#touch latches and push hinges

[safequeersex]

San Francisco Dining Room

[superblysubpar]

#82 from the first smut prompt list SCREAMS enemies to lovers hate fucking with either steve or eddie. bonus points for rockstar!eddie or king!steve

Hello lovely! SO. This dialogue actually fit perfectly in a little thing I'm working on - not quite hate fucking, but I've got this little modern!eddie one shot that's almost done. He's not quite a rockstar, but he does play with his band still from time to time. Anyways, enjoy the 500ish word teaser of it and let me know what you all think! Ready for the oneshot? 👀

Pushed up against the brick, barely a block down from the bar, and he had his tongue licking into you. A hand on your hip that dared to rise higher and higher, rucking up your sweater until his nails could scratch your side, till his fingers could rest against your ribs, thumb playing with the lace he found. His other palm was flat against the cold stone, legs spread wide, taking up space and caging you in. 

His lips were sure, warm, tinged with the bourbon of his cocktail and the cigarette you interrupted. They moved over yours gracefully, silky and smooth, parting your mouth easily and swallowing your sigh. The sort of kiss that felt like your lips touched something electric, a quick prick of a shock straight down your spine until you felt warmth flow through your body, surging and shooting across your veins. Passion and confidence explode out of him as he keeps kissing you like his life depends on it, pulling your bottom lip between his and tugging, teeth biting into the soft skin a little mean. Underwear growing far more damp than you were expecting it to tonight, wet lace and cotton sticky with arousal. 

Your palms pressed against his chest, feeling the smooth and hard pecs beneath the black cotton shirt, and you can’t help but wonder how many more tattoos like the ones that disappeared under his sleeves lie beneath it. He releases your lip with a pop, breathing heavily and giving you another quick peck as your fingers descend, scratching as they go and making him shiver. 

He noses at your cheek, lips ghosting over your jaw as you breathe heavily, chests bumping as you both catch your breaths. Your fingers reach the hem, tugging it free from where it’s tucked behind the handcuff belt buckle. His hand has dropped, toying with the edge of your skirt, fingers daring to skim the thigh beneath it and he swallows harshly as they trail higher. The skin beneath your tights has erupted in goosebumps and you shake your head, laughing breathlessly.

“I…what the fuck am I doing. I don’t like you. You’re not my type.”

He smirks, fingers landing where your body wanted him most, feeling how wet you are, the damp patch on the outside of your tights. He chuckles as your body arches against the brick at the press of one finger, then two, and the gentle circles he makes against your clit sending your stomach into knots even through the layers. 

A kiss pressed to the hinge of your jaw, nose dragging down your neck as his open mouth leaves a trail of hot breath and more goosebumps and your hips circle his wrist, pressing down onto his fingers with more weight. 

“Really? Because your pussy’s saying something different, sweetheart.”

Groaning at his crude comment, it quickly turns into a whine as his mouth latches onto your neck. His lips pressed gently in a kiss before his teeth tug at the skin between them, your fingers pull at his belt loops, needing more. 

Fuck, maybe Robin and Steve were right about this after all. 

[peachy-panic]

Shared Sessions: Week 1, Part 1

Grayson & Elijah cautiously give this group therapy idea a shot.

WARNINGS: Therapy setting, anxiety, past captivity

Grayson was the first to arrive at Dr. Collins’s office. Years of learned punctuality were not to be undone by a spiraling downfall to rock bottom, it turned out. 

A week out of the hospital, he was still struggling to find his footing. He only left the house for his mandatory therapy sessions, and even then, it was only under the guardianship of his parents. He wasn’t sure if it was because they could sense his anxiety about going outside, or if they expected him to steer his car into the first big tree he came across. He didn’t plan on asking. 

Today, though, a chaperone was a necessity. Grayson wasn’t sure his shaking hands would have had the dexterity to so much as start his car, let alone make the drive to Dr. Collins’s office on his own.

Grayson’s mother had even had the good grace to keep her opinions to herself on the drive over. Not that he didn’t know them anyway. Not that she and his father hadn’t made themselves abundantly clear leading up to the appointment on how poor an idea they thought it was for Grayson to share a joint session with “that boy.”

It was one of the first times Grayson Dawning ever raised his voice at his parents. He had left their stunned faces in the dim lighting of the dining room and slammed his bedroom door shut behind him, wishing grimly for the lock that had been removed during his hospital stay. 

They hadn’t brought the session, or Elijah, up again after that.

A few minutes before the top of the hour, Grayson sat in his usual corner of the couch in the office, hands twisting in his lap. If his more-than-normal nerves or lack of sleep were apparent to Dr. Collins, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he settled into the armchair across from him, crossing one leg over his knee. 

“How are you feeling about today?” he asked.  

A couple weeks ago, Grayson might have tried to conceal his vulnerability behind a mask. Recent events had left him too tired for pretending. 

“Scared,” he replied. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Is there any specific element of today that frightens you most? Something that stands out?”

Oh, sure. The possibility that Elijah bails and never speaks to him again. The possibility that he shows up and confirms Grayson’s worst fears: that he does, in fact, hate him for every part he played in his torment. Hearing Myles Voss’s name spoken between them for the first time since they returned. Addressing Grayson's attempt. Bringing up what happened on—

“Grayson?” Dr. Collins pulled him out of his spiral. He was using his firm voice—the one he used when Grayson was starting to fall too deep inside his own head.

Grayson blinked a few times, curling his fingers into the fabric of his sweatshirt. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” his doctor said. 

He nodded, relieved to have been spared from answering, but the reprieve was short-lived. A hesitant knock on the door turned him to stone where he sat. 

Dr. Collins rose gracefully and crossed the room in a few short steps. Grayson heard, rather than saw, the door latch release, a slight squeal in the hinges. 

“Elijah,” Dr. Collins greeted through an audible smile. “Welcome. It’s good to see you again.”

“Sorry I’m late,” was the first thing Elijah said. The sound of his voice—a bit winded, faint—unlocked Grayson’s muscles enough to glance up at the clock on the wall. It was only two minutes after. “I, uh. My mom had to take the car to work, and the bus was running behind.”

Grayson winced. He remembered, in the hospital, how Elijah flinched away when the nurses and staff brushed too closely, on guard against every potential touch. He couldn’t imagine how difficult public transit might have been.  

“It’s no problem at all,” Dr. Collins said warmly. “We were only just sitting down. You can hang your jacket here, if you’d like.”

Grayson willed himself, at last, to look in Elijah direction’s. 

Elijah pushed back a rain-speckled hood, freeing the few damp tendrils that escaped the bundle of hair at the nape of his neck, and shrugged out of the sleeves. Grayson took in the sight of him: black jeans that fit more loosely than they probably should have and a zip-up sweatshirt with thumbholes cut out of the sleeves. His fingers moved in quick, fidgeting movements that mirrored Grayson’s own anxiety. When Elijah  turned from the coat rack to face the room, their eyes met.

In a blink, it was as if every inch of progress they had carved inside the hospital walls had existed in a vacuum. The half-lucid hugs and promises, the familiarity of company and the attempt at shared humor—all of it swept away like ashes in the clarity of the outside world. 

In the hospital, Grayson had felt so sure that talking with Elijah, that airing out the festering wound between them, was the way to move forward. Now, in the light of day, doubt ate away at his optimism, a hungry, gnarled beast in the pit of his stomach. 

What if he had made a mistake that they would both now pay for? He had hoped his days of hurting Elijah were behind him. 

This was a bad idea bad idea bad idea—

“Hey,” Elijah spoke first. 

Grayson swallowed a lump that felt a lot like the start of a scream. “Hi.”

Dr. Collins let a few seconds of quiet play out between them, then cleared his throat. “Please, make yourself comfortable, Elijah. Can I get you anything? Water, tea, coffee?”

Elijah shook his head. “No. Um, thanks. Is here okay?” he asked, pointing to the far end of the sofa from Grayson. 

“There is fine. Wherever you’d like.”

There weren’t many other options for sitting in the small room—had the room always felt quite so small?—other than the plush carpet beneath the couch, but Grayson didn’t think they would get off to a very good start if he sat on the couch while Elijah sat on the floor, at his feet. If, though, for some reason he was more comfortable on the floor, Grayson could offer to sit down there with him, keeping enough space to—

Elijah’s weight sank into the cushion on the far side, leaving one space between them and putting Grayson’s internal spiral to rest. 

Get it together. Keep it together.

“Thank you both for being here today,” Dr. Collins said, taking his seat once more. “I understand this year has not been an easy road, and I can only imagine that agreeing to meet in this setting was not a decision either of you took lightly. I want to remind you that the two of you are in charge of what happens inside this room. Anything you say will be strictly confidential.” 

The doctor looked to Elijah, and Grayson could see the way he shifted under the attention in his periphery. 

“Elijah, I understand that you’ve been seeing someone on your own. I will not share anything from this session with your doctor without your explicit request.”

“Okay.” Elijah’s voice cracked on the first attempt, so he repeated it, slightly stronger.

