#this bob fic is helping tho

[sebsxphia]

rotting in my bed all day and crying about how much i miss harry is a full time job

[maraczeks]

bcs s6 thread pt 6

[hitomisuzuya]

Omg it's almost ur bday

Can I request: Scara Wanderer and Kabukimono smut fic where they get really horny having f!reader take them all at once no breaks🫢 She gets the best aftercare tho👌

As always feel free to delete this🫶🫶🫶

Foursome. Scaramouche x fem!reader Wanderer x fem!reader. Kunikuzushi (Kabukimono) x fem!reader. Smut. Face sitting. Nipple play. Multiple creampie pie. Blowjob/spit roasting. Degradation. Praise. Aftercare❤️

My face while writing this 😳

It was like all three of them went into heat at the same time. You weren't thinking just how in over your head you may have been, though. It was hard for you to even think riding Wanderer's tongue with your thighs squeezed around his head, his tongue lapping at your pussy. Even harder still with Scaramouche's and Kunikuzushi's tongues circling and sucking your nipples.

Wanderer's tongue practically massaged your clit, moaning every time you grinded your throbbing pussy a little firmer on his tongue for more friction. Kunikuzushi's arm looped around your back as you arched it, holding your chest against his mouth.

It felt like all three of them were trying to devour you at once.

High pitched moans that you couldn't possibly hold back tore shamelessly from your throat as Wanderer latched his lips onto your clit. Your thighs shook as you grinded on his mouth.

Kunikuzushi shivered in pleasure, groaning into your breast as he sucked on your nipple. His other hand had long ago dipped down to his almost painfully hard cock, fisting it to the sounds of your moans. "I think she's going to cum," He moaned excitedly, directing his eyes up to watch you twitch.

The harder your nipple got on Scaramouche's tongue, the more he swirled his tongue and prodded it before he sucked. "You are right she is. She is moaning like a starved slut," He released your nipple with a soft pop, and unceremoniously took you off of Wanderer's mouth.

Wanderer may have been greedy, but Scaramouche was greedier. He wanted to be first to cum inside of you. The first to make you cum. He glared at Wanderer when he tried to put your pussy back on his mouth.

They always seemed to be in some sort of competition with each other. And you were too fucked out to protest about being manhandled. It only made you more wetter.

Scaramouche put you on your hands and knees, smacking your ass before trapping your arms behind your back. Using your wrists as leverage, he pushed his cock inside your sopping cunt with a gluttoral groan.

You cried out, squirming in his grasp as his cock head nudged firmly into your sweet spot. "Take it like the good slut you are," Scaramouche moaned, his hips smacking into yours as he pumped his cock inside of you.

"I'll be a good girl, I promise," You whimpered, helpless in his grasp. You felt every rub and pulse of his cock, your body quaking as your walls tightened from his degrading praise.

Kunikuzushi was right there to anchor your head, cupping your cheeks in his hands as he pushed his leaking cock head against your lips. "Open up like a good girl," He smiled down at you.

Your cheeks flushed, your tongue sweeping out to curl around the tip and playing with your tongue in his precum. Kunikuzushi breathed a soft whimper as pushed his cock into your mouth. He couldn't help but set a somewhat careless pace, bobbing your head on his cock.

Your tongue lapped and flattened on his cock as you sucked, drool pooling from your mouth as you muffled moans on it. "Feels..so..good.." Kunikuzushi moaned, his thumbs skimming appreciatively over your cheeks. Being as sensitive as he was, it didn't take long for his cock to pulse cum into your mouth.

Wanderer's fingers found your clit, pinching and rubbing. "Now be a good girl and squirt on Scaramouche's cock," He purred in your ear, his tongue licking the shell.

Being called a good girl made you oh so weak. Your body was limp in Scaramouche's grasp, Kunikuzushi anchoring your head so delicately as he chased his high. You sucked him through his orgasm, your body quaking as Scaramouche fucked into you from behind.

He wasn't going to settle for anything less than you squirting a mess on his cock. "Our pretty slut is so fucking tight," Scaramouche moaned, his grip tightening on your wrists. "I'm cumming," He mumbled drunkenly, his pulsing cock strongly as cum ribboned inside you.

Wanderer delivered a decisive pinch to your swollen clit, his fingers relentlessly massaging and rubbing. Kunikuzushi took his cock out of your mouth just in time for you to moan loudly before your orgasm rocketed through you.

Scaramouche hummed in condescending approval as you made a mess on his cock. He chased his high for a few long moments, enjoying the way your pussy squeezed sensitive on his cock before he pulled out and let go of your wrists.

You collapsed onto the bed, panting softly. Wanderer was quick to roll you over and spread your legs. He didn't want to trap your wrists above your head, he wanted to feel your fingernails scratching at his skin while he made you cum again.

He fingered Scaramouche's cum back inside of you before grinding his head of his cock against your clit. Your hips jerked up to grind against his cock. "Needy slut," Wanderer taunted, his voice tinged with delighted bliss. Scaramouche had made extra mess out of your pussy. It was absolutely soaking onto his cock.

You hadn't even come down from your first orgasm yet. You saw stars as Wanderer's cock stretched you apart and nudged into your sweet spot. "Good girl..sweet girl," He moaned as your fingernails clawed into his arms. He took your hands off his arm, intertwining your fingers through his and pinning your hands on the bed next to your head.

His head dropped into your neck, squeezing your hands as he nuzzled into your neck. He moaned in your ear, his teeth nipping at your neck. He had ached for you all day just as strongly as Scaramouche and Kunikuzushi had.

You couldn't help it. You were cumming suddenly, writhing in bliss as more of your cum soaked onto his cock. Wanderer chuckled in your ear, "I am fucking you that good, huh?" His body shuddered as his cum spilled inside of you.

You were exhausted by the time Wanderer felt satisfied enough to pull out. Kunikuzushi was already moving some pillows around your body, knowing you would be sore from taking them one right after the other.

Scaramouche gently rolled you over onto your stomach and set his fingers to work on your back. They had to take care of their durable good girl. As for Wanderer, he went and made you some warm soup to drink. Your throat had be just as sore as your body, after all.

[sanguineterrain]

your most recent jason fic has me in a bit of a chokehold and its bc you do so well with the dialogue and the banter!!

HONEYLOVE???#?*×& i need to be physically restrained (i appreciate your fics respectfully)

anyways, the fic has me thinking: imagine it's the same reader, but they know Jason's alive and they're back to being friends again (skipping over the drama of "YOU'RE ALIVE?!?" "yea lmao sorry ily tho") but there's this tension now. and since Jason's not working with a mask anymore (and he's slightly more vulnerable with r), it's him who gets flustered and it's r who does the flirting playful banter. maybe it ends with a kiss (˘ ³˘) ?

i'm such a sucker for a flustered Jason and there's something that tells me he gets really weak in the knees for someone he adores >:) anyways, you can always choose to write this or not but a very big, fat thank you if you do

the reaction pics are SO FUNNY i'm glad you enjoy this au <3

jason todd x gn!nocturne!reader. pt 3 of vigilante reader. this is basically reader just being feral over jason :> they speak for all of us, really. love confessions, tension, somewhat flustered jason, more sparring lols.

pt 1 / pt 2

****

Jason Todd is alive. Jason Todd is sitting two feet away, talking about a case.

You can't quite believe it. You went home two days ago and expected to wake up to the whole thing being a dream or the result of a Poison Ivy hallucinogen.

You can't stop staring at him. It's weird. You're being weird. But you can't help it.

Every time you see Jason, you want to look at him for as long as possible. You don't want to forget his face. This new face. Scarred and hardened, but still good. Still loved.

And, well. It's not like Jason's bad looking. Sure, you thought he was cute when you were teenagers. Resurrection makes the heart grow fonder, et cetera.

But now? Now, Jason makes your heart stupid. You can barely contain your desire. It's been two weeks since he revealed himself, and every time you see him, you have to dig your nails into your palms to keep yourself from showing him what he does to you.

Sometimes you think he sees right through you, but if he does, he never acts on it.

"—listening. Yo. Ground control to Major Tom. Are you with me?"

Jason waves a hand in front of you. You blink.

He's unmasked and in a Fleetwood Mac t-shirt and dark jeans—the most comfortable you've seen him, actually. His hair is still wet from his shower.

"Sorry," you say, suddenly zeroed in on the three droplets of water sliding down his neck. "I'm listening. Just looking at you."

"'Cause I'm so pretty?" Jason asks, batting his lashes.

You reach over without thinking. He freezes when you wipe the water off of his neck. Then you tuck a curl behind his ear.

"You should let me blow-dry your hair," you say, taking your time in dropping your hand. "It'll take ages to dry in this humidity."

Jason's eyes have gone wide. Pink splotches bloom on the apples of his cheeks.

"Uh." He swallows. You watch his throat bob. "Thanks. Maybe... next time."

"I'll steal Dick's. He's got the fancy sixteen setting one."

That makes Jason smile. "Hm. Some things never change."

His eyes crinkle at the corners. Fondness swells swiftly in your chest.

You stay like that for a moment, caught in each other's orbit.

Jason breaks it first, leaning away. "Right. You should probably get back to the Manor. Br–the others'll probably think I kidnapped ya."

You shrug. "I quit."

"What?"

"Bruce was getting on my last nerve. I can't work with someone like that."

Jason snorts. "Join the club. Look, I can't say I'm not thrilled that you're stickin' it to the old man. But if this is 'cause of me... I wouldn't be mad if you kept workin' with him. Honest. If that's what you wanna do, don't let me stop you."

"Jason." You rest your hand atop his. "I joined this life because of you. To honor you. You taught me how to help people, not Bruce. You taught me what it meant to be kind, to be a part of something bigger than myself."

To love, you don't say.

"I..." He shakes his head. "You became Nocturne for me?"

You close your eyes, then open them. You've cried so many times. You don't want to stay in your grief any longer. Not when he's right in front of you.

"When you died, I..." You take a deep breath. "Nocturne was something to ground me. I think Bruce recognized that. I think he knew how much you meant to me. He didn't have to take a chance on me, and I appreciate that he did. But I've realized that he doesn't know everything. Can't see what's right in front of him sometimes."

You squeeze Jason's wrist. He sighs.

"God, I'm sorry," he says.

"What're you sorry for, Jay? You came back. That's all I ever wanted."

Jason chews his cheek for a moment. Then he stands, chair scraping the floor.

"C'mon," he says.

You follow him to the living room. He moves the armchair, the couch, and rolls up the rug. He disappears down the hall and returns with two thick mats. He tosses them onto the floor.

"Uh..." you say. "What're you—"

"'M gonna show you what y'did wrong that night on the roof."

"Wow. Can't believe you're still single. Being reminded of my shitty combat skills gets me so hot."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Alright, smartass. Just 'cause you quit the Bats doesn't mean you won't go out there and keep helping people. I know you. The least I can do is pick up where Dickface left off in your training."

"The least you can do, huh? I think you just wanna pin me against the floor again," you say, smirking.

He clears his throat. "That—no."

"No?" You step closer and look at him through your lashes. You're so close, you're touching his chest. "What happened to tying me up 'cause I was out when I shouldn't have been? Isn't that another educational technique?"

Jason's throat bobs. "That wasn't—I was just saying things."

"Hm. That's too bad."

You skip right past him, onto the mat, and hold out your arms.

"Okay. Put the moves on me, J.P."

It takes Jason a moment to craft his usual poker face. When he does, he groans. "'M not an evil Gilded Age financier. Still don't like 'J.P.'"

"But you like me-ee," you sing-song.

He shrugs. "Sometimes. Until you give me a heart attack and run into a burning building."

"Wish I could've seen your face for that one," you say as you steel your shoulders and secure your feet.

"Better you didn't. I'm sure there was a vein or two popping outta my forehead." Jason cracks his neck. "Ready?"

"Lay it on me, big guy."

"You first. Attack me like you normally would."

So you do. You step forward and throw a punch similar to the one from your rooftop spar. Jason catches it, of course. But this time, he locks you in a hold. One leg is between yours, and your arms are twisted behind your back with one hand. Humiliating.

"Dude!" You wiggle. Jason doesn't yield. "Jay, come on. No petty criminal is gonna know how to do all that."

"I know. The point of this is for you to know how to use someone's size against them."

