#drink water dang it

[kitsunesakii]

Blep

[nikoisme]

guy who hasn't drank water in 8 hours: hey why do i feel like crap.

[moldspicy]

Mmm maybe Lance and/or Silver for the lil character doodles? 👀✨

Life has been quite unforgiving as of late—but I really do dearly hope things get easier for the both of us huhu. Take care Mold, and don’t forget to drink a lot of water 🤲❤️

couldn't decide on which one so i did both! Lance and his son Silver! ✨

[keeps-ache]

my brother keeps taking my dang water cup c'mon man ! !

[justthatspiffy]

i'm like. not allowed to sleep through the night anymore

[regular-lord-reckoner]

just got home from a mandatory work meeting i had to actually go into the office for

i thought it was something pertaining to the raises they admitted they lied to us about and how everyone was pissed, but...nope!! just usual business shit and a lot of stuff i really didn’t need to be there for

but worry not because one of my managers saw me riiiiiight as i was about to leave and was like, “hey, do you have more time to work on some charts because one of our other providers needs some help for a few weeks with his”

so it’s not a done deal, she said she’d talk to him this evening but i did tell her if that was the case then i would definitely need some help with one of the other tasks i’m supposed to be working on and that i’m taking the last week of this month off so if i can work around that then fine

also going to take that as permission to get more overtime because so far no one has said anything about me getting some every weekend for the past few weeks so i’m going to keep that going but still be putting in more job applications because whew

[fugottron]

I realized today I can just make a cup of miso soup and drink it like tea in the morning

[padfootstolemyheart]

Was going to go out and cut the grass, noticed it was a little worse for the wear. I just did edge trimming and gave it some water. Sometimes, we all need a break and some hydration. Take care of yourself the way you take care of your friends, and everyone will reap the benefits 💪

[withahappyrefrain]

Unraveled- Bob Floyd

Summary: Bob Floyd likes to think he can keep it cool. Then along comes a sundress.

Warnings: friends to lovers, smut, so much pining, language,

Bob Floyd didn't like to brag, but he considered himself pretty dang smart and sensible. 

He knew the ins and outs of every jet he has flown. Hell,  he could break it apart and put it back together again within a few hours, if that.  He was able to quickly assess a situation, weigh the pros and cons, and come to a sound decision. It’s why he was the top WSO for the mission in Miramar. 

So why has a piece of fabric thrown him for such a loop? 

All Bob was trying to do was be polite. You had mentioned taking an Uber to the Hard Deck tonight and Bob knew the polite thing to do was to offer a ride. After all, he wasn't going to drink. You would save money. It's what any good friend would do. It had absolutely nothing to do with the crush he had been harboring since your first debriefing. 

He was just trying to be courteous. The gentleman his Mama worked hard in raising. Getting to spend time with you, without the other members of your shared squadron around or loud music, wasn't even near the forefront of his mind when he made the offer. Bob was just trying to be a good friend. A good friend who just wanted to help. A good friend who was forcing himself to look at you through a platonic lens, not a romantic one. 

Bob liked to think he was doing pretty well at that. 

That is, until a dress came along and unraveled him. 

Perhaps you said hello when you opened the door.  You probably did, considering how polite you were. But all Bob could focus on was the way the fabric of your dress hugged your curves. 

And what little fabric there was. He had seen you in civilian clothes before. But never anything like this. His mind absolutely went blank when you hugged him and he could feel how much of your bare skin was exposed. Due to the halter style of the straps, nearly your whole upper back was now perfectly visible.

“Um you-you look um nice,” Bob barely got out. He was too busy trying to burn the feeling of your soft skin into his brain. You were warm, like a walking ray of sunshine. 

“Thanks! I got it yesterday and I figured with the weather being so nice, today was the perfect day to wear it!” you said, giving a little twirl. Bob tried to focus on the pattern of dress; how the green brought out your eyes. 

But all he could focus on was the curves of your body, now being highlighted. The way the halter style made your breasts swell and the lack of a bra very apparent. How the fabric stopped at the top of your thighs when you spun, giving Bob a peek of what he often thought about late at night. 

This was bad. 

“I take it you came early to watch an episode of Love Island before we leave?” You asked as he stumbled walked in.

The truth was, Bob wasn’t a fan of reality TV. But he watched because it gave the two of you a chance to talk to one another. Just as friends, nothing more. When watching the silly show, you two could make jokes, talk about things other than work. 

“Yeah! Ready to watch hot people make poor decisions again,” Bob said with a nervous laugh. The joke failed to put him at ease. If anything, it reminded him that he was about to spend at least forty minutes with you and that did not include the drive to the Hard Deck. 

“You’re using my tagline!” your smile lit up your whole face. Bob was certain it could light up the whole turmac. All he could do was nod, his heart fluttering when you grabbed his hand, leading him into the living room. 

"I have some kettle corn in the microwave for you! I also made cherry seltzer water!" Bob could feel heat rush to his face. You always remembered the little details that no one else seemed to pick up on; that he loved salt but had an even bigger sweet tooth. How in an attempt to cut back on soda, he switched to sparkling water. His favorite flavor was cherry because it reminded him of cherry coke. 

"Did you see the video I sent you?" You gently squeezed Bob's hand as you two sat down. 

"Y-yeah. You're absolutely right, having three otters would be my dream." Ever since learning about Bob's favorite animal, you had sent him every otter-related video you came across while scrolling the internet. You even got him a pair of Otter socks for his birthday.  It was the fact you paid attention to seemingly minor details that made Bob fall head over heels for you. 

But alas, you were a coworker. The problem at hand wasn't whether it was allowed, ‘incest’ (as Jake unfortunately called it) happened all the time in the Navy. After all, there were only so many things you could do on a ship before switching to people. No, it was the potential issues that came with dating. Rejection being the main one. Bob had no trouble believing you and he could be professional should you two date and it not work out. That happened all the time. What worried him was rejection. Having to go to work everyday and put on a facade, that things were fine. When deep down, he knew he'd be heartbroken. And even worse, he'd no longer have your friendship. 

So Bob settled, as he often did when it came to love. He took comfort knowing he'd still have you, albeit as a friend instead of a partner. That should be more than enough. For the last few months, he had convinced himself that it was enough. 

But God was it difficult when you bent over right to grab the remote. 