“Okay,” Dr. Collins echoed with a smile. “Let’s begin.”

TBC

****

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[firstelevens]

if you're still taking prompts! sambucko + 20. things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

20. things you said that I wasn't meant to hear

Sam is humming as he comes up the porch steps, grocery bags in one hand and his keys in the other. He'd had a full day of errands planned, but then he ended up picking up ice cream at the grocery store, and it was just too hot to chance leaving it in the truck while he ran into the hardware store. He isn't complaining: the past week has been so full of missions and meetings that an afternoon lazing on the couch--preferably with Bucky, whose lap cat tendencies mean he won't need much convincing--sounds perfect.

He's just unlocked the front door, the hinges and latch now smooth and soundless after this morning's WD-40 application, and nudged his way inside when he hears Bucky's voice carry down from the kitchen, sharp and tinged with worry.

"Yes," he hisses at whoever's on the other end, "I know I said I'd owe you one. But right now isn't-"

Bucky breaks off as the other person speaks, and Sam tries to remember who Bucky might owe a favor to that would inspire this kind of venom.

"Of course it was worth it," snaps Bucky. "Keeping Sam safe will always be worth it. That's why I'm not getting caught up in this shit again, not when-"

Sam feels a tightness rise up in his throat. What does Bucky mean? What did he keep Sam safe from? They haven't been in the field together for a year now, and the only thing threatening Sam in Delacroix is all the grandmas in the parish asking when he and Bucky are going to get married.

"I know," Bucky is saying, his voice tight now. "I get it, but can it be literally anything else? I'll be muscle if you need it, I'll handle acquisitions, I'll- fuck, I'll do fucking wetwork if that's what it takes. Please, Sharon."

God, of course it's Sharon. Sharon the all-too-connected spy, Sharon the strangely influential black market dealer, Sharon the fucking Power Broker. It had broken Sam's heart a little bit, when Valentina Fontaine threw that in his face months ago, and it takes a lot for Sam to keep quiet now, forcing himself to listen instead of storming over there and grabbing the phone to tell Sharon she can fuck right off.

Bucky owes a favor to Sharon Carter, Sam thinks dully. Bucky owes a favor to Sharon Carter and it's Sam's fault, and now Bucky is going to have to do something he thought he'd walked away from in order to repay it.

Suddenly, all Sam wants is for this phone call to end. He knows that Bucky will have to get back in touch with her, that wriggling out of a deal with the devil isn't nearly this easy. He can't bring himself to care. Before he can think twice, he pushes open the front door again, making sure to knock into the door frame with his bags, and then lets it shut with a slam.

"I'm home!" he calls out. "I might've derailed the whole day by buying ice cream."

There's an abrupt silence from the kitchen, followed by Bucky mumbling an, "I'll call you back."

By the time Sam comes into the kitchen, Bucky is leaning back against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest and an almost- believable smirk on his face.

"I don't remember ice cream being on the shopping list," he says. "Remind me again, who's the person who acts like sticking to the grocery list is a matter of national security?"

"You're saying that like you haven't seen how the boys act when they find sugary cereal in our kitchen," says Sam. He tries to infuse it with the usual teasing tone, but it feels like it falls flat. "Are you gonna help me with those bags, or what?"

"Maybe I just like watching the way your muscles flex when you hold them."

Sam should have a quip for that, but instead he just sets the bags on the island. He busies himself rummaging for the ice cream and keeps his eyes down as he says, "I didn't interrupt an important phone call, did I? You can call back if you want; there's not that much stuff here."

"It was nothing," says Bucky, suddenly much closer than he was a moment ago. Sam can feel warmth at his back before a pair of arms closes around his waist, pulling him upright. Sam doesn't think he imagines the way Bucky's heart picks up when he adds, "Just Val with another mission. It's like she's got a sixth sense for the worst possible times."

"Wouldn't surprise me," says Sam, grateful that Bucky can't see his face. He settles his hands on top of Bucky's because he doesn't know how else to keep them from shaking. "Will you be gone long?"

"No," says Bucky, after a second's hesitation. He tucks his face into the spot where Sam's shoulder meets his neck, nuzzling into the curve of his throat. "Back before you can miss me, I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," Sam says, willing his voice not to break.

"I'm counting on it," says Bucky, and holds Sam a little closer.

[zellink]

all the bells say - chapter 7: Fireside

a pre-calamity zelink longfic. [M-rated // chapter 7 of 28 // Act 1 of 5]

>>Read chapter on AO3 or start from the beginning >>here

Chapter excerpt:

She retrieves the sheets of schematics for Vah Rudania from her pack and studies them intently. Her eyes read the words, scan through the drawings, but none truly register in her head. Her brain is scattered in pieces, stuck on those hinges and latches where his fingers once pressed and pushed. Though she supposes, if she were even more scattered and truly out of her mind, she’d storm out of this room and grab him by the shoulders. She’d have to endure the painful jolt of electricity that would surely spark from touching him, but she’d weather through it just to tell him that he’d never need to check for weak points ever again. Because the fault in this villa is not the possibility of an intruder; it’s his presence.

>>Read chapter on AO3

[jammed-out]

Hypnovember Day 29 - Happily Ever After

(CW: male to female transformation, identity rewriting, noncon)

The door to the tower flung off its hinges as Sir Gwain burst into the final room. His armor burnt and scratched. In his hand, a sword, broken and reforged together, the cracks across it marking the battles long past. He reached up, removing his helmet. Fresh stubble clung to his face. 

The early morning light shone through the dusty curtains covering the window. It illuminated the mostly empty room. There, sleeping on the four post bed, lay Prince Lan, dressed in his royal robes. A shimmer shone over his body, the curse that kept him preserved. 

Sir Gwain reached into his belt and removed the dagger tucked safely inside. It shimmered in the light, the magic causing the blade to glow with iridescence. Slowly he approached the bed. He raised the dagger, his hand slowly tracing a small cut just above the princes’s bare skin. It cut, barely breaking the skin, drawing no blood. A small, ghostly scar running over where the blade touched. 

The prince did not stir. The effects of the blade’s magic immediate. Where soft skin once sat, new pockets of fat and flesh began to grow. His chest swelled outward, two large breasts beginning to grow. The noticeable bulge in his pants began to shrink, flattening down. His waist began to shrink, hips pushing outward. Long blonde hair burst free from his head, billowing outward in rich curls. The outfit began to shift as well, his princely robes turning into a large flowing gown. Even now, after many uses, Sir Gwain still marveled at the dagger’s powerful magic. He carefully tucked the dagger away, locking it within its sheath. He made sure it was latched before leaning down. His hand cupped the former prince’s face. Their lips connected, a soft and tender kiss to seal in the magic. 

Immediately the shimmer of the curse began to break. The former prince, now princess, stirred. Their eyes opened gracefully as they awoke after their long slumber. They yawned and wiped their eyes, brushing away the edges of sleep.

“Princess. I have awoken you from the curse that has kept you trapped in this tower.” Sir Gwain said sitting on the edge of the bed, his armor banging against itself as he did.

“Princess?” The girl said confused. “But I thought-” She scratched her head, fingers tangling in the long curls.

“Yes. Princess Lani. Perhaps your mind is still confused after your long slumber.”

Princess Lani mouthed her name over and over. It sounded correct to hear it, but it felt slightly strange to think about it. It was as if she couldn’t remember anything about herself, and the things that she did, felt wrong.

Sir Gwain watched the confusion on Lani’s face. She was not the first “princess” he had awoken from a curse and would not be the last. Each one always had the same reaction of confusion as their memories began to rewrite themselves.

“Where am I good knight. And who are you?”

“Why I, I am Sir Gwain, your betrothed. Tell me princess, do you remember what happened to you?”

Princess Lani shook her head. She slowly pushed herself up to sit next to the knight. Her hands toyed with her dress, the fabrics and colors seemed so much more vibrant now, and everything felt so much softer under her hands.

Gwain took her hand, letting her fingers trail over the cold metal. “You were placed under a sleeping curse by a foul witch. Only I, after venturing far and wide over many years, was able to find and save you with our true love’s kiss.”

Lani’s eyes perked up brightly. “True love….” She turned to look at the knight. Her vision began to cloud as feelings of adoration and love began to bubble up inside of her chest. She couldn’t remember meeting the knight or even falling in love with him, but she knew that it had happened. They were in love, true love and she would stand by his side forever.

“Yes my darling. Come now let us go collect the reward from your family. I’m sure they miss you dearly.”

“My family?” Lani muttered the words letting them roll off of her tongue. She didn’t remember them much, but it was becoming clearer by the second. As if her memories were parting through the fog of sleep.

“Yes. And then afterwards we will return to my castle, where you will meet my family, and all of my other wives. Don’t worry, by then everything will make so much more sense.” Princess Lani found herself nodding along. Everything Sir Gwain said made so much sense. He was so smart and perfect, and her true love. With him, she could finally find her happily ever after.

