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[bathroomforless]

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[alnilaem]

you buy a second-hand laptop from a dodgy craigslist user only to make a carnal discovery hidden between the files.

cw for anal sex, face fucking, pet play, choking, masturbation, noncon filmed sex, overall dubcon, reader is fujoing out

ghoap (x reader)

-

You saw it in a flitting advertisement. Used Acer Aspire V5, female buyers only, and didn’t hesitate to contact the poster.

Ghost was his screen name. Macabre, but not something to dwell on because he’s selling the only affordable hand-me-down you can find. He insisted on meeting at a hole-in-the-wall pub, beneath a metal sheet awning. There’s a cigarette pinched between his lips as you approach, an overripe mask rolled over his broken nose.

“You’re our bird?” He asks in a Manchester hint, exhaling a plume of off-white smoke.

You stifle over that operative word—our—but push through it and meekly nod, preening at his feet.

Beneath the predatory glint of his eyes, you realize you’ve gravely miscalculated the calibre of this situation. Meeting a complete stranger in a gritty alleyway and waiting to pick up his scrap-metal laptop, all because it satisfies your budget.

“Yeah…” you mumble. Try to make yourself invisible even though it’s redundant—he already towers over you, his shadow eclipsing your body, his heat drinking you in.

“‘ere it is,” he grunts. “You’ve got our cash?”

You hand him the crumpled wad of paper, squirming as he passes his thumb over his tongue and folds through the money, counting it with a mean curl of his lips.

“That’s– is everything alright?”

He stuffs the money into his jacket and expells a deep prusten sound, like an idle predator. “Fine. Pleasure doin’ business with you, bird.”

Ghost turns on his mud-clogged boot and strays off, letting the shadows swallow him whole. You hold the bulky laptop to your chest and wield it like a weapon on your way home, finally settling into bed, ready to examine your new purchase.

The hinges creak as you pull it open. A grimace splits your cheeks at the dust crusted in the margins, the rings of juice gummed to the mousepad.

A few letters from the keyboard are missing, and a few strips of tape look dog-eared, peeling from the corners, exposing the laptop’s internal wiring. Gossamer-like, spiderweb cracks work across the edges. The screen is a blotchy eyesore, striated with horizontal lines.

You have to beat your knuckles on the laptop to keep it from jamming. You navigate the desktop with simmering irritation, invaded by the inkling that you’ve been utterly scammed. Nothing matches the photos advertised on Ghost’s account, and just as your annoyance is about to ripen into white-hot anger, something catches your eye.

It’s nestled into a nook on the desktop. It’s an unnamed folder that stares back at you, unassuming, the icon already half-opened and waiting to be examined.

You double click it, more like triple click, actually, since the mousepad decides to cramp, and squirm as the folder flares over the screen. It’s a collection of videos, their thumbnails all spotty and dark, eclipsed by the thumb of whoever’s holding the camera.

Their titles are as cryptic as their photos.

wet.avi; tail_plug.avi; no_prep.avi; with_price.avi.

You find yourself scrolling lower, your fingers working against the mousepad like a rapidly unfurling spool of thread. You decide to investigate one of the videos, one with a foggy, filmy thumbnail, and carefully heed the title before poising your finger above the open function.

johnny_leash.avi

The video is grainy, as if it was imported from a camcorder rather than a phone. The first few seconds are a blurry with grey-scale strobes running across the screen, radiating an aura of seediness that makes a hint of discomfort sink like sediment in your stomach, adhering to your viscera. A deep, damp squelching sound peals out, tempered with the sticky noise of something being broken in, hollowed out.

The camera ebbs, settles, then focuses all at once. You think you’re going to faint.

It’s someone’s puffy ass getting stretched out on a fat cock. It puckers and tightens with each piston-paced thrust, red.

A large hand belonging to the person recording enters the frame. Their hand tattoos stretch as they split their palm across the hind of their spine, the cameraman’s fingers digging sickle-shaped scratches into their back, clawing them down on their battering ram of a cock.

“Quit whinin’, Johnny,” the voice behind the camera loudly grunts.

The one getting split open, Johnny, snivels into the pillow. His spine is curved into the mattress, his ass pert and sticking in the air, rippling with the force of the cameraman’s hips.

A plume of dust travels over the screen, fleetingly concealing the image. When the soot thins into the air and bares the salacious material of the video, you gasp.

There’s a glint caught on something silver from the feeble lightning. It’s a chrome-plated chain, you see, connecting to Johnny’s throat. A leather collar cutting into his ruddy skin. The leash is wrapped around the cameraman’s hand like a reel, and each time he tugs, pulling his hand back as if winding up for an attack, Johnny gets peeled off the bed, his back arching so deep you’re sure it’s close to snapping.

“Shit, Simon—!” He squeals. “Can ye… slow down?”

The aforementioned Simon grunts. Animalistic, like a rabid predator. The camera whirls, the unromantic colours of the room they’re in bleeding into each other, and when it focuses, you see Simon’s large palm splayed against the back of Johnny’s half-shaven skull, gripping his hair, pushing him into the bed.

The man flails like a fish out of water, struggling under his hand. It prompts an emergency response out of you—the way he’s being fucked into the mattress, no doubt pressing a Johnny-shaped chalk outline like the ones at crime scenes into the bedding. Alarm seizes you, and the thought of submitting this to the authorities trumpets like strobe lights in your mind.

The video is written with inept non-professionalism, reeking with the sentiment of a found-footage horror film that it’s not the authenticity that rattles your bones like a wind chime, but the morality.

You tell yourself to stop the video, but as the thought squeezes itself between your ears, Johnny’s hoisting his neck back and peering into the camera, his striking-blue eyes flaring in all-encompassing horror. His lips pop open and wrap around a soundless scream, warbling.

“Yer recordin’ me?”

“Smile for the camera, Johnny,” Simon pants. “Who knows who might see this, right?”

Simon shoots his hand up and bullies his fingers past Johnny’s lips. He sinks his nails into the round of his mouth, stretching his cheek back into a repugnant curl. It’s paradoxial—how Johnny’s mouth is pulled into a smile, but his eyes are wide and wet, wordlessly begging.

Your body betrays your moral plight.

Your rapt ocular vein, the signals rushing to your mind, your nipples stiffening in your shirt. You feel as though you’re made of livewire, not matter, as you watch Johnny’s ass get spread open on Simon’s cock, his eyes rolling like unruly billiard balls to the back of his head.

His ass is red and patchy, burning up. Simon’s hand swats through the air and makes the sound of a whistle, flaring into a booming crack of thunder whenever he brings it down on Johnny’s ass. It makes you jump. Makes you feel as if your ass is being abused by proxy just by sitting, and watching raptly.

Instead of inching your hand towards the button that exits the video, your hand dips below your waistband and moves to cup your cunt.

The gusset of your panties is already hot, clinging to your dewy core. It sticks to your pussy, baring your puffy lips and swollen clit. You give it a few slaps and rub your fingers languidly, pace quickening.

But the video abruptly ends before the ascent to your pleasure is able to materialize. You yank your hand from your pussy, smearing your arousal on the mousepad as you search for another video.

You don’t heed the title—face_fuck.avi—before clicking it and readily spreading your legs, flushing at the sound of your lips parting.

The video starts, and you swear it feels like you’ve been hit with a brick.

Simon—or Ghost, you now recognize—is a behemoth. Huge would be an understatement for him. The camera is set up this time, somewhere across the room, but Simon still just barely fits within the margins. He’s folded over Johnny who sits on his knees with his back against the wall, his neck hoisted up at him.

Simon’s cock is fat and heavy. He’s hard—this, you’re sure of because of how red his balls are—yet still, his cock droops with weight, the bulbous tip scarcely teasing Johnny’s lips.

“You want your snack, boy?”

Johnny nods. He darts his tongue out and tries kitten licking the slit, but Simon isn’t having that. He grips the base of his dick and swats it against Johnny’s cheek, slapping him, the noise so thick and resounding it sounds like a palm that breaks his skin, not a cock.

“Greedy bitch,” Ghost snarls—you decide that name is more seemly for him—“Can’t wait when it comes to dick, huh?”

Johnny’s lips part, a response poised behind his chattering teeth. However, his reply gets snuffed out and shoved to the back of his throat as Ghost feeds him his cock, slamming into him with one, slick motion.

Johnny’s head hits the wall, his face puckering as pain blooms behind his skull. The action makes his jaw clench, clamping down on Simon’s cock, but Simon is quickly gripping his hair and puppeting his head back, sliding his cock deeper, until the tuft of steel-wool hair on his pelvis brushes Johnny’s nose.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Ghost grunts. “No teeth.”

The only mercy Johnny is afforded is when he sinks his nails into the sinews of Ghost’s thighs, scratching him striated, trying to offset the burn in his jowls. The back of his head thumps dumbly against the wall with each of Ghost’s jackhammering thrusts, his smaller cock springing up and slapping against his navel.

You keen. Rub your clit a little faster, tease your forefinger around your winking hole as spit and precome sticks to Johnny’s chin the same way your juices strings your fingers together. Johnny goes lax and the video abruptly ends, and you almost feel yourself going crazy, hastily exiting the video because you miss the phantom sensation around your cunt getting stretched. You click on another video that has your heart jumping to your throat.

It’s dated from just yesterday, two days after you placed the order with Ghost.

breeding_my_boy.avi

Your panties are completely soaked through at this point. The image of Johnny folded like origami under Ghost, eclipsed by his body, makes you gush. His knees are pressed against his ears and his ass is in the air while Ghost tugs his cock, towering over him and pressing his tip against his hole, slowly sinking into him.

Simultaneously, you hook two of your fingers up your cunt. Your arousal seeps out and pools into the divots between your knuckles, hot and wet, making a sucking sound as you draw your fingers out and thrust them back in, pawing your walls.

Ghost pulls his cock to the tip before driving himself back inside. He’s deeply-seated, knocking the air out of Johnny’s lungs with each stroke. Ghost draws his thighs close for leverage and sinks his fists into the bed, on either side of Johnny before snapping his hips, feeding him his whole cock.

You sink your other hand below your pants and blindly sweep at your clit, watching with keen eyes as Johnny gets pounded into the mattress, his legs thrashing dumbly with the force, his hands twisting into the moth-eaten sheets because he doesn’t know what else to do with his hands and according to Ghost, he’s “not allowed to touch his cock.”

You can barely see Ghost’s sweat in the coarse-grained, gritty video filter. It comes out as glistening dew, dribbling down his neck and onto Johnny’s cheek, to which he swiftly laps up.

It’s the same thing for Johnny’s tears—sparkling in the soft smoulder of light, smearing like spread as Ghost works his rough tongue against his cheek, licking up his brine.

Johnny’s whimpers and the crack of flesh against flesh emanate out of the janky laptop as tinny, thin. However as Ghost lowers his head, grumbling against the hull of Johnny’s ear, whispering, the thin sound travels out of the speakers and punctures your stomach.

“Wish I could breed you, pup…”

Pleasure gyrates in your belly, frothy. You curl your toes into your mattress and buck into your fingers, feeling your orgasm beginning to crest. You pinch your clit the same way Ghost snakes his hand low, trapping the tip of Johnny’s cock between his fingers to squeeze.

“Smile a’ the camera, dog,” he mutters. Takes him by the jaw and dimples his cheeks as he makes Johnny look into the lens, his eyes glossed over.

“Y’reckon she’s touching herself?” Ghost growls. “Watching you turn a mess?”

