#he went through hell and back in this episode

[miyakazashi]

The Burning Hell that is Yingdu Episode 6

(Part 3)

Just to add to the last part of my thoughts

Wtf do you mean Vein died from a sudden myocardial infarction- no seriously, what in the actual f*ck ??!!??!! Like, immediately I was in the chat like, "I bet that's the fake death ability"

He's onto some shady sh*t for sure...... I just knew it from that expression. Sh*t is still gonna go down

And thanks to my panic-attack-like reaction, I actually stayed until after the ending, and apparently lady luck was on my side cause

I F*cking knew it !!!!!!!! There is more than sudden myocardial infarction-

( don't mind me being a bit more agitated today )

It's Liu Xiao......! The ring......!!!!!! So I was right - they have been conspiring with each other this whole episode !!!!!!

I Knew it !!!!!!

Thankfully I didn't start bawling before seeing this, cause I would've sued Director Li for emotional damage.😌

But one scary fact is....

Either he really went missing to do his own thing, or he's back with Liu Xiao and Vein in hiding preparing for their debut again in season 3, but damn I saw the phone and the Emma flashbacks immediately came back...will probably start theorizing once I've cleared my mind a bit, but atleast I'm not wrong about the Liu Xiao and Vein cooperation part I think.

Still though, wtf did we just go through

[nefertitisfjordd]

"I found something I thought I'd lost...faith to keep looking."

(2.17--End Game)

[thenotoriousscuttlecliff]

Funny seeing fans talk about shows like Next Generation having longer seasons meant there was more room for character development while everyone who actually wrote for that show has spoken endlessly about how frustrating it was that they could barely do any character development no matter how many episodes they had. They had to really push just to be allowed to deal with the fallout of Picard being assimilated.

[cyarskj1899]

"a judge ordered Lanez to pay additional bail, saying he violated the protective order during his appearance at DaBaby’s Rolling Loud Miami set, Billboard and TMZ report." that's all. your lil time stamp or schedule (unproven) don't matter because he violated the order

1) the restraining order was about proximity, not time. 2) you'd have to be the dumbest of fucks to believe that DaBumfuck and Tacky didn't do this to deliberately to antagonize Megan. The nigga could've blocked anyone to go out on stage with him, and he chose the leprechaun!

Tacky even texted her and told her that he was watching and that she "looked sad". They were backstage kicking their feet and giggling like a bunch of losers. And y'all are losers too, guzzling and gurgling 2 leprechaun dicks to try and get gold.

The wilful stupidity people have to maintain in order to support Tory and demonize Megan Thee Stallion is the same mindset that votes for a defective rotten orange for leader of the nation.

And the fact he walked on stage to a song that she’s on was weird asf then texting her saying she looked sad on live. Like all of that shit was intentional, the more I learn the angrier I get 🤬!

[cyarsk52-20]

this is nice and all but mind you last week he was defending deshaun watson bc ppl booed him for being a serial rap*st. you don’t care about women.

[cyarskaren52]

[tenpixelsusie]

a heem heem whimper

[cyarsk5230]

[kcyars99]

Yeah. I agree. Always picking on WOMEN. Serena & others, too. Every time I think Kendrick just wasted creative time, Drake finds another way to show he's just a whiny little beeoch!

[littlelamy]

can you do with rafe and !reader who faints a lot during showers or just gets very lightheaded/has vasovagal episodes and can you just write like the things he does for you?

lamy's notes: i hope you like it!

the first time it happened, rafe didn’t even realize what was going on until he heard the thud. he’d been lying on the bed, scrolling through his phone, when the sound of you hitting the shower floor jolted him upright, his heart slamming in his chest.

he was at the bathroom door in an instant, throwing it open without a second thought. steam billowed out, and there you were, crumpled in the corner of the shower, the water still running over you. his mind went blank with panic for half a second before instinct took over.

“y/n, hey, hey, baby,” he muttered, dropping to his knees beside you, his hands shaking as he reached for you. he turned the water off first, then gently propped you up against the cool tiles. “hey, can you hear me?”

your eyes fluttered open, dazed and unfocused, and he let out a shaky breath, relief crashing through him. “what the hell happened?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly.

“just got… lightheaded,” you mumbled, your words slurring a little. “i’m okay.”

“okay? you scared the shit out of me,” he said, cradling your face in his hands like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go. “jesus, you’re freezing.”

from that day on, he’d made it his mission to make sure it never happened again. if you were going to shower, so was he. it didn’t matter what he was doing; he’d drop everything the second you said you were heading to the bathroom.