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

Hope you enjoyed that. I’ll be following @h_sleepingirl prompt list for the entire month because I really like a couple of the prompts on the list. You should also definitely check out and support them.

You’ll also be able to find all of my writings under the tags on my page. Hope you enjoy and see you tomorrow!

[birgittesilverbae]

bealil wot au snippet that ig I never posted

//

Jagged pain rippling through Lilith's head, hot and aching and sudden, wakes her. She sits bolt upright, pushes away the tangled fabric of her bedroll, and presses her thumbs into her temples. It won't soothe the hurt, she knows, because it's not hers, but the motion is habitual all the same. 

She's on the road again within fifteen minutes, bedroll bundled behind her saddle, eating cold porridge from a tin cup as she directs Raf with her knees. The pain has dwindled into a dull throb across her shoulders, her back. Torture, then, in one form or another, she muses, trying to hold her thoughts in that cool, detached space. She feeds the rage that's built up overnight into the flame, stokes it with fear and hatred and longing until the rest of her mind is calm, the distractions burned away to bare rock by the fire. 

Beatrice is still in the same location, unmoved in the past days that Lilith has been both conscious and healthy enough to travel. Her left arm still hangs limp at her side, and her ribs ache at every shift in the saddle, but those are minor complaints when held up against the reality of the situation.

Lilith had failed, and Beatrice had been taken. She's had nightmare after nightmare about the sparkle of a long length of silvery chain under the noonday sun, tying Beatrice to one of those women with lightning-panelled skirts. 

The miles pass slow beneath her as she rocks back and forth in the saddle, struggling to stay upright while Raf navigates the rutted path with ease. Most of the food stores had been lost in the struggle, or left in the packs on Beatrice's mount, taken with the strangers when they'd–

Lilith grits her teeth and clings to the pommel of her saddle. 

//

Lilith fumbles with the collar, searching desperately for the latch, as Beatrice's hands clench in the front of her stolen dress.

"Lil," Beatrice says, and it's terrified and lonely and Lilith wants to tear out the throats of every single person who's made her Aes Sedai into something small.

"It's me," Lilith soothes, briefly skating her thumb across the hinge of Beatrice's jaw. "I'm here, Beatrice. I've got you."

A latch gives way beneath her touch, and the collar falls from Beatrice's neck. Lilith flings it away and bundles Beatrice into her arms, cradles the back of her neck as Beatrice presses her face to Lilith's chest. 

"We need to go, darling. Can you stand?"

"I can." Beatrice rises easily, no guarding to her movements, and Lilith tucks that realisation away for closer perusal later. Had they healed her, then? "I'm fine, Lil," Beatrice continues, obviously anticipating the train of thought. "They don't hurt damane except in self-defence. Not physically. It would be like kicking a dog. We don't know enough to understand what we're being punished for."

She's not fine. The bundle of emotion in the back of Lilith's head is curled in on itself, swathed in a dark fog that leaves no space for awareness of anything but distance and direction. Lilith's jaw goes tight. "Let me in," she says softly, trailing her fingertips along the arch of Beatrice's cheekbone, yellowed with the last remnants of a bruised eye. "Beatrice, let me in."

"Not yet," Beatrice replies sharply. She pulls away from Lilith's touch, her face darkening. "Let me attend to this first."

[karlakattz]

Written for @sterekweekly #explore

Or read here:

He mouthed along the jawline, eyes closed, his entire focus on the feeling of the beard making his lips tingle and tickling his skin. When he reached the ear, he took a moment, pressed a featherlight kiss on the earlobe and let out a soft exhale. The shudder he got was the response he aimed for and he smiled to himself.

Stiles slowly shifted further down, making a stop at the neck next. The werewolf underneath him trembled as he nuzzled the sensitive area between ear and collarbone. He pressed his lips down and gently sucked, regretting that no matter how many hickeys he'd produce, none of them would stay to mark what was his.

Despite not being a wolf, Stiles was nearly as obsessed with smells as his boyfriend, and he took his sweet time of sniffing, licking and biting where he knew it'd drive his mate crazy.

Stiles was in no rush on this Sunday morning, although the sun was already high in the sky, shining through the blind windows of the loft.

Both men slept in late, exhausted after yesterday's fateful events.

The pack had been to Deaton's Den, a werewolf-friendly club on the outskirts of Beacon Hills. Although, considering the music being not that loud and the lack of flashing strobe lights to protect sensitive supernatural ears and eyes, it probably could be classified more as a pub than a club. It had been just like any other random Saturday night until one asshole hadn't taken Stiles' explicit 'no' for a no. He'd rather not think about what might have happened if Derek hadn't ripped the toilet cabin door off its hinges and stormed in like berserk, eyes red and beta shifted.

Stiles recalled the talk that had followed, a long overdue conversation where they finally admitted their feelings. In the john of Deaton's club of all places. Not quite the romantic scenery Stiles had dreamt of for years, but as soon as Derek had kissed him, the surroundings had become nonrelevant anyway.

They had spent the night together and with every caress, Derek had erased the touch of the other wolf. He was just so Derek in the best possible way. Possessive and yet careful, rough but also sweet and loving. It was the best sex Stiles ever had. Not that there was a long list of ex-lovers, but he was certain it couldn't get any better than that.

Except, it had been all about Stiles and now it was his turn to give everything back to his wolf. Finally, he got to worship that glorious body as it should be.

He squeezed those perfectly shaped pecs and stroked with his fingertips through the hair. Derek stiffened ever so slightly underneath him but made no move to stop him, so Stiles went on by kissing down to the chest, rubbing his nose through the black curls, trailing sweet pecks to the left nipple, where he gently nibbled the bud before he latched on and sucked.

His hands found their way up to the shoulders, relishing how broad, strong and toned they were. The biceps were next. So thick that Stiles would need both hands to wrap his fingers around them. Jesus Christ. They weren't just a show-off of Derek's strength. They were visible proof of his commitment to his alpha role, his dedication to protecting his pack, and his determination to push himself further every day. Stiles has never met anyone with more self-discipline than Derek.

His forearms told a different story, his wrists especially. They were delicate, just a little thicker than Stiles', and he couldn't help but think how that contrast was almost like an analogy for the man itself. Because Derek was more than just a mindless muscled hunk, and no matter how hard he tried to hide his sensitive side behind a wall of wit, sarcasm and rudeness, the pack knew better. They had seen him.

Stiles had seen him.

It's why he loved him.

That Derek's personality came in the form of a Greek God was just the best bonus. Well, Stiles surely won't complain about that.

He let go of the nipple and laid his head on the chest to listen to the heartbeat. Stiles' hands found Derek's and he intertwined their fingers, thumbs stroking lovingly over the back of his mates' hands. He felt hairs there, too, a soft down, and he smiled to himself.

With his eyes still closed, he just basked in the sunlight, warming his skin. And with the hot running werewolf underneath him, Stiles went lax. Yeah, he thought, this had to be the best place in the whole world right now.

After a moment of peaceful silence, he shifted and wanted to continue his exploration of Derek's body.

He buried his nose in the soft chest hair again and trailed slowly down south, making sure to tickle his wolf with his breath to make him squirm. The tiny sounds he got in return were beautiful.

The defined abs received some extra smooches before Stiles' tongue poked playfully into Derek's belly button. He felt the alpha dick twitching and Stiles glanced at it, seeing it hardening, and his mouth watered. He had always assumed Derek was big down there, but Jesus Christ. His still sore hole reminded him of how big his boyfriend was. Last night, he hadn't gotten a good look, but he certainly had felt every inch. Now though, he could finally get his visual fill of what had been the main star of his long-lasting fantasies.

Stiles couldn‘t wait to suck Derek off.

Until now, sex hadn't been the purpose of his caress. It had been more of a taking in, mapping out. Feeling. Reassuring himself that this was happening, that he and Derek were together. As, like, a couple. Who did couply things like lazing around in bed on a Sunday morning and rubbing their naked bodies against each other.

Now that he saw Derek getting hard, he smelled his heady scent of growing arousal and also the remains of last night's jizz which they only wiped away with Derek's undershirt in post-coital bliss... now Stiles wanted more.

Fuck, that thick cock and the heavy balls, framed by a wild patch of black hairs, were like a piece of art.

He let go of Derek's hands and shuffled on all fours to get in a better position.

"You don't have to," cut Derek's voice through his thoughts.

He sounded tense, and Stiles' dreamy bubble burst with one heartbeat. He blinker and looked up to check in with his mate, expecting to meet warm green-hazel eyes, but Derek stared at the ceiling instead.

He seemed uncomfortable.

From one second to another, Stiles' insecurities kicked in because all the time he had thought, Derek would enjoy this just as much as he did, but that was not the case.

"You don't want me to?" he blurted out and hated how unsure he sounded.

Maybe Derek had second thoughts. Maybe Derek regretted last night's actions. Maybe he wanted to go back to being just friends.

Stiles couldn't do that. It wasn't an option for him. Not after last night.