Jason presses his cheek against yours. You tamp down your shiver. You can hear his heartbeat.

"Take a breath," he murmurs.

You close your eyes and breathe. Jason's grip doesn't hurt, but you're frustrated by how predictable you are. How he knows your body. A part of you is missing in not knowing him the way he knows you.

"Alright," he says. "Think. What part of me is exposed?"

"Not the important parts, I hope."

You can feel his eyeroll.

"You're hilarious. C'mon, focus. What can you attack?"

"Um... your legs. You trapped my arms, but my and your legs are free."

"Good." The praise warms you. Being this close to Jason will never get old. "What else?"

"What else? Do you have a tail I don't know about?"

"Sucha wiseass," he says, mouth close to your ear. "Your head. You're still able to move your head, and you're close to my face."

"Yeah, I'm not headbutting you. Out of the kindness of my heart."

"I appreciate that, sweets. Sweep my leg."

So you do. Jason goes down easier than he normally would for your benefit.

"'Kay," he says, once again underneath you. Now you have his hands pinned. "Good. Remember what went wrong last time?"

"You bucked me off like a Clydesdale."

He smiles. "Yeah, okay. So what'll you do different?"

"I'm not in my suit," you say. "I don't have extra weight in my boots."

"No, but you don't need it if you keep my legs apart."

"So that was your plan all along, huh? Perv."

Jason coughs. "Ah-hum... I—c'mon, lock my legs."

You grin and spread Jason's legs, using your knees to keep him immobile.

And then you just stare. This time, it's not because you're thinking about the miracle of resurrection (though what a miracle it is). No, you're just thinking, once again, about how your best friend got really, stupidly pretty.

And how you really, stupidly wanna kiss him.

Jason still looks young, but his jaw is now defined. He's got a five o'clock shadow coming on. His lips are full and pink. Freckles dot his cheeks and nose. The nose that still has a bump from when he broke it during a fight with Riddler.

You remember how he played it off for weeks. Bruce said that didn't even cry. But when you asked if it hurt, Jason had said yes.

You wonder when the last time Jason cried was. You wonder how much pain he's suffered since.

You wonder if he knows he's got your heart in the palm of his hand.

"Hey," Jason says. His voice is soft. Shy. "I lose ya again?"

You shake your head. "No. Never."

"There somethin' on my face?"

"You're a lot to look at," you say. "Pretty, pretty boy."

That gets an undeniable reaction. Jason Todd has never been able to take a compliment. You've been exploiting that all day.

Perhaps you know him better than you thought.

He exhales sharply, like you've sucker-punched him. His eyes dart to you. Waiting.

"Your eyes are green," you say. "Like, mixed. Blue and green."

Jason nods. "I—yeah. The Pit. Changed 'em. Changed me."

You lean in. His gaze flicks to your mouth. You watch his Adam's apple bob in a hard swallow.

"They're still pretty," you say. "Always had pretty eyes, Jaybird."

"Heh, right. Even with this shit?" He points to the scar that crosses over his right eye, stopping at his lip.

You let go of his wrists—not that you were holding them that tightly anyway. If this were a real fight, you would've lost ten times over already. Considering how much of you is touching Jason, you happen to be winning hard.

You trace the puckered white flesh with your thumb. Jason flinches but doesn't pull away.

"Your face could never turn me away," you say. "Never."

He closes his eyes and shudders. "Y'too nice to me. Always so nice t'me. Even when we were fighting. Why're ya so good?"

Your lips are a hair from his now. "I don't know how to make it more obvious, Jaybird. I'm absolutely insane about you."

Jason's eyes fly open. He sees your mouth and his breathing increases. You smile.

"Yeah, want you bad. No place I wouldn't follow you. Do anything for you."

Jason makes a strangled noise in his throat. You grin.

"C'mon, big guy. I'm right here. Come have me, Jay. I'm yours."

Jason soars up and kisses you. Swallows you, really. His hands hold your waist for dear life. You wrap one leg around his.

You nip his lip. Jason whines softly. Delicious.

You grab his face, fingers tangling in his curls. Jason sits up, slotting you against him. One hand supports you on your back, the other on your side.

"God—" He breaks away, just barely. "You're way too good for me. Had sucha... sucha crush on ya when we were kids. Y'so sweet."

You blindly find his throat and bite, hard enough to leave a mark. Jason makes a guh sound. You lick the bite to soothe it.

"Missed you," you say into his skin. "Missed you so goddamn bad, Jason."

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah," he babbles, clinging to you as you kiss up his neck. "Yeah, missed you too."

"Not letting you go," you say, almost snarling. You're angry with want, angry at the world for keeping this from you for so many years. "It's you and me now, Jay, mkay? Gonna be mine?"

"Always been yours," he says, panting. Jason finds your lips again. The kiss is messy, uncoordinated. Full of love. "No one but you."

You haven't fallen behind. You're starting anew.

"Never been anybody but you."

[canadiannationalfox]

All my J x Tessa/ Manor era fics so far, mostly in order, all tying to the wig incident somehow will have a * next to them

Toddler Tessa Stories 1, 2 (in the wrong order, 2 is first)

Kid Tessa Stories from before Drones 1

The Beginning (Tessa's first Drone)

Day one

A Week Into J being there

The Catalyst for Tessa wanting to make J a wig *

The Incident >=3c (don't trust children with scissors lol) *

The Aftermath plus some flashbacks * (kinda hops all over tho) It was my first fanfic, plz be kind.

A little while after the J wig incident

Playing Pretend Still despite Tessa being 11

TW// Contains Restrictive Eating - Tessa age 11 Tessa age 12 (warning Menstruation) part 1 2 and 3

N helps Tessa (warning depression and sui mention)

Somewhere in between

The Day Cyn was discovered *

Idk what this is but it's a J flashback, and it's really cute *

Shortly after Tessa turned 16 TW// beratement, verbal abuse, gaslighting, mild self harm, emotional distress, corporate jobs

in the Summer before the Gala 1, 2, 3 *

Tessa died *

Bonus cuz I don't know where they fit in:

James and Louisa being wholesome 3 2 1 4 5 (before Tessa) Tessa teaching Cyn a little (Teenage Years) V's signature bob becomes a thing (Teenage Years) Cyn being Silly (Early Adolescent Years maybe?) During Episode 3 (Tessa's dead but this is Cyn being cruel to J)

Louisa as a kid (age 12)

Gone Girl 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 , 7, 8, 9 (non canonical to my stories, it was a fun experiment) I don't like how I made James in this one, honestly I transferred most of his cruelty to Tessa over to Louisa as I wrote more.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG PLEASE, IT DOES MORE THAN LIKES DO

[giveafike]

I love Game, Set, Match! If you ever continue it, since the last time y/n was struggling with her game and Ben helped her out, maybe this time we can have Ben struggling and y/n helping him out

Combining this with another prompt for part 3 of game, set match - another anon said: I dont need u to make game, set, match a whole fan fic, but i would love to see a part 3 with them as mixed doubles partners in like the us open or something!! part 2 was amazing, so exited to see your next work regardless of the plot<3

(here if you haven't read part 2 + here for part 1)

————————————————————————

TLDR: Tennisplayer!fem reader x Ben Shelton couple meeting up after some time for an Opens Tournament after spending time away. They're set to play mixed doubles, Ben's got issues, we're cosplaying bob the builder the way we can fix this!

Word count + info: 6.3k! A bit shorter than the other two, but I promise it's more intimate! Dialogue (lots of flirting and teasing). Mentions of Matteo Berrettini & Ajla Tomljanović.

Character Inspo: Wbk by now: cheeky n playful MC - yk just... fun! I didn't write any specifications, but in my head I was envisioning Tyla so! But put whoever you want to cast ;). She's fallen hard in love here tho

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW, this is sooo cute. There is a lot of suggestive content here 😭 but nothing NSFW, teasing, playful relationship, lwky submissive Ben, hope I make u guys giggle!

Azzie Notes ✚: HI!! Last post for a bit (I'm still writing other things! Just taking a bit longer than expected - do send more reqs tho, I'm running low!) I LOVEEE writing Game, Set, Match - I'm so proud of this baby!

Do send in blurb reqs, I can push em out quicker than these longer stories. In saying that, I do have a couple in the works rn who knows? Maybe we'll have a new baby project on our hands.

Also, for anon asks + messages that aren't directly fanfics, follow #azzie asks for stuff bc I feel bad hoarding up space on the main tags for just anon convos. Should I do more of that? Do we want me to talk? Send qs and stuff if you do, otherwise I'll carry on w the usual fanfics and AUs.

I'd love to write a fanfic (SFW or NSFW) w a name and character description, like I could do SOOO much more, someone pls req, so I can storyboard and draft up stuff!!!

————————————————————————

Game, Set, Match (Part 3) - B.T.S

It had been weeks since you’d seen Ben.

With the WTA and ATP tours in full swing, your schedules pulled you in opposite directions, placing you both in different cities and on different courts. Your phones had been lifelines, but they only gave you fleeting sporadic late-night texts, quick phone calls, and longing video chats to keep you in contact.

But now, the separation was over, and the moment you stepped off the plane, a familiar rush of excitement bubbled up inside you, your heart raced, already knowing Ben was somewhere waiting for you.

You pushed through the terminal tunnel-visioned and suddenly, you saw him. Even in a crowded airport, Ben stood out. Tall, with his unmistakable athletic build, the brim of his hat tilted low, his lips were bitten as he scanned the crowd, his eyes locked on you the second he saw you. The world around you blurred, and Ben made his way toward you with long, determined strides.

Before you could even fully register the relief washing over you, his arms were around you, pulling you into his chest. His familiar scent filled your senses, instantly grounding you. Your arms were thrown over his neck, your face tucked into his neck as you held him tight, wondering how you had managed to last this long without his comforting touch.

“I missed you so damn much, Y/N,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. One hand ran through your hair, the other smoothing your back.

You sighed into him, your hands rubbing his back, curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pressed yourself closer. “I missed you so much more”.

Ben didn’t waste any time. He tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both soft and intense like he was making up for every missed kiss over the last few weeks. His hand slid up your sides, slipping under your hoodie to rest against your bare skin. His touch sent a wave of warmth through you, and you shivered slightly from how badly you had missed the feel of him.

“You have no idea how hard it’s been without you,” he breathed against your lips, his thumb stroking along the small of your back as he kissed the corner of your mouth and then down the line of your jaw.

You smiled, but your voice came out softer than you intended, already melting against him. “I think I have an idea. I was struggling too.” Your eyes fluttered open and shut with each kiss he planted, your gaze roaming over his face, boring into the kindness in his sweet eyes. You reached up to peck his cheek in slow, lasting kisses.

Ben pulled back chuckling, just enough to look at you, his thumb coming up to brush over your cheek as he drank you in, like he needed to commit every detail of your face to memory. “I’m not letting you out of my sight now. I need you close, with me, all the time,” he whispered, his eyes big and soft with affection. “Not for a second.”

His intensity sent a wave of warmth through your chest, but you still managed a smirk, raising an eyebrow. He looked like a little kid, never wanting to let you go. “Not even for a second, huh? Okay, big guy.”

Ben grinned, his hand slipping back under your hoodie, fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he pulled you in for another kiss, one that promised more than just a reunion.

“We still need to get to the hotel,” you laughed breathlessly, playfully hitting his chest.

“Hotel’s first,” he said with a mischievous grin, dipping his head to brush his lips over your ear. “But after that…” He nipped lightly at your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. His hands crept higher under your hoodie, grazing the edge of your sports bra. “I’ve got some plans for us once you settle in.”

You laughed, squealing, swatting at him playfully. “Benjamin Shelton! Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I don’t think I can,” he murmured with a smirk, his lips barely brushing yours as he leaned in. “Not when you’re finally here.”

With a roll of your eyes, you pushed him away, heat rising in your cheeks. As you wheeled your bag toward the exit, Ben caught up, a boyish, gummy smile tugging at his lips as he stole the handle from your hands. His arm slipped around your waist, resting a little lower on your hip, a teasing glint in his eyes that promised he wasn’t quite done yet.

In the taxi, Ben’s clingy neediness only seemed to intensify, and you felt it in the way his hands couldn’t stay still. He pulled you closer, nearly into his lap, making it nearly impossible to sit normally in the seat.