The hemline of your dress inched upwards, showing off the backs of your upper thighs and- 

he could see the swell of your ass. He could see the flash of red lace. Your skin looked so soft and supple and you were so close he could just reach out and- 

Oh God he was hard. Oh no. 

This was bad. Worse than that time he popped an erection during sex ed in middle school. There, he at least had a jacket and a desk to cover it. 

But here? He was a full grown adult and San Diego’s seventy degree weather didn't give him any additional layers. Bob looked around, desperate for something, anything, to hide his cock that was currently straining against his jeans. 

Thank fuck for your love of decorative pillows. 

He grabbed the closest one, shaped and designed like a pomegranate. You were so excited the day you picked it up from some Facebook Marketplace deal. He had driven you, partly out of wanting to spend time with you, partly because he wanted to ensure you were safe. It was adorable and definitely shouldn’t be used for nefarious purposes, such as hiding a boner. This was wrong, so fucking wrong.   

Bob was trying to think of anything and everything that would kill this boner. But his spot on the couch aligned perfectly with the entranceway of the kitchen, where you currently were, rummaging around to fix Bob a drink. 

What ever happened to doors? Why were people so opposed to doors? Doors were lovely. You could close doors. Every time he tried to think of something, you were right in his line of view, turning every thought into something more devious. 

His family? His family would love you. If you two got married you could make  your own family. 

Work? You worked with him, in that damn flight suit that clung to your every curve. No one else could make that god forsaken green fabric look good.  

School? God, you were so smart. The top of your class. And witty, always ready with a clever, underhanded comeback. It’s how you two originally bonded, both having muttered something about Jake under your breath. 

Bob Floyd was screwed. Thoroughly. 

He tried to comfort himself with the fact that soon you two would be watching people in their early twenties making the dumbest decisions over dating. If anything were to be a boner killer, that had to be it. He just needed to make it through then. 

“Bob?” Your lithe voice broke him out of his thoughts. Not that it was much of a reprieve, with the way you were standing at the kitchen entranceway with a glass of sparkling water in each hand, “You good?”

“Me? Oh yeah, I’m great!” He said with an all too eager nod, desperate to convince you this was truly the case. Fuck, you were so beautiful. And you were showing so much skin. He had seen you on the beach before, adorned in athletic shorts and a sports bra. But this was different. 

The dress was far too nice for the Hard Deck. No, you deserved to be taken to a nice restaurant, one with a lovely outdoor patio. The image of you sitting on a lovely chair with a glass of wine in your hand came easily to Bob. It was also the perfect dress for a picnic, particularly at the nearby park, specifically in that little secluded area. God, the idea of you laying down on a red and white checkered blanket, the hem of your dress pushed up your thighs as he leaned over you, ready to take you-

Bob leaned forward, clutching the pillow as he tried to will himself the strength to get it together. 

“Bob? Are-are you okay?” You quickly placed the drinks down on the coffee table, rushing over to kneel in front of him on the couch. 

Oh what a sight that was, you looking up at him with big eyes, full of concern. Your hands were on his biceps, and Bob knew if he looked down he would have the perfect view of your breasts. 

 It was so hot and also the very last thing Bob fucking needed. 

“I’m good. Stomach doesn’t agree with what we had for lunch, that’s all.” Lying was never good, his mother instilled that in him at an early age. But in this scenario, Bob was certain the truth was much worse. 

“I’ll go get you a ginger ale!” Bob opened his mouth to protest, though no words came out due to seeing not only the tops of your thighs, but a flash of your ass as you spun around to go back into the kitchen. 

For a few seconds, the  supple, plump flesh was so close to him. Practically within arm’s reach. 

Maybe he should just leave while you were in the kitchen. 

But that would be rude. Not only rude, but it would raise your suspicions if they weren’t high already. Plus, he had already promised you a ride to the Hard Deck. He couldn’t just leave you hanging, not after you brought a dress for the occasion. He may be in dire need of a cold shower, but the last thing Bob Floyd was going to do was hurt you. He squeezed the pillow, knuckles turning white as he tried to find strength. For once, he couldn’t wait to start an episode of Love Island. Hell, he would even take an episode of The Bachelor at this point. 

“Here ya go,” You sat down on the couch next to him, glass of ginger ale in hand. You even remembered how much ice he preferred in his cold beverages. You were perfect. 

“Thanks,” Bob slowly took one hand off the pillow, the other still holding onto it for dear life. 

“You uh, like that pillow?” You chuckled, though your nerves still shined through. 

“Huh? Oh yeah,” Bob looked down, ensuring his big problem was still covered, “It uh, helps my stomach!”

You raised an eyebrow, though you didn’t further question it. Instead, much to Bob’s delight, you reached for the remote, clicking through until you finally landed on the desired episode. With a shaking hand, Bob gulped down the ginger ale, promptly placing it on the coffee table so he could have both hands on the pillow. 

The room was silent, saved for the ridiculous conversations happening on the TV screen. Normally you and Bob would be shoulder to shoulder, laughing as you both narrated your opinions on the contestants. But today Bob was rigid, his fingers still clutching to the pillow on his lap. He hadn’t even touched the bowl of popcorn. 

"Do you like my dress?" It took everything in Bob not to groan at your question. The last thing he needed was a reason to look at you. But how could he deny himself such a chance? So he put on his best smile as he turned to face you.    

"Uh yeah it's lovely. I'm sure everyone will love it-" 

"I got it for you.” Your voice was soft as you hit the pause button on your remote, eyes remaining on the screen. 

The words hit Bob like a freight train. 

"What? Why would you-"

You shrugged, fingers toying with the short hem of your dress, "I thought maybe, if you saw me in something different, something that wasn't my flight suit or a tee shirt, that maybe you would finally notice me?” 

You finally looked him in the eyes, “Maybe you'd finally notice that I've been trying to flirt with you for the last few months?" 

Bob opened his mouth just to promptly close it. He thought back to the last few months, now analyzing every seemingly ordinary interaction he had with you. 

The way you insisted on sitting next to each other during lunch. As well as during briefings. And when you went to the Hard Deck. Whenever a guy tried to flirt with you there, you turned them down, focusing your attention back on him, continuing your conversation about his latest D&D campaign or a Lego set you had found that reminded you of him. The way you always touched his arm, your hand lingering on his skin as you bore your eyes into his. How you always texted him. How you baked a cake for his birthday. The little trinkets you’d bring him. 

