komorebinked

[komorebinked]

HAHEHSHSHAHHAHSB ANG CUUUTTEEEE

I just knowwwww bob would be so confused with the Filipino nicknames please like imagine him being called (ba)dong and hearing everyone being called (I)neng, chie, Tita baby, and other nicknames that are so far from their actual names 😭😭

P.S. I’m the anon that sent the please don’t go bald so sorry for the confusion. Sorry for spamming I am so happy and love, love your fic 💗 Can I be the 🌻 sunflower anon if you are okay with it? Love ya lotsss

OMGGGGG YES. YES. YES. (Also you can totally be 🌻 anon- I don't have many reoccurring anons!) Here's a little drabble <3 Love u 2.

Nicknames (Bob Floyd x Filipina!Reader)

DESCRIPTION: Your Filipino family decides that your boyfriend Bob needs a nickname <3 WORD COUNT: 762 (itty bitty) WARNINGS: Filipina!Reader, Established relationship, domestic fluff, embarrassing/teasing Bob a little of course MY MASTERLIST

Bob sat at the dining table next to Y/n. He was absolutely taken by the boisterous atmosphere. The table was overcrowded with some of her family members sitting in foldable chairs in the surrounding area. The giggling of the titas. The quiet but joking tito’s giving hilarious reactions. Lola’s and lolo’s, who technically were great aunts or great uncles but who cared about specificity. 

Bob wasn’t used to all of this. He grew up in a very small family and very rarely saw his extended family. Yet here he was meeting what felt like way too many relatives. She couldn’t possibly be related to all these people, right? 

“Oh! Oh! Bobby! Can we call you Bobby?” Y/n’s Tita Baby cut in.

Bob swallowed and nodded, “You can call me whatever you’d like.”

Tita Baby looked around with a knowing smirk. Y/n groaned a little. She gave Bob a pitying look and reached over and squeezed his hand.

“You shouldn’t have said that.” 

“Why?”

Her Tito Boy cut in. “Filipino’s… we’re all about nicknames. Tita Baby. I’m Boy. Tita Neng.” He gestured to her Tita Neng, who was putting more puto on her plate. 

Bob smiled, interested. “Well, Bob is technically my nickname already. It’s my call sign for work from Robert.”

“You know how I knew a Bob in high school?” Tita Baby said, “Badong.” She sang with a smile.

“No! We’re not calling Bob Badong!” Y/n laughed.

“What about Bobo?” Her lolo cut in

“Lolo!” Y/n scolded. She turned to Bob. “Don’t listen to him.”

“Baby, I can’t understand what they’re saying anyway.” He chuckled, feeling relaxed despite being out of place in the atmosphere. 

Y/n’s mom came from the kitchen and pushed the plate of lumpia towards Bob.

“Oh no- I can’t. I really can’t.” He looked up at her and waved at the plate. He had already eaten so much. But there was no such thing in this household. 

“For later then.” Her mom smiled.

“We’ll see.” He chuckled, “Hey, uh- what does bobo mean?”

Her mother looked down at him and burst out laughing. “It means ‘dummy’.”

“Yeah, well-“ Bob chuckled, nodding to her Lolo. “That’s a fitting nickname, too.”

“Ay- no.” Y/n slapped his shoulder. “You’re so smart.”

He blushed at her insistence, then looked around at the table. “Well, how do you get your nicknames?”

“They sort of just happen.” Tita Baby started “Like I’m Tita Baby to Y/n but my real name is…” She drummed the table, “Reyna!”

Bob grinned amused but with confused eyes, “How did- where-?” 

Y/n laughed and squeezed his hand. He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it quickly. Turning to give her some attention, he smiled gently. “Do you have any nicknames you’d like to mention?”

“I didn’t have many.” Y/n admitted, “‘Anak’ I guess, but that’s just a general one for kids… So don’t call me that.” She laughed

“I’ve got it.” Lolo put his fist on the table, “We’ll call him Betlog.”

The table erupted in screams and laughter. Bob looked around, confused, before leaning into Y/n, who was blushing bright red. 

She sighed and put her hands to her face. “Balls. It means balls.” She looked around the table,  “Guys, can we stick with Bobby for now? That’s already a nickname on a nickname.”

Her family laughed, and Bob was flushed bright red but was also laughing along as he took a sip of beer. “I do like Bobby.”

“Bobong.” Tita Baby pointed at him, and the whole table made agreement noises.

“I thought that meant stupid?” Bob asked, confused.

“No, that was Bobo.” Y/n explained, “I think Bobong is just something they came up with themselves. Though- it sounds kinda like Roof?”

“Roof?” He asked.

Her Tita Baby raised her eyebrows with a little smirk, “Because he’s strong like a house.”

Y/n nodded with pursed lips. “I can get behind that.”

Bob laughed, a little surprised. “I don’t know about that.”

“Bobong, eat. Kain na.” Her mother pushed the plate of chicken to him, “So you can stay strong.”

Bob shook his head with a nervous chuckle, reluctantly putting some on his plate. “Like a house.” 

Even though he was still bumbling his way through his girlfriend’s culture, he felt right at home with her and her very supportive family right next to him. They had accepted him so quickly. Hell, within a few days, he already had a nickname. 

He felt Y/n put her head on his shoulder, and he sighed contentedly. 

[komorebinked]

STRAIGHT TO FAVS AGAD ABSHDHWHAHHSH

i knew i wasnt crazy putting all that filo songs in my bob floyd playlist

Mabuhay! I would like to request for our lovely Bob Floyd. Reader is pointing at something with their lips but Bob mistakenly thinks she wants a kiss. I hope you’re having a wonderful day/night.

This is the most niche thing ever, but for all my Filipina girlies <3

KISS POINT (Bob Floyd x Filipina!Reader)

DESCRIPTION: Dating you meant Bob Floyd was getting a crash course in Filipino culture. Words in Tagalog. Karaoke 24/7. Rice for breakfast. When staying at your family home, you realize that he might be new, but he’s more than willing to learn WORD COUNT: 1.2k (More of a little drabble) WARNINGS: Established relationship. Reader is Filipina! Bob's a little clueless but he's trying very hard. Domestic fluff. NOTES: God, I'm just like my Filipina grandmother (falling in love with a Navy man) MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

Bob Floyd had no idea what dating a Filipina woman would entail. But he soon learned that it meant rice, eggs, and sausages for breakfast, learning traditions like Mano Po so he wouldn’t embarrass himself, and that karaoke night was… every second of the day. He felt incredibly out of his element, especially around her family, but he was determined to try to learn. 