“just in case,” he’d say, his tone light but his eyes serious. he’d sit on the counter, cracking jokes and tossing you a towel before you even asked for it, his presence steady and comforting.

some days, when you were especially tired or feeling off, he’d insist on staying right outside the door. “yell if you need me,” he’d call, and you knew he meant it. you could practically picture him sitting there, legs stretched out, scrolling his phone but keeping an ear out for any sign that you needed him.

he started keeping a small stash of things in the bathroom just for you—a bottle of water, a pack of crackers, even a tiny fan he’d mounted to the wall to keep the room from getting too hot. “just in case,” he’d say again, shrugging like it was no big deal, but you could see the way he checked you over every time, his eyes scanning you for any signs of trouble.

on the nights when you’d get that familiar wave of lightheadedness, the kind that made your knees wobble and your vision blur, he’d wrap an arm around you without a word, guiding you to sit down on the cool tiles until it passed. “deep breaths, baby,” he’d murmur, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

it didn’t matter how many times it happened—he never got annoyed, never made you feel like a burden. if anything, it seemed like he’d made it his personal mission to keep you safe, to be your anchor when the world spun too fast.

sometimes, he’d just step into the shower with you, his hands gentle as he helped you wash your hair or rubbed your shoulders when you were too tired to do it yourself. “just lean on me, okay?” he’d say, his voice soft, water dripping off his face as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

on the tougher days, he’d insist on being in there from start to finish, his eyes never leaving you. he’d prop you up against his chest, his arms around your waist, holding you steady as the warm water cascaded over both of you. “it’s okay, i’ve got you,” he’d murmur, his voice steady and grounding.

when you’d protest that he didn’t need to, he’d just shake his head. “you think i’m gonna risk it? no way,” he’d say, his lips quirking into a small smile. “plus, it’s kind of nice. makes me feel useful.”

“not gonna let you hit the floor again,” he’d say with a small, determined smile, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. and you believed him.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs

[divinedelusional]

rafe being grumpy when he's sick

rafe cameron x female reader

word count: 678

warnings: none

rafe never got sick anymore like ever

ever since he hit puberty he wasn't catching cold anymore, no health problems (expect for being fucked in the head)

so to say you were surprised when you saw him lying in bed under a thick duvet in the middle of summer would be an understatement

"yo topper what happened to rafe? i leave for three days and my boyfriend's completely wiped out??"

"is he asleep?"

"yeah! that's what's weird!"

"weird? girl you're lucky he's asleep, he's been a complete diva last two days"

rafe woke up after an hour and told you that he must have got sick when they were out at the beach and suddenly it started pouring cold rain and he was soaked before he got in the car

"yeah they brought me some syrup so cough is gone, but who gives a shit, this fuckin fever is too much anyways"

turns out rafe barely ate the last two days since he couldn't get out of bed and he was sick of the food topper and kelce were ordering for him

"wendy's not a type of food you eat when you want to get better rafe"

"hell i know, but what, is it my fault i have to have idiots as friends?"

you rolled your eyes and told him to lay down with cold compress for the fever

in the meantime you drove to get grosseries and made him chicken soup

you could see he really liked it but when he ate he mumbled a quiet "thanks" and went upstairs

that's the last you saw him that day and you were kinda mad at him

next day it didn't got better since he noticed you didn't come to bed last night

"i went to guest bedroom, im not catching whatever you got"

you didn't see him much for another day, only when he was coming to the kitchen for next bottle of water

so at least he took your advice to stay hydrated

not like you could hear him saying: hydration this, hydration that, who tf would want to pee that much

topper was right, you lived with a diva under one roof

grumpy, 6'2, hoodie clad diva

but on the third day you were finally about to reach a truce

rafe came for breakfast and you could see he felt better, as he was almost smiling and wasn't shivering

you ate breakfast in silence but he followed you like a lost puppy to the couch where you sprawled out to watch tv

you were watching real housewives of atlanta and rafe sat down with you for 3 episodes fourth now staring

he was quiet but all of the sudden he started to complain how awful it is to be sick in the summer

he tried to grab your attention, he knew you were testing him, you never binged rhoa for that long

you also knew exactly what he was doing, he was trying to make up with you but you weren't having his ways, so you informed him that you're going to take a swim

rafe was upset that his plan didn't work out, apparently not only sitting through four episodes of rhoa wasn't enough sacrifice for you but it also made him hungry

so he decided to win you back with very simple and little bit goofy solution

you came back after hour and a half, also hungry

you found rafe sitting at the table

there was a faint delicious smell in the kitchen

"you made soup?" you asked rafe after taking a peek to his plate

rafe didn't respond and held out a spoon to you, letter pasta forming words: im sorry bby

you couldn't be mad at him anymore

you ladled yourself a bowl of soup and formed a response on your spoon as quickly as you could

rafe smilled at words ur cute and let out a chuckle

"i missed this smile" you said and kissed him lightly, happy when you felt him smiling into the kiss

"and i missed those lips"

a/n: my first work for rafe, hope it was okay and feedback is really appreciated ♡

bottom divider by: @astralnymphh

[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.

[foldingfittedsheets]

So I’m a little embarrassed to admit that when I thought my Switch was broken, my issue with force restarting it was that I mistook the home button for the power button. The advice people gave me should have worked.

When I realized today that the core should have its own button I was able to restart it and everything was fine.

To celebrate, please enjoy a non exhaustive list of other silly shit I’ve done:

When I first started driving a manual transmission car I learned how to drive stick from a single wretched session with my dad where he forced me to start on a hill with my emergency break before I had basic shifting down (I ended up starting the car in third gear on an incline which is an achievement that no one should ever do), and one drive in a parking lot with my buddy Dustin.