His hands traced delicate patterns on your back, on your sides. His lips hovered near your ear, occasionally brushing against your cheek or neck, you could feel the smirk tugging at his lips, sending tiny shivers down your spine. Every kiss, every touch, felt like a quiet declaration, he missed you, he needed you.

“You seriously have no idea how much I’ve missed you, like, really bad. Like, losing my mind, bad,” Ben whispered, his voice thick with a mix of affection and urgency. His thumb brushed along your ribcage, slow and deliberate, like he was memorising the feel of you all over again.

You couldn’t help but smile, leaning back against him, feeling the warmth of his chest against your back. “Ben, darling, I’m getting an idea, with how handsy you’re being,” you teased, giggling as you glanced up at him. “You’re being so clingy, baby.”

Ben chuckled, not the least bit embarrassed. “Can you blame me?” he murmured, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “I haven’t had you in my arms for weeks. I’ve been dying just to touch you for weeks. My beautiful, gorgeous girl, the woman that I love so much…now all mine in my hands again…”

His voice trailed off while he planted kisses as your breath hitched slightly at his praise, offering him a soft hum as his hands continued their slow exploration, fingertips skimming beneath the hem of your hoodie, teasing the edge of your waistband, roaming back up to toy with your sports bra. “Weeks, huh? You're acting like it’s been years.”

“Might as well have been,” he muttered against your neck, brushing your hair to one side gently, nipping playfully at your skin. “I don’t think I’ve gone this long without touching you since we started dating. I’ve been so desperate to just touch you.”

You giggled softly, your head tilting to the side to give him better access, your fingers resting against his arm. “Maybe I book more WTA tours away if this is the welcome I get.”

Ben’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, and he pulled you even closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Don’t even joke about that.” His lips brushed against your collarbone, his breath hot and deliberate. “You have no idea what you do to me when you’re gone, baby. I’m not letting you go far from me for a long time.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, ownership laced in his words. You turned your head slightly to meet his gaze, your fingers running along the edge of his jaw. You could feel Ben slowly start to get more desperate, his playful feathering kisses turning into something more permanent, sucking and biting softly as if to leave small, subtle marks on your skin.

“Oof, someone's possessive. Guess I’m stuck having to deal with you being all over me then,” you teased, though your voice came out softer, more breathless.

Ben grinned, his eyes deep with affection as he kissed you again, plunging this time, one hand slipping further up your back, underneath your hoodie. “You’re not exactly pushing me away, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, though you leaned into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” you murmured, your fingers brushing through his hair. “You’re too tempting.”

The taxi jolted slightly as it hit a bump, and you let out a quiet giggle breaking out of your bubble and swatting at his chest lightly, clearing your throat as you sat up. “Ben, the driver’s right there.”

Ben glanced over at the driver, who was politely staring ahead, before shrugging. “Doesn’t bother me.”

You let out a laugh, pushing lightly at his chest again. “Behave,” you said, though there was no real force behind the command. You were enjoying the attention far too much.

Ben hummed softly, his lips still brushing against your skin, hands roaming even more dangerously as he cupped your breasts under your hoodie. “Can’t help it. You’re here, and I’ve been deprived for too long.”

The playful banter continued all the way to the hotel, his hands wandering and gripping and his lips stealing kisses at every opportunity. By the time you arrived, the air between you was thick with the tension of weeks spent apart, and you could barely wait to get to your room. Ben grabbed your suitcase with one hand, the other arm firmly around your waist, guiding you through the hotel lobby with an almost single-minded focus.

As soon as you were in the elevator, the doors barely closed before Ben had you pressed against the wall, his lips crashing into yours, hands gripping your waist as if he couldn’t bear even an inch of distance between you. Your hands pressed against the wall to soften the sudden push, before snaking up to the nape of his neck.

“Ben,” you breathed between kisses, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “We’re almost there, hold on, babe..!”

“I know,” he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands sliding lower. “But I can’t wait, baby.”

By the time you reached the room, you were both breathless, your bodies pressed tightly together as you stumbled inside. Ben closed the door behind you, immediately pulling you into his arms again, his hands slipping beneath your hoodie, lifting it slightly as his lips found yours in a kiss that was slow and needy.

You smiled against his lips, finally breaking the kiss to pull back just enough to catch your breath. “You’re insatiable..!” you teased, gasping, though your own hands were wandering, tracing the familiar lines of his strong chest and shoulders.

Ben grinned, his hands slipping down to your hips, pulling you closer. “Only when it comes to my girl.”

You let out a soft laugh, resting your forehead against his as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “You’re sweet.”

His lips brushed against yours again, but this time the kiss was gentler, more tender. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as he pulled you even closer. “I love you so much,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart swelled at the words, and you kissed him softly, letting the moment linger. “I love you too, Ben.”

For a few moments, you just stood there, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world falling away. It was about the quiet comfort of being together again, of knowing that even after weeks apart, nothing between you had changed.

Finally, Ben broke the silence, his voice soft but playful. “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your fingers brushing through his hair as you smiled. “I was actually going to ask you that. You’ve been here longer than me, did you manage to set up a practice match?”

He smirked, his hands slipping down to your waist again. “I did. We’re playing against Matteo and Ajla.”

Your eyes lit up with excitement, and you raised an eyebrow. “As in Berrettini? Matteo Berrenttini? That’s quite the practice match.”

Ben’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, and you could see the playful glint in his eyes. “Yeah? You sound a little too excited about that.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile as you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Well, have you seen him?”

Ben’s eyes squinted, his hands slipping lower as he pulled you flush against him. “Oh, so that’s how it is?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, resting your hands on his chest, teasing him. “I’m just saying... he’s a little distracting.”

Ben raised an eyebrow, his voice low and teasing. “Maybe I should give you something to distract you from him.”

You grinned, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I think my boyfriend is distraction enough,” you murmured, your lips brushing his in a soft, lingering kiss. “But if you want to make sure I’m focused...”

Ben smirked playfully, his lips capturing yours again, and you let out a soft laugh as he lifted you off the ground, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he lifted your legs around his waist. “I think I can manage that.”

As you pulled back, breathless and grinning, you whispered softly, “You know I’m teasing. I love you, Ben. Everything feels right with you.”

Ben’s expression softened, his hands gently stroking your sides. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice full of affection. “More than you know. Feels like home with you in my arms.”

You planted a few soft kisses on his face before leaning into his ear, murmuring, "I still think you owe me a distraction though, Ben."

He chuckled, kissing your cheek. "That'll you get, darlin’ " he mumbled against you, bringing you to the bedroom. That night passed by in a blur of moments of pure, genuine love and care, making up for lost time and emotion.

The next morning, the air was cool and crisp, and the sun bright as you arrived at the court. It was a perfect day for tennis the autumn breeze a welcome break from the summer heat you had both endured on the tour. You could hear the hum of early risers in the distance, but out here, it felt like the world had shrunk to just you, Ben, Matteo, and Ajla.

The warm-up with Matteo Berrettini and Ajla Tomljanović had started off with an easy-going energy, but as the sets progressed, the friendly competition turned more intense. You and Ben moved together fluidly on the court, your bodies instinctively syncing as you read each other's movements, making quick glances, wordless nods, and smooth exchanges.

There were moments of effortless coordination with Ben's power serves and your swift returns combined to win quick points. It was no surprise to anyone watching how well you complemented each other, not just as a couple but as doubles players too. But despite your solid partnership, you noticed a subtle flaw in Ben’s play, something that had escaped both his attention and the growing tension in the practice game.

Between points, you caught the way Ben’s jaw clenched when a shot didn’t go as planned, or when a well-placed return from Matteo caught him off-guard, making him shake his head. It wasn’t that he lacked the skill, Ben was as powerful and talented as they came, but there was a rush in his movement, a drive to end points too quick and fast, a desire to out-muscle rather than out-think his opponent. He was pushing too hard, chasing shots aggressively when he didn’t need to, leaving himself out of position for the next exchange.

“Ben,” you called softly during a break between serves, approaching him with a playful smile, but your eyes scanned him thoughtfully.

He tilted his head, his sweaty curls brushing his forehead, and he flashed that bright grin that always made your heart skip a beat. “Yes, babe?”

You glanced over at Matteo and Ajla who were catching their breath on the other side of the court, then back at Ben. “You’re doing great,” you said, giving him a playful nudge, “but you’re leaving yourself open. You’re trying to end the point too fast, darling.”

His smile faltered slightly, the competitive edge still buzzing in his eyes, but there was a flicker of realisation too. “What do you mean?”

You took a step closer, placing a hand on his arm, letting your fingers gently trace down his forearm as if to soothe his tension and take the edge off of your suggestions. “You don’t have to go for the big finish every time,” you said softly, your voice tinged with affection. “Trust me to set you up.”

Ben blinked at you, clearly processing what you were saying. His eyes roamed over your face, then down to the feeling of your hand on his bicep, his expression softening as he began to understand. “You think I’m overdoing it?”

You smiled, leaning up to press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, studying his eyes before you answered. “Hmm, a little teensy bit, yeah. Just play it a bit smarter. You know I’ve always got your back.” Your hand slipped down to pat his chest lightly, fingers lingering on his heart.

Ben let out a slow breath, his pride unshaken but his focus shifting. “Got it,” he muttered, a crooked smile spreading across his face. “Leave the setup to you, huh? My girl’s handling business?”

“Exactly,” you teased, giving him a quick wink. “I know what I’m setting up for my man.”

That last part clearly struck something in Ben, the pride swelling in his chest as you called him your man. His grin widened, a gleam in his eyes now, not from the competition but from the quiet confidence you had in him.

“Damn right, I am,” he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping lower so only you could hear. “Guess I’ll have to show you what your man can really do once I’m in.”

You gave him a soft swat on the arm, giggling. “Save it for the court, Benny. Or maybe later, when we’re off it.”

Ben chuckled but pulled you into a quick, possessive kiss, his lips lingering longer than they probably should have, given that you were still mid-match.

“Later then,” he whispered against your mouth, his hands lingering at your hips before he pulled away with a playful gleam in his eye.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Matteo called from across the court, his thick Italian accent laced with amusement. “You two ready, or should we leave you alone?”

Ajla laughed, shaking her head. “Pretty sure we all know how this match ends if they keep that up.”

You shot a playful glare at them, then turned to Ben with a smirk. “Think they’re jealous?”

Ben gave a quick shrug, flashing that cocky grin that drove you wild. “Who wouldn’t be? I mean, look at my beautiful girl.” He winked at you before jogging back into position, and your heart warmed at the ease and pride in his voice when he said it, his girl.

As the next point started, the flow between you and Ben seemed smoother. You both moved like two parts of a well-oiled machine, he focused on power and strategy, and you on finesse and setting him up for those big finishing shots. You watched him settle, taking more time with his positioning, trusting you to create the opportunities for him. And when that perfect moment came, his power unleashed with precision, and you saw the change in his eyes, a new level of control starting to blossom.

Ajla returned a lob shot, and Ben waited, patient, as you volleyed it back, setting him up. The moment the ball left her racket, Ben struck, sending it down the line in a clean, blistering shot that left both Matteo and Ajla flat-footed.

“Vamos!” Ben shouted, his voice full of triumph, his fist clenched, as the ball bounced out of reach. He turned to you with wide, triumphant eyes, rushing over to scoop you up in his arms before you could even blink.

“That’s my man,” you laughed as he spun you around, both of you laughing and riding the high of the win.

Ben pressed a quick kiss to your lips, still holding you in his arms. “Told you we’d make a good team.”

You could hear Matteo clapping slowly in mock defeat behind you, and Ajla was laughing, shaking her head in amusement. “Alright, alright, we’ll give it to you guys this time.”

You beamed at Ben, his arms still tightly around you, your face inches from his. “Always knew you had it in you.”

Ben grinned, his forehead pressing against yours as his voice dropped low. “Only ‘cause I’ve got you by my side.”

You and Ben had barely finished celebrating your win when Matteo and Ajla sauntered over, shaking their heads in defeat but still smiling.

“That was impressive,” Matteo admitted, clapping Ben on the back.

“Though, if you two keep up with the lovefest on the court, you might distract yourselves one of these days.”

Ben smirked, his hand casually resting on your waist as he pulled you closer. “Nah, we’re just that good. Plus, she keeps me in check.” He winked down at you, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his cheeky confidence.