It was day 2 of staying with her family, and he came downstairs to find his girlfriend’s grandmother cooking breakfast. It had taken him a while to figure out that Lola wasn’t her name, but that ‘lola’ meant grandma. The woman looked like Y/n, just stouter and with more wrinkles. Her dark hair flared up in a perm. 

“Good morning.” He said, looking around for Y/n. 

Her lola turned and smiled. She didn’t speak the strongest English, but she was still kind to Bob. Making teasing jokes at him in Tagalog that he didn’t understand. 

“Good morning.” She repeated back in a heavy accent and a nod.

“Do you need any help with that?” He asked, walking over, noticing the Vienna sausages were popping in oil on the stove.

Her lola looked up at him with big eyes before shaking her head and waving him off. She pointed to the rice pot, and Bob nodded, realizing that’s what she wanted him to do. He walked over and grabbed the pot out of the cooker before going to the ten-pound bag of rice that sat slumped in the corner.

Opening it, he found a mug inside as a measuring cup… Which meant he had no idea how much to put in the pot. He started scooping and filled it up most of the way. Then he wasn’t exactly sure what to do. 

But thankfully, Y/n came out just in time. She leaned on the door frame of the kitchen, watching Bob and her lola work in the kitchen. 

“Morning.” She smiled, alerting her grandma and her boyfriend.

Bob turned around and smiled, relieved. “Morning.” He walked over, still holding the small pot of rice, and kissed her cheek, “How’d you sleep?”

“Good. You snoring woke me up, so I thought I’d go for a walk.” She teased, then looked down at the rice pot, “You making rice, baby?”

His face turned a little red, “Uh, yeah- your uh- your lola needed help. But I’m unsure what to do…”

“Well, for one, your rice pot’s too full.” She pointed out stifling a giggle. She knew he still needed to learn, so she didn’t want to embarrass him. Taking it from him, she nodded over for him to follow her. 

Once she opened the bag again, she let some of the rice fall back inside. Her lola turned around and started to laugh at them.

“Kano. Kano.” Her lola teased, giggling to herself

“Lola.” Y/n shook her head as she closed up the rice bag.

“What does that mean?” Bob asked, worriedly looking between them

“Kano is like ‘foreigner’.”

“Okay, so far I’ve been called… p-puti, guapo, pogi, and kano… I think I prefer guapo or pogi.” He said, stammering, trying to get the pronunciation right.

Y/n smiled as she stood back up. She patted his cheek reassuringly. “Yes, you are very pogi.”

She made her way over to the sink. “Then you wash the rice.” She explained, running her hands through the rice under running water. “Just until the water’s clear.” She poured out the old water and let it fill up again. Bob watched intently.

“Then… can you grab me the lid?” She asked.

Bob looked around, unsure where it had gone. Then she raised her eyebrows and pointed at it on the counter behind him using her lips. The typical quick duck pout that most Filipino’s knew was just a way to point at things. 

He smiled a little, and instead of turning around, he leaned in and gave her a peck on the lips. She looked at him, a little wide-eyed and confused, but with a smile. Then she realized what had happened.

“Oh, Bob. I meant-” She started to laugh, her hands still in the rice pot.

“What?” He asked, confused.

“When I-” She pointed with her lips again, “It’s just a way of pointing. The rice pot’s right behind you.”

His face completely flushed red, and he breathed out a small laugh. The morning sun through the windows lit up his crooked smile. 

“Got it. I should start doing that too.” He turned and grabbed the lid and handed it to her right as she pulled out the pot. “Like this?” He pouted his lips and stared at the rice pot, making her laugh.

“It’s quick. It’s like… when someone you don’t like walks in the room, and you need a way to point them out while being discreet.” She showed him again by raising her brows and pointing her lips quickly. 

Bob tried to imitate, and she smiled at his attempts. When he got close enough with a quick brow raise and lip point, she leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. 

“Yes, like that.” She said as he smiled and blushed, caught off guard. “Let me show you the way to measure the water.”

He came close to her, and she immediately flipped him off. 

“The perfect tool.” She said, making Bob laugh in confusion. She put her middle finger in the rice and water, and the water line went right up to her first knuckle. “Perfect. You just put the water to the first knuckle on your middle finger.”

“But  your middle finger is smaller than mine.”

“Don’t question it. We just do it. And it works.” Nina said with a testing brow raise.

He jutted his bottom lip out and shook his head in surrender. She put the rice pot in the cooker and flipped the switch. Simple as that. She wiped her hands on the kitchen towel. 

“There. Now you’re making rice.” She said happily, putting her hands on his shoulders. 

Draping his arms around his waist, he looked down at her, then did a little lip point. She laughed out loud at how his glasses fell to his nose.

“Are you pointing at something or asking for a kiss?” She asked 

“Asking for a kiss.” He said in a small voice.

She leaned up and kissed him, pulling him in by his shoulders. He pulled her into a hug so that even when he pulled away, he rested his chin on her head. He sighed a little anxiously. 

“You’re doing fine,” She reassured.

Then suddenly from the dining table, “Y/n. Bobby. Kain na.” Her lola called them to eat. 

“Wala rice!” She called back, “Still cooking!” Her lola nodded and waved them over. “Mainit pa ang pagkain.” 

Y/n sighed and shook her head, and Bob watched their verbal tennis slightly in awe. 

“I’ll learn,” Bob suddenly said, nodding determined.

She turned back up to him, realizing he had been left in the dark. With a small smile, she squeezed his shoulders. “She called us to eat. ‘Kain na’. You’ll hear that one a lot. I said there’s no rice. ‘Wala rice’. Then she said the food’s still hot. ‘Mainit pa ang pagkain.”

“Mainit is hot?” He tried to figure out. His brows were scrunched all cutely.

“You got it.” She smiled, “Now let’s go eat a little until the rice is ready, or I think lola’s gonna deck us.”

He smiled and took her hand as she led him into the dining area. Sure, he was pretty lost when it came to his girlfriend’s culture. But he knew he was in good hands. 