Your orgasm is on the edge now. Ghost looks at the camera, his eyes glowing like predators do on trail cams, a swill of molten rushing through you. He looks like he did beneath the awning—animalistic, as he seems to stare directly at you, snapping into Johnny’s ass.

“m gonnae come…” Johnny whimpers.

Ghost chokes his hand around Johnny’s cock, sliding his hand up and down to the pace of his thrusts. And with what happens next, your body girdles, throwing itself into the throes of your panoramic orgasm.

It’s Johnny. Bending his back off the bed and squeezing his thighs. He moans your name—your screen name—the one used to purchase the laptop. He treats it like something to bite on to defer the pain of his orgasm, trembling.

Thick ropes of come shoot from his cock just as an off-white liquid escapes you, splattering over the screen. You’re quivering as Ghost fills Johnny, watching as his balls tighten and breathe like a pulse as he comes inside.

The three of you are miraculously synchronized. Your laboured breaths simmer, thinning into nothing, as the two of them turn to look at the camera.

You undertake the decision to keep the laptop.

And a week later while browsing Craigslist’s homepage, you stumble across a familiar username.

Posted by Ghost 32 minutes ago.

Looking for a flatmate in Manchester. Two roommates. Three bedroom. Females only. Serious inquiries only.

A second doesn’t pass before you’re writing up your application.

[cipher26]

just coughed so hard i think i pulled a muscle in my chest

[giuseppe-yuki]

emotional support animal

yuki tsunoda x bunny shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 1.3k

warnings: a few curse words, a little violence

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: you're labelled as yuki's "emotional support animal" until you become a little more than that

picture credits from pinterest :)

“ughhh!” yuki groans dramatically into the decorative pillow. as he lies face down horizontally across the sofa, he kicks his feet like a baby throwing a tantrum. you sit stool on the other side of his drivers room, sipping a sugar-free red bull, unimpressed. outside, the sun has just risen above the skyline, marking the beginning of the day.

“get up!!” you scold, “michael says you have to be out of the room and onto the track in the next ten minutes- or else!” 

face still buried in the pillow, he mutters out a response. “do i have to? when i have workouts, especially in the morning, it just ruins my whole day.” 

“um, yes?” you say incredulously. how michael italiano ever got yuki to do anything physically demanding, you would never know. “besides, you’re not even working out today- you’re just doing your track walk around red bull ring.” 

your boyfriend turns around on the sofa, hair ruffled and team kit fairly wrinkled. he stares at the ceiling for a second, as if contemplating something. suddenly, he pushes himself up off the couch and shuffles towards you. “what if… you do that bunny thing you usually do so i can carry you around the track? that way you can come with me on the track walk, and it’ll make it less boring.” 

to an outsider, it sounds like a loving boyfriend wanting to be with his girlfriend. but you knew yuki too well. “you’re only saying that so you have an excuse to leave if michael asks you to go to workout after the track walk, aren’t you?”

he pouts. “no i’m not! i swear” he says unconvincingly.

“okayyy, baby” you reply. "whatever you say." you take one last sip of your drink and turn towards the door. “let’s go.” 

by the time yuki arrived at the meeting spot with michael, you had already fallen asleep in his arms. it was quite comfortable actually, with yuki’s hand cupped protectively underneath your paws, body in loaf position, and head tucked into his side. since it was still early into the day, the heat radiating off his body felt so good against the chilly morning air. his arms rocked you gently while he walked, which only gave you more of a reason to fall asleep. 

it wasn’t until he giggled a little too hard about a joke that michael made about bottoming that you finally awoke from your slumber. 

yuki notices you blinking your sleepy eyes immediately and smiles at you in his arms. he leans forwards, gives you a kiss top off your fluffy head, and whispers into your soft ears, “fell asleep huh? And you were the one getting mad at me for trying to take a nap on the couch!” 

you nibble a little bit on his shirt to show your annoyance, but he just giggles and gives you a few pats on the head.

michael looks onto the scene with an amused look on his face. “i originally wasn’t gonna ask, but what’s up with the bunny?”

“err, well shes my…emotional support animal.” yuki says, giving you a few extra pats for emphasis. 

emotional support animal? that was a new one.

yuki carried you everywhere the rest of race weekend, after the news of his new "emotional support animal" circled around the paddock. people approached you both often, causing you to reach a point of mini stardom with the paddock staff and younger fans, with guenther steiner asking to pet you, suzie wolff wondering if she could hold you, and little girls dressed in full ferrari attire requesting a picture of you. honestly, you didn’t mind it one bit, because you just had to sit in yuki’s arms and you could get free pets and head scratches the whole day. he even brought you to the media pen to keep him company. it wasn’t until a vcarb fan event that it started getting a little rough.

“yuki, may i pet your bunny?” a sweet looking little boy says, approaching him. yuki had placed you on the ground because was mostly signing posters and taking pictures, so you hopped closer towards the boy, as if saying yes. he throws a glance at his mother, who is chatting up your boyfriend about the results that weekend, and then promptly throws himself at you. you hop back in surprise, but he has already caught you in his arms. he roughly pets you, and even yanks on your ears, hard. 

you let out a squeak of pain, and that’s when yuki immediately snatches you back from the boy’s arms. he holds you close against his chest, comforting you. “do not do that.” he chastises the boy. his mother, realizing what he has done, grabs the boy quickly, apologizes, and rushes off. 

if that boy held you for a second more, you surely would have bit his finger off, you thought to yourself. you hesitantly let others pet you, but stayed on high alert. it wouldn’t happen again, right? 

this time, a man in full vcarb attire stumbles his way towards yuki. in his hand is bloody mary, topped with a piece of celery and lemon on the rim of the glass. he’s clearly a little drunk. still, your boyfriend smiles at him kindly and offers to sign the cap that the fan is wearing. the drunk fan yanks his cap off of his head in rush to give it to him, accidentally sloshing some of his drink onto you.

are you actually kidding me right now? you think, a little pissed off. that’s gonna be so hard to get off of my fur!

you turn around, thumping your foot, and nibbles on the fan’s shoelaces as a warning. the fan immediately notices this, and roughly knocks you aside with his boot. 

your eyes widen, and you scurry back behind yuki’s feet.

yuki immediately drops his sharpie and the fan’s hat and picks you up. “bro, what the fuck? you did not just kick my bunny,” he says angrily. “she was chewing your shoelaces because you just spilled your drink all over her!” he points to the red liquid and piece of celery leaf clearly stuck to the side of your fur.

“it doesn’t matter; just sign my hat. i paid a lot of money to be here!” the fan responds, nonchalantly. “besides, its probably some stupid wild bunny that climbed out of the trees from around the circuit. why do you care anyways?”

sensing an issue, daniel, who was signing caps next to yuki, stood up and called security over. fans in line had their phones out, recording the drama that was unfolding. you shrink back into yuki’s arms, a little offended from the fan's words.

before yuki could respond, the man reaches forward and pushes him, hard. your boyfriend stumbles back a few steps, but catches himself. 

you gasp internally. oh there is no way that guy just touched my man like that! you launch yourself out of yuki’s arms and directly at the man, claws out. you scratch and bite every surface you could reach. by the time security arrived, the man had a big cut on his face, multiple bite marks and a torn up shirt. 

when news of the incident circulated around the paddock, you were rebranded as yuki’s “attack bunny.” you laughed when you found out that night, lying horizontal on the plush hotel bed on yuki. you hold out your phone to his face level, showing him the new article on your phone.

“look baby, i’m not your emotional support animal anymore; i’m now your attack bunny!” you giggle, head in his lap.

yuki laughs too, and tucks a strand of your hair behind your face. his face immediately morphs into one of concern though. “are you sure you are okay though?” he asks for the thousandth time that day. “i know i asked you after the incident but i want to make sure you are actually okay, and you don’t have any secret broken ribs or anything.”

“yes, i’m fine,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “that weirdo just scared me, that’s all. i’m pretty sure he’s the one that’s not okay after i was done with him!” 

 “okay,” yuki says, smiling down at you in his lap. “i guess now i know i don’t need security anymore- i have a reliable attack bunny to protect me!” 

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso @my0hmary @mbappebby

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[steddieas-shegoes]

see where the night goes

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'only one bed' rated m wc: 867 cw: some borderline somnophilia-esque behavior? tags: forced proximity, unintentional cuddling, idiots to lovers, love confessions, implied sexual content

🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️

The full sized bed was covered in the ugliest plaid sheets Steve had ever seen, which was saying something since his own bed had been covered in ugly plaid sheets.

It looked like it would fall apart if Steve sat on it, let alone lay down on it.

"Bad news first or good news first?" Eddie asked as he walked into the room.

"There's more bad news? The broken down van and the storm knocking out the power everywhere but this inn isn't bad enough?" Steve responded, putting his hands on his hips as he watched Eddie sit on the bed.

Huh. Looked like it would manage to hold at least some weight, then.

"There's no other bed."

Steve shook his head.

"That's a joke."

"Nope," Eddie popped his lips together. "I did check the bathroom though and there's a decent shower with actual hot water, so. A win's a win?"

Steve groaned.

"Dude, this bed is not big enough for both of us," Steve gestured to the bed Eddie was sitting on. "It doesn't even look big enough for you."

"Sure it is. I slept in a twin until I was nearly 18. This will be like a California King!"

Steve knew he was trying to make light of the situation.

The van breaking down four hours from home on a night when the worst storm Indiana has seen in years decided to come through was only the beginning.

Eddie had lost his wallet somewhere between the van and his walk to a payphone, which meant he had to walk all the way back to the van without having called anyone. He was soaked and cold despite the air around them being relatively warm. By the time he got back to the van, someone had stopped to check on Steve, who had been panicking about Eddie getting lost. When they finally got towed to a repair shop, the mechanic told them he wouldn't be able to look at it until the morning and that from the sounds of it, they'd need to replace a handful of parts that were more money than either of them had with them.

A weekend trip to visit Robin at college had turned into an expensive nightmare.

And now, they would be sharing a very tiny bed.

Eddie and Steve had been closer lately, especially since Robin's classwork had made it impossible for her to visit much. But sharing a full sized bed?

"Well, guess I'll go shower. Maybe it'll help me feel less like everything is falling apart," Steve sighed.

"Okay, Eeyore."

Steve rolled his eyes, but ignored him.

They got ready for bed like they were dreading it, and maybe they were.

They both got into the bed, laying on their sides facing away from each other, but close enough to feel the heat radiating from the other.

The rain pelted the roof, and lightning flashed in the distance, but it seemed like the storm was almost past.

"Steve?"

"Hm?"

"Sorry about tonight."

"Nothing you could do, Eds."

He felt Eddie shift, but they still weren't touching.

"I guess. Still sorry though."

"Yeah, me too."

Sleep fell over them, the exhaustion of the day hitting them hard as soon as their bodies were horizontal.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Steve was sweating, which wasn't completely unusual, but definitely rare when he hadn't woken up screaming from a nightmare.

He had something, no, someone, in his arms.

Eddie.

He was curled around Eddie entirely, his arms around him, his hard dick pressing into his ass.

Eddie was still asleep, breathing softly, chest rising and falling slowly.

Steve needed to wake him up, or at least get up so he could put some space between them until his dick calmed down.

But just as he went to pull his arm away, Eddie turned around in his arms and smiled in his sleep.

And then his eyes fluttered open.

His smile faded.

"Sorry, let me-" As Eddie started to pull away, Steve tightened his arms.

"A minute."

Steve sometimes said he needed a minute like this when the kids were all yelling about things he didn't quite understand or when Robin had been rambling on for too long.

Sometimes, when he and Eddie were just hanging out, he would say it like he just had too much going on in his brain.