It'd crush him. The mere thought of it made his stomach churn.

Derek lifted his head and finally looked at him. "Don't be daft, idiot!" he said, almost annoyed, and Stiles wanted to sob in relief.

Never had he been happier to get insulted.

"Course I want it." Derek hesitated and bit his lip. His head flopped back on the pillow and he let out a sigh. "I'm just too lazy to get up."

Stiles tilted his head and frowned. "Get up?" Had he missed something?

"You know to..." Derek flailed his arms in the general direction of his crotch.

The frown on Stiles' forehead deepened. "No?" he said carefully. "I don't know, actually?" He peered at the cock, wondering what Derek meant.

"Get ready!" the wolf finally spit out, exasperated.

Oh?

Oh.

"Oh," Stiles said intelligently and his body went burning hot in one second. "Hey, yeah, okay. I just wanted to blow you, dude, but if you want anal, yep, that's fine, Mini-Me is totally up for that, too." Derek abruptly sat up, while Stiles went on rambling. "I didn't know you'd bottom, what with the alpha thing and all, but fucking hell, yeah. Okay. Fair warning though, this might be just a quickie because, Jesus, have you seen your ass..." Stiles shook his head and sucked in a breath, leaking precum from just the sheer imagination of fucking Derek. Fucking hell. "God, I dunno how long I can hold back-"

Derek slammed a hand right across Stiles' mouth and everything he wanted to add ended in a muffled noise. They stared at each other with wide eyes.

"First of all," Derek said and raised his pointer. "Don't call me dude. Especially not when you're talking about us having sex. What the hell is wrong with you, Stiles." His eyebrows underlined the seriousness of his words.

Stiles nodded frantically. He totally could do that. There were better pet names available anyway like Boo-Boo or-

"Second," Derek interrupted his train of thought and slowly released Stiles' mouth from his grip. "I didn't mean get ready for anal." He gave Stiles a stern look, and just hearing the word anal coming out of Derek Hale's mouth, made Stiles giggle.

"What did you mean then?"

That uncomfortable expression was back on the wolf‘s face. He pulled a face as if he had licked a lemon. "You know, like, shaving."

Stiles stared at him, dumbfounded. "Okay, but you don't have to." He briefly looked down at Derek's now flaccid dick and the bush of dark curls. "If it makes you feel better then yeah, I understand, but you really don't have to because of me."

"You don't mind?!" Derek sounded surprised.

"Uh, no?" Stiles smiled at him. "I like your hot, sexy wolfy body just like it is."

Something, an emotion Stiles couldn't place, flashed over Derek's face before he shifted his expression to neutral again. And then he quickly turned away, averting Stiles' eye.

That's when the penny dropped. "Oh my God, someone said something to you in the past, didn't they?" As soon as he said the words out loud, he was sure he was right.

Stiles had a good guess of which of the three girlfriends would be the one who gave Derek the complex about his hair. He didn't say her name out loud, it wasn't necessary. Fuck, did he hate her so much right now.

He put his hand on Derek's jaw and gently turned his head back to look at him. The wolf's face was stoic as ever, but his eyes betrayed him. "I'm not her, Der." Stiles leaned in and kissed him softly. "I love you, everything of you."

Derek's breath hitched.

"Too early?" Stiles bit his lip.

Damn, they only got together about 9 hours ago. But still, it felt right. Stiles loved Derek for fucking years.

"Stiles." Derek looked like he wanted to say more, but nothing came out of his mouth and he looked almost pained. Instead, a low whine escaped his throat.

Stiles rested his forehead against his boyfriend's. "It's okay," he whispered, and he truly meant it. "Can we go back to where I tried to make you feel good?" he asked seductively. "Let me show you, how much I love your body?" He pulled back, wriggled his eyebrows and started grinning.

Derek snorted. God, Stiles loved the sound of his laugh, loved how Derek closed his eyes briefly, scrunched his nose and showed his bunny teeth. He'd make Derek laugh a lot more in the future, Stiles secretly vowed to himself.

Stiles did show Derek how much he loved his body.

Twice.

Derek let Stiles top a week later. It was the first time he bottomed. Both weren't virgins by any means, but so many things they were about to explore together.

[sennamybeloved]

KISS PROMPT FORRRRRRRRRRRR MARLENE

WEEEEEEE ITS OUR 2 YEAR ANNIVERSARY TODAY!!!!!! <3333 i got 31 - while laughing :)

tag list: @caracello @minkymeatshop @connor-roys + winter 👹

all reblogs are appreciated !

Bluejay’s hands are so jittery- she can’t even open the little wooden box that she cradles in her fingers, the little wooden box that's been stowed beside her bed for weeks now. She's been watching it collect dust as she impatiently awaits the day- this day- when she will finally pass it off to its rightful owner.

When she does get it open, pushing up the metal latch and forcing the stiff hinges open, she feels relief when her gaze lands on the present that resides within; a necklace, with a glittering silver chain and a charm in the shape of a star. It’s very simple, but it's also very beautiful.

Trembling fingers graze the metallic surface of the charm. She wants to hold it, to observe it more closely, one last time before it is no longer hers, but she lacks the motor control needed to do so.

She surrenders to her own anxiety, closing the box and stuffing it back into the pocket of her sweatpants. She then reaches her other hand into her other pocket, feeling around for the two follow-up gifts. She touches a crystal (clear quartz, smooth and cold against her fingertips) and a perfume roller that is scented like patchouli and frankincense.

She has everything. She just needs to get home now.

Rain beats down on her back as she trudges along their neighborhood’s sidewalk. Rainwater soaks through her worn Converse—a pair of shoes she would not have worn today if she had known of the impending downpour. Her jacket wasn’t designed to withstand these kinds of conditions, so water begins to seep through it, soaking her clothes. She’s shivering, teeth chattering as she stuffs her hands deeper into her pockets, trying to stay warm despite herself.

Just ahead, through the misty haze, she sees their house. She breaks into a light jog, kicking up water as she rushes up to their front door. After fumbling with their lock for a moment too long, she bursts inside, stumbling out of the frigid rain and into the comfort of her own home. The relief is near instantaneous; the heat both warms her and dries her, and the absence of puddles sloshing and thunder cracking in her ears is more than welcome.

Re-composing herself, Bluejay calls out to her girlfriend. “Marlene?”

While awaiting a response, she strips off her coat, her hat, her shoes. She rings out the end of her shirt and smoothes out the creases in her pants. Fingers comb through damp hair, attempting to set it back into place. She needs to look good for this- it is their anniversary, after all.

Soon, Bluejay hears footsteps thumping down the stairs. Stumbling hurriedly out of the mudroom, she spots Marlene emerging from the stairwell. She’s still wearing her nightclothes- old sweatpants and a tattered tank top. Her loose curls are pulled back into a bun, yet a few stray ones fall into her face. She looks just as beautiful as she always does. Bluejay feels her mouth growing dry and her nerves going wrought, as if she’s speaking to a fleeting crush and not the girl she’s loved and adored for two whole years now.

“Hey,” Marlene greets, offering Bluejay a kind half-smile. “You look damp.”

Bluejay takes a moment to search Marlene’s face for a hint of recognition; a glint in her eye that hints at her having something fun planned for their special day, or perhaps something to suggest that she at least remembers it. But no, she looks to be herself, plainly.

She forgot their anniversary last year too.

“Uhuh,” Bluejay huffs, attempting to shake the water off her arms. “That's very observant of you, honey.”

Marlene chuckles a little. “Thanks. Want me to get you a towel?”

“Yes please.” Bluejay laughs. Maybe then, she can sit down on the couch, rest her legs, turn off her brain for a minute… before she has to give Marlene her gifts.

So, as Marlene walks off to fetch her a towel, Bluejay makes her way over to the couch. It’s an old, tattered thing, yet it is still very comfortable even after years and years of weathering. She doesn’t care much for its appearance, so she has no qualms with plopping her damp body right on top of it.

She takes this brief moment of solitude to check her pockets again. Wooden box with the necklace still inside, crystal, perfume roller. She sighs, long and heavy—why is she so nervous?

She picks her head up when Marlene comes back into view, carrying a freshly washed towel- she tosses it to Bluejay, who is delighted to find that it is still warm from the wash. She dries her face, her hands and arms, her hair. Her clothes are still very, very wet, but this feels a whole lot better.

“Where even were you?” Marlene asks as she sits down on the couch beside Bluejay. “I mean, what compelled you to take a walk during a storm?”

Huh. What a perfect segway.

“I like just the rain,” Bluejay begins with a little chuckle. “But nah, I, uh- I was buying some things. Two things, actually… and, uhm. They’re for you.”

The delivery is far from perfect, but that’s okay. She watches Marlene’s eyes go wide with intrigue at the prospect

“Oh?” She tips head to the sides, loose curls falling over her face. “What do you mean?”

Bluejay opens her mouth to talk, but nothing comes out. She only manages to stutter incomprehensibly for a moment or two. She halts herself, biting her tongue as she draws in a harsh breath. “I, uhm… okay.” She laughs anxiously. “Trying this again. Ahem.”

