told me in a low tone of voice, as if he was whispering a secret to me while we were lying in bed. “Tender and soft. Tender and soft is so, so rare, especially now.” 

I tapped my pencil on the page of the journal before me and shrugged my shoulders. 

“I don’t really think so,” I confessed to him with a shake of my head. “I’ve been told that affection isn’t really my strongpoint.” 

He knitted his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side at that. 

“Who told you that?” 

“My uncle. He would tell me all kinds of crazy things about myself—things I didn’t really understand what he meant by, either. He would point out things about me and be critical of them.” 

“Wow, what a bastard,” he remarked with a slight chuckle. 

“And my dad would just let it happen, too, even though he was often subject to that very same criticism himself.” I shook my head and lowered my gaze back to the pages. 

“So, you’re just going to buy into that nonsense?” 

“Oh, no, I've long made peace with that,” I assured him with a little gesture of my free hand. 

“How come you don’t really think you’re that affectionate then?” he asked me, baffled, and I shook my head again. 

“I don’t really know, to be honest,” I confessed. “I guess I just—never really had the chance to love another person. To feel close to them. To feel bonded with them, be it romantically or through something like fucking them.” 

He ran his tongue along his bottom lip and then gave his black locks a toss back with a flick of his head. 

“You know, if it’s any comfort to you at all, Adrienne,” he began. “I’m a virgin, too.” 

I gaped at him. 

“How!” I asked him, and he shook his head. 

“Just never had the confidence to make the first move,” he confessed. “Every girl I've ever been with I've never gelled with all the way. The girls I have been truly in love with I have difficulty telling them. It's hard for me to be vulnerable, like actually truly vulnerable, especially with a woman whom I'm very much in love with.” 

“Have you thought about any way you could better break the ice?” I asked him. 

“Oh, yeah, absolutely. It's just... you know. Actually, doing it—would you like some more lemonade?” He gestured to my empty glass right next to my hand. 

“Please,” I replied, and he stood up and took my glass from the spot there. He froze for a moment, and I wondered as to what he was looking at, especially as he kept his head full of black locks right over me. I could smell his cologne as well as the soap from his hands: I looked down at his hands as they hovered right over me. His fingers were long and lanky, almost like skeleton hands, and yet I couldn’t stop looking at them. They were beautiful, like him. I glanced up at him right as he let out a low whistle and took the glass from me. 

“Are you okay?” I asked him. 

“Yeah. I just kinda—had a moment there. Phew.” 

He backed away from there to fetch the pitcher of lemonade from the fridge. All the while, I watched him and the way that he poured it into the glass. 

He had the cutest little roll around his waist, which showed itself more to me once he leaned back right on the spot and opened his legs a bit, as if he was doing a power stance for me from the side. It was tiny but I could see it there as it gently poked out over the waist of his jeans. He returned to me with my glass as well as his own. 

“I know, my pants are a little tight,” he told me with a sly smirk on his face. 

“They’re not that tight,” I promised him, and instead of sitting down next to me, he lingered there at the edge of the table as if he was about to tell me something important. 

I looked down at the crotch of his jeans, and I could see the denim tightening up a bit. I looked up at him again and the warm pink color that blossomed in his face, as if he had just been outside in the heat. 

“Are you feeling alright?” I asked him again. 

“Never better,” he told me as he downed the lemonade in four large gulps. I set down my pencil and stood up before him: my belly brushed up against his body, and that was my cue to touch him some more. He held his glass out before him as I lingered up close to him for the kiss. 

Very gently, I ran my fingers along his waist: through the snug fabric, I could feel the softness that resided there in all its beauty. I gave him the softest kiss on the side of his neck, and he showed me the tip of his tongue in response to that. He parted his lips and let out the softest moan, as if that genuinely turned him on. He held back and gazed into my face with a slight pout to his lips. 

“You sure you haven’t kissed a boy before?” he asked me in a low whisper. 

“Positive,” I replied. 

“I ask because... damn.” He breathed a little harder and included a little shiver in there as well. “That felt really good. Could you do it again?” 

“Touch on the tummy, too?” 

“Please. I need to be touched there.” His voice was tender and gentle, as gentle and sweet as I could ever imagine coming from a boy’s silken lips. My hand there on his waist once more and I kissed him squarely on the lips again, in all their softness and in all their sweetness. 

“We don’t tell Vincent,” I whispered into his lips. 

“Never,” he breathed back to me as I kissed him again. That time, he put his arms around me and rested his hands on the small of my back. He gently groaned in his throat at the feel of my body pressed up against his. “God, I love this...” His voice was so soft and breathy that it sent a deep chill up my spine. 

“Want me to touch you down below?” I offered him, also in a breathy voice. 

“Please do,” he whispered back. 