Like now.

Steve was looking at Eddie, really looking.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I might love you."

Eddie blinked back at him, mouth agape.

"You think you might?" His voice was quiet, hesitant.

"Yeah."

"And this is...because of us sleeping in bed together or...?"

"No. It's because when we have a shitty day that could turn into another shitty day tomorrow, I'm still just happy to be with you for it. I didn't...I guess it didn't really hit until now," Steve admitted.

Eddie gulped.

"And you think that's...love?"

"I think that's part of it. I also think I'd like to kiss you."

Eddie let out a small breath, shaky as Steve pulled him flush against his front.

"You would?"

"If that's okay."

"Is that all?" Eddie smirked, obviously implying that he could feel Steve's dick against his thigh.

"We'll see where else the night goes."

[veronicamendes]

She wore an off-the-shoulder black and gray horizontal striped mini dress that radiated playful sophistication. The bold horizontal stripes created a striking visual contrast, enhancing her curves and drawing the eye. The seamless alternation of black and gray bands embodied a modern aesthetic that perfectly complemented her figure. The off-the-shoulder design exuded a flirtatious charm, gracefully showcasing her shoulders and collarbone, adding a touch of elegance to the daring mini length. Her ensemble was completed with cute velvety Mary Jane heels, their luxurious texture adding an extra layer of refinement. The five-inch stiletto heels elevated her look, lending her an air of poised confidence. The modernistic dual Mary Jane straps, paired with a sleek, rounded toe, introduced a sweet, girlish charm that balanced the boldness of the stiletto height. Sheer black hosiery added a layer of allure, subtly highlighting the contours of her legs and providing a sophisticated touch to her outfit.

Together, the mini dress, velvety Mary Jane stiletto heels, and sheer black hosiery created a look that was irresistibly chic and delightfully enchanting, making her feel confident and beautiful with every step she took.

[distantdarlings]

BY THE FIREPLACE PT.3 // t. nott

RATING: R / 2.3K WORDS

Theo Nott x Fem Reader

+ SUMMARY - *Requested* You and Theo finally realize what exactly went down in the library after a very messy explanation from Mattheo, Enzo, and Pansy. Once the two of you go your separate ways and accept the embarrassment, you both start to let your imaginations wander.

+ WARNINGS - Language, slight sexual material (describing in character's heads)--not super graphic, Fem reader

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Johanna - Suki Waterhouse

---

“What—pray tell—the fuck are you doing in my room?” Theo roared, his back planted firmly against his headboard. You had migrated to standing at the end of the bed, your hands just balancing yourself against the mattress.

“What are you talking about? I fell asleep in the library, I—did you kidnap me?” you shrieked in realization. 

“Are you kidding me? No, I didn’t fucking kidnap you. Are you daft?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowing. You scoff.

“Okay, first of all, you don’t need to be an ass about it,” you scolded, pointing a sharp finger at him, “and second of all, how the hell am I supposed to know if you did or not? I fell asleep in the library and woke up in your bed!”

“Look, I have no idea how—hey, where’s Sleepy?” he interrupted himself. He began gently pushing the covers around. 

“I’m sorry, who?” you ask. He pulled the comforter back and laid across the bed horizontally to glance under the bed.

“Just my cat, she…,”

He paused and leaned back up. The two of you made direct eye contact and stared for what felt like hours. His eyes were slightly squinted as he looked at you, up and down, and you did the same to him. His mouth opened and closed multiple times as if starting to say something but nothing ever came out. Slowly, the two of you came to a very morbid discovery.

“Nott…how long have you had your cat?” you asked, hoping for an answer you knew you weren’t going to get.

“I found her today…,” both of your eyes slid shut, “in the library.”

You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger. Merlin help you. Of course, the amazing luck that you were granted did nothing to prevent you from having the worst day of your life. It turns out that having an incredible, life-changing gift wasn’t always a blessing. You opened your eyes.

Theo’s head snapped up suddenly. His furrowed eyebrows had drawn down to match the line of his eyelid. His jaw clenched and unclenched ferociously. The anger radiating off of him was nearly palpable. It shocked you just a bit because you had never seen him as anything but cool and confident.

“Are you okay?” you asked cautiously. He stood from the bed and marched right past you. He made his way over to the dorm entrance, undid the lock, and ripped it open. As if newly appearing, three bodies fell in and clumsily on top of each other. Mattheo Riddle, Pansy Parkinson, and Lorenzo Berkshire stared up at a fuming Theo. His breaths were moving through him like a charging animal.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demands. They all stumble to their feet, struggling over each other. Theo is watching them intently, all but tapping his foot at them.

“Personally, I feel that we hinted at it pretty strongly—” Enzo started.

“Obviously I didn’t fucking get it, why wouldn’t you say something?”

“In our defense, we didn’t think you were going to…you know…take her back to your room,”  Pansy gestured vaguely.

“I thought she was a cat,” he enunciated each word slowly. “She was sweet and laying against me, I brought her in here so I could take a nap.”

“Well, it looks like you got a two-for-one deal!” Mattheo attempted a joke. Theo turned towards him with eyes like swords, begging to slash him into two. The dark boy’s smile dropped and he suddenly became very interested in the material of the drapes around him. You couldn’t stand this.

“Excuse me, I’m right here,” you say. “Would anyone like to tell me what the hell is going on?”

All three of them started to speak, trying to explain what exactly had been going down the last few hours. You could barely understand a single word. You refrained from rolling your eyes. This may be the worst thing that ever happened to you. Your eyes found the floor as the three students continued to try and explain everything over each other. A hand came to your mouth and you began to chew on the shredded skin along the edges of your nails. A bad habit, yes, but calming. 

Your eyes glanced up to look at Theo. His eyes watched the other three intently, trying to decipher them as well. Your eyes trailed down his figure. Mind betraying you, you remembered the way he felt pressed up against your back. His long, lean chest was pressed tightly against your spine and his strong, darkened arms had been wrapped tightly—possessively—around your waist. His forearms had been locked so roughly against your hip bone, you’d had to use both hands to push yourself up. His soft breaths had been cooly painting the skin just below your ear, tickling the small hairs there. A shudder ran down your arms as if he had just done it again.

The three students stopped their chattering and looked at you. You stopped biting at your fingers and stared at them, wide-eyed.

“What?”

“You shuddered,” Pansy stated. Theo’s eyes found yours, his head ever so slightly tilting to one side. Fuck. Your eyes traced the line of his jaw down his throat.

“I…just had a chill,” you brushed the thoughts away. “Okay, thank you all for those wonderful…explanations. I have been mortified by this and will never mentally heal from it. I think I am going to go back to my dorm.”

And with that, you clapped your hands together and turned towards the exit. None of them said anything else to you or made any effort to stop you from going, so you figured you all would just awkwardly pretend it never happened. You figured your books and things were still back in the library so you started heading that way, hoping that nobody had tried to turn anything into the lost and found. How long had you been out?  

“Okay, I don’t think laying with me is ‘mortifying,’” Theo scoffed.

“I think so,” Mattheo said. Theo responded by giving him a swift punch to the shoulder. 

In the back of his mind, Theo heard Pansy make some kind of joke that sent the three of them into a spiral of laughter. But, for whatever reason, his thoughts were traipsing across a vast landscape. His mind's eye was traveling up the expanse of the sheets that were wrapped messily around the two of you. They were tracing the peak of her bare thigh that her tugged skirt had exposed and reminiscing on the way his hands had felt against her soft body. Her hair had just gently tickled the tip of her nose and she had smelled so, so good. Merlin, it had been so long since—

“Theo!” He jumped out of his own thoughts. His eyes found his very concerned friend group as they appeared to be waiting for an answer from him.

“Mate, I said your name, like, eight times,” Mattheo said. Theo shrugged.

“Sorry, I was distracted…” Theo thought he heard the other boy mumble a smart–ass comment but he just ignored him. His damned brain kept flying back to that girl. He didn’t know what it was but something about her waking up next to him like that had him seeing her in a whole new light. She wasn’t unattractive—she was anything but—but she really seemed to hate him. She was always rolling her eyes or scoffing anytime he announced a wrong answer in class. And she never called him by his first name, only his last. He can’t say he knew that much about girls but those particular attributes did not seem like they belonged to one that liked him. 

He shrugged those thoughts off the best he could and followed his group of friends out of the dorm and into the common room where more of their acquaintances had begun to gather.

xxx

It had been hours. Hours and you were still thinking about Theo Nott. This was ridiculous. You needed to move on, needed to get to the homework you had been trying to get done this whole evening, but you just couldn’t. Every thought kept realigning itself to the way it felt when he had been holding you. It sent chills down your spine every time you thought about it. You had never been held like that.

Your roommates were all out late, trying to have a good time down at the Three Broomsticks. They had begged you to come but, due to a particularly interesting afternoon, you had incidentally become very behind on your homework. So you declined and promised you would next time. 

Yet, you still weren’t done with this stupid assignment and probably could have gone with them anyway. You groaned in frustration and dropped your head against the desk, feeling the cool wood beneath it. 

This morning, if you could have guessed what you’d be doing, mulling over the way Theo’s arms looked, would not have even been in the top one million guesses. But here you were, practically drooling over the way his veins wrapped around his muscular arms. 

You remembered the way his large hands had been so gently placed over your stomach, the tips of his fingers gently gripping your flesh while he slept. The way his hips were pressed firmly against your ass—

“Aah!” you squealed in utter shame, shaking the thoughts away from your head. What the fuck, what the fuck. You might die. The fact that you couldn’t get him off your mind despite how much you couldn’t stand him was disconcerting. You’d always thought he was extremely handsome, as did practically everyone else, but you never thought you’d even imagine in that…way. Damn it.

Theo rolled over, tugging the comforter back over his shoulders. He shut his eyes once more, trying painfully hard to will himself to sleep. He had Quidditch practice in the morning, he needed to get some rest. He needed to. But he couldn’t. That stupid—you were running through his mind like a record stuck on rotate. It kept going and going, scratching against him. He’d never, ever thought about you in any way other than annoyance. But he couldn’t get you off his mind. 

All he could think about was the way you were arched gracefully against his hips when you were laid out together. The way your skirt was pulled over your hips and he could almost see the line of your underwear beneath the sheets. He wondered what color they were, what they looked like. He kept his eyes closed, clenching them harder. Go to sleep. 

Your body was pressed against his just like before. The light outside made your hair and shoulders glow, spotlighting every rise and fall your breathing pushed through you. Your hair was pulled over your shoulder and splayed gracefully over the pillow. He wanted to touch it but he kept his hands firmly where they were.

Suddenly you grunted gently and rolled over, coming face to face with him. This time you didn’t jump back and scream and accuse him of kidnapping you. This time, your eyes were opened and simply watching him. Your gaze was lidded and sultry, your lashes creating a sinister shadow along your cheeks. A small smirk spread over your lips as he watched you. Still, he did not move.

Your hands slowly rose between the two of you. Your soft, nimble fingers found the buttons of your uniform shirt and began working them down. Theo’s breath halted in his chest as more and more of you was revealed. Your hands granted him passage to your chest. You wore a laced black bra that was cinched tightly between your breasts. His eyes flickered down once, twice. He swallowed thickly. 

Your hands pulled away from your shirt once the last button was undone and pushed him back so he rested comfortably against the headboard. You pushed a leg across his lap and settled neatly in the empty space. Like a reflex, his hands came to rest against your skirted hips. His fingertips brushed the felted material as you stared down, challenging him. 