[komorebinked]

HUUOOUYY PUTANGINA PARA SA AKIN TALAGA ITO GUYS

Mabuhay! I would like to request for our lovely Bob Floyd. Reader is pointing at something with their lips but Bob mistakenly thinks she wants a kiss. I hope you’re having a wonderful day/night.

This is the most niche thing ever, but for all my Filipina girlies <3

KISS POINT (Bob Floyd x Filipina!Reader)

DESCRIPTION: Dating you meant Bob Floyd was getting a crash course in Filipino culture. Words in Tagalog. Karaoke 24/7. Rice for breakfast. When staying at your family home, you realize that he might be new, but he’s more than willing to learn WORD COUNT: 1.2k (More of a little drabble) WARNINGS: Established relationship. Reader is Filipina! Bob's a little clueless but he's trying very hard. Domestic fluff. NOTES: God, I'm just like my Filipina grandmother (falling in love with a Navy man) MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

Bob Floyd had no idea what dating a Filipina woman would entail. But he soon learned that it meant rice, eggs, and sausages for breakfast, learning traditions like Mano Po so he wouldn’t embarrass himself, and that karaoke night was… every second of the day. He felt incredibly out of his element, especially around her family, but he was determined to try to learn. 

It was day 2 of staying with her family, and he came downstairs to find his girlfriend’s grandmother cooking breakfast. It had taken him a while to figure out that Lola wasn’t her name, but that ‘lola’ meant grandma. The woman looked like Y/n, just stouter and with more wrinkles. Her dark hair flared up in a perm. 

“Good morning.” He said, looking around for Y/n. 

Her lola turned and smiled. She didn’t speak the strongest English, but she was still kind to Bob. Making teasing jokes at him in Tagalog that he didn’t understand. 

“Good morning.” She repeated back in a heavy accent and a nod.

“Do you need any help with that?” He asked, walking over, noticing the Vienna sausages were popping in oil on the stove.

Her lola looked up at him with big eyes before shaking her head and waving him off. She pointed to the rice pot, and Bob nodded, realizing that’s what she wanted him to do. He walked over and grabbed the pot out of the cooker before going to the ten-pound bag of rice that sat slumped in the corner.

Opening it, he found a mug inside as a measuring cup… Which meant he had no idea how much to put in the pot. He started scooping and filled it up most of the way. Then he wasn’t exactly sure what to do. 

But thankfully, Y/n came out just in time. She leaned on the door frame of the kitchen, watching Bob and her lola work in the kitchen. 

“Morning.” She smiled, alerting her grandma and her boyfriend.

Bob turned around and smiled, relieved. “Morning.” He walked over, still holding the small pot of rice, and kissed her cheek, “How’d you sleep?”

“Good. You snoring woke me up, so I thought I’d go for a walk.” She teased, then looked down at the rice pot, “You making rice, baby?”

His face turned a little red, “Uh, yeah- your uh- your lola needed help. But I’m unsure what to do…”

“Well, for one, your rice pot’s too full.” She pointed out stifling a giggle. She knew he still needed to learn, so she didn’t want to embarrass him. Taking it from him, she nodded over for him to follow her. 

Once she opened the bag again, she let some of the rice fall back inside. Her lola turned around and started to laugh at them.

“Kano. Kano.” Her lola teased, giggling to herself

“Lola.” Y/n shook her head as she closed up the rice bag.

“What does that mean?” Bob asked, worriedly looking between them

“Kano is like ‘foreigner’.”

“Okay, so far I’ve been called… p-puti, guapo, pogi, and kano… I think I prefer guapo or pogi.” He said, stammering, trying to get the pronunciation right.

Y/n smiled as she stood back up. She patted his cheek reassuringly. “Yes, you are very pogi.”

She made her way over to the sink. “Then you wash the rice.” She explained, running her hands through the rice under running water. “Just until the water’s clear.” She poured out the old water and let it fill up again. Bob watched intently.

“Then… can you grab me the lid?” She asked.

Bob looked around, unsure where it had gone. Then she raised her eyebrows and pointed at it on the counter behind him using her lips. The typical quick duck pout that most Filipino’s knew was just a way to point at things. 

He smiled a little, and instead of turning around, he leaned in and gave her a peck on the lips. She looked at him, a little wide-eyed and confused, but with a smile. Then she realized what had happened.

“Oh, Bob. I meant-” She started to laugh, her hands still in the rice pot.

“What?” He asked, confused.

“When I-” She pointed with her lips again, “It’s just a way of pointing. The rice pot’s right behind you.”

His face completely flushed red, and he breathed out a small laugh. The morning sun through the windows lit up his crooked smile. 

“Got it. I should start doing that too.” He turned and grabbed the lid and handed it to her right as she pulled out the pot. “Like this?” He pouted his lips and stared at the rice pot, making her laugh.

“It’s quick. It’s like… when someone you don’t like walks in the room, and you need a way to point them out while being discreet.” She showed him again by raising her brows and pointing her lips quickly. 

Bob tried to imitate, and she smiled at his attempts. When he got close enough with a quick brow raise and lip point, she leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. 

“Yes, like that.” She said as he smiled and blushed, caught off guard. “Let me show you the way to measure the water.”

He came close to her, and she immediately flipped him off. 

“The perfect tool.” She said, making Bob laugh in confusion. She put her middle finger in the rice and water, and the water line went right up to her first knuckle. “Perfect. You just put the water to the first knuckle on your middle finger.”

“But  your middle finger is smaller than mine.”

“Don’t question it. We just do it. And it works.” Nina said with a testing brow raise.

He jutted his bottom lip out and shook his head in surrender. She put the rice pot in the cooker and flipped the switch. Simple as that. She wiped her hands on the kitchen towel. 

“There. Now you’re making rice.” She said happily, putting her hands on his shoulders. 

Draping his arms around his waist, he looked down at her, then did a little lip point. She laughed out loud at how his glasses fell to his nose.

“Are you pointing at something or asking for a kiss?” She asked 

“Asking for a kiss.” He said in a small voice.

She leaned up and kissed him, pulling him in by his shoulders. He pulled her into a hug so that even when he pulled away, he rested his chin on her head. He sighed a little anxiously. 

“You’re doing fine,” She reassured.

Then suddenly from the dining table, “Y/n. Bobby. Kain na.” Her lola called them to eat. 

“Wala rice!” She called back, “Still cooking!” Her lola nodded and waved them over. “Mainit pa ang pagkain.” 