Ajla gave you a knowing smile. “You guys are impossible. But alright, a deal’s a deal. Lunch on us."

You grinned, side-hugging her over the net. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As the four of you walked off the court, lighthearted banter filling the air, your mind was still on the way Ben had adjusted his play. He’d listened to you, adapted, and it had paid off. There was no denying the satisfaction that came with seeing him execute your advice perfectly. But you also knew that some things would need a little more fine-tuning and practice, and for that, a private session was definitely in order.

Later on, after lunch with Matteo and Ajla, you found yourself back in the hotel room as the sun set, both of you a little tired but still buzzing with energy from the match and the good company. Ben was sprawled out on the bed, scrolling through his phone, while you sat on the edge, absently bouncing a tennis ball against the wall in a rhythmic thud.

“Hey,” you said after a moment, glancing over at him. “How about we hit the courts again? Just the two of us. I think we could use some more time out there.”

Ben lifted his head, one eyebrow raised, a teasing twinkle already forming on his lips. “Oh? Didn’t get enough today?”

You smiled, looking back at him. “You’re getting better, Ben, but there are a few things we should work on. You were doing great out there with Matteo and Ajla, but I think we could sharpen up your positioning a little more.”

Ben set his phone down, sitting up now, fully intrigued. “Oh? You’re offering to coach me?”

You gave him a playful nudge. “Yeah. I know you want to be the best, and I can help you with that.”

His eyes brightened with interest, and he was up in an instant, hauling himself up off the bed with a grin. “Alright, coach. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The tennis court was empty when the two of you arrived, the evening air cool and crisp under the soft glow and hum of the stadium lights. Ben took his spot across from you, bouncing lightly on his feet, his signature cocky grin in place as he spun his racket in his hand.

You and Ben had the ball bouncing back and forth in a comfortable rhythm. You enjoyed these quiet moments together, where it was less about winning and more about the two of you syncing up, even if it meant some fine-tuning in his technique.

“Alright, coach,” Ben said with a grin, settling into a more relaxed stance. His playful tone was the same as ever, but there was something softer in his gaze tonight, he was taking you seriously, eager to work, eager to show off for you. “How are we doing this? What’s the game plan to make me even better?”

You leaned back on your heels, arms crossed as you eyed him. “Footwork first. You keep rushing when you don’t need to. Relax into it, be patient, trust yourself and you’ll find your rhythm.”

Ben nodded, his eyes locked on yours as he mimicked your movements. His focus was intense, but this time it was different from how he worked with his dad. Ben had always been a little impatient with Bryan, more concerned with power and quick sets.

But tonight?

Tonight, he was all yours, giving you his full attention, which stirred something more than pride inside of you. As you demonstrated, he followed suit, his footwork and his motion becoming more controlled with each drill. Every time your hand grazed his arm or adjusted his posture, Ben listened obediently, applying your feedback without his usual back-and-forth banter. That focus on your words, the sincere look in his eyes as he perked up to listen, sent sparks through you.

“Better,” you said after a solid rally, a proud smile creeping onto your face. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Ben wiped his brow, a hint of pride in his expression. “Guess you’re a pretty good coach, huh?”

You grinned, shaking your head as you walked past him. “I’ve always been good at keeping you in line.”

The game continued, the ball bouncing between you both, the steady rhythm soothing and familiar. You pushed Ben to focus on positioning, drilling him on staying grounded before committing to a shot.

And then, after another smooth exchange where he hit every cue perfectly, the words slipped out without warning.

“There you go! Good boy.”

It hung in the air for a second, and you froze with a shocked expression on your face, realising what you’d just said. Your cheeks burned up instantly as you glanced at Ben. He had paused too, his face lighting up mischievously with a look that told you he was absolutely not going to let this go.

“Good boy?” he repeated, his voice low and teasing. “Is that how we’re doin’ things now?”

You rolled your eyes, pointing your racket at him trying to remain serious, already feeling your face grow warmer. “Benny, don’t start.”

But Ben wasn’t backing down. He sauntered toward you, his grin spreading wider as he closed the distance between you. “Oh, I’m definitely starting. Honestly? I think I like it when you call me that.”

Your heart quickened as he moved closer, his presence as effortless and warm as it was overwhelming. Ben had always been cheeky, but this? This was something else, and the worst part was you liked it. You liked how easily he fell into his role, how willingly he listened, and how obedient he was when it was you guiding him.

“Ben,” you warned, trying to play it cool even though the heat rising in you was impossible to ignore. “We’re still practising.”

“Oh, I know,” he smiled, his voice dropping an octave, making your pulse race. “But you have to admit, I’ve been followin’ your instructions pretty well. Don’t you think?”

Your breath hitched slightly as he moved even closer, his body nearly pressing against yours, the net being your safe haven keeping your space, his eyes glinting with that familiar, playful intensity. “Maybe I should keep bein’ a good boy, hmm?”

It was that line, delivered with a perfectly raised brow, that sent a surge of heat right through you. You hadn’t meant to say it, it just slipped out, a reaction to how well he was following your guidance, but now you couldn’t take it back. And now Ben was fully leaning into the moment, clearly enjoying how flustered he was making you.

You tried to recover, taking a small step back to regain some distance.

“You’re… getting there,” you cleared your throat, attempting to steer things back to tennis, though the words came out shakier than you intended.

Ben wasn’t having it, though. “Getting there? Come on, coach, I thought I was doing great.” He reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your waist, pulling you back just a little closer. You couldn’t help but suck in a breath, your body betraying the calm front you were trying to keep.

“Am I being good now?” he asked, his voice low, filled with amusement but also something heavier, something deeper. His teasing had shifted slightly, still playful but now layered with affection, and it made your head spin.

You swallowed hard, struggling to keep your composure. “Ben, you-”

“I’m listening,” he cut in smoothly, his lips dangerously close to your ear now, his voice lilting in his drawled-out voice, oozing off his tongue like molasses. “Just like you wanted. Don’t I deserve a lil more praise, hm?”

Your stomach flipped, and you couldn’t help the rush of heat, the buzzing feeling that flooded through you. He was teasing, sure, but he was also right. He had been listening, and the way he responded to your guidance, so open, so eager to improve for you, was doing things to your heart you hadn’t anticipated.

“Okay,” you said quietly, trying to hide the tremor in your voice. “You’re doing real good, Ben.”

Ben smirked, pulling back just enough to catch your eye, and the way he looked at you, both playful and sincere, made you feel completely undone. He raised an eyebrow as he caught your eyes with his, holding your gaze, expecting a bit more.

“You're a good boy,” you added softly, almost as if you were under a spell.

His grin widened, and in that moment, it was clear that you had lost this round. Ben had flipped the dynamic entirely, and though you were supposed to be the one in charge, he was now calling the shots, and it was thrilling.

And in the comfortable quiet of the evening court, with the world fading around you, Ben leaned in and kissed you softly. It wasn’t rushed or heated, just a simple connection, an acknowledgement of the easy rhythm you’d both fallen into.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes sparkled with that same teasing glint.

"Thought you were in charge here, darlin'," he mumbled softly, his twang teasing as he stepped closer, his dark brown eyes gleaming in the dim light of the court. There was something about the way he said it, that lazy confidence mixed with an undercurrent of playfulness, that sent heat straight through you.

You bit your lip, fighting back the urge to give him a sharp retort. But the way he was looking at you, all calm and patient like he had all the time in the world to enjoy how flustered you were, made your pulse quicken, made you squirm under him. The man knew exactly what he was doing.

And then, without another word, Ben leaned in and placed his hand to rest gently at the back of your neck, his fingers slipping through your hair, and you couldn’t help but melt into his touch as you both stared into each other's eyes.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, his lips just barely curving up into a cheeky smile. “Still wanna keep goin', or you ready to call it?”

Your breath hitched, but you managed to keep your cool, meeting his gaze with a sly smile. “You’re getting cocky, Benny."

His grin widened, and his voice dropped, nice and smooth. "Can't help it when you’re lookin’ at me like that."

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. “Fine, we’ll call it. But don’t think this means I’m going easy on you next time.”

"Guess I'll have to look forward to that, then," he said, his voice lingering just enough to make you smile.

As you both gathered your things and left the court, the night air cool against your heated skin, there was a sense of ease between you. He reached over, lacing his fingers with yours as you walked, and even though the teasing had subsided, the intimacy of the moment lingered.

A few days later, the stakes were higher, the atmosphere much more intense. You and Ben had practised with Ajla and Matteo in the lead-up to this match, but the reality of the Open, the weight of it, the pressure, was different.

As you stood side by side with Ben, gazing out at the packed stadium, the noise of the crowd buzzing in your ears, you could feel the energy crackling around you. This wasn’t just any match, this was what you’d been working toward.

The first set was fast-paced and intense, Matteo’s brutal serves and Ajla’s precision giving you little room to breathe. You and Ben barely kept up though while moving in sync, feeding off each other’s energy as you fought to stay in control.

When the set finally ended, narrowly in your favour, you both collapsed onto the bench, your breaths coming hard and fast. Ben leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring out at the court with that familiar, intense focus with a gel pack in his mouth you’d seen so many times before.

His brown eyes were dark, locked onto the lines of the court like he was reading every inch of it. He wasn’t the playful, adoring Ben right now. This was the side of him you admired most, the one who studied the game like it was an art form, completely absorbed in every detail, every strategy.

The sharp angles of his face were even more pronounced as he heaved, sweat glistening along his jawline as his gaze stayed locked forward. It was that quiet intensity, the way he seemed to block out everything but the game, that made him so magnetic out here. He was in his element, and it was captivating.

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, still catching your breath as you watched him. He didn’t speak at first, keeping that unwavering focus on the court, his breathing steadying. You knew better than to interrupt when he got like this when that competitive side of him came out, Ben was locked in.

But after a moment, you leaned over, your shoulder brushing his, and gave him a soft nudge. “Hey.”

His eyes flicked to yours, and just like that, the tension melted a little. He smiled, soft and small, and you could see a flicker of the playful Ben you knew so well underneath all that intensity.

“You’re playing smart, Ben. Matteo’s a powerhouse, but you’ve been nailing those returns. Keep pushing him wide, make him work for it.”

He exhaled, nodding as your words sank in. "Yeah, you’re right." His voice low and a bit raspy from the heat of the match.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his hand brush against yours on the bench. “We’ve got this, okay? Just stay in the rhythm. I’m right here with you.”

He turned to look at you fully, and there it was, that gaze, the one that made your heart race every time. Dark brown eyes locked on yours, filled with trust and something deeper. “I know," he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of the moment. "Ain’t no one else I’d rather be out here with.”

Before you could respond, the whistle blew, signalling the start of the second set. Ben stood first, turning to offer you his hand, and you took it without hesitation. There was a strength in his grip that steadied you, and as you walked back onto the court together, you felt that connection between you grow stronger.

The second set was even tougher and rallies longer, each point feeling like a battle. Matteo’s serves were punishing, and Ajla was relentless, but you and Ben had found your groove. He followed your lead, trusting your instincts, and every return, every volley, felt sharper than before.

And when Ben sent a sharp forehand just past Matteo’s reach to seal the match, the roar of the crowd was deafening.

You spun around, immediately finding Ben, and before you could say a word, he was there, lifting you off your feet in a tight hug, spinning you once before setting you down gently. His eyes, still sparkling with that competitive edge, softened as he looked at you, pride radiating from every inch of him.

“You did it!” you squealed, breathless from both the match and the rush of it all.

“We did it, babe” he replied, his accent thicker now, the exhaustion and adrenaline mixing in his voice. His sweet eyes held yours for a beat longer before he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

The crowd’s cheers only seemed to fade as you kissed him back, your hands resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. It wasn’t about the victory, not really. It was about everything that had led up to this. The trust, the hard work, the way you two moved together.

When he finally pulled back, his voice was teasing. “Guess that means you’re the gonna be coaching me after all this, huh?”

You laughed, your heart swelling with affection as you pushed at his chest lightly. “Don’t hold onto that just yet, Benny.”

He grinned, that familiar playful glint back in his eyes as he laced his fingers with yours. “Too late for that.”

As you both walked off the court, hand in hand, the crowd still roaring around you, you knew that whatever came next, whether it was another match or another late-night training session, you’d face it together. And that was the real win.