You split the two sides of your shirt and slid it over and off your smooth shoulders. Without so much as a breath, Theo leaned forward and pressed his lips to the skin there. You gave a light gasp at his action. Your rapid heartbeat danced against his tongue as he ran it along the expanse of your neck.

You pushed him back against the headboard. You pulled your hands up to the clip pressed tightly against your chest. Your fingers curled around it and—

Theo’s eyes opened. The sun was up and Mattheo was squatted beside his bed, watching him with an obnoxious smirk printed on his face. Theo jumped back at the sudden face in front of him. He leaned up and glanced around wildly, trying to gather his bearings, ignoring Mattheo’s annoying cackling beside him.

“Dude, what the hell?” Mattheo laughed.

“What? Shut the fuck up,” he grumbled, pushing him back away from the bed.

“Oh, baby,” Mattheo moaned in a high-pitched voice. “Come here, darling. Let me—”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Theo asked.

“You must have been having one hell of a dream, man,” he laughed, “when I got in here, you were saying all kinds of stuff.”

Theo blushed deeply, his nose and ears burning, as he remembered the subject of his dream. Flashes of your thick hips and chest pressed against him and his hands and lips on you and…fuck.

“Shit, man, who were you dreaming about? You’re as red as an apple,” Mattheo asked, an eyebrow arching. Theo didn’t reply. Mattheo’s eyes widened. 

“Oh my god, you weren’t dreaming about—?”

“How about some breakfast?” Theo interrupted, abruptly pulling the covers back and slipping a tee shirt over his head.

Part 4!

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

Saw your post about TF2 being added to your list so here I am 🙏 I would like the one and only bed sharing trope with gender neutral reader, with heavy (my bbg) sniper, engie, and scout 💚 thank you ❗

Intertwined, sewn together.

Heavy/Sniper/Engineer/Scout x Gender Neutral! Reader separate romantic headcanons Summary: The hotel you were staying at with the mercs accidentally gave you a one bed hotel room. Warnings: probably OOC :( Word count: 1.1k ⋆｡°•☁︎

Heavy:

He’s very calm when it comes to sharing a bed since he’s done so with his family and you will be his lover someday, so he’s ready to get used to sharing a bed with you.

Heavy isn’t nervous about it since he thinks of it as simple and just job related but can’t deny the fact, he’s a little smug about spending sleeping time in the same bed.

By far easiest to sleep in the same bed with but he’s a furnace and huge. He’ll warm the bed like it’s electrical and keep you close, whether that be because of you or him wanting to be near or his size. It has got to do with living in the cold Russian mountains his entire life, he’s so used to the cold he never realizes how much heat he radiates.

You better hope the bed is big, Sasha’s going to sleep on the bed too, like a baby.

“Sasha will sleep in bed too, no changes from home.”

Heavy is a quiet and deep sleeper, more likely will not notice when you (eventually) fall off the bed from his size and Sasha. The harsh snow and windstorms have made him a deep sleeper.

He’s not the type to be insanely cuddly while asleep since he likes personal space. It’s an effect of growing up in a lonely Russian mountain and more likely having to share rooms/beds with his sisters. He needs personal space and likes it. But he likes you too, so you can be an exception.

If it’s exceptionally cold, he’ll (sadly) move Sasha to let you sleep against him for extra warmth, it’s not like the hotel is of good quality so it’s likely to happen. Heavy has a good time when that happens since he likes knowing you’re doing it on your own, not being forced by him and it gives him a reason to think you like him more.

Sniper:

He’ll act like it’s not a big deal when you’re given a room with only one bed, and it’s true, he doesn’t view it as a big deal. He’s sharing a bed with you. You! It’s when it reaches a basic time to go to bed does it sink in.

He probably has to be forced to sleep in a bed since he’s grown so used to sleeping in chairs for his job, having to be up quickly has its disadvantages. His back hurts from laying horizontally sometimes since he’s so accustomed to stools.

It’s not a particularly great experience for him or you sleeping in the same bed, especially since he views you as more than a friend. Sniper will be so stiff when lying next to you, it's insane, sheet metal build the entire night.

He wakes up so many times in the night to go to the bathroom, it’s insane. You have to be a deep ass sleeper to not wake from it every twenty minutes (at least).

While he’s stiff lying next to you from anxiety, he’ll quietly admire you. It’ll just be looking over your sleeping face. He’s a sniper of all things, he’s good with detail and he’ll find every little thing about you. The way your eyelashes tilt, the softness of your lips, and the basic movements and sounds you make while you sleep.

If you’re the cuddly type while you sleep, he’ll be ten times stiffer and won’t know what to do but will just get used to it throughout the night. Sniper won’t try wrapping his arms around you until he feels too tired to care. But after that he’ll hold you real tightly.

Engineer:

Honestly, one of the easier to be around when sleeping in the same bed, he’s very vocal about wanting your comfort, not just because it’s a basic thing to do, but because he genuinely wants you to be comfortable. He likes you and doesn’t want you running off because you possibly find him creepy.

Engineer’s still got that southern charm when it comes to this specific event since he is very intent on your willingness to do anything beyond platonic. If you suggest sleeping on the floor, he’ll encourage sleeping in the same bed.

“It’s just a bed, it’s not like anything more will happen anyway. It’s better anyway for your back.”

He is so similar to Sniper since he rarely gets to his bed to sleep, he’ll just end up sleeping somewhere random in his shop, which is why he has extra blankets in there. But now, he’s more inclined to be in bed.

He sleeps like a dad, snoring and stuff, possibly CPAP worthy but leave that to Medic to figure out. He doesn’t move too much though, just occasionally shifting in his sleep but it’s comfortable enough.

He’s very soft and you can accidentally move to cuddle him. Engineer would wake up suddenly in the night, looking over at you instinctively to see if you’re alright and would find you pressed into his side. He’d smile about it, in a smug kind of way but genuine happiness since you feel comfortable doing such a thing with him.

Scout:

When you got to the hotel and found out there was a mistake and you needed to share a bed, he was so excited. He’s been showing off so much for you.

He’s the most prominent in acting like sharing a bed isn’t eating him alive. Scout’s insanely confident but it’s not something he’s done with someone he’s liked before. He’s beyond giddy to be fair.

It wouldn’t be too surprising if he’s used to sleeping in a bed with other people, not because he gets play ever, but because he’s used to sharing beds with his siblings. He knows how squished together he needs to be to not be swung at for being too close to someone while sleeping.

“Don’t worry, there will be enough room on the bed for you even with me and my huge muscles.”

Just before you’re ready to go to bed, he’ll go into the hotel room's bathroom and hype himself up. Ok, someone hot is in his bed, which means good stuff because you’re hot and in the same bed as him!

At the same time, he’s sweating buckets. Scout is nervous because he’s asked if you’d ever want to sleep in the same bed as him and now it’s happening! You’re so close and your skin seems so soft, and you smell so nice and you’re so nice!

He kicks in his sleep, aggressively too. He’s like a dog that runs in its dream and does it physically too.

Scout will hold your hand when he randomly wakes in the middle of the night, it’s the farthest he’ll go because he would want you conscious when he gives you kisses. He wants you to remember how awesome a kiss would be from him!

⋆｡°•☁︎

Insanely OOC but first TF2 request!! Thank you so much for requesting!!

My tf2 masterlist

[bathroomforless]

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[glowcircuit]

I built a miniature Va11 Hall-A Bar inside of my PC!!

Va11 Hall-A PC Parts & Build list

PC:

CPU : Intel I9 14900k

GPU: Intel Arc A770 16gb

Ram: Corsair Dominator 64gb 5600

Mobo: Maxsun Terminator Z790 D5 wifi

Hard drives M.2: Samsung 990 pro 2tb, Samsung 970 evo plus 1tb, CT 1tb,                                 Adata 500gb

PSU: ROG Thor 850 P2

Cables: Cablemod.com custom shortened and sleeved

Water loop distro : EKWB FLT 120 reservoir + D5 pump

Water loop cpu block: ThermalTake Pacific Mx2 Ultra 

Water loop radiators: Alphacool HPE 20 x 2

Water loop hardware: 15 Alphacool, 3 EKWB, 2 Alphacool soft, 2 granzon    

Water loop tubes: EKWB Acrylic tube 14mm, Alphacool 13/10 soft

Air Cooling : ThermalTake Toughfan 120mm x 3  + Controller

Air Cooling : Noctua 40mm pwm server fan x 2 (non visible)

Additional RGB Control : Coolermaster controller

Case:

Lian Li PC V600, left side mount, released in 2006, I acquired it in 2015 from PC Recycle in sodo Seattle.

I had to track down a new foot, one had been missing since I acquired the case (ebay)

Mods:These are the case mods I did personally

Cut a hole for the cpu mounts in the Motherboard mount plate as this case was designed for older hardware 

Cut two 120mm blowholes and added aluminum covers (Dremel)

Cut Front and rear windows into side panels (Dremel Max)

Moved PSU from vertical placement in the lower right side of the case in front of the CPU  to horizontal placement in the top left in old drive bays. 

The PSU bracket had to be cut to show the OLED on the side. 

Modded the side panel rail slide to accommodate the PSU, I used the original aluminum stand the psu was on, cut in half and epoxied with JB weld. 

Changed and moved Power/ Reset switch to the back of the case, shortened and spliced the cable

I cut and bent my own 14mm acrylic tubes (hobby miter, heat gun). 

Cut and made two way mirror for the front panel

Plastic "truss" is both functional and aesthetic. It came from a Gunpla accessory kit and has two cables passing through it and it acts as the GPU support. I could only get red and had to paint it.

Notice that some logos are missing/ covered, I dislike having a case as an advertisement. The Rog eye on the PSU is mostly covered but iykyk, most of the word "Intel" on the ARC GPU, Two of the Thermaltake logos on the fan edges, the Paint on the Thermaltake Mx2 Ultra and Maxsun terminator heatsink. (I will eventually cover the visible SSD with a heat sink, cover the fan info on the rear and work a cover for the word "dominator"). the one logo explicitly unchanged is the LianLi case badge, if I think of a perfect replacement, maybe then.

Mod I did not do:

I did NOT shorten and sleeve my own cables, I used cable-mod.com. I am not confident in my ability to do this.

BAR:

"Bar Tiny" Re-ment sets from Japan, 17 sets involved. 

 I customized the color of the bar and chairs and shortened one table for the mezzanine. The whole bar, minus barback- is on a removable 7 inch piece of black acrylic for cleaning.

Jill Stingray Nendoroid

Jils Cat, it sleeps on the GPU

Jill Stool: Jill is glued to a cute doll stool to see over the bar

Jill Accessories non-Nendoroid: cellphone, purse, coat (ebay)

Dorothy Haze Nendoroid

will be added on release.

Bar Back:I made this myself

Black acrylic sheet, and frosted acrylic rods.

Doll Light power kit: 8 Led lights, 4 incandescent lights

USB Doll light power strip

Other Bar Accessories:

Overhead Hanging farmhouse light

trash, mop, broom, pan, mop bucket, 

2 blue fuzzy chairs 

Miniature plants

Miniature Microphone

Mini bottle Dom Perignon, an xmas gift from my friend nemo, it's

 on the top shelf 

Problems and changes:

1. ARGB, pretty pretty pain in the ass. 4 pieces of software........

2. The water loop was changed extensively as hardware came in and space limitations were discovered. The biggest change is that I originally planned to have one radiator on the front of the case, the tubes running over Jills head and to light the tubes as lighting for the bar, to do this the fan would have been in the case proper pushing the whole bar to far into the mobo, it didn't work, so the loop was moved to the top of the case and caused me to have one complex bent tube 

 Second, I had planned the loop to use one sideport on the distro, but space limitation moved both ports to the top causing the complex fittings setup in that corner.   