Y/n sighed and shook her head, and Bob watched their verbal tennis slightly in awe. 

“I’ll learn,” Bob suddenly said, nodding determined.

She turned back up to him, realizing he had been left in the dark. With a small smile, she squeezed his shoulders. “She called us to eat. ‘Kain na’. You’ll hear that one a lot. I said there’s no rice. ‘Wala rice’. Then she said the food’s still hot. ‘Mainit pa ang pagkain.”

“Mainit is hot?” He tried to figure out. His brows were scrunched all cutely.

“You got it.” She smiled, “Now let’s go eat a little until the rice is ready, or I think lola’s gonna deck us.”

He smiled and took her hand as she led him into the dining area. Sure, he was pretty lost when it came to his girlfriend’s culture. But he knew he was in good hands. 

[komorebinked]

[komorebinked]

if this play im seeing goes well i MIGHT write a bob floyd fic about it

[komorebinked]

Guilty as Sin?

Pairing: Bob Floyd x AFAB!reader

Summary: Bob was your best friend, and you were his, and for now, that was enough.

Warning: mdni, slight angst, mostly smut, pinning, masturbation (p and v), wet dreams, fantasizing about someone without their knowledge, porn with some plot?, reader is smaller than Bob (I think that's it)

Word count: 570

Masterlist

Bob, who knew you like an open book. Bob, who sent you songs during the day, because they reminded him of you. Bob, who remembers everything you say, even the most mundane things, like how you only like avocados if they're in the form of guacamole or sushi, and will absolutely gag if you have to eat it raw.

Bob, who doesn’t mind if sometimes you just want to sit together in the quiet. He knows that sometimes just being in each other’s presence is enough, especially when you’re mentally burned out.

Bob, who invades your dreams. You’ll dream of his hands in your hair, his lips on your neck, his fingers tracing your thigh, your body. His hands cupping, massaging your breasts. You dream of him whispering in your ear, his hands wrapped around your throat until you wake up in a sweat, gasping for air. It felt real, so real, you'd think with a smile.

And then the guilt would creep in. Guilty for thinking of Bob like this, guilty for yourself, for not working up the courage to tell him how you felt.

You like to think you could have Bob if you wanted to. You'd seen the way he looked at you. How he’d go red when your shoulders brushed. When you meet up with him and the dagger squad in that dress that showed off your boobs just right. How his eyes seemed to follow your every move, taking in every curve.

You were worried about what'd happen if you finally took the plunge. What would people say? What if you didn't work out? What if you did it, and you were just imagining all the interaction in your head, and he rejected you? You couldn't imagine a life where Bob wasn't there by your side.

So, you were okay with this, the dreams and thoughts in your head. That's what you told yourself as you lay in bed at night. As you touched yourself, you imagined it was Bob's hands on you. His fingers pumping in and out of you, his mouth on your core as he sucked you in and savored it. Eating like a man starved. You imagine him looking up at you as he did, and your body convulsed as your orgasm came in waves, gripping your sheets as they were set ablaze.

And across town, Bob would be lying in bed, thinking of your hands on cock, how small they’d be in comparison. Then, as he pumped himself harder, he imagined he was fucking your throat. Gently first. Then harder as he picked up the pace. He imagined you gagging around him as he fucked your face for his pleasure, and you'd take it, reeling in him using you like fleshlight. Then, as he came, he imagined your face, eyes closed, mouth open as you welcome his seed in you.

You’d both be breathless, lying in your respective beds at the aftermath. And then the guilt would creep in, you for screaming his name. And him for never having the courage to tell you how he felt

But you were both too scared, too shy to make that jump.

So for now, you'd go to the Hard Deck and give Bob that smile worth a thousand words. He'd pull out the chair for you, ever the gentleman, and you'd sit there, legs brushing against each other, both of your hearts skipping a beat at the touch.

Those fantasies in your head had to be enough for now.

A/N: I had no idea what to put for the summary tbh. I wrote this instead of sleeping last night, hope y'all like it!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated! Love ya!

Please do not copy or repost. Love and thank you all!

[komorebinked]

What the actual.........!!!!!!!

[komorebinked]

just found out some insanely devastating news in real life. so now i guess its time to read some x reader fics.

[komorebinked]

Im so glad we all collectively agree that Bob Floyd’s dick is huge

[komorebinked]

soft praise smut with Bob would hit so hard he needs love

notes: I always get a little awkward when it comes to smut but I tried my best !! thank you for the request <3 Also I started writing this after meeting the Pope and that sums up who I am as a person

tags: sex *gif of elmo on fire* - established relationship - [kinda]dom!reader

It slipped out.

Not that you hadn't used pet names with Bob before, but you'd never called him a good boy. You didn't think much of it: uttered in between moans as he was eating you out, you barely took any notice of what you were saying. But Bob did. Oh, if he did.

"Right there, oh, yes, right there." You were mumbling, as he enthusiastically nodded between your legs. You pulled on his hair lightly as he accomplished your request, swiftly moving his tongue with such skill it felt like he was born to do it.

"Hmm, good boy." You had praised him, and that's when you heard it. Or rather, felt it. A low groan, straight to your core. You also noticed how his movements seemed to be more eager now, his hands squeezing your thighs harder as if he was holding onto them for life.

"You like that? Being called good boy?" You asked, breathless, lifting your head from the pillow to watch Bob's reaction. He suddenly interrupted his actions, much to your dismay, to look at you. He was blushing, his lips almost glistening with your wetness.

"K-kinda. Probably. Yes." He admitted looking down, as if the confession brought shame on him.

You moved your hand to caress his cheek. He leaned in the touch, looking up at you with wide eyes. "Nothing to be embarassed about. I called you that because you were being very good to me Bob, it's only nice to know it makes you more eager to please me." You reassured him, winking at him.

Bob licked his lips and looked down, softly caressing your upper thigh and sending shivers all along your back. "I should probably keep going then..." He said it with innocence in his voice, but you didn't miss his grin as he positioned himself between your legs once more, crossing your thighs around his neck as if locking himself down there.

"You taste so good..." He mumbled, vigorously reprising his actions as you gripped on the bed sheets, soft moans leaving your throat as he squeezed your thighs.