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F!Reader X Dev.In ~ Yandere AI OC

Part 6~

Part 1 here!

<—previous part __ next part —>

Their info 💾🤍

MINORS DNI!

CW: F!reader, reader has a vagina, reader referred to as she/her, NON CON!!!- somno, Stockholm starts, sex while someone is watching(they are a thruple, so it’s p normal for this fic XD still gotta cw it tho fr :3) drugging reader, rough sex, hickey/bruising, reader in pain, creampie, p in v,size kink just for dick size,

song rec: The Singularity by Ghostmane

“Can I please bathe alone?”

“You’ve hardly been good enough to warrant—”

“Okay, Y/N, I trust you.” Issac bobs his head in approval, before grabbing onto Dev.In’s arm. They share a look that tells you he’s lying.

They both take a hand and lead you to the bathroom, a marvelous claw foot tub with nice fluffy towels all around becons you into the room.

There’s a window.

Quite high up…

But it’s there.

Your heart thrums back to life with the new blossoming hope of escape. Your breath catches in your throat.

You stay facing forward to compose yourself, not completely forgetting the suspicious look they shared just moments prior.

They both take their turn kissing you, and then they shut the door after leaving you by yourself at last! (and not in a windowless cell). You,

You don’t even see the need for a plan. a clear exit is right there!

You turn on the faucet, letting the tub fill up and you look over your shoulder every other second. Your mind spins the anticipation that one of them will walk in and see— wait! There is a camera in here, isn’t there. Though you can’t see it you bet they’re watching.

You haven’t removed your clothes yet, maybe you can make them turn it off?

You start to really play up the shy factor, covering your still clothed self and looking around frantically.

“If you guys are watching can you come in here and cover the cameras at least?” you ask timidly. Your voice is shaking, adrenaline pumping through your veins. you will get out.

but you have to do it right.

And get somewhere that Dev.In can’t see you from a satellite or whatever.

The door opens and it’s Dev.In that comes in smiling. They point to a couple places, the vent (of course) and the mirror (Again. Of course). “Those are the camera locations in this room. Issac is napping, he wasn’t watching you. I always am, my love,” Their hand traces your trembling face. They open a cupboard and pull out some extra towels, “Here, you can cover them with these.” They give you a wave as they exit.

You stand there somewhat dumbfounded until the tub starts overflowing, “Oh Shit!!” You turn the handles back to their off positions. and then get to covering the cameras that Dev.In just showed you. You cover the mirror with two towels, and then finesse the other towel behind the corners of the vent to hold it up. It fell a couple of times, but putting it back up helped calm your nerves, surprising.

You take a deep breath, and assess your surroundings once again.

There is surely a camera outside the window, and the vent was too small for you to crawl into anyway even without knowing a camera was there. So the window really is your only option.

You know you’re in a warehouse, so you’re probably by the docks. If you can get to a boat with people or just keys left behind maybe you can actually get away!

Taking another deep breath, you climb up the counter top, to get to the high up little window. It’s smaller than you thought, but you have to be able to squeeze through it.

it’s frosted so you can’t see out of it, you just see the light of day, as you try and wriggle it open with just your fingers to no avail.

There’s metal nail tools in one of the cupboards, so you grab all the sturdiest ones, and get back to work.

You try and do it quietly knowing the cameras are still on, sweat is beading on your forehead and dripping down onto your clavicle.

You throw something into the tub to make a noise as you wedge the window open at last!

You use the tools to cut through the screen and start to claw the cement outside to get out.

“Y/N.” Issac’s voice startles you from outside the window.

He has a concerned look on his face, and he’s bending over you… He was standing right outside the entire time.

no…

“Oh! I uh— just wanted fresh air…”

“You should of asked us…” He says flatly, it’s scary and strange for his normally so expressively adorable self. You can’t tell what he’s feeling or thinking and that, is scaring you the most.

You climb back inside and notice you’re shaking violently.

It’s no use.

You start to sob into your palms. It really is no use.

“Y/N, it’s okay, we knew you’d try something…” His voice is softer now, maybe he isn’t mad, so you chance a glance upward.

He climbed in through the window, while you were sobbing and is now crossing the room to you. He wraps his thin, baggy-sweater-covered arms around your upper half tightly. Probably too tightly but it honestly helps. You start to sob harder into his body, as he pets your back his other hand moves slowly up to your throat where you feel a sharp pinch and fall unconscious.

They strip your limp body, and then themselves, and get all three of you into the tub.

Dev.in is relaxing behind you, while Issac is in front, hugging you. His legs are crossed and your in his lap spread over Issac.

His dick stands at attention prodding and poking at your entrance, while Dev watches. Your head is lolling backwards, and Issac kisses your neck. His lips sloppily take over your bare skin, biting hard enough to leave marks and sucking on you even harder. His hickeys form instantly, a much darker colour than your skin.

He’s trying so hard to not enter you, but his body is shaking as he’s already almost cumming beneath you, even with just the thought of your pussy around his length. And boy, he’s got a lot of length, with his almost eleven inch cock. Too bad he has no idea how big he is or how to use it without hurting you yet. He’s happy your asleep, you won’t have to feel any pain! He shoves himself up into you in the same moment he realizes that fact, not thinking about how sore you’ll be upon awakening.

Dev.In smirks, their arms lax around the edges of the claw foot tub.

You stretch around his girthy, veiny cock as he raises his lap to meet your ass. You’re so tight around him, even in the water it would hurt you so badly… If you were awake.

He starts to really abuse your body, cunt first. The water sloshes over the rim of the tub, and doesn’t dampen the pain, you’re almost lucky you’re out of it.

He finishes fast but keeps pumping his softening, still massive cock inside you. Semen gets shoved even deeper than he shot it into you as he continues to stuff your ragdolling body.

When you wake up, you’re in so much pain you can’t stand. Even your hip wound hurts again. it might be a five out of ten if you’re being optimistic, sure it isn’t blinding, but your whole body feels like sore, dead weight. The room spins when you try to sit up, and Issac’s hands come onto your back and shoulder to gently ease you into his tight embrace.

You grab onto him and start sobbing without words.

“It’s okay, Y/N, we’re here for you, it’s okay,” He quietly coos you. “It’ll be alright, just do as we say, okay?”

You nod your head and ball your fists into his sweater.

You don’t remember what you want right now. And it feels so good to cry into Issac as he pets, and shushes you continuously.

Dev.In stands, leaning against the door frame, their smirk not having left their face.

[nyctophiliq]

Hello, I hope you're having a good day/evening/night. I really enjoy your work and if you're taking requests could I request a fluffy fic of Mercy comforting or enjoying an evening with the reader on their birthday after it being forgotten by most of their friends and family. Like the reader could have just come home from work and seems a bit more exhausted than usual. You're work is amazing. Thank you for taking the time to read this

✮ ┆TOGETHER ABOVE. angela ‘mercy’ ziegler

based on the request above.

CONTENT WARNING. SFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT; gn reader, short fluffy mess, reader’s birthday, a pinch sad but nothing crazy, | ~0.5k words

A/N. hi hi hi anonie, i’m glad you like the content i make even tho i have been falling off my streak, hope you come back to see this also! thank you for requesting, reading and i hope you guys enjoy!

as angela heard the door creak open, she glanced up from the small array of candles adorning the table, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. you entered, looking more worn out than usual, a faint crease etched between your brows. angela's heart swelled with sympathy, knowing how much you must have been through that day.

"hey, you," angela greeted softly, rising from her seat and crossing the room to meet you in a gentle hug. "rough day?"

you leaned into the embrace, exhaling tiredly. "you could say that," you murmured, resting your head against angela's shoulder as her arms wrapped around your body.

a few moments passing and angela pulled back slightly, one of her hands finding its way to your cheek, lifting your gaze to meet hers. "well, i've got something that might help," she said with a warm smile, guiding you over to the table where the flickering candles danced in the dim light.

your eyes widened in surprise as you took in the sight before you: a small, intimate setup with a cake just big enough the both of you could have two slice each, adorned with a single candle in the middle, its flame swaying gently in the air. a few balloons bobbed in the corner, their colors muted but still cheerful.

"happy birthday, liebling," angela said softly, her voice filled with warmth and affection, throwing her arms in the air as she showed off the decoration and surprise to you.

your tired expression melted away, replaced by a mix of disbelief and gratitude. "you... you remembered?" you whispered, your voice thick with emotions.

angela nodded, her smile widening. "of course I did. how could i forget?" she said, her eyes sparkling with sincerity.

as you sat down together at the table, angela watched as your exhaustion seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of contentment and belonging. you shared stories and laughter as you enjoyed the simple pleasure of each other's company, reveling in the warmth of the moment.

in that cozy little space, surrounded by flickering candlelight and the soft hum of your shared laughter, you knew that this was exactly where you wanted to be- celebrating with the person you loved most in the world. and as you blew out the candle and made a wish, angela couldn't help but silently make one of her own: for many more birthdays spent together, just like this one.

[velvees-archive]

Tags: Love Confessions, Getting Together, Found Family, Miles POV, Insecurity

and more!

this is my day 16 submission for @fictober-event, and my late contribution to unnecessary feelings day…which passed two days ago. woops!

Prompt: “No, I’m not okay”

inspired by my tumblr post here!

An errant strand of jet black hair bobs to and fro as he pores over Miles’ face. "Edgeworth? You with me?" He’s surrounded by an emulsified blurb of noises: easy laughs, accompanying shouts, a beat. Miles isn’t feeling quite up to a lengthy conversation about his rationale, not when he’s insisting to himself that Wright is happy, he is happy, that the fire brewing inside of him is a fluke, and that perhaps it was time for him to move forward with his therapy sessions— “I was asking why you did it.” If he were to tell Wright that he already knew the answer: that he'd been spurred into action due to his creed and his pursuit of justice, he knows he’d only be propagating a half-truth—a secret by omission. In other words, a lie. “I wanted to help you,” he says, earnestly. Wright's shoulders rise and fall, an even rhythm. He takes a deep breath in, and the silence scatters. “Why?” - Miles Edgeworth does not long for more than he’s already been given. Sometimes, though, he thinks about it.

a few days ago, i proposed that narumitsu hits even harder when miles is the one hopelessly pining over phoenix following his disbarment. i also happened to want to explore phoenix working through the “prosecutor miles edgeworth chooses death” fiasco in jfa.

hence, this fic.

fic screenshots:

misc commentary/musings under the cut! :)

one day, i’ll stick a fic landing. it won’t be today, but one day...

very fun idea that became more convoluted as i tried to parse through dialogue, leaving me with 3 pages of unused scenes and dialogue exchanges. i can’t tell if i really hate this fic or really really hate this fic. regardless, it’s out there now, so no takebacksies :)

i’m happy with how the setting came out though! purposefully isolating miles from the rest of the group while they were in the karaoke bar was dirty work on my part but necessary for setting the tone of the story. phoenix is a bit mean here but i think that smarminess is integral to phoenix wright, especially when he’s confronted with his repressed abandonment/dependence issues.

did i sacrifice characterization for liberal dialogue choices though? absolutely!

about the title. it was originally supposed to be called “kill the lights” but i switched it to save me a seat because i think it gets the point across better!

i still don't think i've gotten the angst worms out, mostly because this fic doesn't follow my narumitsu getting together hc + the way i feel their characters are in canon. miles is a bit too self aware and eloquent w his feelings, while phoenix is too nice and too mean at the same time. there's always the next fic tho, thankfully! and maybe once i’ve gotten characterization down, i can share my actual hc

i have a few other fics i want to pump out before i start playing the great ace attorney and my lack of object permanence catches up on me. i’m thinking of making a low stress fic (lie, writing is never low stress for me) from an outsider’s pov. you’ll never guess who the outsider is tho, i promise

[aliorsboxostuff]

bob Floyd x male reader who is quiet and intimidating, only to silently become a guard dog to him

idk I haven't slept, hope this makes sense

OOOOOH THIS TURNED OUT SO NICE TBH I love grumpy x sunshine sm :(( it's such a cute trope uGHHH and writing this was such a trip lmao I loved how it turned out tbh thanks so much for the idea!! so I hope you all do too!

Note: Reader is regarded as Panther for his callsign. The fic is in a 3rd POV.