3. The MOBO, sigh. This has been clearly the most challenging choice I made in this build, I really wanted it to work perfectly too, but I rolled those dice because: Aesthetic+function, the board I wanted (https://en.colorful.cn/en/home/product?mid=84&id=400d19bc-5655-49e1-b391-df00b60935ef) was to great a risk for the cost. This was a silver medal. 

I generally dislike the design options I had in the Z790 series of the big board makers (I  HATE big logos), especially the full ATX, there was one M that interested me, I should have picked it . This board has potential, but the BIOS is underdeveloped and compatibility has been problematic, I had to do a tricky outdated style BIOS update right from the box, and have had to reset the cmos a couple times. It skips BIOS on general boot and though stable, it will have to be addressed eventually, it doesn't have a proper sleep because of some issue between uefi & legacy. It may end up replaced, which will require a full build teardown.

the Turbo fan built into the board doesn't seem to function

Alos, the two argb connections on the mobo dont work, or I can't get them to recognize anything, necessitating the Coolermaster controller for the PSU and Distro. it is shoved behind the distro along with a Noctua 40mm

[awkward-walking-potato]

Snuggling w deadpool? Platonic or romantic?

Red-Eye Rest

The fight had been long, messy, and more complicated than it should have been. Honestly, you couldn’t even remember what exactly set it all off. Probably Deadpool annoying the wrong person—again. But now, hours later, you were bruised, battered, and bone-tired. As you limped alongside Wade Wilson to the waiting taxi, the only thing on your mind was finding somewhere soft and horizontal to collapse.

You barely registered the driver, a guy named Dopinder who seemed unreasonably cheerful given the hour. "Where to, my friends?" he asked.

"Just drive, Dopinder," Wade said, waving a gloved hand. "We need some R&R."

You sighed in relief as you sank into the worn seats of the cab, letting your head fall back. The leather was old, cracked, and not even close to being comfortable, but at that moment, it might as well have been a cloud. Wade plopped down beside you, his usual chatter unusually subdued. Even he must have been worn out from the chaos.

"You're too quiet," you muttered, eyes closed.

"Well, after all the butt-kicking we just did, even I have my limits," Wade replied, stretching out. "But don’t worry, I’ll be back to my charming, loquacious self in no time."

"Mhm," you mumbled, already feeling sleep tugging at your eyelids. The motion of the taxi rolling over potholes was almost lulling, despite the city's usual cacophony just outside.

A few minutes passed, and you were right on the edge of consciousness when you felt something warm and solid nudge against you. You peeked out of one eye to see Wade leaning back, his arm casually draped over your shoulder, pulling you close.

"Wade…" you started, but your voice lacked the energy for any real protest.

"Shh, shh, just let it happen," he whispered, grinning under his mask. "I’m too tired for shenanigans, and you look like you could use a little cuddle time. Besides, no one's going to believe this anyway."

You wanted to argue, but damn it, the warmth radiating from his body was just too inviting. You let out a resigned sigh and shifted slightly, resting your head on his shoulder. The scent of leather, gunpowder, and something uniquely Deadpool filled your senses, oddly comforting.

For a moment, there was just the sound of your breathing in sync with the hum of the taxi. Wade’s grip tightened a bit, and you allowed yourself to melt into the embrace. It was surreal, sharing such a quiet, almost tender moment with someone like him. But then again, Deadpool was always full of surprises.

"Don’t go falling in love with me, though," Wade murmured. You could hear the grin in his voice. "I’m bad news."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," you muttered back, too tired to even roll your eyes.

“Good, ‘cause I’m high-maintenance. You’d need a whole team just to keep up with me.”

You let out a soft chuckle, closing your eyes once more. The gentle rise and fall of Wade’s breathing was strangely calming, and you felt yourself drifting off. As the city lights flickered past the windows, blurring into streaks of yellow and white, you thought maybe, just maybe, you could get used to moments like this.

In the dim light of the cab, with the world outside buzzing on, you allowed yourself to rest, leaning into the warmth beside you. For now, this was enough—a rare, quiet moment with Deadpool, the Merc with a Mouth, in the back of a beat-up taxi.

As sleep finally took over, you could have sworn you heard Wade softly humming some off-key tune, like a lullaby from a deranged superhero. And for once, everything was right in your world.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Greek Art Vocabulary

for your next poem/story

Alabastron - A small vase for olive oil, often scented.

Amphora - A two-handled terracotta storage jar used by the ancient Greeks to hold or measure oil, wine, or milk.

Calyx - The external, cup-shaped, leafy part of a flower.

Calyx-krater - A krater with handles in the cupped shape of a calyx.

Epitaph - A funerary inscription.

Krater - A large pottery vessel with a mouth broad enough to allow a jug to be dipped into it; used for mixing wine with water in ancient Greece.

Negative space - The area around the decorative subject on a work of art; the external or outside area that defines the subject.

Palmette - An ornament of radiating petals on a calyx-shaped or budlike base; along with the sphinx, palmettes often top Greek grave markers.

Positive space - The area on a work of art where the subject is represented; the internal area.

Registers - In art, horizontal bands of images that often appear in vertical series on walls, vases, and so forth.

Relief - A sculpted surface in which the decorations stand out, in varying degrees of depth; reliefs are meant to be viewed frontally, not in the round.

Sphinx - A fabled creature that is half human and half animal; in Greek art and legend the sphinx has the head and torso of a woman.

Stele - An upright slab of stone usually inscribed and sometimes decorated with designs or figures that are painted or carved in relief; used by the Greeks as grave markers or for displaying public notices.

Symmetry - The duplication of an image on either side of a real or imaginary central axis.

Terracotta - Clay that has been fired at a relatively low temperature, brownish-red or buff in color.

Source

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

I just want somebody to treat me like somebody

Neighbor!König x reader where you struggle with seasonal depression during the winter, that is only being worsened by moving to a new city without friends or family. Then you meet König, a kind neighbor who offers you support and much needed companionship. König helps you because he's a good man. He helped people. That's what he did. Made him feel like God's gift to Earth.

[DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, self harm, depression]

The winter drew out the worst in you. Seasonal depression. It was always there; just got worse around the holidays. So cliché. Moving to a new city and having zero friends or family certainly didn't help. Isolated and too depressed to go out and meet anyone. You were going crazy. Locked yourself in your bedroom with blackout curtains, crying for hours on end. Never good enough. Pathetic. Useless, useless, useless.

Your chest ached so bad you felt like you were having a heart attack sometimes. Despair swallowed you whole. You did the only thing that made you feel better. Even if you didn't do it for years, today was especially unbearable. Finding a sharpener and taking the razor out, you drag it along your skin. Snot and tears running down your face. Pain helped. You needed more. So you do it more. It was clean lines at first. Horizontal. Up your thighs. On the outside of your forearms. Up the side of your hands. It was a comforting suffering. Then vertical cuts over the horizontal ones. Mortification of the flesh. Cuts on the wrists. Not enough to do any actual damage. You learned from last time. Didn't wanna die, just wanted to not wake up the next day. A just punishment for being so unbearable to everyone, even yourself. You cringe at the way you liked watching yourself bleed, made you feel like some edgy teenager. Something was satisfying in it though.

You barely leave the apartment, only going out to work or get groceries. Always wore long sleeves. Couldn't hide the cuts on your hands though. It made your coworkers uncomfortable. It was tense whenever you came around, but nobody said anything. Why would they care about you? You don't even care about yourself.

You walk home one particularly hard day after a customer yelled at you and someone else pointed out the cuts that peeked out from under your sleeve. It starts pouring as you head home. You run as fast as you can to your apartment complex, getting cold and wet. What a fucking miserable place. Always raining. Walking up the stairs and fumbling with your keys. You drop them. It's too much. Your whole world crumbles. Tears well up in your eyes as you scramble to pick up your keys to open the door, hands trembling.

"Are you okay?"

You snap your head in the direction of the Teutonic voice. Impossibly tall, burly guy. Keys in his hands, ready to open the door to his place. A neighbor. You never saw him no matter how many times you passed each other, you were too miserable to notice honestly. Head always down, people mostly gave you uncomfortable looks anyways if they even noticed you.

He noticed you though. You radiate sadness and despair. He can almost see the perpetual rain cloud that looms over you. Your presence is heavy. Watching you almost break down was finally enough to make him say something.

"I'm fine."

You respond, choking back tears. This close to full-blown sobbing. You were not fine. Something about his words makes you ache. Maybe it reminds you that he's the only person to check in on you since you got here. You wanted pain, enjoyed it even. But it was distressing this time, made you kind of scared of how far it would take you this time. Even if it was three simple words, they comfort you. You need that from somebody. Anybody.

There was an uncomfortable silence as you stood in front of your doors. You look up into his eyes. They looked tired, like he worked long and demanding hours. He can't help but feel empathy for you. It was clear you were suffering. Defeated eyes begged, 'save me, save me, save me'. Can't help himself anymore. He helped people. That's what he did. Made him feel like God's gift to Earth. At least he was doing something good. He clears his throat.

"Kaffee?"

He offers. You bite your lip, never wanting to be a bother. Not wanting to take up space or feel vulnerable in front of another person. But you need this. More than anything. You've been screaming and screaming for someone to help you. It's enough to drive anyone mad.

"Alright."

You turn to him, as he unlocks his door, and lets you step in first.

"Shoes, bitte."

You comply, looking around. Spotless. Looks like something out of a magazine. Not a single thing looks out of place. Has to have OCD or something. He ushers you to the kitchen and shuffles around, making your drinks.

"How do you take yours?"

He grabs milk from the fridge, bending his imposing frame oddly.

"Sweet and light."

There are no more words said. He sets down the cup in front of you. Leans back in a chair on the other side of the table, sipping coffee. He examines you. You avoid his gaze. Both of you shift in your seats, awkward. Both of you are afraid to say something. It's like this until you finish your drink, setting the cup down.

"Thanks."

You instinctively pull on your sleeves to cover your hands.

"Natrülich. Anytime."

There was more that he wanted to say. Couldn't find the words though. What was he supposed to say to a stranger? It was enough for you though. At least in that moment. Someone noticed you. Made sure you were ok. Kind of. You stand and slip your shoes back on before walking to your apartment. His door was still open. You play with your keys, hoping there is more to be said.

"You can take my number if you'd like."

He pulls out his phone as you turn around, trading contact info before fucking off to your dismal abode. He watches you disappear into your dark apartment. Shame, such a pretty young thing in shambles.

You curl up in bed in the dark, the usual. Holding your phone, staring at the screen. König. Never heard that name before. Look it up out of curiosity. The fuck? Did he seriously put his name down as king? You're just kind of confused staring at your phone for a while before crying yourself to sleep like always.

Ever since he made himself known, you'd notice him. Going up the stairs, heavy steps in his steel-toe boots. Sometimes you'd be getting home at the same time. Sometimes getting your mail as he was checking his. Hm.

Always quick 'hi's' and 'bye's'. You've yet to text him. You're sure he just gave you his number because he felt bad. Maybe obligated? Whatever. You were in the middle of a breakdown, cutting up yourself. You get a ding from your phone. An unfamiliar sound. You never get texts. Or calls. You look at the screen. König. Still can't believe he typed that.

Hope you are doing well.

He knows you're not. He can see it in your face whenever you walk by; eyes sunken from the constant tears, fresh and old wounds peeking out from under your sleeves. Looked like you were withering away even more so than before.