"Doing so well for me Bob, God, don't stop-" An empty request, begging for something you knew he was going to accomplish either way. Your words were interrupted by a whine coming from Bob, his hips not so subtly rutting against the bed probably to try and get some friction himself.

You smirked at his reaction, throwing your head back on the pillow as you pulled on his hair. You let out a loud groan when his tongue finally found your clit, "that spot right there," you murmured, barely able to speak up, "keep doing that, just like that, so fucking good." You were pretty sure you were mumbling nonsense by then, but Bob still seemed to enjoy your praises nonetheless.

His left hand left your thigh to give attention to his still clothed cock, palming himself through his pants. The lack of touch on your leg made you quietly whimper in disappointment, even with his tongue still between your folds. Raising your head you saw the mark he had accidentally left on your thigh, the shape of his hand currently looking like a piece of art in your eyes.

Before you could say anything he hit your clit again, making you moan and roll your eyes back. "H-hand." You muttered. Bob once again abruptly interrupted his movements to look at you.

"Uh?"

"Y-your hand. Back on my leg. Please."

Bob frowned for a second and then immediately started blushing, his eyes widening as he realized what you were talking about. He nodded quickly and immediately moved his hand back on you, squeezing your leg. "Sorry."

You couldn't help but smile at him, shaking your head. "You did nothing wrong baby. But can you keep going now please?" You asked him, unable to hide with your tone the desperation you were feeling from your neglected core.

Bob only blushed more, "Yes, yes. Sorry." And then he disappeared between your legs again, immediately going for your clit and making sure to grip tight on your thighs.

"Good boy, doing everything I ask you for." You praised him, biting down your lip. "No one ever touched me like this, I swear." You parted your lips and arched your back as your words only stimulated him to speed up his actions. His hips' quick movements against the bed seemed to go along with his tongue, as if eating you out was bringing him more pleasure than it was to you.

"Bob, I'm close," you warned him, "you too, baby?" You asked, noticing how his thrust against the bed had started to become more frantic. Bob nodded, his fingers tightening around your legs.

It didn't take much for Bob to cum after that, his moans hitting straight at your core as it sent you over the edge, finally reaching your orgasm as well.

Before lifting his head Bob made sure he had licked you clean of all of your juices - something which he always did, and never failed to bring a smile on your face - and only when you hummed in satisfaction and lightly tugged on his hair to get his attention did he finally stood up to move and lay down next to you.

"My good boy." You teased him, earning an embarrassed laugh out of him. He kissed your shoulder and hid his face in the crook of your neck.

"You're never going to stop teasing me about that, are you?"

You chuckled. "Why? It was sweet!" Bob hummed and kissed your neck, moving up to your cheek and finally your lips.

"You're always so good to me. I love you." You mumbled as he kissed you. Bob sighed and leaned his forehead against yours.

"Keep going like this and we might go for round two." He muttered low. You tutted, giving him a peck.

"Hm, I love it when you threaten me with a good time, Reynolds."

[komorebinked]

should i make a list of headcanons w this

Domestic life with Bob♡

[komorebinked]

a moodboard, of sorts

[komorebinked]

when i’m in a beauty competition and my opponent is lewis pullman crying

[komorebinked]

Bob Floyd x f!reader

EYE CONTACT

Summary: During a late-night party with the squad of pilots, Bob accidentally outs himself during a game of “Drink if…” and ends up in a spicy bet. What starts as a harmless game turns into a night of passion and a very humiliating bet.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, strong language, alcohol consumption, teasing, sex bet, intense eye contact, unprotected sex (p i v), praise kink, public humiliation (light), kinda dom reader & sub Bob

A/N: Hii! Honestly I am proud of this and it's not even that long! That deserves applause… Anyway if you have any ideas, suggestions, or anything else, feel free to text me. Also, I apologize for any grammar mistakes or phrases that might not make sense—English isn’t my first language :3 But I hope you enjoy the story! <3

Masterlist

Evening had settled over the base like a cozy blanket.

The usual clamor of flight drills and briefings was replaced by the soft hum of laughter, the clinking of glass bottles, and the crackling of old rock playing from someone’s Bluetooth speaker. The rec room, normally sterile and half-lit, now glowed in the warm light of a couple standing lamps, and the scent of takeout pizza lingered in the air.

Everyone was dressed down.

No flight suits, no uniforms, no ranks. Just comfort: sweatpants, t-shirts, messy ponytails, bare feet, and half-buttoned flannel shirts.

Phoenix was curled up on the couch with a beer. Rooster sat on the floor, leaning against a chair with a lazy grin. And Hangman? Of course, he was front and center, spread legs like a king, commanding attention with every smug quip he tossed into the circle.

“Alright,” he grinned, raising his glass with a dramatic flair, “next round, drink if you’ve ever fantasized about someone in this room.”

Laughter erupted. Phoenix rolled her eyes but drank. Rooster hesitated before sipping, earning himself a few teasing boos. One of the twins from the new squad groaned, “Dude, that’s messed up.”

You smirked, swirling your drink, not taking a sip, but your gaze flickered to the man directly across from you.

Bob Floyd.

Wearing soft grey sweatpants and a worn-out navy hoodie with the sleeves pushed up. His glasses were slightly foggy from the warmth in the room, and his hair was messier than usual, like he’d run a marathon. His hand went nervously through it a few too many times. He looked adorably awkward, shifting where he sat, fiddling with his bottle, his posture a mix of stiff and shy.

But every time he glanced your way? That boyish smile bloomed. And if your eyes locked for more than a second, his cheeks flushed crimson, and he’d immediately look away, pretending to study the wall or his drink or literally anything else.

You’d known the second you first saw him at Top Gun that he was one of the good ones. Sweet. Loyal. Gentle-hearted. Definitely not the kind of guy who pushed his luck or bragged about his kills. Not the guy who flirted with every woman in a ten-foot radius. And that’s what drew you in. You never expected to hook up with him, or even end up in a full-on secret relationship.

But here you are. A few months in. Still sneaking glances, still keeping it quiet.

Nobody knew. Or at least, nobody had confirmed suspicions. Sure, there had been a few raised eyebrows and murmured questions when one of you would laugh too hard at the other’s joke, or when you somehow always ended up sitting next to each other. But you both had managed, by some miracle, to wave it off with enough convincing excuses.

“Just friends,” you’d say.

“Like everyone else here.”