She reaches out, taking one of Marlene’s hand in two of her own. Her anxiety is climbing, doubts roaring in the back of her mind, threatening to come surface. Is she positive that it is the 16th? Yes, yes she is. She double- no, triple-checked. Once this morning, twice at the store. She just needs to go for it.

“It is our two year anniversary today,” she states, unable to keep herself from smiling. “Two years ago today, I bit the bullet and asked you to be my girlfriend. You said yes, obviously, and here we are. Two whole years later.”

There it is, that look of recognition. Surprise morphs into satisfaction which quickly distorts into fear. Bluejay isn’t upset that Marlene forget; she makes up for it by being wonderful every other day of the year. Besides, Bluejay let her forget last year, because she didn’t have anything planned.

But things are different this year. She has something planned, and it's going to be great.

"Bluejay..." Marlene breathes, speaking in a tone that is partly fond and partly said. That look on her face—so gentle and so genuine—melts Bluejay's heart. She smiles at her and keeps on talking.

"And to celebrate our anniversary, I got you some gifts. Just some little things, don't sweat it too much. Uhm..." she reaches into her pocket for the thousandth time, pulling out that fated wooden box. She hands it off to Marlene in a manner that is almost urgent, one that says get this away from me, whereas Marlene takes it in her own hands so carefully, cradling it as if it is something precious.

With fingers that are stronger and steadier than Bluejay's have ever been, she opens the box. Her eyes light up like fireworks when she sees what resides within.

"Oh wow," she laughs warmly as she picks up the necklace, taking a moment to inspect it carefully. Bluejay's nerves melt away when she sees how happy Marlene looks- she sort of knew the necklace would be a hit. Stars are one of Bluejay's things, and silver (especially silver jewelry) is totally a Marlene thing. It's the perfect anniversary gift.

"Bluejay, I love it..." Marlene tells her, and Bluejay chuckles bashfully.

"I'm really glad you do," she says. She wrings her hands in a manner that is both excited and anxious. "Put it on! It's gonna look great on you."

Marlene was already halfway there, pushing away stray curls as she fastens the silver pendant around her neck. It sits so perfectly on her chest, accenting her strong up body in the way necklaces always do. Bluejay feels a warmth creeping across her face and a grin pulling at her mouth.

"Yeah, you're beautiful," She says, and Marlene smiles back at her, averting her eyes coyly.

She shuffles through her other pocket, fumbling with the two smaller gifts for a moment before revealing them unceremoniously. "A crystal. Clear quartz. Since, uhm... you showed some interest in my crystals. And a perfume roller, patchouli and frankincense." She dumps them into Marlene's hands, and with that, the most nerve-wracking part is done. She looks up at Marlene's face, who looks surprised but also happy; her smile is unwavering as she inspects both of the trinkets.

"Thank you." She says, and Bluejay can tell that it is genuine. "You're so sweet, I... you didn't have to do all this, you know."

Bluejay nods. "I know..." She places a reassuring hand on Marlene's leg. "But I wanted to. Because you deserve it, babe."

Marlene opens her mouth to speak, but all she can manage is yet another little chuckle. She's flustered and taken aback, that much is clear, but as long as she is happy...

"I just want you to know that I care about you," Bluejay rambles on. "And that I am just as grateful to have you now as I was back then."

"Thank you, Blue." Marlene says again, slightly more sober this time. Bluejay's anxiety is reflected on her face as her once happy expression mellows out into one that is slightly more somber. She wears a faint, nervous smile on her lips as she confesses to Bluejay which she already knows, "This is lovely, really. I'm grateful. I just... I forgot it was our anniversary."

Bluejay can't help but laugh. "I know you did. I don't care, seriously. You're fine."

Marlene is silent for a moment. Then, perhaps only because Bluejay is laughing, she begins laughing, too.

They're both laughing now. At what, they aren't exactly sure, but Bluejay feels a lot less nervous and she hopes that Marlene feels a lot less guilty.

Bluejay nuzzles her face into Marlene's shoulder, wrapping her arms around her waist in a sideways half-hug. She leaves kisses her on her shoulder, her jawline, her cheek. Marlene brings a hand up to cradle Bluejay's face as she kisses her. A messy, open-mouthed kiss that is all teeth and laughter.

They fall into each other's arms like it is second nature to them, embracing each other warmly and surely. Bluejay's head resumes its place atop Marlene's shoulder. She sighs a long, tired sigh of relief as she snuggles up to her. This couldn't have gone better.

The pair exist in comfortable silence for a moment, but only for a moment. "Why didn't you remind me last year?" Marlene asks.

"Because I didn't have anything planned," Bluejay scoffs. "I felt bad."

Marlene sighs, rolling her eyes. "Oh my god..."

Bluejay giggles, hugging her just a little tighter. "Sorry. Maybe I can like... help you set a reminder for next year."

Marlene's fingers trace the edges of Bluejay's shoulder blades, her head turning so that she can press her face into her tangled black hair. "Yeah. I'll get you back for this next year. Count on it."

[bumblebee-be]

Oooh how about -> hands around your waist as they pull you closer, goosebumps swarming every part of your body that they touch!

+ kisses where they pin their hand on either side of your head, body pressing down on yours, places touching on where it shouldn't

ash i am SO SORRY this took so long!!! honestly I was trying to figure out how to crack this and I ended up in somewhat unfamiliar territory... so I hope it's alright!!! Enjoy <3

Eddie doesn’t know how they didn’t break something on their way in. They practically crashed through the hallway of Eddie’s house, the front door slamming behind them as they blindly made their way, neither willing to separate for even a moment. 

It’s desperate, hungry, all rough grips and biting kisses and sharp moans that mingle in the air until Eddie doesn’t know who they’re coming from. They’re both panting, and Eddie can feel Buck’s pulse racing in time to his own where his thumb presses against Buck’s throat. 

They stumble to Eddie’s bedroom, the door mercifully cracked open before Eddie shoves at it with his foot. Buck spins them the moment they’re inside, slamming Eddie back into the wall right beside the door, his fingers tight on Eddie’s hips in a way that has Eddie’s breath hitching in his throat. 

Buck breaks away from Eddie’s mouth for the first time since they reached the front door, his hands sliding up, under Eddie’s shirt, to grip his waist as his lips find the hinge of his jaw, nipping lightly before kissing down the column of his throat. 

“Buck,” Eddie groans, his fingers latching in Buck’s curls, free and loose after a full shift. He cranes his neck, his head thumping into the wall as desperation quickens his breathing. He tugs lightly at Buck’s hair and feels the other man grin against his skin. “Buck.”

Buck just hums in response, using his grip on Eddie’s waist to pull him impossibly closer. Goosebumps erupt across Eddie’s skin at the intensified contact and he lets out a low moan, twisting his fingers in Buck’s curls. Buck inhales sharply and something in Eddie’s chest purrs at the sound. 

As well as Buck knows Eddie, Eddie knows Buck. He tugs on his hair again, eliciting a whine this time, and then uses his hold to drag Buck’s mouth back up to his. Buck goes easily, pliant as always under Eddie’s touch. Eddie pushes off the wall and Buck makes a small, confused sound, which Eddie swallows hungrily, yanking at his hair for another. 

He walks Buck backwards until they’re almost to the bed, then pushes at his chest, sending him sprawling on his back. Buck stares up at Eddie with glazed over eyes and kiss-bitten lips and Eddie climbs onto the bed with him, straddling his waist and leaning down to take Buck’s wrists in his hands, pinning him down further, pressing his body against the other man's. 

Eddie presses the ghost of a kiss to Buck’s birthmark and Buck shudders beneath him, a needy sound coming from the back of his throat. 

“I know baby,” Eddie murmurs, grinning as he squeezes Buck’s wrists. “I know.”

[vmsplus]

When we need to choose the appropriate��kitchen wall cabinet for our homes, we know our choice is as important as our kitchen designs. We add aesthetic value to it, make it functional, we keep it clean and sanitised (utensils).

These wall cabinets are sometimes called” upper cabinets” or “uppers” and possess the most flexibility in design — multiple widths, various heights, glass door options, and custom depth options.

Today’s market is overflowing with many different wall cabinet designs, so finding the right cabinet that suits our tastes and lifestyles is difficult.

So what will be the deciding factor in the feel of our kitchen? When it comes to decor, every wall cabinet has different door shutters, laminate finish, and colours that will make you overwhelmed with choices.

The design of a wall cabinet in the kitchen has an important role in deciding your kitchen’s overall feel and look. When choosing the cabinet you will install, consider the kitchen glass shutter design, external finishes, functionality, and colour choices.

Here are some designs for the kitchen wall cabinet that you can choose from:

1. Two-toned kitchen cabinets are a hot trend right now, as most homeowners tend to add a touch of personality to their kitchens. For example, the combination of black and white is classic and looks stunning. Other popular colour combinations include; blue and white, green and white, and grey and white, among others.