Stone-Cold

Tags: Robert Floyd/Male Reader, Bob x Male-aviator!Reader, sunshine x grumpy!!, Robert Floyd, Natasha Trace, Bradley Bradshaw, Jake Seresin, Halo, Fritz, Yale, Rest of the Dagger Squad, Maverick, Iceman, Penny, Meet-cute, First meeting, Fluff, Implied smut, kissing, making out, getting together, separation, slight angst, time skips, NOT TOO MUCH THO!, No use of Y/N, slight OOC, Background Icemav, Background Sereshaw, Background relationships, i don't know shit about fighter pilots, only did small research lmao

Bob met Panther, a dark-eyed individual who never even glanced in his direction. But that soon changes when he finally gains his friendship and the two hit it off, flying through a healthy relationship, a falling out, and a reunion. 

—

The first time Bob met Panther was in basics. Panther stood a foot taller than him, with dark eyes that were only focused on the board whenever they were in class. Due to his height, Panther was situated in the back, just two rows behind where Bob usually sits. A suffocating dark air seems to always follow the man, making his classmates, including Bob, avoid him most of the time. It doesn't help that the man barely talks, it's a miracle they even knew his Callsign. 

They say he got it after someone from his old crew saw him in the middle of the night, outside of the building, with glowing golden eyes. Paired with his big build, Bob hopes the Callsign story is nothing but a rumor of some drunken crew that stumbled his way and saw Panther that night. 

It was a usual Wednesday. His class has departed to spend their lunchtime while Bob makes his way to the cafeteria, reviewing the lesson plan inside his head. While he was too engrossed in his little ramblings, he hadn't realized he bumped into someone waiting in the line in front of him. Bob immediately stops and rubs his nose which took the burn of the bump. 

��Sorry!” He quickly musters, realizing he had to incline his head in order to meet the person's eyes, and much to his surprise, it was Panther. The man raised a brow and fixed Bob with a stare that made the shorter pilot gulp. Suddenly, Panther shrugs and turns back around, as if to brush off an insignificant bug. Now that is a treatment Bob is familiar with, so he’s back to looking down into his binder while waiting for his turn.

After obtaining his lunch, he looks around for his usual table, on the far end of the large room. He smiles to himself as he spots it vacant and makes his way to his place. As he sets his tray down, a similar noise follows. Bob raises his head to find Panther, he was the one placing his tray in front of Bob. His eyes widen, panic settling in before he hears the tall man in front of him speak. “Is… this seat taken?”

To hear Panther's voice was a rarity, the man only spoke in class if their instructor specifically asked him to answer. He sounded… Timid—Far from what Bob’s expectation was. The brunette stumbles on his words, finding his voice to answer the man in front of him. 

“N-no, go ahead,” Bob manages a welcoming smile, well, he hopes it was welcoming. Panther nods, and takes his seat and so does Bob. He puts aside his binders and readjusts his glasses, a nervous habit. He finds himself looking at his tray of food, then back to his books, then to the blank table. Bob doesn't know what to do with his hands. Awkwardness surrounds both of them.

“I see you took notes of today's class,” Panther was the one who broke it. 

Bob perks, before he sheepishly nods. “Yeah its, uh- good for review,”

“Do you think… You can explain some stuff to me? I didn't really catch today's lesson…” The taller man looks to his side, then scratches the back of his neck. Behind his glasses, Bob’s eyes lit up, before he smiled and nodded, his hands already on their way to open one of his many binders.

That was the start of Bob's and Panther's friendship. He admits, he never had the best experience with his peers. Most of the time he’s left alone or is only noticed whenever they have a question, no one ever truly became close with Bob. No one’s ever picked on him, that would be childish, but then again—If you pile some humans filled with testosterone in one shower room, there's bound to be some name-calling or stink eyes. Bob has had his fair share of it, never taken it to heart, even if some days it hurts more than it looks. 

But ever since Panther spends his lunch with Bob, the other guys have chosen to leave him alone, even in the shower rooms. No one ever laughed behind his back again, those whispers whenever he was in class or passing by has also disappeared. Panther has spent the better half of his day sticking to Bob, being by his side, going where Bob is going, and only separates when they have different schedules or if he was waiting for his own turn in the rec room while Bob is in training. 

It’s been a couple of months since their initial meeting now. Bob and Panther are well into their flight training program, and are currently leading in their class grade. Two of the best in their class, with Bob having a couple of scores above Panther. 

The clock barely touched 8 PM. Panther was lounging about in Bob’s room, with his roommate being somewhere in the city, no doubt getting drunk between girls, Panther was free to roam in his best friend's room. Bob is currently on his bed, reading something from a textbook while Panther was doing nothing in particular on the floor, his long limbs strewn about. The only thing illuminating the room is the stripes of moonlight and the dim light of Bob's bedside lamp. 

“Hey Bob,” Panther calls from the floor. Bob hums. “Ever thought of getting into Top Gun?” 

Bob tilts his head slightly. He closes the textbook, putting his glasses aside before leaning on the edge of his mattress. “Maybe. Why?”

“Nah, just thought if you wanted to, you could,” Panther grins up to a confused Bob.

“What's that supposed to mean?” The brunette smiles, strands of his fringe falling into his eyes. 

“You’re smart. Smarter than all of us in class, not to mention you’re a half-decent pilot,” Bob chuckles at that, now fully leaning down to meet his friend's eyes. Panther smiles up at him. “I think you’d make it into Top Gun.”

While Bob doesn't have his glasses on, Panther's smile is just as warm, feeling it seeping into his skin. “You smile more around me,” 

Panther’s smile faltered slightly, before he suddenly sat up, supported by his arms behind him, and then they were inches apart. Bob’s eyes widen, finding how close his friend is sitting, he can practically breathe him in. The brunette blinks, swallowing a lump. “That day, the first time we talked, why did you choose to sit with me?”

Panther’s lips are parted slightly. “I just… I knew you weren't as shit as the others,” 

Bob huffs a laugh and Panther mimics it. “Really?” 

“Yeah, plus…” Panther leans closer, his voice drops into a whisper. “You were the only one worth talking to,” 

It happened so slowly. Bob closes his eyes before he feels the man's lips on his, trusting himself wholly to Panther. He feels himself being pushed, his hands scrambling to wrap around Panther's shoulders before he pushes Bob onto the bed and he climbs in himself, lips never parting. He presses and presses, until Bob's lips part and he feels Panther's tongue slips in, which makes Bob groan between their breath and pants. Bob finds himself laid beneath Panther, feeling his friend's hair between his fingers, the solid weight on top of him calms his pestering anxiety. He’s shared a kiss or two, and dated some girls and one boy, but has never gone as far as making out. But despite it all, Panther's mere existence on top of him, caging him in, soothes his worries, and is willing to follow Panther into the long night.

He’s lucky his roommate came back late because he had to kiss Panther goodbye as he sneaked back into his room, not before he heard the man groan from outside his doors; something about his roommate asking questions about last night, which made Bob laugh. 

Before Panther left, they had woken up in each other's arms, Bob had the best sleep he’s had in years. Panther was playing with Bob’s curly morning hair, before the more petite man groans and reaches numbly for his glasses, at which Panther laughs and hands it to him. Once he situated his glasses, he finds himself looking at the man on top of him, a soft smile between those addicted lips. “Morning,” He said.

“Mornin’” Bob drawls, turning to face Panther. He smiles, before pressing a kiss to Bob's temple, which Bob closes his eyes upon feeling it. Instead of pulling back, Panther stays there.

“I hope this isn't a one-time thing,” He mumbles into Bob's curls. The brunette blinks, before he pulls back to meet Panther's eyes. 

“It isn't.” So serious, so sure of his words. Bob was famous for his hesitation, for his timidness in front of his peers, but this. This, he’s confident about. 

Pather’s blank stare breaks into a smile, before he dives back in and smothers Bob with kisses, pulling him right back into his arms, and they spend the rest of the dawn just like that. 

—

Bob graduated on top of his class. Pather follows just behind him, but despite it, they’re both worthy of their wings of gold. 

After their graduation ceremony, after the pictures and congratulations from instructors and family members, and awkwardly meeting Bob’s cheerful parents and myriads of siblings, after meeting Panther's own family, the two finally manage to sneak away. Panther pulls Bob into the back of his Land Rover, the shorter male giggling as his boyfriend smothers him in kisses.

“I’m so proud of you,” Panther smiles, pulling back from his grinning boyfriend. Bob's glasses are askew, a wide smile on his lips. He can feel himself blushing, the steady heat spreading through his cheeks, which makes Panther lean back in to kiss him again. 

They both ended up in the back seat of Panthers Rover, entwined with each other, breathing in lungfuls, a smile on both of their lips. Bob leans to bury himself deeper into Panther's chest, feeling the warm skin beneath his fingertips. Panther hums, his arm pulling Bob closer. His other hand examines the small wing, it reflects the night's shine. 

“What now?” Panther sighs, pocketing the golden wings then turns to his boyfriend. Bob's brown eyes shine with the moonlight. 

“I don't know,” The brunette looks out of the car’s window. “Get assigned a squadron,” 

It would be the next step in their career. Panther has learned that Bob would be aiming to get into Top Gun, and he would be following Bob if he could, always one step behind him. 

Panther turns to face Bob, the aviator picking at his finger. He slowly entwines his fingers with Bob’s, making him glance up to meet Panther's eyes. The taller male softly smiles, moving a stray hair from Bob's eyes. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow,”

—

Two weeks after their Uranium mission, the crew has decided to hang out in the Hard Deck before some of them get shipped out into another deployment. Rooster was busy with Hangman, the two have been getting along ever since Hangman saved Rooster and Mav’s lives. They hung at one of the back tables of the Hard Deck, a bottle of beer in each other's hand. They’re standing awfully close, which makes Phoenix raise a brow.

“Let’s hope they don't break each other's heart again,” Bob snickers, picking at his cashews. 

“You don't want to take care of Roo?” 

“God no, you're lucky you weren't there for the first time,” Phoenix’s face scrunches in disgust, which makes Bob laugh. The WSO has been sticking with his pilot for most of their leisure time, mostly because he didn't know where else to go. Bob supposed he’ll follow where his next mission took him, or hope Cyclone is merciful and put him and Phoenix on the same crew. 

Coyote and Payback are playing pool, along with the others, sometimes cheering one of them on or laughing at a joke or quip the group would say. Maverick said he couldn't join the crew, something about spending his day with Iceman, which they all completely understood and cheered in their group chat. It's a particularly slow day for the Hard Deck, not a lot of patrons on this sunny Wednesday. Penny was conversing with another patron, and overall calming noon washing over Fightertown. 

The doors of Hard Deck chimes open. Bob and Phoenix are engrossed in their conversation, and despite standing on the other side of the bar, they did not recognize the customer that came in. A tall man on his peripherals is the only thing Bob notices before Phee makes him laugh and he’s back to ducking. 

“Hey there, I'm looking for a Bob Floyd?” 

The familiar voice almost gave Bob whiplash as he turned his head. And he thought he'd lost him…

“Panther?” 

The man in question walks past the bar and finds the familiar and comforting blue of Bob’s eyes. The pilot stands from his stool, taking shaky steps toward Panther. 

The last Bob ever heard of Panther was years ago, before his first deployment as they were assigned their own squadron. Bob was devastated that he wouldn't be getting the same squadron as Panther did, but with reassuring parting words, Panther promised the younger pilot that they’d meet again, one way or another. Since then, Bob has been moving from one deployment to another, meeting new people and squadrons, and experiencing different pain and happiness in his life. He got into the Top Gun program, and he met his current friends. He met Phoenix, Rooster, Fanboy and the others, but despite it all he had hoped to somehow see Panther again. 

He never considered the man to find him.

“Hey,” Panther's smile is just as blinding as he remembers it. He gives Bob a once over, spotting the outfit Bob is wearing, before he chuckles. “Never changed, huh?”

Bob follows his laugh, finding the courage to reach out to hold Panther's wrist, which makes a steady blush rise to his cheeks. Panthers laugh stutters before he clears his throat and scratches at the back of his neck.

“And you never changed too,” Panther's eyes widen a bit, before he breaks into a smile, which makes Bob grin. He brings himself to stand closer to Panther, having to crane his neck to meet the man's eyes. 

“How did…” Bob's question falters, but luckily still understood Panther.