Consequently I believed that I must always keep my foot on the clutch when the car wasn’t in gear because no one thought to tell me that neutral counted as a gear.

I drove like that for years, clutch pressed in at every red light. The only reason I ever learned better was my clunker needed a jump and after my coworker had his car hooked up to mine he invited me to stand with him while we waited.

I very hesitantly lifted my foot off the clutch and when it didn’t stall I felt so goddamn silly. Years. I hadn't realized for years that I could be in neutral without the clutch down for years.

More recently I’ve been listening to podcasts in my car. I thought that if I hit the next track button it would skip to the whole next episode and dutifully sat through all the ads.

Then one day I was turning and hit the skip ahead button and realized it only did 30 seconds, not a whole episode. I immediately felt so silly and ridiculous for not realizing sooner that I could fast forward the ads without missing the whole episode.

Finally, the silliest way I've ever injured myself was so stupid that everyone immediately assumed I was lying. I was crawling down the bed toward my beloved in a negative sexual way. Cannot stress enough, there was nothing sexy in this scenario. I'm pretty sure I was pretending to be a cat screaming about licking my own anus. I went to plant my hand on the footboard, I overshot and went somersaulting off the bed, landing flat on my back.

The next day I tried to go into work while moving like a possessed puppet, hunkered over and slinking along trying not to move any muscles because everything was a fiery pit of pain. The managers saw this and called me into the office. "What the hell happened to you? Can you actually work today?"

I opened my mouth to answer and my favorite assistant manager instantly interjected, "And don't lie!"

I stopped and realized that saying I could still work was in fact a lie and got sent home to recuperate. My coworkers were all completely convinced when they heard the story that I'd been up to the freakiest sex shit imaginable and not a single one believed I fell off my bed pretending to be a deranged cat.

[cyarskj1899]

They done found the man from Meg’s documentary who said that Tory should’ve aimed higer ! He said that in his work uniform and what’s crazy is, that video didn’t even have that many views so the fact that Meg & her team still saw it and put it in the doc😗. His page is locked now! Fuck him up and make his life miserable 😏😂

[cyarsk52-20]

[sockmeat]

Never done this before so I’m not sure I’m doing this right but I saw you take requests for Lucifer so I wanted to try.

How about a romantic Lucifer x good human reader where reader somehow ends up in hell while still alive and meets Lucifer and he falls for her.

In the first episode it said that he never got to see what good came from humanity so maybe he finally does when getting to know reader.

(Sorry If I did this wrong ^^“)

                                                        𓆩♡𓆪

✼__________________________________________________________✼

𝐅𝐄𝐌 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 -- 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥… (𝑯𝒂𝒛𝒃𝒊𝒏 𝑯𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒍)

(𝐰𝐜): 428

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Thanks to some asshole friends, you're stuck in Hell with no way out. Thankfully, you find a nice hotel to stay in, but the owner's dad is going to be making visit and he just so happens to be the king of Hell.

(𝐀/𝐍): Can you tell I'm just cycling through the same 3 images......

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): Wrote this while I was tired so it might be trash fair warning

                                                        𓆩♡𓆪

♡ You ended up in hell after a sleepover with your friends, where they were playing around with an old book of portals they found and went too far. You were the one singled out and thrown in and now you have absolutely no way of going back.

♡ You heard of the Hazbin Hotel and how they were trying to redeem sinners and figured that was your best shot at being safe and finding a way to get back to Earth, so that's how you ended up there.

♡ Charlie was not only excited to show her father her hotel and hopefully get some support, but maybe also get some input on how she could help you.

♡ You and Lucifer met when he first visited the hotel.

♡ You were very nervous about it; you weren't sure what kind of man the king of Hell would be.

♡ But the second he burst into the room and greeted Charlie with a big hug, you relaxed significantly.

♡ He went on to greet Keekee, then Razzle and Dazzle, then Vaggie before he saw you.

♡ He looked instantly surprised to see you, then confused.

♡ He asked Charlie, very bluntly, what a human was doing in Hell of all places.

♡ You stepped in, introduced yourself as kindly and smoothly as you could to the literal king of Hell, and explained how you got there.

♡ Sleepover, creepy old book, bad friends, Hell.

♡ The day went on and Lucifer found interest in you.

♡ Not only were you a human in Hell, but you were so considerate there was no way you even deserved to be there.

♡ Lucifer watched your interactions with the others with something swelling in his chest. He could barely work up the nerve to talk to you himself, he wanted you to treat him the way you were treating them, but he didn't feel confident that he could be normal under that attention.

♡ When it was finally time for him to leave, Lucifer was surprisingly reluctant.

♡ Even with Alastor up his butthole about being like Charlie's new dad, Lucifer wasn't certain when he'd see you again.

♡ He couldn't exactly just find you wandering around the pride ring. And when was the next time he would be invited to the hotel?

♡ But, eventually he left, with a plan to make more excuses to visit the hotel.

♡ He stuck true to his gut and did visit, getting closer to Charlie and you in the process.

♡ Win, win!

                                                        𓆩♡𓆪