2. Kitchen wall cabinets with glass doors

provide a modern look while bringing an element of brightness to the kitchen space. The transparent glass panels allow a full view of the cabinet’s interior. This means that you do not have to open the glass door entirely. You may also use frosted glass for easier maintenance or if you want a little sense of privacy in the cabinet contents.

In some places, this type of cabinet with glass doors is called a curio cabinet. Its purpose is to hold and display your curiosities, such as your china collection, or your porcelain figures.

3. Frameless glass cabinets comprise a sheet of glass that can serve as the door shutter. Use a combination of stainless steel hinges and a generous amount of frameless glass to give your kitchen a sophisticated look. This cabinet design uses a magnetic push latch to open and close.

4. Kitchen overhead cabinets are the staples of kitchen aesthetics. They are an essential feature or element of every kitchen landscape. This cabinet design is a great way to add much storage to a confined kitchen. These overhead cabinets can hold plates, coffee mugs, glassware, and even dry goods such as coffee, tea, spices, honey, sugar, butter, bread, and more. You can also use a part of it as a makeshift medicine cabinet.

5. Glass wall cabinets kitchen reflect natural light in and around the kitchen. If your kitchen is slightly darker or has shadows, this wall cabinet can make it airier, lighter, and brighter.

6. You will love a sliding door kitchen wall cabinet design. It has a beautiful formal touch for an open floor layout. It ensures that your essentials remain privy while allowing your home to shine perfectly.

The driving force of interior design is creativity. Before you implement a kitchen idea, the next best thing to do is find something that gets you going and then work on it. You might get your inspiration from something you subconsciously picked up or saw in a movie while having your morning walks or doing anything you love.

VMS Trade Link is the country’s top choice in kitchen cabinetry, and we would like to help you with your cabinet needs. Installing your preferred cabinet design will sort out all your storage problems. However, you might still need a professional eye on this. Why not reach out to us at VMS? Our team of experts will happily guide you in making your best wall cabinet purchase.

[theccrafttree]

Ideas for Charming Wooden Gift Boxes

Wooden gift boxes are fantastic gifting options. You can easily put those boxes anywhere and use them for storing different types of items. In some cases, several designs or colorful wooden boxes also match perfectly with your home décor, especially those houses which have some other wooden furniture as well. Thus, a wooden box can match different types of settings perfectly. Hence, you can easily go through several interesting ideas regarding bulk gift boxes and impress your loved ones.

Some people like designer wooden boxes, whereas other, may love the colorful and attractive ones. As you can store several things and complement your home décor with a beautiful wooden box, those boxes are becoming more and more popular. You can also use those wooden boxes as your corporate gift boxes as well.

Now, let us go through several ideas regarding beautiful and interesting gift boxes wholesale, which can be perfect gifts for anyone.

An attractive box with a hinged door

These types of wooden boxes are made of dark and thin wood. The interesting thing about these boxes is that the lid of this box is not hinged, and it depends on a groove set-up. Thus, those who wish to open this box need to flip the lid and push it out. Though this is not the best thing to protect the box against theft, in it is secured against falling, and your belongings can be protected.

A box suitable for an inspired chef

This is an interesting and attractive recipe box, which is covered with several depictions of grains, birds, plants, etc. you can easily turn this box into your little recipe box because it has two prongs and can hold up a recipe card. Thus, this wooden box can easily work as a recipe box for any aspiring chef who wishes to pay homage to his/her ancestors. This box can easily match the interior décor of any kitchen while giving a special touch.

The best wooden box to gift a writer

This unique box comes with a ribbed cover so it is secured and can be closed with a tab from one section fitting within a tab from another part. The notes are the special parts of this box. Without the notes, this box can also be used as a common wooden box. These are for those writers or creative people, who like to keep things organized, will always love these boxes.

Perfect gift for liquor lovers

This is a box that is specially made for storing and carrying liquors. However, it can be used for several general purposes as well. Thus, you can easily gift this box to anyone who loves liquors and wishes to store those in an elegant way.

An attractive Viking box

The wood of the Viking tree can easily hold a lot of artwork, and hence, the Viking boxes can be a perfect gift for anyone. This box can be sturdy and attractive, with a snap-on-it system for securing the things inside it. The top of this box has some amazing decorations which can survive many years. So, for those people who are looking for a durable and attractive box to store their valuables, this box can be the best option.

A perfect option for bee lovers

This is a light box, along with dark edges and rounded corners, while there are a few bees in the box. Those bees actually carry the slogan, “Bee Happy.” This unique wooden box has a latch, which can easily protect the contents of the box. So, you can easily use these boxes as wholesale gift boxes for those who love puns. These interesting boxes are small in size but can be a perfect gift.

A good option for river lovers

The top of this box is decorated with a beautiful stream, while the banks are also clearly visible; thus, this wooden box can be a perfect gift for those who like rivers. This box can remind you of the beauty of nature. If you want to gift someone who likes to hike, hunt, or travel, this box is perfect for them.

Read Full Blog Here : https://www.theccrafttree.com/ideas-for-charming-wooden-gift-boxes/

[derelict-antiquarian]

This reminds me of a story I once heard. Never written down, never documented, but passed on from family member to coworker to friend. Passed on by memory, and by spoken word.

It lives on in how you hear it, and interpret it.

It’s the story of the door. This door exists. I know it does. Because I’ve touched it. I’ve tried to open it.

The door resides deep in your thoughts and minds, and in a cave. Locals warn that the cave leads to hell. Legion says the cave is full of screams of the dead. It is a rather windy cave so I understand how they might think the sound of wind rushing through the various caverns and paths would sound like screams.

The singular instruction to finding the door,l is follow the screams. Follow what you hear and not what you see. In the dark pitch of the cave you may see things that are not what you’re looking for. Just keep the door in your mind and you will find it.

Just the sight of the door can change your life. The image is foretold to be burned into your memory. Each door you see after will resemble the door deep down in the cave. From a hinge, the knob, a panel that was cut out in such a way, you will see the door in every other door you find. But the sight of the door is life changing.

As if a fissure split the earth in two, a towering straight as plum crack opens upward for as far as you can see in the dark. And not 10 feet from the face is a door. Reaching upward as far as the crack. The door was warm and loud. It sounded like there was a maelstrom of noises on the other side. It sounded like crowds and crowds of people, screaming, and pushing, and shoving, and forcing one another aside to get to the door.

It sounded like there was a city on the other side waiting for the door to be opened. Waiting for someone, or something on the other side to finally turn the knob or move the latch or release a lock that would allow the tsunami of bodies to fall through and come out of the hell they are in.

Was this the door to hell, was this a door to a vast and open corridor that has more wind and more screams and more darkness? What was on the other side of this door that should not exist? In a cave that I should not have venture into alone.

As I touch the door I know deep down in the darkness I have in myself, I wanted the door to just crack a little. Only enough to see what’s on the other side.

The door moved. The door cracked just a little. Enough for me to see the other side. Enough to see a long corridor with a door in the distance. A door that has voices screaming through it. Sirens going off. Loud cheers as I hear “the door has opened a crack!” Their door has cracked open just a far as mine.

Before I could make out anything else over the cacophony coming through, I fell backwards and ran as fast as I could back to the surface. I ran until I couldn’t breath right over the pain in my side.

But the cave was very windy. And the turns didn’t look the same going up as they did going down. The cave walls all look the same.

But the door was calling me. It was calling someone. Something. To open it. Open it more than a crack. Open both of the doors more than a tiny crack. But I could not find it. I could no longer follow the screams. I was lost in a doorless cave.

There's a door somewhere that's been closed forever. As long as people can remember, the first records of its existence, it's been closed. And even in the first records of its existence, people were watching it, waiting for it to be opened.

It's a massive door, in an underground chamber, the room its in is the largest room on earth. It's beautiful and ornate, and so strangely alien. After the initial hallway the room with the door is the only room in the chamber, like it's the entrance to a massive complex that humanity will never see. It's architecture is like no known culture, there are carvings on the walls of animals that don't exist, and writing in a language nobody knows. Some think that it's the work of aliens, some think it's the work of an advanced ancient culture, others that it's the work of beings from another dimension. Scientists and historians find all of those possibilities disturbingly possible.

There are tons of theories as to what's beyond the door. Every single religion that has come in contact with the door has managed to tie it into its mythology, especially ideas about the end of the world. And secular conspiracy theorists love it just as much. There are theories that the door will lead to hell, and that the rapture will start when it opens, theories that the door is where the messiah waits, or where God's body on earth is. There are theories that behind the door lies the secret of eternal life. Theories that aliens will open the door when they're ready to contact humanity. Theories that behind the door are the secrets to the universe, that it'll usher in a new age of humanity when opened. Theories that there's treasure behind the door, or technology that will change the way humanity lives. But there is one throughline amoung almost all theories, at least those belived by those invested in it, which is that they believe the door will open soon, and that those who see it opened will benefit the most. And there's been theories like this for thousands of years.