Oh god, he was a fucking idiot. 

The tension in the room was thick. You, sitting restlessly as you waited for Bob to acknowledge what you had said. Bob, processing your words and what they meant. 

“How long?” Bob asked, his voice soft yet firm.

You chuckled as you shook your head, “Honestly? First day. We hadn’t even spoken yet. I saw you walk in and you just were….not only handsome but also looked so kind? Then you offered me a spare pencil, made that comment about Jake’s driving and I….was a goner.”

“I saw you talking to Halo before the briefing room was open,” He confessed, “She said something that made you laugh and it….it was the prettiest sight I had ever seen.”

“We’ve wasted a lot of time, huh?” You both stared ahead at the TV, still too fearful to face each other. 

Bob dryly chuckled, “Yeah….a lot of time. Months, if we’re being more exact.” 

The two of you remained in silence, your words sinking in. Neither sure what should be said, if anything should be said. Until finally, you spoke up. 

“Bob? What’s underneath the pillow?” 

His hips shifted, involuntary, “What?” For a moment, he forgot about the darn pillow and the erection he was covering with it. 

The cluelessness in his voice brought a giggle, “The pillow? Why are you using it to cover your lap?”

Bob sighed, “Can I at least kiss you first?” 

You nodded, moving to close the gap between you and Bob. Pillow be damned, his hands cupped your jawline, giving you a sweet smile before leaning in, closing the gap between your lips and his. 

Bob Floyd’s lips were soft, no doubt due to the sweet mint chapstick you'd watch him apply countless of times. You didn't want to admit how often you'd wondered about the taste, what his hands would feel like on your body. God, they were huge. His thumbs rested comfortably on your jawline, but you could feel his other fingers spanning your neck, down to your collarbone. 

The first kiss was gentle, practically modest. Your lips were only apart for several seconds, if that, before connecting again. 

You easily found his shoulders, grasping them for purchase. The gap between your bodies was too much, Bob wanted to be as close as possible. So his hands trailed down your body, skimming along until they found the back of your thighs. Using his strength, he moved your body, situating you onto his lap. 

A high pitched gasp fell from your lips upon feeling the bulge that was straining against his jeans. Good god, he was thick. You had heard whispers, chalking it up to typical locker room talk. 

Nope, those rumors were one hundred percent true. 

“I’m sorry,” Bob groaned, hands exploring your soft curves. Worst of all, he sounded earnest, only making you want to touch him more. 

“I-I wore this on purpose ah-after all,” you confessed, finding it difficult to speak as he pressed open mouthed kisses along your exposed chest. 

Right. You wore this on purpose. To entice him. To see if perhaps he felt the same burning desire. Once realization hit him again, Bob’s hands moved along your back, just stopping above your ass. 

Wait, he was about to touch your ass. 

“We-we shouldn’t,” Bob mumbled, retracting his hands from your body. You stilled, a crestfallen look painting your face. 

“We shouldn’t?” Repeating the words felt like driving a knife through your heart. Had regret finally emerged, beating the rush of adrenaline? Was he going to regret this, ask that you two never speak about it ever again, pretend it never happened?

“I…” Bob sighed, “I need to take you on a date first.”

Bless his heart. 

Sighing, you relaxed your body into his, resting your head in the crook of his neck, “You’re too sweet, y’know that?”

Bob chuckled, “That's supposed to be my line.” 

His hands gave your hips a loving squeeze, causing you to nestle further into him, until your bodies were nearly molded as one. Your lips searched for his, trailing up his neck, his jawline, along the side of his button nose until finally reaching his soft lips. Bob shifted in his seat, causing you to do the same. As a result, you could feel his erection, despite the layers of clothes. 

“Good lord Bobby, you've just been walking around with all that?” Bob groaned, but not due to your words. No, it was because you had started moving your hips in circles, his erection now pressed against your covered core. 

“I’m- I’m trying to be a gentleman.” Bob couldn't even look at you. He didn't want to stop. He should stop. Maybe you two could skip the Hard Deck and go out to dinner. Then he could take you home and not feel as guilty. 

“You can be a gentleman later,” by throwing your arms over his shoulder you finally had access to his neck. His skin was so soft, so delicate. How could you not sink your teeth into his neck? 

Normally you'd have better self control than this. But you were ovulating and had six months of sexual frustrations and wet dreams- 

“You had dreams about me?” Uh-oh. That wasn't meant to be said out loud. Granted, maybe it was for the best to get everything out in the open. 

Timidly nodding, you explained, “Yeah. The days I didn't sit next to you were because….I had a dream about ya the night before.” 

A band had snapped within Bob, no doubt due to the numerous times you didn't sit next to him during briefings. 

Within seconds, you found yourself on your back against the couch, the bespectacled WSO hovering over you. There was a fire flickering in his blue eyes as he remained laser focused on your face. 

“After this, you're putting this dress back on and I'm taking ya out to dinner, is that clear?” his voice was gruff and deep, similar to when he did a hundred pushes that one day (that you definitely didn't think about while masturbating). 

Chest heaving, dress pushed up to your upper thighs, lips kiss bitten, God, you looked like an angel to Bob. He remembered learning about angels in church growing up. How pious they were, that seeing them was a sign of comfort, that they would guide one to safety, to a holy life. 

There was nothing holy about what he wanted to do to you. 

His mouth was hot, searing kisses along your skin. Your back arched into him, desperate for me. But he always seemed to pull away before you could get enough. Would you? Ever get enough of Bob Floyd? 

Finding an answer would have to wait, for now you wanted to relish in the feeling of Bob’s hands kneading your breasts. It was obvious you weren't wearing a bra, a fact Bob ob had spent forty minutes trying not to think about. He still felt a smidge of guilt, as though the newly drawn line between friends and more hadn’t quite sunk in yet. Was he even supposed to be doing this?

“You can keep going. I want you to.” You sensed his hesitation. In all the time you knew Bob, he had never taken someone home for a one night stand. He wasn’t like that. He needed time to build a connection, to feel comfortable enough to be himself. That’s why he loved spending time with you. With you, there was no need to put up a front, no need to be fearful of judgement. 