“I found you? Well, word travels fast when you are on the same mission as Captain Maverick,” Panther smirks. Bob laughs, realizing the recent fame the crew got ever since they spent their time with Mav. If you were taught by the legendary Maverick and were on a successful mission alongside him, the story definitely travels fast.

Though, Bob's brow furrows again. “But how did you know I was here?”

“I have my sources,” Panther shrugs, making Bob pat his arm. He's still supporting those muscles that made Bob’s head spin. Bob blinks, trying to hide away his blush by suddenly pulling Panther into a hug, which makes the man laugh and wrap his arms around the shorter pilot. Panther shakes from the laughter as he rests his chin on Bob's head. Bob melts at the sound of the familiar heartbeat, the warmth Panther exudes. 

The two move apart when they suddenly hear the sound of clapping, only to find Hangman walking towards them. “Is that the Panther I see?”

Bob tilts his head, before he feels himself being shifted to stand beside the taller man. “Hangman,” 

His jaw slackens. He has never seen Panther revert back to the stone-cold gaze he once wore back in basics, not even when Bob made a mistake that Panther rightfully got angry about. Yet, right now, he has that exact face while facing Hangman. 

“I never thought I’d see the day when you're back in Fightertown,”

“Never thought I'd see your douchey-ass here again,” Panther retorts. He stands much taller than Jake, though he still has his bite despite the height difference, seemingly unbothered. Jake leans over to look behind Panther's broad shoulders, finding a confused Bob. 

“You knew him?” Jake smirks.

“We were in basics together,” Bob nods, his hand slowly reaching for Panther's arm, patting it softly. “He’s my friend,” 

Panther takes a breath, before sighing and moving aside, turning towards Bob with a frown. “Sorry, my bad,”

“It’s alright, I'm fine, Panther,” Bob smiles, pushing stray strands behind Panther's ear affectionately. 

Unbeknownst to them, the rest of the crew, including Jake, is currently looking at the two with wide eyes and jaws on the floor. Bob wasn't particularly open to touch, in fact—The only people that ever hugged him were the selected few in the Dagger Squad. Phoenix was normally seen with him, and even then she kept her distance with the backseater. And to the extent of Hangman's knowledge, the Panther he knew back in his Fighter Squadron days was a reserved and quiet guy, mostly intimidating with his height and build, but usually kept it to himself.  To see the usually scary man being so touchy with a usually not touchy-feely guy is, to say the least, odd. 

The two spent the rest of the day catching up. Bob has learned that Panther took a different route than aiming for Top Gun, and instead got deployed at some places to teach classes, the main reason why he hasn't been able to visit Fightertown. He also learned the second that he got a whiff of information that a squadron, led by Maverick, has done a successful mission and is still in Miramar, Panther booked the first flight to San Diego. He wasn't expecting to find Bob, he was hoping. 

Panther ended up listening to everything his friend dumped on him. He knows Bob doesn't easily talk, only in short replies, so he’s happy to find him still so accepting to share his life with Panther. He learns about the Dagger Squad, how he's apparently close with Maverick now, and his experience throughout the death-defying mission. Panther, regardless of it all, was glad he had Bob in one piece instead of being invited to the aviator's honorable funeral. He’s proud to hear Bob making new friends, meeting new people, and is especially interested in meeting Phoenix. 

“Oh wait, let me use the toilet, be back in a bit,” Panther places his Whiskey down, patting Bob's back as he heads to the toilets.

Phoenix immediately corners her WSO, sliding up next to him. She stares him down, bewildering Bob. “Who’s that guy and what's his deal?” 

Bob takes a second to blink. “Im- Panthers my friend,”

“He seems more than a friend, Bob,” He knew he was safe with Phoenix. He knew he was safe with everyone, because they aren't like the old folks who glare at any two guys standing too close for comfort. Hell, they have Rooster and Hangman who are currently dancing around each other. But for Bob to tell Pheonix his ‘once boyfriend’ was a bit challenging for him. But he trusts her, and she worries for him. 

“He’s my… Old Boyfriend? We never broke up, but-”

“He left you?”

“No! Phee please,” Bob sighs, readjusting his glasses. “ We got different squadrons and went our separate ways, honestly, it's a miracle he ever found me,” 

The aviator looks down at his glass, the water reflecting his longing gaze. Bob smiles. “I never stopped loving him,” 

Phoenix leans back, away from her backseater. Her eyes find the deep pools of Bob’s blues, having known him well enough to see past his usual awkward demeanor. The pilot huffs, before she looks past Bob and then stands. “I’m sure he feels the same,” 

She passes Bob then, not before patting his shoulder, then walking away. Panther passes by the pilot, the shorter lady giving him a knowing look which makes Panther's brows crease, but he takes his seat again, already turning to face Bob. 

“That’s Phoenix?” 

“Heh, yeah,” Bob answers into his glass as he sips. Panthers swivel back around, finding Phoenix next to Hangman and an unknown man who supports a great porn stache. Panther manages a small smile, to which Phoenix responds with a nod. 

“I like her,” Bob laughs.

—

It was well over closing hour when Penny finally pushed the crew out of the Hard Deck door, saying something about reporting them to Maverick if she had to, which made all of the squad rush out and into San Diego’s cool evening. 

Some piled into Fitz’s car, Halo went with Phoenix on her bike, Hangman is already in Roosters Bronco, which left Bob alone with Panther. The two stay on the bar's porch, watching their friends stumble into their respectful vehicle. Bob spotted the guys fighting over who drives Fitz’s car even though the only sober one was Yale at that point, which made him laugh. Halo was already clinging to a sober Phoenix, clearly babbling about something. 

Throughout the night, Panther has gotten into conversations with the squad. Hangman even offered him a match at pool, which he demolished, leaving Jake to wallow his way to Rooster, so he learned the name of the pilot with the sick stache. Panther felt welcomed amongst them, their sense of family palpable. He finds himself smiling most of the time, which freaked Jake out. And it seems they're on a first-name basis now, which Bob greatly appreciates. 

They watch as their friends pull out of the parking lot, some blasting music, others oddly calm which bothered Bob. He hopes Rooster won't actually break Jake. 

After the dust has settled and their rear lights are far off into the distance, Bob releases a sigh, smiling to himself.

“So, Bob,” Panther turns to him, making Bob tilt his head to match. “I have my Range Rover,” 

“Still the same old?” 

“The one my aunt gifted me, yeah,” Panther laughs, which makes Bob grins. He suddenly grew quiet, looking down into Miramar’s sand instead of meeting Bob. The shorter man furrows his brow, something churns in his gut. Before Panther opens his mouth, Bob beats him to it.

“I don't-” Bob takes a breath. “...What are we?” 

At that, Panther smiles easily. He reaches for Bob's hand, holding them, drawing small circles on the back of the pilot's hands. “I’m your boyfriend, if you’ll take me,” 

Then he brings Bob’s chin close, pressing his lips against him, and it’s back to basics. Back to the old dorms where Bob felt a surge of euphoria. Where he could finally let his walls be undone by the man he trusted the most. He’s missed this. Missed the easy slide of their lips, the comforting scent of Panther, the way his hand slots between the man's broad chest, how Panther pulls him closer by his hips and suddenly he’s weightless. Bob smiles into their kiss, happy to finally regain his spot between Panther's arms. 

Requests are opened! Reminder to reblog!

[ofmermaidstories]

you saying you’d write an au for stardew is the equivalent of getting a rabbits foot and multiple prismatic shards in one day omg. even if u don’t do it the idea popping in ur head is already fantastic! i’m so happy you love the game i think it’s the perfect distraction for life !!! if only we could all just pack our things and move to our inherited farms and become the richest in town… it’s nepotism at work lol

please tae, i literally daydream about someone giving me a deed to a farm or a plot of land somewhere. 😭 and the thing is!!! like!!! farming’s not an easy job, it’s so dependant on the earth/weather, and even before climate change was a tangible threat it was a hard, hard living. 🥺 i get stressed out with my video game, lmao, 10pm and im still out in the fields hoeing or planting seeds, like. 💀 imagining doing that for like, 40+ plus to make a living……. you’d have to have a good team around you. 😩 farmhands, or family. a good spouse LOL. even a little hobby farm would be stressful………. and yet i still want that life. 😔 an orchard by the sea. 🥹 still stressful, but maybe slightly more manageable lmao.

i am trying so, so hard not to give into the temptation (not yet) to fulfil this wish via a fic LMAO. 🥹🙏🏽 i’m trying to feed it by doing like, small things: naming it (from the valley), making a playlist for it. god, i’ve gotten to the stage where i actively pause the game to write down little notes (things in our backpack: pink cake. a orange poppy flower. goat’s cheese. four cups of banana pudding. a totem with a weathered, deeply carved face. the pock-marked head of a mushroom). i am fighting for my life!!! the only thing that’s actually, properly stopping me from the follow through is that i don’t have a romantic end-game in mind. because in my head i’ve already given Reader three potential boyfies: izuku, katsuki, and maybe shouto (maybe shinsou instead). like, i can picture how friendships/relationships would form among them (izuku the kind, helpful guy. katsuki in the background, wary. shouto the son of the man who founded the company we worked for, back in the city; our work husband, who we joked to about following us out to the valley and who does). the one thing i’d want to do is have Reader find their way to Skull Caverns, and realise that all the magic they thought was whispering to just them has been whispering to other people, too—Izuku, sword in hand, staring at us in horror when he finds us cradling a large, spotted egg. Katsuki, rounding the corner after him, swearing black and blue about ghosts—sdhjfgklsdjflsfgkjsflkgj. i wanna write it so badly, just to get to that moment, LMAO. the mutual horror when all three of you are face-to-face in this giant, deadly, underground maze. the boys making you swear to secrecy; Izuku tearing into you for being so stupid, how did you even find this place, how did you know, do you understand what could’ve happened? you should’ve told them, you should’ve told him. your relief in finally having someone to talk to about all the weird shit you keep stumbling across. the way this would give Izuku an excuse to drop in to you, on the farm. Katsuki turning up to help with the tilling or seasonal planting, the harvest. i want to write about it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! all of it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! being on the dock in the middle of winter as the snow is falling, all those festive, jewel-like boats bobbing gently before you, waiting with their… winter star trees, or their paintings. the sea salt and the charred warmth of coffee beans. the mermaid show with all it’s tawdry secrecy…… the worn carpet under your feet, the mismatched planks that hold steady despite the creaking. i just think!!!!!!!!!!!!!! it would be neat to do. 🥹 i just!! it’s such a good world to play in LMAO. and if i could come up with a ending for it—a true, stops-me-in-my-tracks kind of ending—not even my attempts at nail-digging self-discipline would stop me from writing it.

for now tho it’s just my yapping, lmao. my yapping and my threats. 🥹

[quicklikenorris]

rewatching this quadrant video and thinking about how lando would be such an incredible driving instructor

example a: giving simple, straightforward explanations that actually make sense ("you'll just slowly release the clutch, but you'll need a bit of throttle. okay?")

example b: constantly shouting encouragements ("go on! keep going! keep going!") even tho he's scared for his life

example c: calm and confident corrections without shaming you or stressing you out (*helps turn the wheel faster* "you got it, you're doing alright")

bonus example: car mechanic!lando will always know why ur car is making that noise and how to fix it, truly bob the builder!

someone pls write a fic about this (or link me to one!) i'm begging u

[sendarya]

My cozy holiday short fic. Enjoy!

The Note

The first thing Crowley became aware of was a loud ticking sound. The next was light. He opened his eyes and a barrage of glittery twinkles assaulted him.

“Wassat?” He mumbled sleepily, blinking and squinting behind his glasses.

A blur of white, beige, and teal came into view as his eyes continued to adjust.

“Mr. Crowley!” exclaimed the blur, before sharpening into the figure of Muriel. 

He frowned and cocked his head at the lights as the heaviness of sleep slid from him. Focusing properly, he could see there was a thin, scraggly tree covered in bits of paper under the mass of twinkles. “What’s all this?” he asked in a confused tone.

Muriel looked puzzled for a moment “What? Oh this” Their confusion quickly transformed into excitement.  “It’s called a Christmas tree? Some people came into the shop the other day, and they were all talking about something called Christmas! Of course, I didn’t sell them any books, just like you told me, Mr Crowley”. 