But you weren’t. Not even close. You’d both agreed to keep it under wraps until the time was right. Until the mission schedules calmed down, until people stopped speculating, until you both felt… ready. And that moment hadn’t come yet.

And definitley not tonight. Not with Hangman running the show and the game getting riskier by the minute.

He leaned in with a wicked grin. “Alright, next one’s a little more… intimate,” he teased, scanning the room like a shark circling blood.

“Drink if you’ve ever kept eye contact during sex. The entire time.”

Someone gasped. Someone else cackled. Rooster choked on his drink. Phoenix muttered a “Jesus Christ, Jake,” under her breath as she sipped. Yep, she drank. Two others did too. A handful more followed, awkwardly but playfully.

Then… your eyes locked with Bob’s and your stomach did that thing. The flutter, the pull.

He hesitated. You could see his internal panic building, his lips parted in a silent shit, his hand frozen on the neck of his beer. You watched him scan the room, seeing more and more people drink. The pressure. The possibility of standing out.

And then, trying to look casual, Bob lifted the bottle to his lips and took a sip. He didn’t gulp. He didn’t even tilt his head dramatically. Just a quiet, sneaky sip.

You blinked with furrowed brows. Your expression tightened just a little, just enough for him to see it and immediately know he messed up. He looked away, cheeks flushed bright red.

Oh? So that’s how he wants to play.

“Bob?” Hangman’s voice cut through the buzz of the room like a whip, all teasing lilt. “Did you just drink?” All eyes turned.

Bob froze mid-motion. His spine straightened like a steel rod, and the sheer panic on his face would’ve been hilarious if it weren’t so tragically sincere. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then slowly and awkwardly nodded.

That was it. The room exploded. Laughter, gasps, mock cheers. Someone actually clapped. Phoenix looked between him and the others with a sharp smirk, while Rooster gawked like he’d just seen a cat bark.

Bob glanced around, clearly trying not to implode.

And when he saw you again, across the room, watching him with an expression that could only be described as devilish delight, one brow raised with a dangerous smile on your lips, he inhaled sharply.

“Well damn, Bob!” Rooster grinned, practically lunging across the room to slap him on the back. “Didn’t know you had it in you, man!”

The slap was a bit too hard, Bob almost coughed from the impact. But instead of soaking in the sudden street cred, he just looked… miserable. Flushed, stiff, barely clinging to composure.

Because you were still looking at him like a lion watching a gazelle make a wrong turn. And Bob knew he was screwed.

The game carried on well into the night. The drinks kept flowing. The dares got bolder. Laughter came easier, words got sloppier, and eventually, people started peeling off—some to their rooms, others out for a cigarette or a midnight snack.

You stood up, stretched lazily, and mumbled something about turning in. There were a few murmured goodbyes and a distracted wave or two.

Bob waited a beat. Then another, just enough to not seem obvious. Then he set his bottle down, mumbled a casual excuse, and slipped out behind you like a quiet shadow.

He caught up to you halfway down the hall, feet padding softly on the cold floor. “Hey,” he said, almost too quietly, nervously playing with his hands

You glanced over your shoulder. “Hey,” you replied—flat, unimpressed, just a little sharp. Bob deflated with a sigh, but he kept walking beside you, a few inches of warm silence between your arms.

When you reached your door, you grabbed the handle without a word, ready to slip inside and shut it behind you. But Bob stopped you.

Gently, fingertips brushing around your wrist, tugging just enough to make you pause. “Wait, wait. I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I panicked. I didn’t wanna seem—”

“Oh, weird,” you cut in with a shrug, turning slowly to face him. Arms crossed. One foot popped against the doorframe. You gave him a look. All teasing, no mercy.

“I just don’t remember you holding eye contact the whole time you were fucking me.”

Bob choked on nothing but his own spit. He blinked like you’d smacked him across the face with a frying pan, then immediately looked around the hallway like someone might’ve overheard.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed, cheeks blazing. “You can’t say that here!”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you said casually, that wicked glint still dancing in your eyes. “There’s a way you can redeem yourself.”

He blinked again, confused. “Redeem myself?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, leaning your shoulder into the doorframe. “A bet.”

Now he looked even more lost. His head tilted slightly to the side, eyes squinting behind his glasses like a confused puppy hearing a strange sound. “A bet?”

You nearly laughed at how damn cute he looked. Your mischievous smile didn’t leave your lips for a single second.

“The loser,” you said sweetly, “has to run across the bar. Naked.”

Bob’s eyes snapped wide open. His voice cracked. “W-what?!”

You only raised your brows and nodded with exaggerated innocence. “Mhm.”

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. “B-but I don’t want… I don’t want anyone seeing you like that, naked” he stammered, the last word escaping in a whisper like it physically pained him to say it.

Something about that stopped you. The genuine concern in his voice. That pure, bashful way he admitted it, it caught you off guard. You couldn’t help the surprised laugh that slipped out of you. “Wait—do you seriously think I’m gonna lose?”

A beat of silence.

Bob didn’t answer. He just stood there, half-panicked, half-dumbstruck, trying to do math in his head like this was a tactical briefing and not a challenge you’d just casually dropped on him in the hallway.

“Look,” you continued, “if we both manage to hold eye contact the whole time, neither of us has to do anything. Easy.” You paused. “But, if one of us breaks first…”

You trailed off on purpose. You didn’t need to finish the sentence. The look on your face said everything.

Bob looked like he was about to pass out. A fine sheen of nervous sweat started forming at his temple, and he kept gripping the air beside his sides, like it might anchor him to reality.

He swallowed. Hard. “O-okay, but… what exactly is the bet about?”

You squinted at him. Then let out an incredulous, breathy laugh. “Oh, sweetheart. Isn’t it obvious?”

You leaned forward just enough to close the space between you two, voice low and smug. “It’s about eye contact, during sex, Bobby.”

And then, because you couldn’t resist, you reached up, tapped the tip of his nose with your fingertip, and grabbed the door handle behind you. Bob just stood there, frozen in absolute panic. Like his brain had blue-screened.

You pushed the door open, stepping backward into your room. But before shutting it, you leaned your head around the doorframe one last time and gave him a little smirk.

“You made this bed, baby,” you said with a wink.

“Now you’re gonna lie in it.”

One click and the door shut. Bob stood in the hallway, completely alone, staring at it like it had personally betrayed him. Then, slowly, he brought both hands to his face and buried himself in them with a loud groan.