Thanks

Intrusive thoughts flood your brain. Never good enough. He just pities you. Maybe can't stand the way you make him uncomfortable whenever you pass by with your insufferable self.

Kaffee?

He doesn't know what else to say. Doesn't want to intrude. Can't help himself. Every time he sees you he aches a little.

Sure

You wash your bleeding arms before slapping some gauze on them and throwing on a hoodie. You're in his place again, this time in the pristine living room. Him on a recliner, you on the couch. He clears his throat.

"So, what do you do?"

His voice trying to be as soft as he can be. He's intimidating standing, but he tries to be more mollified sitting down across from you. You stare at the floor.

"Barista."

You're not one for conversation. Neither is he.

"You?"

Your voice a morose whisper.

"Freelancer."

His answer is purposely ambiguous. You're curious, but don't push. You set your coffee on the accent table next to you. He stands before you even put it down, placing a coaster under your cup. How anal.

"Do you want to..."

He racks his brain. He's not one to host. Doesn't know what to do.

"...watch TV?"

It's the only thing he can think of.

"Sure."

Better than being alone, you reckon. He asks what you want to watch. You think for a moment. You haven't had any interest in anything lately, nevermind sitting down and watching something. Suddenly, something springs in your head. It's ridiculous. He wouldn't want to watch that. Fuck it.

"50 First Dates."

It was what you watched when you were younger. Put it on whenever you felt down. 'Gossamer thin,' one critic said 'but lots of fun nevertheless.' His face is neutral.

"Never heard of that movie."

He types it out in the search bar. Of course he hasn't, must've been at least 20 when it came out, definitely too grown and not the type to watch shit like this. You were kind of regretting it now. What a cringey fucking movie. He puts it on. It's kind of embarrassing watching it. There are no words exchanged. Eventually, you stop caring about what he thinks; you just appreciate the movie. There's a familiar emotion as it finishes. Always adored the ending, made you feel good. Or at least better than before.

"Interesting."

He says, impassive. Eyes glued to the screen. You feel the need to defend yourself but don't.

"Well..."

You stand; wanting to crawl under your covers and dissipate from humiliation. He follows suit, walking you out of his apartment.

"Thank you for coming."

He says in a way you're not sure you believe.

"Anytime."

As you close your door, you kick yourself. Dumbass, he's never gonna let your weird ass back in his place ever again. He closes his door. Shame, such a pretty young thing in shambles.

~

You go about your monotonous days, mopey as ever. It's like you were stuck in your very own cruel and dreary Groundhog Day. A week goes by. Ding

Hope you are doing well.

Wow, he really must feel bad for you.

Thanks

You could try to be more amiable for someone who gives you the time of day.

Would you like to come over for dinner?

Dinner, how intimate. Your thumbs fidget over the screen, keyboard awaiting your response.

Sure

You don't even attempt to dress nice, just don the same hoodie and baggy pants combo you always do.

It's a quiet dinner. Steak and potatoes. Probably the most complex thing this man can whip up. Still, it's better than the junk you've been shoveling down your gob.

"Thanks."

You say between bites.

"Natrülich."

He responds. As if this was a common occurrence between the both of you.

"Any hobbies?"

He's cutting his steak. It bleeds, practically still mooing. Thankfully, yours is cooked more thoroughly.

"Not really. You?"

You chew your steak. God, you're such a loser.

"Reading. Cycling. Bird watching."

He states, cutting his potatoes in quarters. Quite the character, this one. Whatever, it was nice to not eat alone for once. Better than eating delivered fast food in the dark like some gremlin. Dinner is finished and you didn't even have a full conversation, probably something you both preferred. He waits for you to close your door before he closes his.

Something made you feel better temporarily as you sat in his apartment. Some company was good for you, as much as you despised feeling burdensome.

It became a weekly routine for the two of you; no contact until you get an invite, eat dinner in silence, maybe a nonintrusive question, then you scurry back to your apartment. You looked forward to it, as predictable it was. One day he says something off-script while cutting his roasted potatoes in quarters,

"Two peanuts were walking down the road. One was assaulted."

You stop chewing, staring at your plate. You sympathetically force out a chuckle. He knows it's disingenuous. Kind of appreciates you entertaining him, though. You think the same. Leave. He cleans up, thinking about that splotch of blood on the sleeve of your hoodie. Shame, such a pretty young thing in shambles.

~

The coldest months of the year touch down, they're harsher then the winters your used to. You're freezing, even when your heat is turned up as high as it can go. One morning you wake up, can see your own breath. Heater fucking shit itself. You call the landlord, says he'll get it fixed asap. You trudge to work, same shit different day. Get home. Still fucking freezing, somehow even colder. Layer every blanket you have on the bed and slip under them with the warmest clothes you own. Try to get warm, doesn't work. Makes you wanna cry; it's the only thing you can think of doing at this point. God must love to see you suffer, it's the only answer to why you have such a shitty life. You just wanna jump off a bridge. Ding

You're in front of his door faster than usual, still wearing layers of clothing. Still numbingly cold. He opens the door, confused look on his face. You can feel the warmth radiating from his place.

"Heaters broken."

Your tone is even more than defeated than usual. You shuffle into his place and strip down to your hoodie and pants. He folds and places each article of clothing on the couch. Kind of feel bad for making him clean up after you. Kind of too downtrodden to care. He serves up something different. Soup?

"Something more hearty for the cold."

He states as he places a bowl infront of you. Red meat with potatoes and some other vegetables. Same thing he usually cooks but in a soup form. You appreciate it, very comforting. Avoiding eye contact as usual, you eat. Only sound is your spoons hitting the ceramic bowls.

"You could sleep here. Until the heating is fixed."

He offers, still looking at his bowl. You look up at him.

"I wouldn't want to be a bother."

You really didn't. Plus, he works so hard to make his place perfect. Wouldn't want to mess that up.

"No bother. Really.'

He keeps eating. He knows you are alone. Knows you have no one to turn to. He helped people. That's what he did. Made him feel like God's gift to Earth.

You contemplate. Would you rather freeze to death? Hell no.

"Thank you."

That's as close to a yes you can say. He nods, grabs the plates and cleans his kitchen. You walk back to your place; grabbing a toothbrush and clothes to sleep in, stuffing it all in a tote. It's weird being in his place after dinner; can't describe it really, just feels different. He places some blankets and a pillow on the couch. You change into some plaid sweats and a long sleeve shirt.

"Goodnight, Fräulein."

A hint of awkwardness in his voice.

"Goodnight."

You reply, lying on the couch and trying to make yourself comfortable. Little early to be going to bed but whatever. Guess that's what people his age do? Sleep comes easier than usual.

~

You wake up, stand, and stretch. He's sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, and reading the news from his Kindle. Watches you reach your arms above your head, the dimples on your back peeking out from under your shirt.

"Morgen, Fräulein."

He greets you. You wonder how long he's been up. Didn't wake you up walking around.

"Good morning."

Your voice raspy, sitting across from him. You're not wearing a bra: never do when you sleep. He can tell, tries not to make it obvious.

"Kaffee?"

He stands, not waiting for an answer.

"Mhm."

You reach your hands out as he places a warm cup in your hand. He always made it just how you liked it. Hm.

You have to get ready for work. He hands you a towel and starts the shower. You lock yourself in the bathroom, the steam warm and inviting. You forgot to bring your own shampoo or body wash, great. Just use whatever he has. It seems expensive, hope he doesn't mind. First time seeing a man use real shampoo and conditioner, not 3-in-1. Scrub down with his body wash. Smells like fucking heaven. Floral with a hint of...saltwater? Look at the bottle, "Un Jardin sur la Lagune," sounds about right. "By Hermès", what the fuck? This shit is practically liquid gold. Guess it's befitting for a guy that calls himself king. Finish getting ready. Before you walk out the door, he calls out from the kitchen.

"Text me when you're headed back, ja?"

You nod and assure him you will. Walking to the coffee shop, you think about him. You don't really know what to make of him. Feeling his presence in the other room made it a little easier to sleep though. And now you smell like him. It's such a subtle, pleasant scent, kind of soothing. The day goes by a little faster, customers are less agitating, aroma of coffee is replaced with his. Hm.

~

The walk back is pleasant, as cold as it is. Being in his place instead of the dark abyss you call home was...you can't put a word to it. All you know is that it felt warm. Enter his place, he left the door unlocked for you. Dinner is already on the table. He'd make such a wonderful housewife, you joke to yourself.

"Abend, Fräulein."

He greets nonchalantly.

"Evening, König."

You cringe at saying his 'name'. Swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch. Dinner is less awkward than usual.

"Anything from the landlord?"

He grabs your bowl once you're done.

"Oh, no. I should check, right?"

It slipped your mind. Maybe he's politely saying, 'get the fuck out'. You call the landlord. It rings for a while.

"Calling my guy tomorrow."

Was his response. Didn't really sound like he cared. Didn't even really sound like he was gonna do that. You sigh.

"You can withhold rent if he keeps this up, report him to the proper authorities."

He says serious, almost frustrated. You take note of that.

"I promise I'll be out of your hair soon enough."

Your tone dismal as always. This situation really made you feel so burdensome. He stopped for a moment, staring at the wall infront of the sink.

"It's no issue, really."

He wanted to say, stay. Stay until you feel less broken. Stay until you feel like you can stand on your own two feet. Stay until your wounds heal over and fade away. He helped people. That's what he did. Made him feel like God's gift to Earth.

He looked over to you as you fiddled with the cuff of your hoodie. Shame, such a pretty young thing in shambles.

~

You were lounging on the couch, him on the recliner. You were scrolling mindlessly through one of the many social media apps you have. He was lost in some book that looked heavy and boring. This was pleasant. Better than the pit of despair your apartment is. You look over your phone. Never really did get a good look at him. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows from when he was doing the dishes earlier; nails pristine but with hands of a working man, large and definitely strong. Knuckles dark as if he fought a lot in a past life. Veins prominent on the back of his hand, they run up his forearm. You know they climb up his biceps. You picture it. Hm.

~

The next week passes by fast. Stopped cutting for the sole reason of being under someone else's roof. Only cried every other day instead of every other hour. Did it in the shower either before or after work. He noticed, of course, just bit his tongue.

"The landlord hasn't been picking up. Gonna try to reach out to the Tenants' Association."

You spoon hot goulash into your mouth.

"Gut."

He nods, sleeves rolled up again to not get sauce on his cuffs.

Still feeling weird about this whole thing, wondering when he'll get sick of this whole charity case situation. You always walk back to the apartment thinking this will be the time your stuff is outside of his locked door. Not like you'll be homeless or anything. Just sucked back into the ninth circle of hell that is your apartment.

"Would you like to watch a movie, Fräulein?"

He grabs the dishes and washes them.

"Sure."

You wonder if you'll have to pick again. Maybe you'll choose something less juvenile. You settle into your usual spots in the living room.

"I think you will like this one."

He stares at the TV, avoiding eye contact. He types into the search bar. '13 going on 30'. You're kind of embarrassed that he clocked you as the sappy romcom loser you are. You wonder if he watched this before. Definitely not. Did he try to find something you'd like? The thought makes you feel odd. You watch the film in silence, a small smile crosses your face at the end. Hm.

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

He always spoke so proper, guess that's just how Germans talk.

"Very much, thank you."

You try not to sound like your usual sad self. A flicker of some emotion dances across his eyes. He stands and walks to his room.

"Goodnight, Fräulein."

You settle into the couch.

"Good night, König."

~

Today was your day off, you wanted to be productive; wash your clothes, go grocery shopping, maybe help clean the apartment up.