“And then afterwards, we can order some Thai food and continue watching the episode, if you want. Or we can just do that now,” your hands cradled his jaw, gently forcing him to look at you. He found a sweet, reassuring smile, similar to the one that made him smitten six months ago. 

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” Bob could be blunt, and often was when it came to his colleague’s shenanigans. But with his own feelings? He always chose his words carefully. 

Hence why his admission took you some time to process. Bob could see it on your face; first your eyes widened, lips slightly parting as if driven by the need to respond immediately. But then your lips closed, your brain quickly gaining back self control. 

“I’m falling in love with you too Robby.” You were the only one who could call him that. It was that familiarity, that intimacy, that gave him the courage to move his hands to your hemline up to your hips, revealing the thin, lacy red fabric underneath. 

You were breathtaking. Always were. But this? This solidified things for Bob. You two had made a step forward in your relationship. Many things would still be the same. But there were now new things to experience. Simply another layer of intimacy had been added.

His long fingers skimmed over the fabric of your panties, every touch sending a spark of electricity along your spine. Every stroke caused a small gasp to fall from your lips, music to Bob’s ears. Lowering himself, Bob decorated your hips with opened mouth kisses. Finally, gaining enough courage, his fingers pushed your panties to the side. 

Fuck, you were wet. 

If there was any hesitation left in Bob, it died upon seeing how visibly aroused you were. He had done that. No one else. Lowering himself even more, he was now at eye level with your wet cunt. This wasn’t some vivid wet dream. 

When his touch licked a broad stripe up your slit, a broken moan fell from your lips, echoing off the walls. It was the prettiest sound Bob had heard. He wanted to hear it again. All the time. 

With more confidence, Bob begins lapping up your arousal, determined to taste every inch of you. His fingers dig into your thighs, pulling you closer. Looking down, you see his glasses are now crooked, though you highly doubt Bob cares, given how his eyes are half closed in pleasure. 

Wait, was he grinding against the couch? 

The discovery caused your thighs to clamp over Bob’s ears, your hips thrusting upwards to get more of his talented tongue. Bob wasn't reserved around you, never had been. But this was a new side to him that you had wondered if it ever existed. Animalistic. Devouring. Loud. 

His groans vibrate against your core, only heightening the pleasure. Slowly, his right hand goes from your hips to your core, mouth moving to your clit as the long digits trace your opening. 

“Oh my God, please,” you all but beg, not quite ready to admit how often you thought about his fingers and how they would feel inside of you.

Always thinking about your comfort, Bob started off with just one finger. You tried to fuck yourself with it, your own fingers gripping the soft strands of his hair for better leverage. The thought of making you beg crossed Bob’s mind. Would you like that? Would you be open to that? There were so many new topics to discuss, so many new boundaries to explore now. 

You happily welcomed the stretch of two, three fingers. Bob found the little moans you let out to be quite adorable. He could feel his cock throb against his jeans, but pleasing you took priority. 

“C’mon honey. Wanna feel you come on my fingers.” His voice was low, husky even. 

“C-can you be inside me? Like your…your cock?” A broken groan fell from Bob’s lips at the very thought of being inside of you. 

“I don't….I don't think I'll last long,” he admitted sheepishly. Hell, he could probably come just from eating you out. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it sounded pretty good- bringing himself to the height of pleasure just from ravishing you. 

“I don't think I will either,” you giggled, “But we’ll….we have lots of other times to go slow.” 

Bob helped you sit up on the couch. “You wanna go to the bedroom?” He asked, thinking about how this could be more comfortable for you. 

Instead, you shook your head, hands moving to his jeans, hastily undoing the buttons. 

Now it was your turn to explore, to discover. There was a dark trail of hair that went past the waistband of his jeans. He wore boxer briefs. And Bob Floyd had the prettiest cock. 

His face turned bright red at the compliment, “Oh it's…I mean it's like fine, but it's not-” 

“Take the damn compliment Robert,” you all but scolded, eliciting a laugh from him, your favorite. The high pitch, near giggle one. The one that made your heart flutter. 

Feeling at ease, you moved so that you were hovering over Bob’s lap. Your fingers moved to the base of his cock, making you realize you would have to ease yourself into it. 

“I gotcha,” his hands found your hips, slowly easing you down. His sapphire eyes never left your face, searching for any sign of discomfort. He went slow, waiting until you made it vocally known you were ready for more. 

By the time you reached the base of Bob’s cock, you were a mess. You wanted him to move, to fuck you within an inch of your life. But he was also so big. The stretch was nothing you had experienced before. 

“Hey, we can take our time, okay? I know it's, that it's a lot,” he assured you, as though he could sense your internal conflict. His lips found yours, and in that kiss you found comfort. Bob grounded you, always had, whether it was up in the air or right here on your couch. 

How much time had passed, who was to say? You could recall both your phones vibrating a few times, no doubt messages from the rest of your squad. Those messages could wait. 

“I think I'm ready,” you whispered against Bob’s lips. He needed, digging his fingers into your hips to gain a better grip. With his help, you lifted yourself no more than a couple of inches off his cock, returning to the base. 

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” Bob moaned. You just made Bob Floyd curse. Something not even a bird strike could do. That four letter word gave you the confidence to lift your hips up on your own accord, returning swiftly. Slowly, just an inch or two, which became several inches. Up and down motions turned to swiveling your hips in a circular rhythm. What was once a quiet living room, saved for a few small gasps and the static from the TV, had now become a symphony of melodic pants and groans. 

Bob could tell you were close. Your pussy was tightening around his cock more and more, your fingers dug into his broad shoulders, as if trying to anchor yourself. You practically whined at the sight of Bob taking two fingers into his mouth, wetting them with his tongue. He lowered them to where your bodies connected. 

Upon first contact with your clit, your head dropped to the crook of his neck, unabashedly moaning his name, hips moving in a now frantic motion. 

“That's it, I gotcha.” Fuck, we he going to talk you through it? Was Bob Floyd a talker? Ironic, considering at work he was known as a man of few words. 

“Feels s’good, being inside ya.” Fuck, he was a talker. You were doomed, “Wanna, wanna make us cum. Bet ya gonna feel even better when ya soak- fuck- soak my cock.” 