People of all religions will save up to make holy pilgrimages to the door, skipping meals, depriving their children of toys, so they can sit in front of the door for a few days, hoping to be the ones to see it open, returning home disappointed. There are conmen who'll sell the smallest things from the door, from water thats touched it, to pebbles that have fallen off of it, and people will believe it'll heal the sick, or work miracles. In ancient times conquerors would go to the door, making such a big deal out of it being in their lands. In modern times a small republic of a few thousand people, as old as the first world war, controls the territory of the door, they do their best to let people of all walks of life come to it, and try to stop any single group from dominating the space.

And of course there are people who live near the door. The entrance to the chamber is now surrounded by a modern city, and the room the door is in, and the hallway before it, are so large that they basically contain an entire town/neighborhood. The people who live in the room of the door are all those who are waiting for it to open (and a small population of people making good money off of them). They all have their own sections within the giant room, from evangelicals waiting to see Jesus behind the door, to alien theorists waiting to see the secrets of the stars, to new agers waiting for the opening of the doors to enter earth into a new era. The underground town is one of the most crowded places on earth, and as long as you're outside you can see the doors. Basically everyone who lives there thinks it's the only place they can ever be, as dark as it is down there they need to live where the doors will soon open. Some even go so far as to never leave the room even temporarily, many people living and dying in this one underground room, never being anywhere else, never seeing the sun. When those who where born in the room grow up to move somewhere else, abandoning their hopes of seeing the door open, their parents grieve as if they've lost their chance at salvation, and mourn them as if they were dead oftentimes.

Trying to get very close to the door is nearly impossible. It gets more and more crowded the closer you get to the door. And the space where it's close enough to actually touch the door is constantly covered with people, you have to sift through the thickest crowds on earth to get close enough to touch it, and people, thinking it has mystical properties, will. People have been trampled to death trying to touch that door. The entire underground town is unreasonable crowded, but nothing comes close to that small sliver of space where the door can be touched.

Science has had a rough relationship with the door. In older times people have tried to open it. The last time it was tried was when it was under British rule in the 19th century. It didn't go well. They might be able to do more now, but most of the people the door is important to don't want them to. There was a scientist who was beaten to death by an angry mob in the 1970s for suggesting there might he nothing more then an empty room behind the door, not even that it was likely, juet that it was possible. Science has spoken little on the door since then. And the government that has the territory of the door now does not allow any door based science to occur.

The reason why I bring all of this up, is that a few days ago the doors opened just the slightest amount. Not enough for anyone to step through, but enough to be noticeable. It's so hard to see through, but reports are starting to come in. They say that behind the door is a short hallway, and at the end of the hallway is another set of doors, of similar size and shape, waiting just as patiently to open.

[usbestgear]

How To Install Surround Sound Wall Plates? 9 Steps To Follow

Are you annoyed when the speaker tower takes up too much space in your room? Virtually invisible in-wall speakers will ensure aesthetics and make the most of your living space.

So how to install surround sound wall plates? How do I install surround sound without wires showing? Check out the detailed guides in this article.

What Is Surround Sound? 

The surrounding sound 

Surround sound is a technique that uses multiple channels from speakers to reproduce sound with outstanding fidelity and depth.

This technique produces much better sound quality than traditional sounds, such as sounds from speakers placed next to or behind the listener.

With surround sound, listeners can perceive sound coming from any direction. Therefore, surround sound is often used in cinemas. 

After a while, surround sound reproduction techniques became widely used in many different situations, including in everyday life.

How To Install Surround Sound Wall Plates?

Step by step to follow 

Now, how do you attach banana plugs to a wall plate? Before installing surround sound wall panels, you need to take some measurements and understand the rules for installing speakers.

Once you’ve measured the critical dimensions and understand the rule that left and right speakers should be spaced 6 – 10 feet apart, it’s time to install your surround sound wall panels by following the steps below.

Stick your template on a wall

Ensure your template is the same size as your surround sound wall panels.

In addition, you also need to be careful with the internal longitudinal incision. Dimensional errors in this step can cost you additional material costs.

Double-check and ensure the mold level

After pasting the template, correct the position so that the template is in the center position, ensuring aesthetics. It is a hinged step that makes it easy to go through the next surround wall panel installation.

Drill a beginning hole and increase your circumference

This step will cause a lot of dust. Therefore, removing the furniture from the room and carefully covering the remaining items is better.

To successfully drill a hole, you should pilot a fault first in the center position.

It will help if you use the short rope to feel the obstacle. After examining the cavity, you can increase the diameter of the hole. Finally, stop when the gap is wide enough to put your hand in.

Cut your wall into sections after checking the recesses.

This step is quite simple, but you must prepare enough measuring tape to check the parameters inside the niches thoroughly.

Remember to measure the recess inside in the vertical, horizontal, and vertical directions. Also, keep the tape measure from touching the side beams for the most accurate results.

Remove obstacles

Move all obstacles to get the most accurate measurement. In this step, you should also drill ½ inch pilot holes and use a hand saw to cut the holes.

You will have a little trouble drilling the first pilot hole. However, the remaining steps are much more straightforward after cutting them into sections.

Take a leak to push a rope on the recess.

You’ll need to route the speaker wire to find the premade entrance to the alcove. Then drill a small hole and use the chain and hanger to pull the rope via the hole.

Finish with a speaker wire and coat hanger

Pull the baseboard with a knife to cut the drywall edge through the walls. Then use rivets to pin the wire and start reattaching the baseboards.

Push the speaker into the hole and tighten its latches

Some speakers support innovative mounting systems for speaker positioning. Ensure you use the clamps to lock the speaker and prevent vibration.

Finally, attach the speaker wire to the dual post, placing the speaker in the recess. The mounting system will automatically tighten. Then, check again that the system is not over-tightened.

Test

Testing surround sound wall plate 

After completing the steps to install the surround sound wall panel, try testing your speaker system. Playing movies or video games is a great way to get a feel for the surround sound and gauge the setup’s effectiveness.

Conclusion 

Installing surround sound wall panels is easier than you think. You will get the sound system you want with just a little care and completing all the steps above.

Hopefully, through the article sharing, you have clearly understood how to install surround sound wall plates. Thank you for reading!

Article Source: https://www.usbestgear.com/how-to-install-surround-sound-wall-plates/

[emillygrace890]

Troubleshooting a Car Hood : Causes and Solutions

Maintaining and repairing your car hood can help extend the life of your vehicle and keep it looking its best. Here are some tips on how to care for and maintain your car hood, as well as how to fix common problems such as dents and scratches.

Cleaning and Protecting the Finish

One of the most important aspects of car hood maintenance is keeping the finish clean and protected. Here are some tips for cleaning and protecting your car hood:

Regularly wash your car hood using a mild detergent and a microfiber cloth. Be sure to rinse the hood thoroughly to remove all soap residue.

Dry the hood with a chamois cloth or microfiber towel to prevent water spots.

Wax the hood every few months to help protect the finish and add a glossy shine.

Use a ceramic coating or paint sealant to provide extra protection against the elements and daily wear and tear.

Avoid using harsh chemicals or abrasive materials on your hood, as they can damage the finish.

Fixing Dents and Scratches

Even with regular care, it's inevitable that your car hood will eventually get dents or scratches. Here are some options for fixing these common problems:

For small dents, you may be able to remove them using a plunger. Simply wet the plunger and place it over the dent, then push and pull to create suction. This can help "pop" the dent out.

For larger dents or dents that don't respond to the plunger method, you may need to visit a body shop to have the dent professionally repaired.

To fix scratches, start by sanding the area with fine-grit sandpaper to smooth out any rough edges. Next, apply touch-up paint using a small paintbrush or toothpick. Be sure to blend the paint into the surrounding area to create a seamless finish. You can also use a clear coat to help protect the repaired area.

By following these tips for cleaning, protecting, and repairing your car hood, you can help keep it looking its best for years to come.

If your Subaru hood latch won't close, it can be frustrating and potentially dangerous if the hood is not securely closed while driving. Here are some possible causes and solutions for this problem:

The hood latch itself may be damaged or broken. In this case, you will need to replace the latch to fix the problem.

The hood may not be aligned properly with the latch. Check to make sure the hood is properly seated and aligned with the latch, and adjust if necessary.

The hood hinges may be damaged or stuck. If the hinges are not functioning properly, it can prevent the hood from closing properly. Check the hinges for damage and lubricate them if needed. If the hinges are severely damaged, they may need to be replaced.

The hood latch cable may be damaged or stuck. If the cable is not functioning properly, it can prevent the hood from closing. Check the cable for damage and lubricate it if needed. If the cable is severely damaged, it may need to be replaced.

If you are unable to fix the problem on your own, it is recommended to take your vehicle to a mechanic for further diagnosis and repair. In the meantime, it is important to keep the hood secured in place to prevent it from flying open while driving, which can be dangerous.