"You are a guest. I'll take care of everything, it's my apartment."

His tone is firm, leaving no room for argument. Let's you put your dirty clothes in the washer, but that's about it. He dusts, sweeps, mops. Cleans every surface possible, down to the last detail. You're just kind of sat there, feeling useless. He waves you over once your clothes are done drying, dumping your clothes on his bed. This is your first time seeing his bedroom. Just as pristine as the rest of his place.

"I made some space for you."

He slides open a drawer. You were about to say something, but he kind of stares at you in a way that silences you. He leaves to the kitchen. You fold your clothes, putting them away as neat as you can. Once your done you turn to leave. You notice that there are no pillows on his bed.

"We can go to the store together, if you'd like."

He offers, sliding into his jacket. You nod, throwing some warmer clothes on. You're out the house, headed to the grocery store. Walking next to him made you realize how huge this man was. You wondered how you looked from his perspective. You follow him around the store like a lost puppy.

"You can grab something if you'd like."

He says as he grabs a bag of potatoes. You walk off, trying to give him some space. It must be annoying to have some sad, strange woman in your house; using your expensive soap, breathing down your neck, eating your food.

You don't know what you want. Whatever he makes is good enough. More than that. You grab some brownie mix. Maybe you'll bake him something. As soon as you know it, you're back at his place.

"Brownies, ja?"

He pointed out as he put away the food.

"Was gonna make some tonight. For you."

You tell him, watching him from the kitchen table. He pauses for a moment.

"Danke schön, Fräulein."

He finishes putting the groceries away, returning his reusable bags back into the pantry. You face each other. Both of you getting a better look at each others faces. Those sleepy eyes of his accentuated by long lashes, subtle and light scars scattered across his face, stubble that looked like it would feel like fine grit sandpaper. Hm.

He clears his throat as he walks to the living room, sitting down to read. You don't really know what to do with yourself, scrolling through your phone all the time is a little depressing. Guess you'll just start baking. Might be a little early, but fuck it. Standing in his kitchen you look around, you don't even know where he put the brownie mix. You open cabinets and drawers, shuffling around.

"Fräulein?"

He startles you, standing at the entrance of the kitchen. He can be surprisingly quiet when he wants to be.

"Oh, I just wanted to start baking..."

You weren't sure if he wanted to let you do that. Might make too much of a mess. He shrugs and maneuvers around the kitchen, reaching over you to grab a bowl. You weren't even necessarily small, but you still dwarfed him.

"Here, Fräulein."

He sets everything up on the counter.

"Thank you."

You put everything together, try not to make a mess. Baking tray in the oven. Wait. Back on the couch, scrolling through your phone. He reads his book, peeking up inconspicuously. He sees your arms for the first time. You rolled them up while baking. He tries not to react. It's more than he expected, you're littered with gashes. Catches him off guard. You blink, feeling more exposed than usual. Quickly cover up your arms. He goes back to his book. Shame, such a pretty young thing in shambles.

Dinner is quiet, you know he saw your cuts. Made you feel weird. Ashamed. You go to sleep, thinking about how you lay on the only pillow he has in this place. Hm.

~

Lying in his bed, door locked. He stares at the ceiling while he fucks his hand. Always did it when you showed any appreciation; a simple 'thank you' or a fake smile when he tells a shitty joke. Then you made him fucking brownies? Gott im himmel, that made him so hard he got dizzy. Imagines your sweet lips curling up into a smile while looking up at him before you show him how grateful you really are. He helped people. That's what he did. Made him feel like God's gift to Earth.

~

You wake up the next morning, same routine as usual. Coffee, shower, work. Tenants' Association gets back to you. It took them long enough. They reached out to your landlord, chewed his ass out. Heat should be back on by tomorrow the latest. Realize what this means. You kind of don't want to go back to your place. Feel like you'll just slide back into your old ways. But you can't stay at his place forever. No matter how much he says it's ok. Walking back home, you decide not to tell him about the fixed heater for another couple of days. While making dinner, König heard the maintenance guys walk into your place. Disappointment washes over him. A few minutes after they leave your place, you walk into his.

"Schnitzel."

He says, waiting for you to take a seat. Something new? Looks delicious, take a bite. It is.

"It's really good."

You devour it, really is comforting. Tastes like home somehow. He watches you tear into the meal as if it would run away from you. He clenches his jaw, swallowing.

"You like it, Fräulein?"

His hands lay on his thighs under the table.

"Love it, thank you."

You quickly look up at him and smile.

"Natrülich, Fräulein."

He digs his fingers into his thighs; wanting to milk this as much for as long as he can while he still has the chance. He's going to miss this. He starts washing the dishes.

"Hear anything from the landlord?"

Wonders when you'll break the news to him.

"Oh...no."

You reply casually while freaking out inside, hoping he doesn't notice you're lying. He avoids looking at you, embarrassingly leaky tip tucked up into his waistband under a conveniently long sweater. He subtly grinds against the counter.

"Would you like to watch a movie?"

He always sounded so polite, so disarming. You nod and change into your pajamas, sitting on the couch. He brings over a hot chocolate. You take it, looking at his long, thick fingers and veiny hands. Fucking delicious. Hm.

"You shouldn't have, really."

You flashed a small smile at him. His eyes were soft, stared right into yours. This was the longest you two ever made eye contact for. Didn't even feel awkward doing it. You sit through another romcom, a warm feeling washes over you.

"I really appreciate everything you do for me, König. I can't thank you enough, really."

You can't imagine why he's been so kind to you, but you're grateful for it. Makes you wanna stay forever.

"You can..."

He starts, shifting in his recliner.

"...you can stay for as long as you like, you know?"

His voice a little shaky. You might actually take him up on his offer. So what if you depended on him? He seems to like it. (He fucking loves it.) He wants to help you. (He wants to fuck your brains out.) He's just a man with a heart of gold. (He's an egotistical freak who gets off on playing hero.)

"I'd like that."

You finally respond, leaning back into the couch and relaxing. A weight lifting off your shoulders. He shows off a soft smile, the corners of his eyes crease. Hm.

~

"Breaking the lease would be cheaper than continuing to pay rent, I'll help you cover that."

He says nonchalantly while handing you your coffee the next morning. You blinked. This is a lot all at once...

"Oh, I couldn't possibly-"

"Let me help you, bitte? It's really no issue at all."

His eyes were so kind, it made you feel so warm and safe. How could you turn down his help now? There was an overwhelming feeling. It's been building up since the first time he talked to you. A tightness in your chest. You felt indebted to him. More than indebted. You owed him so much. In all honesty? You owed him your life.

"I really can't thank you enough...'

His jaw clenched as cleared his throat and leaned back into the chair.

"Letting me help you is all the thanks I need, Fräulein."

Something in his eyes flicker though, it was unsettling. You shrug it off. He helped people. That's what he did. Made him feel like God's gift to Earth.

~

By the next week, you sold most of your furniture and moved the rest of your things into his flat. He picked where everything went though, and why not? It was his apartment and he had a place for everything. If he didn't, he'd make space. You brought up the idea of splitting rent or paying utilities. He waved it off,

"Absolutely not, save your money."

Another week of sleeping on the couch has started messing with your back, so naturally he makes you sleep in his bed while he's on the couch. But a man of his stature and age? After the fourth day on the couch, his whole body was shot. Constantly stretching, groaning when bending over, taking paracetamol as often as he can.

"You can sleep in the bed, I'll take the couch."

You offer while he handed you your tea one night.

"Nonsense. That is unthinkable."

He rolls his head side to side, stretching his neck. You bite your lip. He sips his tea.

"We can...we can share the bed."

You look up at him through your lashes, coy. He nearly chokes,

"Out of the question."

His ears burn.

"Fine, let me... Can I give you a massage?"

~

He's face down on the bed while you're on your knees next to him, hands kneading broad toned shoulders. Hm. You tug at his shirt.

"Take this off, can't give you a proper massage like this."

You feel kinda perverted, wanting an excuse to see what's been under those sweaters and button ups. He puts up a half-hearted fight before taking off his sweater and undershirt. Scars litter his body, some silver and flat, others dark and raised.

"Freelancer, huh?"

You run your fingers across the biggest one, it runs diagonally from his right shoulder down to the left side of his waist.

"Jein..."

He replies uncomfortably, voice barely above a whisper.

"Turn off the lights, Fräulein?"

Less of a request than it was him begging. You nod, complying. The moonlight illuminates the room in a blueish hue. You massage him, his skin covered with bumps and divots that feel like braille under your fingers. Hands run from up his back, down his arms, and back up to his neck. He turns over, eyes shining up at you. Soft touches on his chest and face, day old stubble across his jaw. You feel your heart beating out of your chest. Hm.

One soft, hesitant kiss that turns into two, then three. Then, it deepens, getting more desperate. Big, rough hands placed on the back of your neck and waist. Soft breaths and moans fill the room. Sit right on him, hips grinding against his. Your cheap denim rubbing his expensive linen silk. Half lidded stares and panting while you tear your shirt off. That makes him buck his hips up just so he can watch your chest jump. Your bottoms come off first, then his. You take a sharp breath in while you watch his dick spring up, slapping his stomach.

He just smiles down at you, admiring how your body looks. You freeze, not sure how to move forward with...that. He takes charge, sitting up and manhandling you, pinning you down and licking your inner thighs. He wraps his arms around your legs, hands locked in front of your hips. It starts with soft, almost ticklish licks. Then he buries himself into you. It's wet, a little colder than your radiating heat, dizzying, and delicious. Hm.

He pulls away, chest rising and falling fast. Lines himself up with you, looks into your eyes, searching for consent before moving forward. You nod eagerly. The tip alone makes you gasp, he shoots his eyes back up to your face.

"Keep going, I'm fine."

You assured him. He pushes himself in as far as you can take it, eyebrows furrowed. He made a face that you would laugh at if you weren't trying so hard to adjust to him. You gripped the sheets. He started moving slowly, groans escaping him.

"You are wonderful...so tight and soft...all of this, just for me, ja?"

"Uh-huh..."

Your mouth ajar, eyes rolled back. You'd agree to anything this man said right now if he kept fucking you like this. His hips moved faster. And faster. And harder. And harder. Your toes curl and back arches, close to the edge. His eyes are wide.

"Say thank you for every time I make you come, ja?"

It was less a request and more of a demand, the softness in his voice gone. You just agreed breathlessly, you'd say thank you happily and mean it. You haven't came in so long, the feeling of pleasure was almost foreign to you. He dug right up into your sweet spot, long forearms on either side of your head. He fucked that orgasm right out of you.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou-"

"Mhm."

Foolish smile across his face, reveling in the moment. He helped people. That's what he did. Made him feel like God's gift to Earth.

You spasmed around him. He kept going. And going. And going. He makes you thank him until your voice is hoarse, until sweat is dripping off the both of you, until you're sure the both of you are sore. Before you know it he pulls out of you and kneels right next to your head,

"Open, mein Engel."

He pants while pulling your head to his lap. You wrap your pretty mouth just barely around his tip and gag when he pushes down. His hands shake and grip the back of your neck hard while he spills a heavy, hot load down your throat. He moans when you look up at him, pull his dick out your mouth with a satisfying pop, and smile. He admires the way you flop on your back, drool down your chin, hair a mess, legs splayed and shaking. Shame, such a pretty young thing in shambles.