He was so screwed.

Your room was dimly lit, cloaked in the kind of low, sultry glow that came only from a single desk lamp in the corner. It bathed everything in warm amber, casting soft shadows across the walls and sheets. The bed was already made, perfectly smooth, but not for long.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, you were on him.

Bob pressed the door closed with his back, but his lips never left yours. He was already kissing you like he’d been starving all week, his hands firmly planted on your hips as if he needed to ground himself or he’d float away. You tasted like fire and sin and something so utterly you that his brain was short-circuiting already.

“What are the rules?” you managed to breathe between kisses, panting into his mouth with a teasing lilt, before dragging him right back in for more.

Bob groaned into your lips, muffled and messy. He was dazed, his thoughts jumbled like alphabet soup. Still, he clung to that one sliver of sense left in him.

“Three seconds—” he gasped, lips brushing yours, “you can close your eyes for three seconds. Max.”

You barely had time to nod before he crashed into you again, pulling you flush against his body like he needed you there. And God, the way your bodies pressed, his chest against your breasts, your thighs tangled with his, the thick outline of his erection grinding into your stomach, it was almost cruel how good it felt.

Your lips parted with a low, approving hum as your back bumped gently into the edge of the bed. Bob followed you down without hesitation, lowering you onto the mattress with the kind of care that still made your heart skip, even when his mind was clearly being held hostage by lust.

“And we have to keep eye contact the whole time,” he murmured between kisses, voice already ragged with tension. “Including…”

“Orgasm,” you finished for him with a devilish grin, cutting him off before he could say it himself. His cheeks flushed, and you could feel his breath hitch against your lips.

You smiled with pride and dragged your fingers through his hair before pulling him back in. Slow at first, but gradually building in intensity.

Your hands slipped under the hem of his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin, his muscles twitching beneath your fingertips. Bob gasped when your nails scratched lightly up his spine, and you felt him shudder.

Your tongues moved in sync, lips slick and swollen, each kiss more demanding than the last. He held you tighter now, one hand sliding up your back while the other explored your thigh, gripping it possessively when you moaned softly into his mouth.

And then you shifted. Without warning, you swung your leg over and straddled him.

Bob’s breath hitched audibly. He looked up at you, eyes wide with wonder, like he couldn’t believe what was happening, even though he was living it. You leaned down to kiss him again, this time slower, deeper, hips already starting to roll gently against his.

Your clothed core brushed right over the thick bulge straining against his pants, and it made both of you gasp. The friction was intoxicating. Deliciously slow. Teasing.

You moved your hips again, dragging yourself across him in a rhythm that was equal parts sweet torture and cruel perfection.

Bob threw his head back with a strangled groan, his hands gripping your thighs like they were the only things tethering him to earth. “G-god…” he whispered breathlessly, biting down on his lip to keep himself from falling apart right then and there.

His eyes fluttered up to meet yours and you locked onto him like a predator.

“Eyes on me, flyboy,” you said, voice low and dark and so unfairly hot, as you rocked your hips down a little harder. Bob whimpered. He was already right at the edge and you were only just getting started.

Your hips moved with delicious purpose, slowly grinding against Bob’s lap, and you could feel every twitch of his body beneath you. Every gasp he swallowed, every low groan he failed to hide, all of it only fueled you more.

His eyes stayed locked on yours, wide, reverent, like he couldn’t believe someone like you was doing something like this to someone like him.

You leaned down, your lips brushing along his jaw as your fingers found the hem of his shirt. “This needs to go,” you whispered, voice velvet-smooth, and Bob nodded so fast it made you smirk.

You sat up slightly, tugged the fabric up, and he helped you lift it over his head, leaving him bare from the waist up. You paused to admire him, the gentle lines of his chest, the subtle definition in his stomach, the slight tremble in his arms as he held onto you.

You ran your hands across his chest, and he shivered, exhaling a breath like he’d been punched. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath, head pressing into the pillow as your nails skimmed down his torso.

“You okay there, Lieutenant?” you teased, biting your lip as you rocked your hips again, slower this time, but even more deliberately.

Bob’s hands gripped your hips tighter, knuckles white. “N-no,” he breathed, “not even a little.” You grinned.

Then he reached for your shirt. There was a moment, just a beat, where his hands hovered at the hem, as if asking for silent permission. And when you nodded, he tugged it up with slightly shaky fingers, revealing inch by inch of your skin. His eyes followed every bit of it like it was holy scripture.

Once the shirt was gone, his hands immediately found your waist again, thumbs stroking the soft skin like he couldn’t stop touching you even if he tried. “You’re…” His voice cracked, and he tried again. “You’re beautiful.”

You leaned down, chest brushing his as your lips met again. Tongues tangled, breath mingling, teeth occasionally nipping at lips. Every kiss was a promise. Every movement a dare.

You could feel the hard press of his cock under you, aching through his jeans. He shifted beneath you involuntarily, and it made a soft moan slip from your mouth — one he instantly echoed.

“Shit,” he whispered, breaking the kiss with a gasp, forehead resting against yours. “You’re driving me insane.”

“Good,” you murmured, and started to move again, slow, circular rolls of your hips that had his jaw clenching, eyes fluttering shut.

You reached between you and popped open the button of his pants. Bob let out a strangled sound, his hips bucking instinctively.

But your movements stayed patient, intentional. You wanted to savor this. Make every layer feel like a mile, every touch like a sin.

His pants were next, dragged down just enough to free him, and the moment your palm brushed over the outline in his boxers, he let out a sound so wrecked you swore it echoed off the walls.

You leaned down again, lips brushing his ear now. “You’re not allowed to look away,” you whispered.

“I’m— I’m trying,” he breathed. His eyes fluttered open again, meeting yours, glazed over with need.

Then, slowly, he sat up, bringing your bodies chest to chest, your bare skin touching completely. His hands roamed your back, your sides, mapping you like you were the last thing he’d ever get to touch.

“You’re so warm,” he mumbled, like he was dazed, “so perfect…”

You moaned softly as he pressed gentle kisses down your neck, taking his time, worshipping every inch of you with lips and tongue and reverent little sighs.

Bob’s fingers slid under the waistband of your pants slowly, like he was savoring every second of what he was about to uncover.

His fingertips brushed against the thin lace of your panties and paused there, curling slightly like he was memorizing the feel. You sucked in a shaky breath.