[k9wa]

༊*·˚ CHERRY HILL. featuring haruchiyo sanzu, manjiro sano, kazutora hanemiya.

∴ SYNOPSIS : the dreadful reasons that, despite the home you find in one another, you fight.

∴ CONTENT : angst, fighting, general shitty relationship things, sanzu is toxic, mikey is a mess, kaz needs a therapist, gn reader (no referring pronouns.)

∴ NOTE : i love my babygirls but i also love the way they r all very intricate and flawed characters :] big fan of how this came out i hope you enjoy!!

༉‧₊˚. HARUCHIYO SANZU.

── his empty promises.

⠀

“baby, plea—”

“fuck you.” 

sanzu trailed you through your apartment's hallways, his heavy footsteps echoing through the otherwise quiet home. maybe you shouldn’t have let him inside after he showed up at roughly four in the morning, however, there was something about sanzu haruchiyo, such a big dog with such a mean bite, leaning against your door frame like a sad puppy, that always had you undoing the latch against your better judgement.

maybe you just preferred the peace of mind from knowing he was passed out in your living room rather than one of his clubs, or the floor of his office.

“just talk to me for a minute.” 

“i’m not in the mood for your bullshit apology right now.”

“i know you’re pissed–”

“don’t try to level with me. either leave me alone or go the fuck home.”

“just listen to me for five minutes!”

sanzu continued to plead as he trailed behind you, all you wanted was to get into your room and lock the door, so you could deal with him in the morning, while he wasn’t still coming down from the high that sparked such an issue in the first place.

“listen to you what, lie to me more? ill pass.” sanzu gritted his teeth at how you hadn’t even bothered to turn around to talk to him. 

you finally reached your room, but before you got the chance to close yourself away in it, sanzu stuck his leather shoe tight in the gap between the wooden frame and the door. with a heavy heart, alongside an equally heavy sigh, you looked up at him. 

his sclera were red, and dry, the beautiful pink hair he always prided himself on found a chaotic pattern around his bangs, and there were those sad puppy dog eyes he always managed to trap you in. 

he sets the bait,

“please.” 

you eye the trap.

“...five minutes. that's it..” 

the creak of the hinges is music to his ears as you open the door to allow him inside. he follows you to the bed and gets comfortable beside you, reaching a hand over to run his fingers along your knuckles. he snapped to grab your hand before you’re able to pull it away from his touch.

“i didn’t mean to blow up on you.” you’re silent. “was just– way too fuckin’ high and lost my temper.”

sanzu put his free hand on the small of your back, a gesture intended to bring you some form of comfort, yet it only made you feel trapped. he drops his head onto your shoulder. 

“‘m sorry. you know i love you.”

did you?

“‘m gonna do better, from now on. promise.”

he’s not, nor will he ever.

“you know y’mean the world t’me.”

he’s still slurring his words.

“haruchiyo–” he brings your hand up to his cheek and kisses your palm. 

you knew he was just hungover, that the only reason his touch with you was so tender and desperate was due to the lack of dopamine flooding his brain. 

so why did it feel so good? why was his skin so warm, his grip so welcoming?

why were you running your thumb across his cheek, and bringing a hand to push the hair out of his eyes? 

“you make me wanna be better.” his lips ghost the skin of your neck. “i’ll be better. i fucking swear.”

you know in a barely week he’ll be back in your arms, swearing up and down that this time is the last, that you’re everything to him, with you arguing back that his actions showed the opposite.

so why did you believe him? 

you eye the trap.

“okay.” you lifted his head, and kissed the dried sweat on his forehead. 

“i believe you.”

he’s got you, hook line and sinker.

༉‧₊˚. MANJIRO SANO.

── his destructiveness.

⠀

mikey wasn’t like anyone you had ever been with.

mikey didn’t shout, or raise his voice at you, he never raised his hand as a threat.

when mikey was upset, he acted like you didn’t even exist to him.

no phone calls, no texts, he’d walk right past you without so much as a glance, as if you were a spirit haunting the bonten corridors, invisible to the men who inhabited them.

this went on until you would finally break, until you were apologizing for things you didn’t even do. or sometimes the ladder, the bottled up emotions would explode all at once. 

in those moments, mikey would hit back, and he hit hard.

“you just— can you be an adult about this? do you have to do this every time you get pissed off for god knows what reason??”

you shouted at the man sat way too calmly in front of you. he, like several times before, hadn’t talked to you in days, and your over-stretched bubble of emotions had finally burst. 

“will you stop yelling?”

“no!”

why should you? you had every right to be pissed. 

“i’m not gonna stop yelling until you finally tell me what the fuck your problem is!” 

you’re pacing around the floor of his office, talking frantically with your hands. mikey’s jaw clenches as he stares up at you from his chair, through heavy eyelids. 

mikey didn’t shout, or raise his voice at you, he never raised his hand as a threat.

mikey hit you where it hurt. 

“what my problem is..?”

he placed his palms on his desk, a feeble attempt at grounding himself. he felt the words bubbling up in the back of his throat, they stung, they were acidic.

mikey was destructive.

he burned all his bridges, save for you. sometimes he felt that maybe, you should join his friends as just another person in his past.

where mikey went, destruction followed.

“you’re insufferable. that’s what my problem is.”

your pacing came to a steady stop, the words begin to bounce around in your head. 

“…what?” you practically muttered.

“why are you even here? do you really think i give a shit about anything you’re even saying right now?

do you, honest to god, think i don’t have anything more important to do? huh?”

mikey saw the way you shrunk, and in the back of his mind, in the deepest, darkest corner, he wanted to stop. he wanted to stand up and apologize, to kiss all over your face the same way he did when you were upset as teenagers, just to make you smile.

alas, he wasn’t a kid anymore, and that corner of his brain was just too deep, and too dark.

“is that really how you feel?”

your tone was so different than it was just seconds ago. mikey bit the inside of his cheek, and the look on your face somehow shone a light into that closed off, foggy section of his head.

“…just go home.”

maybe he didn’t want to burn his bridge with you, maybe that’s why he hadn’t. you were his light at the end of his tunnel vision.

you blinked away the tears building up on your lower lashes. 

“okay, fine.” 

you walked calmly to pick up your bag off the lounge chair you’d thrown it on.

“i'll be there if you wanna talk.”

you shouldn’t have given him the option, he thought. he doesn’t deserve your willingness to hear him out, to forgive him.

manjiro didn’t respond as he watched you walk out, he saw the way your head hung low, the light in your eyes dulled.

god how he wished the destruction that trailed him would finally throw him a bone, just this once.

༉‧₊˚. KAZUTORA HANEMIYA.

── his demons.

⠀

“dunno why you’re here.”

the smell of cigarette smoke filled kazutora’s sinuses, the butt of his smoke hung from his lips as he nursed the filter. his eyes held a visible cloudiness as he looked over the city, leaned lazily over the railing at the top of his apartment building.

“because i don’t wanna fight anymore.”

you hated the feeling of his back towards you, the aura you could practically see covering him, it was dark, like a thick tar was coating his soul. 

kazutora had so many mental wars he fought each day, and as much as you wanted to help him through them, sometimes all you could do was sit and wait for a letter home from your soldier.

he fought his battles, and he did it well. yet kazutora was human, and he just couldn’t keep shaking the inevitable shell shock.

“so go home then.”

kazutora had a switch in his brain that, most of the time, was off. that was when you experienced the version of him you had fallen for in the first place, his usual clumsy, sweet self. you weren’t sure why it happened, nor what would cause it, if anything specific at all, but every so often he would wake up and the switch would be turned on. 

cue, hanemiya politely telling you to fuck off on his roof top.

“‘tora, please.”

it was important to try not to take anything he said in those times of instability to heart, you knew he wasn’t himself, that a fog was floating around his head.

“leave. seriously.”

kazutora in that moment wanted nothing more than for you to leave and forget he even existed. 

he hated himself, and hated the things he’d done in his past even more. the domino effect of disaster he started single handedly.

kazutora was a forest fire, the flames that endlessly spread, and overtime burned down all the beautiful greenery that surrounded him. he couldn’t stand to watch himself turn you to ash as well.

“i’m not going—”

“for fucks sake—leave! just—just go home! or to chifuyu’s or fucking somewhere that isn’t here!” 

he couldn’t face you, couldn’t look into the eyes he so desperately wanted to never be tainted by the sins following him ever again. 

“‘tora—”

“don’t. please don’t.”

kazutora could hear ringing in his ears, and pressed his palms into his eyes. he could feel himself becoming undone at the seams.

it subsided for just a moment when he felt your arms around his waist, your head rested on his back.

“fine, i'll go home. you can come talk to me when you’re ready.”

it took all of his self control not to turn around, not to hug you and beg you to help him, to do something about the black sludge in his brain he could never seem to wipe away. 

he was silent as you pulled away, he could hear your footsteps get further.

“i love you, okay?”

all kazutora could think is how he wishes you didn’t.

ˎˊ˗ masterlist.

ˎˊ˗ send me an ask!