Your brain was hazy. Was this real? If it was a vivid wet dream, you never wanted to wake up. Was it wrong to hope that you were in a medically induced coma, so that if this  was indeed a dream, you wouldn’t have to wake up so soon? Surely, your friends and family would understand upon meeting Bob. 

Then he pointedly thrusted his hips upwards, reminding you that no, this wasn’t a dream. No, you wouldn’t wake up feeling frustrated and unable to look him in the eye. After this, you two could go out to eat, on a real date. Not some hey let’s get dinner that feels like a date in everything except in name. You could also order delivery and cuddle up on the couch. Maybe you could even shower with him beforehand, and see his bare body, find out what was truly hiding underneath that flight suit. Oh, he was deceptively strong, you always knew that. But to see it, to feel the hard planes of his muscles? Oh, that would be quite the joy to experience. 

“Sweet girl,” you clenched at that nickname, you wanted him to continue calling you that for eternity, “Let go. Know ya want it.”

“I-I do,” you all but whined. Bob found the noise cute. What other sounds did you make? What would you sound like if he kept fucking you after you came? What about if he ate you out for hours? Or teased you until you were teetering on the edge?

There were so many questions, so many areas to explore. But for now, Bob was satisfied with experiencing how tightly you clenched his cock, how you practically sang his name as you came. Your release triggered his, pulling your hips down until they were flushed against his. His lips smashed against yours, swallowing your moans. 

Then there was silence. No words spoken. Only the sounds of panting, you both clearly trying to catch your breath, and kisses exchanged, ones that neither of you could resist giving. 

Realization hits you like a freight train. “I’m on birth control.”

Bob’s eyes widened, “Oh thank God.” He was usually so good about asking, about pulling out. But you….you made his brain feel like cotton. 

“You saying you don’t want to have kids with me?” You giggled, pressing a kiss to his warm cheek to let him know you were only saying it in jest. 

“Not yet.” You sat up to find he had an earnest smile on his face, cheeks rosy and eyes shining in adornment. 

Bob Floyd was going to be the death of you. 

So you brushed several strands of sandy brown hair off of his forehead, replacing them with a kiss, "Gotta get me a ring first."

Luckily, you were going to be the death of Bob Floyd.

[palettepainter]

I've had some of the interview clips for Gorillaz playing in the background when I get home and I want to reiterate: when I say BASTARD MAN I EXCLUSIVLY mean MURDOC NICCALS from GORILLAZ

When I say bastard man I exclusively mean Murdoc from Gorillaz

[kitsunesakii]

At it again

[wonderjanga]

Magic Alzheimer’s

Billy confuses the details of his life with the past champions lives. It can be small things,

Flash and Marvel: *chatting*

Marvel: *gets a notification in his comm* “Ah, one sec Arit.” *looks at his comm*

Flash: “Arit…?”

Marvel: “Huh?” *looks back at Flash*

Flash: “Arit. What’s that?”

Marvel: *stares for a solid second* “Uh… A friend? From a long time ago.” *looks back at his comm and taps some buttons*

Flash: “Oooooh. What, do I remind you of him?”

Marvel: *doesn’t really know if he should be sharing these details, and clearly sounds hesitant* “A little I guess? You’re both speedsters.”

Flash: “Wait, really?? How long ago was this??”

Marvel: “Like… six thousand years ago.”

Flash: “Aw dang.” *disappointed because he wanted to be friends with another speedster*

Flash later had a slight mental breakdown wondering if Marvel was only friends with him because he reminded him of this Arit guy.

There’s also sort of the big things.

Flash: “Dude, he’s been at this for like twenty minutes.”

GL: “Really?”

Marvel: *sitting at a table having a full blown conversation with himself*

GL: “Should we go stop him?”

Flash: “Yeah, we should. Every time I see his arm move, I keep thinking he’s going to knock over the glass of water I forgot to drink.”

There is in fact, a glass of water near Marvel’s arm.

GL: “Hasn’t that been there like for a week?”

Flash: “I think so.”

GL and Flash: *stare at Marvel*

Flash: “Okay, yeah, let’s go stop him.”

GL and Flash: *just about to go approach Marvel*

Marvel: *finally accidentally knocks over the glass which literally stops him dead, mid convo as he slowly looks over to it in confusion*

As for the sudden confusion from Billy? See, in his point of view, he wasn’t even him, he was a previous Champion who was chatting with a friend. He was literally reliving the memory. He could feel the heat in the air, and how the wind would blow sand every now and then. When he knocked the glass over, that literally shattered the illusion that he was there with the friend. In the end, he just ended up shaking his head and getting up from where he was sat.

GL and Flash: *watch him leave*

Flash: “I guess he didn’t need our help after all?” *still sounds a little concerned*

Soon after, Flash, GL, and the rest of the Justice League noticed things like this happening more and more frequently. So, they all huddled together one day in a meeting room.

Flash: “Dude, I think Cap is getting Alzheimer’s or something.”

Supes: “What?”

Flash: “I mean, think about! Think about all the stuff we’ve seen recently.”

Supes: *actually thinks and starts to look horrified* “Oh my God.”

WW: *sounds rightfully upset* “He could have it. Although it’s unlikely.”

Batman: “Even if it’s unlikely, it’s still a possibility. Captain Marvel seems to predate Mesopotamia.”

GL: “Mesopotamia?!”

Batman: “Yes. So, unfortunately, this could mean be his age catching up to him.”

All of them were heartbroken.

Also, the previous Champions have also gotten the Alzheimerness too. This includes the Wizard, Adam, Aman, and literally everyone but the first, second, and third Champion because it started showing after the third Champ.

[astrolovecosmos]

Notes about the signs in the 6th House. *Not official medical advice, please trust and follow instructions of your doctors.

Aries in the 6th House: EAT A BALANCED DIET AND REST MORE OFTEN!

Taurus in the 6th House: Babe exercise more and indulge in massages, cuddling, your best blanket, or take more baths. You need physical self-care along with a way to let out stress.

Gemini in the 6th House: Focus on one step or one thing at a time when overwhelmed. And get some dang GOOD SLEEP!

Cancer in the 6th House: Your emotional state seriously, seriously, seriously may impact your health. Try to let go of resentment, stress, grudges, or worry over things you can't control when you can.

