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Summary: She and Bob have been friends for a good long while now, and nothing's happened. Maybe they're just not cut out to be two. The two of them and Spencer could make a good, strong triad, and she at least wants the chance to try.

Notes: I started writing this as a cheering up snippet for [livejournal.com profile] icanbreakthesky with the idea that five things she liked were cupcakes, space AUs, Bob, Greta, and Spencer; and then I kept writing bits and pieces with encouragement from her and [livejournal.com profile] siryn99.

Story on AO3


The Sweet Shop Girl's Triad )
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Summary: Of course Patrick doesn't do anything about it, because he can't take that step back to look at Pete rationally. So the next time Pete acts up when Bob is around, Bob grabs his arm and drags him to his room in the communal house.

Notes: I was having trouble with a different werewolf AU, and thought maybe I should just recast all the wolves, so I started thinking out loud on Twitter. And then instead of making it Mike/Tom, it became Pete/Patrick/Bob. The hard part of this would be walking the fine line between Bob knowing what the hell he's doing and not falling into the trap of one person can fix everything about another person.

Story on AO3


Silver Core )
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Happy Halloween! This is the third year I've done this, and it's always fun.

Red Door


Knock or ring the bell by leaving me a comment, and I'll reply with a treat of some sort. It might be a fic snippet, a picture, a song, or something else I come up with in the moment.

(Not my actual door. Photo by Flickr user pmschlenker, used under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.0 Generic license.)
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As you probably know, I tend to churn out plot bunnies over Twitter. One day, I said:
Plot bunny of the day: Bob/Spencer coffee shop AU. Bob owns it. Spencer finagles his way into being a manager. Bob thinks Spencer is (a) too young and (b) sleeping with Ryan, Brendon, and Jon. Spencer can't go home because he'll bang the shit out of his drums, which will get them in trouble with the neighbors.

"I have a soundproofed basement with a drum kit," Bob offers. And then they have sex. And then Bob angsts and Frank tells him he's an idiot.
One of my friends emailed me and said, "WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT ON TWITTER RIGHT NOW - YOU SHOULD WRITE THAT." (Emphatic capitals hers.) So I did, in bits and pieces over the next two weeks. For this month-long fic posting project, I have now also given it an ending.

Title from "Coffee should be black as Hell, strong as death, and sweet as love," which is purportedly a Turkish proverb.


Sweet As Love )
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This is the snippet where the answer to "Who would Patrick sub for?" is "Bob." This is also the last of the snippets that answer that question.

Warnings: Kink - d/s, implied breathplay and orgasm denial.


Now You're Not )
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Between a combination of vacation days and holidays, I have today, tomorrow, Monday, and next Thursday and Friday off. Theoretically, I'm using this time to work on my novel for NaNo, but (a) I'm just under 7,000 words, which means I don't think I'll hit 50,000 anyway and (b) I'm going to end up working on things other than my novel and they might as well have structure. So leave me a prompt and I'll write you something by the 28th.
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I've read tentacle fic before, and I've never really gotten into it. It didn't squick me; I was just disinterested. But it turns out that I really like tentacle fic when it's about Bob. So have some recs. (Yes, yes there are multiple tentacle fics about Bob.)

I clicked on the link to [livejournal.com profile] mahoni's The Red Light District of R'lyeh (Bob/Brian/Patrick[/tentacles]) even though I was skeptical of tentacles because it was delicious tagged as bandom+d/s and I hadn't read it yet. You know what I love in kink? People taking it beyond what they think they can, and this story has that in spades.
By the time it stops, he can only breathe through his nose. His jaw stretches wide, as wide as when Brian and Patrick both fuck his mouth at the same time. He can't hold back a desperate moan; it's still a little bit from being freaked out, but he can't deny he's getting turned on. This is different than when it's just him and Brian and Patrick. He knows them; he knows the kinds of things they like to do.

This thing, he doesn't know what it will do. He's helpless against it, and it can do anything to him, and even though that's scary in a way he's never scared with Brian and Patrick, it's also a lot hotter than he'd like to admit.
Then I was reading my way through Bob/Mikey fic and came upon There Are Worse Things Than Tentacles, also by [livejournal.com profile] mahoni. This one is more humorous than porny, although there is some sex in it.
Suddenly Bob's blush deepened and his eyes went a little wide. He glanced down between them. Mikey followed his gaze and noticed that his other two tentacles (yellow and white polka dots, and a festive neon green with red swirls) were slowly twining around Bob's legs. Mikey hesitated, startled and abruptly overwhelmed with the extra sets of sensations -- Bob's broad shoulders, and Bob's solid waist, and the curve of Bob's ass and his thighs and wow.

"Um," Bob said. His voice sounded a bit strained, but not an angry or unhappy sort of strained. More the kind of strained Mikey tended to hear when he straddled Bob's lap in his tight jeans and dominatrix boots and pinned Bob's wrists to the couch and made him ask politely for it. "Like I said. Weird. But. Also kinda hot, now that I'm thinking about it."
And then this weekend I've been reading Bob/Brian fic, and I came across [livejournal.com profile] saekokato's Tossing Up a Strong Vibe. The thing I loved about this fic before I read it is that she wrote it for kink bingo - for the voyeurism square. It's also totally hot. (And I would read any and all sequels.)
Because Brian has definitely walked in on Bob jerking off in front of the television.

Like actually in front of the television, using the black screen as a mirror, bent over his coffee table, moaning like he's being ridden hard. His back is arched from the way he's spread his legs - back and out - so that he's still on his feet, but not blocking his view on the screen, and his head is twisted around so he can watch as a tentacle fucks itself into his ass. There's another one wrapped around Bob's wrists, pulling both of his arms over his head, and the angle forces him to rock up onto the balls of his feet with every thrust the other tentacle makes into his ass.

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Ruth Sadelle Alderson

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