I reached down into the front of his jeans with both hands, and inside of that snug fabric, I could feel his warm soft skin. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, and yet I had my fingers all over him. He parted his lips and breathed out: I could smell the blackberries on his breath. How I wished to taste him some more, and not from his mouth and those little lips of his, either. 

I dropped down to his waist and the button of his jeans for an extra pull. 

I revealed him to me, that soft bare skin and everything. It was such a sight to see as I had yet to see Vincent for myself, but I was more than willing to bear witness to Alex, however. I licked my lips and moved my head in closer to him. He gasped from the feeling of my lips on the top there, and then he followed it up with a soft whimper as I moved up along the top of his shaft. 

“Give me a little blow,” he beseeched in a near whisper. 

I opened my mouth and took him in; all the while, I left my eyes open so he could look down and look right into my eyes. My gaze never left him, especially once I reached up and fondled the tops of his thighs as well as his hips. I moved my hands up to the bottom of his shirt so I could touch his beautiful belly under there. 

It was doing a number on my knees, but I wanted to keep going, and I wanted to keep going for him as well. He reached back and clutched at the edge of the table to steady himself. 

I moved my lips in closer to his body: I couldn’t explain it but the wave of confidence swept over me. I could touch him in any way that he wanted and he could do whatever I said to him. I could make him beg for me if I so wanted it, and I had a feeling that he could make me beg if he wanted it from me as well. We stood at the edge of the ocean, and the waves swirled on either side of us. 

I moved in closer to his body again, and that time around, I closed my eyes so I could better take in the taste of his skin. I then let him slide right out from my mouth, right from the top of my tongue, and I moved in closer to his face to take in that blackberry smell from his mouth as well. The blush crossed his face some more, and he had the look of ultimate lust in his eyes, especially when breathed even harder for me. His chest rose and fell in steady succession, and I didn’t even have to take a look down to his waist to see that he was erecting more and more right at the sight of my body before him. 

I peeled off my shirt and lay it over the top of the chair next to me. He shuddered from the feeling within him as well as the sight of my bare body in front of him: my breasts were full, and I could feel the nipples hardening inside of the bra cups. His fingers crept across my love handles to my hipbones, and very slowly, he tugged me closer to him. I didn’t want to be that close to his erection, but I couldn’t help it anyway, especially since his body was that warm and that soft, and especially since I knew for certain that I was going to be closer to him shortly thereafter. 

“Let’s go upstairs to the safety of your room,” he whispered to me, and he pouted his lips at me, these little ripe cherries that were perfectly ripe all for my taking, for the sweetest cherry pie I could think of that wasn’t on me. 

“No, let’s go out to the apple shed,” I whispered back to him, and he cracked me a mischievous little smile. 

I could feel him unhooking my bra but I bowed away from him. I wanted him to chase me. 

I ran out through the kitchen door to the gravel, and I could hear him running after me. 

I darted around the front of the barn to the door of the apple shed, where William stood with a garden hose in hand and a perplexed look on his face. He lowered his gaze to my bare body and raised his eyebrows at me. 

I turned around and there was Alex, still with his pants down and with the blush still firmly in place on his face. 

“What the hell is going on?” William sputtered. 

“Join us?” I offered him. 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really.” 

He hung up the garden hose on the hook next to the door and gestured for us to come on inside of the apple shed. Alex closed the door behind him, and I lay down on the floor. William took off my pants followed by his own. 

I was about to sit up when those black lips caressed my own. 

“You should get down,” Alex whispered right into my ear: his voice was still husky and warm. As I lay down on the floor, he loomed over me such that his long black curls dangled down towards me. His oval face lingered closer to me. I could feel the warmth from his lanky little body right above me: through the warm light from the lamp upon the nightstand on the other side of the bed, I made out the fine lines that ran along his biceps, in all their tone and rather large size. Though he was the shy one of the three of them, he was also the one who was the most sensual, especially once I glanced down at the rest of his body as he kept it suspended over me. 

He pressed his knee down onto the floor, right next to my hip, and that was when I lay down flat on my back for him. He showed me his tongue, as if he completely and totally lusted all for me. 

[msrandonstuff]

my boy dawn went straight to demerzel's arms and begged her to not let them kill him, only for her to kill him.....

and day's grieving was so honest... that man loved the kid as if his own son and it fucking shows man

[lonelyquail]

I love kirby because it's kind of just a blank slate character wise and headcanon wise yknow. u have a base idea of what each character is like but you can just hc character interactions and what they do on their offdays and backstories on pretty much anyone it's delightful. like this isn't even exclusive to fanon a lot of the manga feels like they were just kind of allowed to do whatever. this is how magochilly happened.

[clovemon]

So guys. If I were to get an applin for my roommate, would it be read as exclusively romantic????

[lookashiny]

(via https://i.pinimg.com/474x/53/31/99/53319931c5eceacfdff46dd288ea7fcd.jpg)