Leo in the 6th House: On a holistic level - your stress, frustration, impatience, anger, passion, and libido are all highly connected and should be attended to/cared for well.

Virgo in the 6th House: It might sound hard for some... but you got. to. rest. Carve out time for it.

Libra in the 6th House: DRINK THAT WATER!

Scorpio in the 6th House: Expressing yourself or talking through things can be very helpful to your mental and even physical health.

Sagittarius in the 6th House: Be mindful of sweets and exercise, exercise, exercise.

Capricorn in the 6th House: You taking your vitamins 👀 or at least eating the right fruits and vegetables for your needs?

Aquarius in the 6th House: Take more personal days.

Pisces in the 6th House: ALWAYS be mindful of all substances you consume- recreational, prescribed, food, drink, ALL OF IT.

[johnbrand]

(βΓΦ)'s Improper Disposal

Chase grunted as the cooler once again hit the back of his leg. “Dude, why does this thing have to be so heavy?”

“What, all those hours in the gym not paying off?” Tony chuckled. Then the offender in question hit his own knee. “Ow! Dang you weren’t kidding.”

“I told you, bro.” Chase and Tony continued down the dock. “What is in this thing anyway?”

“It’s what’s left of the Beta Gamma Phi Sex Drive,” Tony answered. They carefully navigated down the steps onto the private beach north of the city. 

“Why do they call it a ‘Sex Drive’ anyway?” Chase frowned, but after a moment the pun clicked. Then he continued, “But those initiates were guzzling those drinks like it was their last party ever. How is it still this heavy?”

“This is just the leftovers, bro.” Tony responded. “It’s not like we had them drinking straight jizz, it was just the catalyst in the formula. And we collected for almost a month–Chris had us producing every day, he even measured who contributed the most.”

“You’re kidding,” Chase guffawed, most of the intellectual words soaring over his head.

The two frat boys dropped the cooler as they approached the shore, the cold water lapping at their bare feet. Without further ado, they flipped the container open, watching as the thick white splooge was emptied into the ocean. The waves softly accepted the gift, washing away the mixed jock juices and integrating them into their southbound current.

“So that’s it, huh?” Chase broke the silence once the inside of the cooler was clean. "Is it ok for us to just be dumping it out like this?"

“Yup,” Tony replied, closing the lid. “The water is supposed to dilute it or something, so we won’t have to worry about ‘improper disposal of hazardous waste,’ or whatever βΓΦ’s lawyer said.”

A rancid fart escaped Chase’s back end. “Huhuhuh, speaking of hazardous waste…”

———

“Stop!” Eli could not stop himself from laughing as Simon continually splashed him with water. Of course, he delivered defensive waves back to his best friend, meaning both were struggling to catch their breaths under the onslaught.

“You first!” Simon countered, unbothered as the salty sea stung his eyes, went up his nose, and slipped into his mouth.

Eli licked his lips, “Never!” Although there were plenty of other people of all shapes, ages, colors, and sizes at the beach, the two were not making enough of a scene for anyone to care.

They continued like this for another minute before agreeing to a truce. Once they had finally stopped to take a breath, the pair did nothing but wade in the open water. About a foot taller than his best friend, Eli’s feet could barely scrape the bottom almost six and a half feet below them. But unlike Eli, Simon's skinny, shrimpy body meant he could float with little effort.

“Should we head in?” Eli finally asked, his heart rate having returned to a normal pace.

Simon nodded, “Sure.”

The best friends turned towards the shore and began to paddle in. Neither noticed that within the first few moments, their legs began to twitch. Simon’s shot out within the water, while Eli’s already long tendons shortened slightly. Each stroke brought additional changes. Simon’s abdominals became more pronounced, Eli’s biceps and triceps inflated with muscle. Eli’s hands restructured into fleshy mitts, Simon’s feet widened out into massive flippers. 

But these changes were not unique to just one or the other; they happened simultaneously to both of the men. Each was becoming more muscular and more masculine. Their bodies had ingested the combined DNA of many βΓΦ brothers, every individual strand rewriting the former base and taking control of the resulting figure. This meant they both gained smooth, Ken doll-like tanned skin. They both gained fluffier hair that coiffed naturally at the front (even if Eli’s was hidden behind a white cap, which rotated 180 degrees as if it too was part of a genetic code). And they both gained longer, girthier cocks that would reroute their blood flow, which in turn would reroute their objectives and priorities.

Once they had made it to shore, Eli and Simon had become fraternal twins, and not only in their new dedication to Beta Gamma Phi. The superior DNA bonded them at a molecular level, their brothers’ musculature and masculinity recreating them as Ethan and Shawn. They both accepted their new destinies: to become a βΓΦ brother, with a duty to uphold traditional masculinity and a responsibility to keep the fraternities alive.

And luckily for Ethan and Shawn, they were not alone, for the shore was soon swarmed with many other young, strapping men ready to dedicate their lives to the βΓΦ brotherhood.

[sylv-tf]

Just ReLAX

"Shit, not the fucking door too man!" cussed Connor as the door to his dorm's shared bathroom laid sideways in the frame, having just fallen off its hinges. College was supposed to be his big new start, but everything in this first day had been shit. He missed his first class going to the wrong building, had the tires on his bike stolen, and at the end of it all he had to walk back to his run-down dorm building where the hot water still wasn't working... and now the door.

"Fuck it, I'll just play some WoW or something," he said, walking over to his computer setup. Within five minutes though, he was up again, having discovered the internet connection was so bad he couldn't even log in. It was still early afternoon outside, the sunlight filtering in through the dusty window of his dorm. At the very least he could make sure he knew where his next class was, so he didn't miss it like the first one. Throwing his ratty shoes and loose-fitting knitted sweater on, he headed out the door. Thankfully this one didn't fall off like the last one, but he still just felt tense as he walked out the building's lobby and into the afternoon sun.

His dorm building sat just off the campus quad, which at this point in the day was filled with both students rushing to class and those doing anything to avoid it. As Connor walked across the cracked sidewalks that crisscrossed the green lawn he couldn't help but notice the number of guys just relaxing in the sun. It was hard not to feel outclassed, comparing his greasy brown hair, sweater, and loose jeans to their clean cuts and perms and athletic clothes that draped ever so perfectly against well-defined muscles.