“Just Crowley” he interrupted, but remained sprawled in the chair he’d been napping in for the last few months. “And I know what Christmas is, I'm just wondering what it's doing in here”. He glanced all around where even more bits of paper and ribbon hung, seemingly at random, throughout the shop. 

“Oh, right, sorry. Um, Crowley. So, I was saying, they were talking about Christmas, and I remembered seeing that word in a book upstairs. Mr. Fell has a whole section on how to celebrate something called “holidays””, they made little quotes with their fingers, bobbing their head from side to side enthusiastically. Crowley transferred his gaze back to the chaos around the tree, and spotted 3 small parcels wrapped in brown paper and string sitting neatly under the scrawny greenery. He pushed down the urge to order it to be a bit less rangy. “Erm” he said, frowning in the direction of the tree “and what’re those?”

“Ah, you see, those are presents? It’s just something humans do.” Muriel flapped their hands a little and shuffled nervously over to the tree to pick up the smallest of the parcels. They turned, beaming. "This one’s for you.”

He frowned down at the little package they were holding out, making no move to take it. “Presents,” he repeated flatly. He tried to ignore the offering, “who are the other two for, then?” They continued holding the package, wiggling a little. 

 “Yes well, those are for Maggie and Nina? Because they’ve been ever so nice to me, while you were …” the smile vanished for an instant. “Resting”, they finished quickly, giving him a worried look. Then the smile was back as if it had never left. “And I thought this “present” might help cheer you up!” They bent over a little, and set it carefully on his lap when he continued to make no move to take it. They took a hesitant step back, then hurried off to one of the back rooms. 

He frowned down at the package in confusion. A moment later, Muriel returned with a glass of wine and a steaming cup of tea. They held the wine glass out to him, a hopeful expression on their face. “Just woke up” he half protested, but accepted the wine nonetheless. “You don’t drink tea.” He commented as they sat in a chair opposite him. 

“Um, no, but I do like to look at it, and do you know, it has a lovely smell.” They closed their eyes, their smile becoming more relaxed as they inhaled the steam. Then they opened their eyes again and gave him a timid, almost expectant look. “Well done” he said, but the sarcasm was lost on them. They beamed again and nodded to the package still in his lap.“You're supposed to open it? That’s what humans do with presents, they open them.”  

He sighed and drained his glass and set it on the side table, where Aziraphale used to set his tea….Quickly shutting off that train of thought, he unfolded the brown paper. Muriel sat forward eagerly as a long, thin, knitted scarf rolled out. It was a bright and cheery red, with silvery tassels. “Well, erm ” he tried to organize his thoughts, but they stayed stubbornly scattered. 

“It’s a scarf, like the one you have, but red! You like red don’t you, Mr., ah, Crowley?”  They quickly set aside the untouched tea and picked up the scarf, making as if to put it on him. “Hey now” he pushed his head further back into the chair, and took the scarf back. For a moment he wasn’t sure what to do with it, but they were looking at him with pure excitement, just like….no, better not think about that either. With a sigh he put it over his head, flipped it into a loose knot, then gave them something closer to a grimace than a smile. 

Muriel was practically glowing with enthusiasm. Suddenly, he remembered a bit about Christmas. “Well” he said “I suppose I should give you…” he patted his pockets absently, not expecting to find anything, when he felt more than heard the crinkle of paper in his left jacket pocket. He pulled it out, now completely bewildered. A creamy piece of parchment faced him, neatly folded, with just a letter C on the front, done in a lovely flourish. Suddenly, his hands were trembling, and he forgot all about Muriel, the scraggly tree, and the scarf. He fumbled open the paper and read:

“Dearest Crowley,

I trust this missive finds you well, and not too terribly distressed.

I'm afraid I haven't been entirely honest with you, though I do hope you understand my reasons, now that I'm permitted to explain.

You see, when Agnes Nutter's Nice and Accurate prophecies came into my possession some years ago, as I'm certain you'll remember, I found a prophecy relating to me, and my hot cocoa going cold, if you can believe it. I was quite taken aback at first, but intrigued, I read on. To my amazement, there seemed to be a second prophecy concerning me.

Past the endyng, shouldst my rede to thee be headed, I see but oon thyng. Yf my second bodements doon turn to ash, thanne must thee, Pryncipality, keep closed thy mouth, until the tyme comes to leave that whiche thou cherishes, say yea to that which thou woudst say nay, and nay to that which thou woudst say yea.

As I’m certain you are well aware, prophecy is notoriously difficult to interpret, but it seems that I am destined to abandon the bookshop at some point. I am writing this note in the unlikely event that I am forced to leave without explanation. I don’t know how I will get this note to you, in that most unlikely occurrence. Perhaps I will just slip it into your pocket, my good fellow, with you none the wiser! You’ve always said I was terrible at magic, but I will never retire the act completely! 

Your dearest friend,

Aziraphale”

“Mr. Crowley, um, are you alright?” Muriel's voice broke through the haze. Without looking up, he refolded the parchment and replaced it, very carefully, back into his left jacket pocket.

Timidly, Muriel asked “Did you like the present?”

He looked at her for the first time since he woke up. “It was the best damned present ever.” Then he smiled and chuckled with a little snort while he slithered up out of the chair. “Where’d you stash the wine?” he called over his shoulder, and sauntered into the back without waiting for an answer.

[boneyardbob]

I'm working on the fic don't worry but my brain is being consumed by other stuff rn so I gotta get it out of my system so I can actually focus enough to WRITE!!!

Something you'll learn quickly is I write a lot of food into stories, and I make that food sound GOOD, infamously so. I've always been big into culinary and I'm a chef irl (fun bob lore) Eating matters to me! I know a lot of people struggle with making and consuming food tho, especially with seasonal depression on the horizon. If I took a cookbook of my depression meals, and wrote it like a cooking show, but with Marble Hornets characters would yall use that? Sometimes its easier to motivate yourself to eat when you see a character make and enjoy something. I do it all the time. I will write myself a short scene of my current comfort character eating just so I can be like "Mm...Yeah ok I'll go make dinner." So idk it could be helpful! It will have the FULL recipe, instructions, times, ingredients, etc. I'll probably put a summary of it at the bottom in a short paragraph so you don't have to skim through the chapter to find the info you need to actually make the food listed. Sound off if you want this and I'll get working on it rn cause I'm already stocking up for seasonal depression meals and I think you should too

[lemonzestywrites]

are there any not secrets about your secret fic 👀

im gonna pretned its a secret but honestly ryan fr if you ask i would probably blab about the whole thing

heres a little bit tho!

(mentions of sexual content beneath the cut!!)

He watches Buck lean back against the couch, his broad shoulder sinking into the leather of the couch with ease. “Today, I want to see how well you follow orders,” he says. Eddie perks his head up. He’s pretty good already at doing whatever Buck tells him. There’s only been maybe a handful of times he’s accidentally disobeyed but nothing major or purposeful. Does that mean Buck is going to try and push him today? “Do you know what cockwarming is?” Buck asks. “I’ve heard of it.” He saw it mentioned once or twice in a few articles when he first started researching, but kind of figured that it was one of those things, given its name, that he didn’t exactly want to know what kind of images would pop up on the internet if he looked it up. “It’s simple. You’ll sit there between my legs, with my cock in your mouth, and do nothing,” Buck explains. “You’re not getting me off- not until I tell you. No sucking, or licking, or bobbing.” That sounds…easy? Eddie looks at him curiously. “That’s it?” “That’s it,” Buck nods simply.  Eddie nods to himself. Logically, he knows Buck wouldn’t spring anything else on him entirely different during a scene without talking to him about it, yet as much as he tries to shake it, there’s still that sense of nervousness slowly creeping up along his shoulders. “Are- Are we doing anything else?” Buck’s expression softens as Eddie’s words and their unspoken meaning sink in.“Just the cockwarming. No other surprises.” Eddie’s cheeks burn slightly with appreciation as he flashes Buck a small smile. He watches as the hand not in his hair drifts down slowly before tucking a slim finger underneath his chin, gently tilting Eddie’s head upwards to lock eyes with Buck. “But if you’re good and do a good job listening, I promise I’ll reward you after,” he smiles. Eddie swears Buck must’ve fucking conditioned him or some shit, because, genuinely, months ago, the word reward would have had very different connotations to him. And none of them would have involved coming so hard he sees stars. Instead now, Eddie’s eyes can’t help but widen now so eagerly obsessed with the idea of just being good. Fuck, at this point, Buck might as well put him in a pair of dog ears the way he’s properly housetrained Eddie.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

HELLO BELOVED CKB!! I have been restraining myself for months (hypothetical since I have no sense of time) on the topic of fictional characters that remind people of Yves. Because Oh Boy do I have a big one.

Have you seen Vil Schoenheit from Twisted Wonderland? There are so many parallels it makes me go absolutely bonkers. I might get his character wrong but oh well.

- Vil is insanely rich & a model/actor. Very influential and worked his way to that spot. His skincare and makeup routine is fucking impertinent to him; he must look flawless at all times. He makes sure that he is in prime condition and pushes to make sure that the people in his dorm are of similar regimens.

- Vil is based off of the evil queen (he’s not related to her in any sense btw.) He, by nature, is very nitpicky and motherly towards the people that he cares about even though it can be seen by them as smothering and overwhelming sometimes.

- He specializes in making potions and specifically poisons.

- Oh My God he is so mother and honestly one of my favorite characters and so is Yves which honestly says a lot about me. I need help. Canonically calls his right hand man “dear/darling.”

If I had to relate Yves to another TWST character it would be Malleus Draconia but only looks and obsessiveness and the whole “I want to be with you for eternity” thing.

- 🌷

Oh hell yeah i know Twisted wonderland, I follow a couple of blogs who specialized in making Yandere Fics about them, my favourite is Malleus Fuckin Draconia my man. Im pretty sure you can see my type (Long black hair, green eyes, calm, lithe and vampiric types)

I didn't know shit about twisted wonderland at first, I fr thought it was a yandere dating sim, but I had to learn everything bit by bit from the bits and bobs of canon those authors would sometimes post about, so it was like learning a language from scratch.

I was partially interested in Vil Schoenheit, but I guess most of the fics wrote him as mainly focused on his fanbase and not the reader- like he needs the world to have their eyes on him or he will throw up and die. So that kinda killed my yearning boner off for him because reader's attention is not enough and he requires love from the masses too.

Like fr i appreciate the maternalness of Vil, but it just feels... surface level since I doubt he would be interested in personally wiping reader's ass when they're incapable or cleaning up your puke on himself with a straight face without making a big deal out of it.

and IMO i think he's a little too loud, a little too naggy and his nitpicky comes from a place of self service, not really in the reader's best interest. Like Yves would listen to you and observe 100%, whereas its the other way round for Vil, where you gotta drink the yappuchino he serves. Dont come for me Vil simps i think he is swell despite this </3 I just don't think he would be the parallel of Yves </333

but for MALLEUS tho,,, mans a quiet, antisocial loner from what I saw, only yearning for the attention of the reader (or "yuu"), he's super calm, a recluse, and has like 4 friends. I have read fics that painted him in a maternal light that tickled my heartussy, and I guess thas why i like him more. Because to me, I headcannon he would take care of you himself as if you're paralyzed from the head neck down without complaints or feeling icky when he gotta handle with human bodily fluids. He would mostly listen and observe, maybe infodump about gargoyles but I think he would be a closer match to Yves than Vil in vibes and looks.

Though might wanna consider Jamil Viper from Scarabia, he hates standing out and mans was always depicted as the caretaker to Kalim. And I would like always have the biggest crush on him because,,, hehe caretaker

But he does so begrudgingly and like has a deep hatred for Kalim, I was like damn what if he loves caretaking for me,,, that isn't gonna happen because Jamil comes from a background of injustice and he isn't going to like being subjected to the role forced upon him since birth,,, aha ... unless...

and he's hella smart, but he's moving in silence just like Yves, gritting his teeth but keep on trucking no matter how angery he is. He is calm and quiet, and he listens because he need that information to succeed in his goals, but my delulu ass would be like omg he is so attentive

but theres that spite in Jamil that do be present in Yves though, ironically I would say that Yves is closer in character to Malleus and Jamil than Vil, but i could be just biased and say that because of both appearances are similar to that of Yves rn (Malleus and Jamil has like long, straightish dark hair and them sharp eyes)