[half-bakedboy]

one hell of a story

For @bucktommyweek prompt: alternate first meeting | 1.4k | Teen

Tommy's not usually one to fly for anyone but LAFD and himself, but the Skywitness News Eight helicopter desperately needed a pilot. He owed his old army buddy, Trent, a favor, which is how he finds himself trying to land a failing helicopter in the middle of a baseball field. Unfortunately, he fails. But he meets Evan in the process, so it's worth it.

read on ao3 or under the cut

“This is Taylor Kelly with your morning traffic update… and we are going down!”

----

Tommy isn’t even supposed to be here. He’s not usually one to fly for anyone but LAFD and himself, but the Skywitness News Eight helicopter desperately needed a pilot and he owed his old army buddy, Trent, a favor. Tommy was too kind to tell him to fuck off, though, he’s pretty sure those two words will leave his mouth the next time he sees Trent’s face. 

“Tommy, what’s going on?” Taylor shouts. She’s holding onto the seat belt around her like her life depends on it—and it does, but Tommy isn’t about to tell her that. 

“Some kind of engine malfunction. Does Trent keep this thing in good condition?” Tommy asks. 

“How am I supposed to know?!” He really hoped for a more confidence-inducing answer. “I’m pretty sure he likes this thing more than me if that says anything!” 

“It does,” Tommy mutters, though he knows Taylor can hear him through the radio. Trent always talked about his crush on the redhead and how he would drop everything if she agreed to date him. Unfortunately, Tommy now knows he’s not exactly her type—no man is—so he thinks he’ll have to break the news sooner rather than later. 

“Are we falling?! Why does it feel like we’re falling?!” Taylor screams, panicked gasps following in quick succession. 

“I’m going to do my best to land, okay? There’s a baseball field below us, and if all goes to plan, we’ll land safely and you’ll have one hell of a story,” Tommy relays. 

Taylor laughs humorlessly into the radio. “And if it doesn’t?” 

“It’ll still be one hell of a story,” he declares. 

Then he focuses on saving their lives. 

The baseball field is immense and empty enough that he doesn’t have to worry about collateral damage from the landing, but he realizes quickly it won’t be that easy. Every single control he usually manipulates with ease shakes under his grip, and no matter how much pressure he puts on the cyclic, there’s no tilting his way in the right direction. 

He gets the machine as close to the ground as possible and prays that’s enough. 

All he remembers is the blades getting louder, a metallic screeching, and a terror-filled shriek, then everything goes dark. 

“Tommy? Can you hear me?” 

“I think he’s coming to!” 

“Kinard, open those baby blues for us!” 

When Tommy blinks to consciousness, he feels like he’s been hit by a truck. 

“Nope, just crashed a helicopter,” an unfamiliar voice says. He sees the blur of a few hands reaching out to slap the man, and when he follows the arms, he thinks he must be dreaming. 

“Wilson? Han?” Tommy’s voice is almost hoarse and he wonders how terrified Taylor was of his warning screams—

Taylor. 

He jolts up as best as he can but Hen and Chimney hold him down before he can go too far. The pain that radiates through his chest knocks the breath out of him and he falls horizontal once more, clutching his stomach in pain. He breathes quickly and shallowly, as any attempts to fill his lungs result in sharp twinges of pain. Someone he doesn’t recognize—the voice from before—places an oxygen mask over his face. 

“She’s fine. Not a scratch on her,” the man soothes. Tommy likes the sound of his voice. He stops trying to escape his old teammates’ grasp and instead, angles his head back to connect eyes with the unknown man. 

He’s a boy, really. Looks at least a decade younger than Tommy, but that doesn’t stop the rush of attraction that seeps through him. The man’s hair is mussed up like someone has run their hands through it—Tommy wants to run his hands through it—and he’s wearing his turnout coat unbuttoned like the picture of casuality. Tommy’s not sure he’s ever seen someone wear the uniform with such confidence and such… sweetness. He’s squinting his eyes from the sun though Tommy still notices a few small pink patches surrounding his eyebrow that match the color of his unfairly kissable lips. 

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Hen decides. Tommy knows he’s been caught when he recognizes the sarcasm in her voice. Hen’s always been an observant one. He can practically hear her eyes roll as she makes quick introductions. “Tommy, this is Evan Buckley. Buck, Tommy Kinard.”

“From Air Ops,” Evan says eagerly. Tommy’s stomach flips at the acknowledgment. How has he never heard of Evan before? “What are you doing flying with Taylor Kelly?”

“Slumming it with Skywitness Traffic, Tommy? I can’t believe I saved your life for this,” Chimney teases. Tommy smacks him on his nearest body part and takes the oxygen mask off of his face. 

As if on instinct, Evan reaches to put it back, and their hands brush and linger. 

Tommy hates to be cliche, but they’re lucky the ambulance doesn’t blow up when the sparks fly through the flowing oxygen. Actually, being touched by Evan Buckley seems like a hell of a way to go…

“Was helping out an old army friend,” Tommy explains. “Can’t let L.A. fall subject to bad traffic patterns, can I?” 

Evan laughs, and Tommy’s stomach does a weird fluttering he hasn’t felt in ages. 

“Guess you regret that favor, huh?” Chimney jokes. 

“Not anymore,” Tommy mutters just loud enough for Evan to hear. 

Tommy makes sure to maintain eye contact and only barely stops himself from winking at the poor kid. He’s blushing like crazy, redness spreading up from underneath his high neckline and overtaking his adorable cheeks. From the stillness around them, Tommy doesn’t think this is usual behavior, and he can’t help but feel a little satisfied about that. He chances a glance at Hen and Chimney who are both staring at Evan like he’s lost his damn mind. It takes everything in Tommy not to giggle—both because of embarrassment and the fact he might actually pass out from pain if he does.

“So, what’s the verdict, Evan?” Tommy asks.

The adorable man blinks a few times before glancing up at Hen and Chimney, who Tommy is very aware are the ones with the answer to his question. Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy sees Hen gesturing for Evan to answer himself. 

“U-Um, I’m sure you feel ten-tenderness in your ribs so that’s… gotta be looked at.” Evan shakes his head like he’s all too aware of his stammering, but Tommy couldn’t be more smitten. “You lost consciousness so H-Hen—she checked for any issues with your eyes but nothing abnormal. How’s your head?” 

Without thinking, Tommy replies, “Would you like to find out?” 

There’s a chorus of: “Tommy!” “Get a room!” “Jesus Christ!” “Oh my god!” 

All of which are ignored by both of them. 

Instead, Evan tilts his head and smiles—it would’ve knocked Tommy off his feet if he were standing. 

“I think I just might,” Evan agrees. 

“Oh, you two are made for each other,” Hen turns toward Chimney, “how did we not see that?”

“Buck likes guys?!” Chimney says instead. Evan blushes even deeper and Tommy’s glad that he’s not on a heart monitor for all to see it skip a beat. “No, I’m done with this. To answer your question, Tommy, you may have an acute head injury and you definitely have some broken ribs. We’ve gotta get you to the hospital so if you’re done flirting…” 

“What if I’m not?” Tommy argues, just to rile Chimney up a little more. Tommy always enjoyed that—misses it, really. “What if I want to see Evan blush a little more?” 

“Oh my god,” Buck mumbles. He hides his face in his hands, but Tommy can still see the smile lines between the cracks in his fingers. “Hen, get him out of here.” 

“Got it, Buckaroo,” she agrees, shrugging at Tommy playfully. 

“I didn’t get your number!” Tommy shouts as best as he can with presumably broken ribs. He knows they’ll hurt a lot more the second he focuses on them, but how can he focus on anything but Evan? 

“118.” 

With that, Hen shuts the doors and Tommy sighs the happiest sigh he can muster. 

“Oh, he’s—” Tommy doesn’t even have the words, but Hen seems to understand.

“You’re in trou-ble, Kinard.” She clicks her tongue. 

And Tommy’s never been so excited by the prospect. 

(Chimney derails any further conversation with a line of consciousness that starts with, “Okay, since when do both Tommy and Buck like men?! How did I miss this?!”) 

[stra-tek]

WARP CORE DEEP DIVE!

Where it all began. So much so, that they never quite nailed down what anything in engineering was. We know the thing in the middle was a "matter/antimatter integrator" and it had a dilithium crystal in it. But it didn't appear until later on, the floor was originally empty. There were also large transformer-ish things that moved about as the plot demanded. The big thing behind the mesh? That's the pipe cathedral. Maybe it was an impulse engine (as per the old Star Trek Blueprints by Franz Joseph) or perhaps it was part of the warp drive. Originally the idea was that the warp nacelles generated their own power. But that would change soon...

The Animated Series gave us something very similar to the TOS engine room, with the pipe cathedral and one BIG transformer, but instead of the matter/antimatter integrator we got a glass tube with what looked like measurements on it. Maybe it's a proto-warp core a la TMP, especially since it's in a similar spot to Strange New Worlds'. Or maybe it's a coolant pipe like the 2009 movie. Who knows? We also saw inside the "antimatter nacelle" in one episode, which is generally assumed to mean inside one of the warp engines themselves but it's all a bit vague.

The Motion Picture gave us the original Big Blue Lava Lamp, the physical set was 3 stories high but augmented with forced-perspective, in the form of a painting at the bottom of the shaft and a truncated horizontal intermix chamber crewed by children at the end of the main level. The engineering crew on the main deck now wear radiation suits, adding to the idea this big blue thing isn't your friend.

This was also the Big Retcon, making the intermix chamber the power source for the warp nacelles. Every Trek regardless of era would follow this route.

In Wrath of Khan, they'd add a very important side room with dilithium crystals in for Spock to self-sacrifice in. I always found it very amusing this room, where the most important part of the engineering machinery was, was in no way physically connected to the intermix chamber. Nor did it exist in the previous movie.

The Next Generation gave us a pot-bellied stove, with neon segments glowing one-by-one up and down to give the impression of pulses of energy colliding in the middle then being fed to the nacelles. No more radiation suits needed, and the room has a nice carpet. This was also the first time "warp core" was used, a phrase that would retroactively be applied to all the prior ones.

The Enterprise-E and DS9's Defiant would have bigger and smaller warp cores that were variations on the same theme as TNG.

Voyager brought back the classic Motion Picture big blue lava lamp, just without the horizontal tube this time. It does the nifty swirly thing too. Q Junior makes it do club lighting one time.

NX-01 Enterprise is just kind of this big industrial tank with some glowy bits. It's weird that in the classic movies they needed radiation suits to work in engineering, but in the series set 100 years earlier they didn't.

The 2009 reboot filmed engineering in a thinly disguised Budweiser brewery, which made the area look enourmous and extremely complex, but lost all the high tech clean room vibes prior shows had. What in real life were giant brewing tanks housed the intermix chambers which made up the warp core, which were ejected through a hatch in the roof at the end. This look was extremely controversial with some, but personally I loved it.

In Into Darkness the warp core looks like an almighty piece of kit, and that's because they shot on location at the Lawrence Livermore National Ignition Facility. It's a real-life fusion reactor. And then you can climb inside it and it turns out that inside is one very important laser thing, some dilithium crystals you barely see and lots of deadly radiation. At least the self sacrificing happens inside the core itself and not a weird separate side chamber this time. The brewery from the last movie was still there, implying this was all along even if we didn't visit it. But that complicates things because the bits they called the warp core are very different. Perhaps the intermix chambers ejected last movie and core seen here are all part of the same huge warp core system.

Strange New Worlds reboots the original... sort of. They put a vertical intermix chamber in there and instead of a mesh and forced perspective they've got an AR wall with an enourmous array of high tech pipes. But weirdly, the writers guide says the big AR wall with the updated pipe cathedral is the deflector dish machinery not the warp core. I guess the confusion makes it more authentic TOS.