Whatever, he knew he was a nerd. It was fine. Why should he care about fitting in - he didn't in high school anyways. He'd just keep on with his online friends... unless they got busy. That could be a problem. Well, he couldn't even worry about that now since the internet sucked. Maybe his suitemate would know how to fix it? No, they hadn't even moved in yet. And what are the chances they'd even speak to him after he already broke the bathroom door! Fuck, he'd have to get that fixed soon. Where was the maintenance office? Wait, no he was supposed be looking for his next cla-

WHAM

Connor felt a sharp pain on the back right of his skull and the world seemed to spin and flash white for a bit. When he finally got a hold of himself he was looking up at the sky... and there was some guy in orange and white on top of him. Was he... talking? His mouth was moving at least...

"...ro. ...ey, bro ar... ... Bro? Bro, are you okay?"

"Ugh... yeah, I guess, what happened?" replied Connor. The guy above him seemed to lean back a bit after hearing him speak. His bright ginger curls looked fiery in the sun, and dang, he was kinda built too. Was he an athlete? "Yo, I'm so sorry man. I was laxing out with my bro, Casey, and you looked like you zoned out right in the middle of our pass. Freaked me out when you just stopped moving like that, can't like."

"Oh... uh, sorry? I didn't notice I guess. Was kinda wrapped up in my own thoughts or something." Connor couldn't help but mumble. The day just couldn't get any worse could it.

Meanwhile, the ginger hunk squatting over him just turned slightly and yelled back over his shoulder, "Yo, Casey, hurry up with the ice would ya'? And grab a drink too, this guy looks like he could use it!"

He turned back to Connor now, "Nah bro, you're all good. It just happens sometimes. You seemed super stressed out so, I get it bro. Casey and I are like that too right before a big game, but then you like, lock in super hard when the whistle blows and it all washes away and shit."

Connor just stared blankly at this mystery man, clearly from a different world than his own. "Uh... right." As he sat up straight, he felt the burly hand of this ginger "bro" hold his shoulder steady, directing his gaze towards another guy, presumably Casey, jogging over with a wet-looking blue bag and a sports bottle.

"Zach, I got the stuff. How's he doing?" Casey was similarly built to the ginger guy, who Connor assumed to be Zach, but with straight brown hair, squatted down on his left and handed him the drink.

"Where does it hurt bro? We got an ice pack for you."

Sheepishly, Connor accepted the drink and started to look around. There were a few stray glances from passerby, but thankfully it didn't look like he caused a scene... "Just the back right of my head, I can get it," he replied, taking the ice pack with his free hand and holding it to his head.

The cold was sharp but quickly became soothing as it spread from the base of his neck to the rest of his head. As he took a sip of the drink too, he found it tasted oddly good. There was a distinctive metallic note to it, but mostly it was a fruit punch flavor with lots of pineapple and orange. Before he knew it, Connor had downed the whole bottle.

"Fuck, that tasted really good? What is that anyways?"

Casey spoke up, "It's Coach's recipe for the lax team. Gatorade but with his special blend of electrolytes and shit, more or less."

"Huh, so you guys play... lax? Is that a sport, I guess?"

Zach and Casey laughed. "Lacrosse bro. It's sick, you ever played?"

"Nah, look at me man. I haven't played anything in my life." Zach seemed to give the faintest smirk to Casey. "You sure bro?" At this point he began to stand up, and with Casey lifted Connor up by his arms. "I've got a hard time believing someone with these arms doesn't at least work out."

Connor glanced down at his arms. They didn't look particularly built. Well, were they always that tan? He moved them up and down, flexing them a bit. They weren't as twiggy as he thought they were... huh.

"Nah, I really didn't play anything. Guess it's just natural?"

Casey responded, "Fuck bro, if that's natural you've definitely gotta lax out. Come over here."

The two athletes practically pulled Connor along towards their bags, which had been sitting out on the ground a ways away. Connor could see sticks with nets on the ends sticking out, a number of pieces of what looked like chest pads, white rubber balls (presumably what he just got hit with) and a number of other things he didn't quite recognize.

Zach, meanwhile, had already grabbed a set of pads and a stick and was heading back to Connor. "Here bro, throw this over your head," he said, tossing him the pads.

"What?"

"Just do it bro, you don't wanna get beamed with the rock again, right? Casey's got a lid for you too."

Connor looked uncertain but seeing both guys smiling was enough to win him over. "Hey," he thought, "may as well see what it's like to be an athlete for a bit." He struggled briefly with the pads before Zach helped to slide them into place over his shoulders. They felt a bit heavy, but it felt kinda nice too. He was still chilly from the ice pack and the heaviness just made him feel... calm. Or maybe just chilled out?

Casey came in quick with the helmet from the left. Connor had only caught a glimpse of it before. It looked wild, being mostly white but with burgundy and gold decals all along it. Wait... those were the university colors. Was this a helmet from the lacrosse team?

Connor took a step back from Casey. "Wait, guys, is this university property? That's a bit too much for me, I mean I'm just-"

Casey was already at his side and the helmet came down. The inside was soft, not at all what he expected from how jagged the outside looked. It was kind of dark as well, though he could see through the first gap between the bars on the front. Was he actually wearing the school helmet? Was he wearing sports gear right now? In public? What would people think?

Connor could feel and hear the two athletes still strapping on elbow pads but at the same time he felt that calm from before. Did it really matter? He was just trying it out. And the two players with him would clear up any confusion, since they seemed like bros. Yeah... this was fine actually.

He reached up to adjust his helmet a bit as Casey approached with a stick. "Here bro, just follow along with Zach and I and we'll teach you the basics. Just relax."

Connor's mind was blank. Whatever Casey and Zach said was what he did. Learning how to hold his spoon, passing around the rock, stationary at first and then while running. Somehow, no matter what he did he never felt tired. And when the group got thirsty, Coach's drink was always close at hand. As the sun began to set, Zach and Casey called it in.

Connor, like the other two, was drenched in sweat. He didn't even really remember taking his sweater and shirt off, but he must have at some point, because he was bare torso in the setting sun. But man, his body really was better than he gave it credit for. Zach had even said his genetics were crazy to have abs without working out. And Connor felt great. Amazing even! What was he even worried about earlier today? Nothing important, he was sure.

"Zach, Casey, bros. Lax is like, crazy dope dudes."

Zach was the first to reply. "Bro, it's insane you've never laxed before, you picked it up crazy fast. You should honestly talk to Coach. He's got walk-ons next week and if you work with him and us a bit more, I bet you could clinch a spot."

"No way bro, that's crazy. Play for the school? I'm not as good as you two."

Casey butted in. "Bro, you're insane for a newbie. Trust the process, bro. You'd be on in no time. In fact, we should head over now so you can meet him. Help us pack and shit, and we'll jog over. You down?" "Damn bro, really? Fuck yeah, let's do it."

----------

Needless to say, the walk-on tryouts were a bit of a blowout. With Coach's guidance, Connor was a standout performer, ready to take the field for the team and crush their opponents every time. His new shorter haircut that Coach recommended suited him, just like his new number, #17, and his new carefree, cocky attitude. And like the loyal bros they are, Zach and Casey made sure to grab a picture with their new recruit at media day.

[vivwritesfics]

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter Ten - Oh Dang She Crashed

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

1.2K

SHE'S NOT PREGNANT FYI

Series Masterlist

While Lando and Y/N laid together, with Y/N falling asleep on his shoulder, Max Verstappen and Daniel Ricciardo were out for drinks. It was just something casual, something to do together because they didn't see each other all that often now that they weren't teammates.

But they were still the best of friends, and they still hung around together. Daniel took Max out for a couple of drinks, no more than a couple of drinks (since they had to race the next day).

Now Max was good at keeping secrets, but he had to get it off his chest, had to tell someone. If that person decided to tell the rest of the grid? Well, that wasn't on him, was it?

Max pulled his chair closer to the table as the waitress placed the gin and tonic in front of him. Daniel received his own drink and Max couldn't hold it back anymore.

"Guess what I walked in on," he said, his leg bouncing. He was far too excited for this.

Daniel looked at him as he sipped his drink, eyebrows raised as he waited for him to continue. "After last weeks race, after Y/N won, I asked her if she wanted to come out for drinks, but she said she was busy. So I asked Lando and he was down. I went to get him from his drivers room and what did I walk in on?"

He paused, waiting for Daniels brain to catch up. Daniel's eyes went wide. "No," he gasped and sipped his drink again. "No way! Lando and Y/N? Seriously?"

"Seriously!" Max insisted, using his straw to stir his drink.

"Is... is that allowed? Are we allowed to fuck our teammates?" Daniel asked, leaning back in his chair.

Max shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know if it's ever actually happened before, since, you know."

"Surely there are some rules around this."

Again, Max shrugged his shoulders. If they were he hadn't read it anywhere. "Don't tell them I told you," he said and Daniel nodded his head.

***

Y/N woke up, her own head moving with the gentle rise and fall of Lando's chest. She pushed away from him and stretched her arms up. She didn't feel as sick as she had the day before, but she still felt pretty rough.

Checking the time on her phone, Y/N shook Lando's shoulder. "Lan, get up," she whispered, continuing to shake him.

Lando's eyes fluttered open. He didn't get up from the bed, just turned his head towards Y/N, watching as she stripped to get into the shower.

He pushed himself up from the bed and walked over to the bathroom. He knocked on the door and pushed it open. "I'm gonna head to my room," he said, talking just loud enough to speak over the noise of the shower. "Are you okay to get to the circuit on your own?"

Y/N shouted a response back, something Lando had to get her to repeat, before he left her hotel room to head back to his own. He got himself ready to head to the circuit, changing into a new McLaren shirt, a new LN4 hat and a clean pair of jeans. Still, though, he worried about Y/N.

If she was that sick, which he knew her to be, he didn't want her racing. He wasn't going to stop her, it wasn't like he had much of a choice. If she wanted to race, she was going to do just that.

When he was ready, Lando made his way to the circuit. He signed posters and caps and made his way to the hospitality unit. Y/N met him there just minutes later, still looking as sick as ever. Where she had woken up feeling slightly better, she was once again feeling terrible.

She drank water through the day, and was never very far away from Lando, unless somebody needed her. It wasn't that she followed Lando around like a lost puppy, but more like he refused to leave her side. She looked ready to drop to the floor at any moment and Lando wanted to be there to catch her.

Eventually, though, she was called away by her trainer. He took one look at her and sent her to lay down in a dark room until the start of the race.

Half an hour before the race started, she was woken up. Y/N went to her drivers room and got changed into her fireproofs and race suit. Fuck, she wasn't ready for this, but she had to do it. Had to do it for the team.

She lined up on the grid, her teammate just in front of her. Y/N almost bottled it on the formation lap, but she held it together and brought the car into its square on the grid. The commentators were definitely talking about her mess of a formation lap, but she couldn't think about that now; she had a job to do.

The lights went out and Y/N got a good getaway. But it didn't stay good. Suddenly her vision was going blurry and she was almost throwing up in her helmet. But she tried to hold it together.

Lando passed her, and then several other cars did. She didn't care, too busy trying to breathe.

Y/N got eleven laps into the grand prix before her black spots appeared in her vision and she lost control of her car, spinning towards the barriers. Y/N didn't shout, she didn't scream as her car hit the barriers and span away. The left side of her car was wrecked from the impact, but it had stopped moving.

She wasn't responding.

"Red flags at turn eight," Will Joseph said to Lando.

"Is everything okay?" Lando asked as he slowed his car right down, following the other cars into the pitlane. The only car he couldn't see was the other McLaren.

Medics rushed over to her. They pulled Y/N out of the car and checked her pulse on her wrist. They kept her helmet on as they got her onto the stretcher and into the ambulance.

"Where's Y/N?" Lando asked as he climbed out of the car. He didn't know what was happening with the race, didn't know that she was the reason for the red flags.

"She's on her way to the hospital," said Andrea.

Of course, nobody at McLaren quite knew the relationship Lando had with Y/N. They didn't know that his heart was pounding too loudly for him to hear anything else. Shit, he couldn't go back into the race, not until he knew she was okay.

But the car was cleared from the track and the race was restarting. Lando had to get on with his job, he knew. He could check on her later. Plus, he knew Y/N would have been pissed if she knew he stopped racing for her. "Keep me updated on her, please," he said before he climbed back into the car.

He was going to race, and he was going to do it for her.

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