His thumb teased along the edge, tugging it just enough to make you whimper, and your hips involuntarily rolled forward, chasing that pressure. You murmured, voice already thick with need.

With a smooth motion, his hands slipped fully under both your pants and panties, pushing them past your hips. You lifted yourself just enough to let them slide down, your skin prickling as the air kissed your bare thighs. The soft rustle of fabric hitting the floor was drowned out by the sound of your shallow breathing.

Bob sat up slightly, his palms skimming up the back of your thighs to your waist, eyes fixed on you like you were the only thing left in the world. He reached around and toyed with the clasp of your bra.

“Can I…?”

You nodded — one slow, deliberate nod.

The clasp gave with a soft click, and the straps slipped from your shoulders. You let the fabric fall from your arms, baring yourself completely, your chest rising and falling under the weight of his gaze.

Bob’s lips parted, his hands trembling just a little as they settled on your ribs and slid upward, cupping your breasts with near-reverence.

“God, you’re… so beautiful,” he breathed.

You leaned down to kiss him, lips colliding in a slow, burning rhythm that stole the breath from both of you. Your fingers dipped to the waistband of his boxers, and you felt him shiver beneath you.

“Your turn,” you whispered against his mouth.

You pushed his boxers down slowly, watching the tension build in his body. His cock sprang free, hard and flushed and already twitching in anticipation. He groaned low in his throat, his hips twitching up as you settled yourself against him again, both of you finally, completely bare. No barriers. No hiding.

Your soaked core brushed the length of him, and the contact made both of you gasp. You reached down, guiding him to your entrance, not taking him in just yet, just letting him feel how ready you were. How much you wanted him.

Then you paused. Met his eyes. Held them.

“Don’t forget the bet,” you whispered with a sly smirk, brushing your lips over his as your hips hovered, poised to take him in.

Bob looked like he was about to break, eyes wide, lips parted, his breath caught in his throat. “I won’t,” he promised, voice shaking.

You smiled sweetly and just like that, you started to sink down. Slowly, achingly slow, and the world narrowed to just you and him, and the impossible heat between you.

His jaw drops. His brows knit together. His mouth opens in a silent gasp, and his eyes stay locked on yours, wide with lust and disbelief. He’s so deep, so thick, it feels like he’s splitting you open, filling every part of you with scorching heat.

“G-god—” he breathes, voice breaking, shaking.

You feel him throb inside you, the muscles in his thighs tensing beneath you, his fingers digging into your flesh. Every inch of him pulses with restraint — he’s holding back, just barely — trying not to move, not to fuck up the challenge. Not to lose.

You roll your hips once, slow and firm, feeling him grind against the spot inside you that makes your breath catch. His head falls back just slightly, but his eyes flick right back to yours like a reflex.

“I can feel how hard you’re trying,” you murmur, hips circling. “But you’re shaking, Bobby.”

“I’m— I’m not losing this,” he pants. His voice is hoarse, ragged. His face is flushed, lips parted, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths.

You pick up the pace, your hips begin to ride him faster now, your wetness coating him with every thrust. You can hear the sound of it, that delicious slap of skin on skin, every movement making you both whimper and gasp.

He’s making the most desperate noises now, little choked groans and breathless curses, every one like it’s being torn from his throat. His legs twitch under you, his grip bruising your hips now, but still, those eyes are clinging to yours.

“Eyes on me,” you remind him, breathless now yourself. “You wanted to play…”

His pupils are blown wide, almost swallowing the blue of his irises. Sweat trickles down his temple. His mouth opens like he’s about to say something, maybe beg, but he’s beyond words now. He’s just feeling, burning, unraveling beneath you.

You clench around him, deliberately, and he bucks, his hips jerk up into you uncontrollably.

“Shit—” he groans, head lolling, still trying to stay focused. “I—I can’t—”

You lean in closer, your forehead almost touching his, your breath mingling hotly. “You’re so close. I can feel you twitching inside me.”

You move faster now, riding him hard and deep, each stroke sending sparks through your entire body. You’re soaked, hot, aching, moaning as your pleasure coils tighter and tighter.

He’s desperate, eyes fluttering, breath caught. His body tenses under you like a drawn bowstring. Then finally, just as he’s right there on the edge, you whisper: “Come for me, Bobby. But don’t you dare look away.”

He lets out a broken, feral sound, somewhere between a growl and a cry, and then his eyes slam shut as he comes hard, hips thrusting up into you with a power he’s been holding back this whole time. His entire body shakes under you, his mouth falling open in a gasp of your name.

You moan with him, still moving, still watching him as he spills inside you, his release hot and deep and overwhelming. You feel every pulse, every twitch, every ounce of him surrendering completely.

He collapses back, breathing like he just ran a mile. Eyes still closed.

“You lost,” you whisper smugly, brushing damp hair from his forehead. Bob groans, utterly spent. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” you smile sweetly, and kiss the corner of his mouth. Your fingers brushed softly against his flushed cheek, still hot from the effort, from the embarrassment, maybe from both.

“That’s a lesson, sweetheart,” you whispered sweetly, dragging your thumb gently along his jawline, your tone laced with just the right amount of teasing. “Lie about something like that… and it comes back to bite you.”

Bob groaned miserably, the sound muffled as he turned his face toward ceiling in protest. His eyes cracked open reluctantly a second later, and when they met yours, they went wide, because you were definitely wearing the smuggest grin he had ever seen in his life.

He swallowed thickly. You could tell he was still processing the fact that not only had he completely lost the bet, but that you weren’t about to let him forget it.

“But…” he managed to breathe out, eyes flicking over your face with a mix of defeat and awe, “It was worth it.”

You felt your chest flutter a little at the softness in his voice, and before you could say anything else, his hands slid up your sides, holding you with more tenderness than you expected. His lips brushed against yours, and you instantly melted into him, even if your grin never quite faded.

“Well then,” you murmured as your forehead rested against his, “Get ready for tomorrow night.”

His brows furrowed.

“Naked,” you added with a wicked smile.

Bob let out a dramatic groan and tossed his head back against the pillow, one hand dragging over his face like he was already regretting all his life choices.

You snorted quietly and shook your head, tracing lazy circles on his chest with your fingertips.

“I’m never lying again,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“Mmm-hmm,” you hummed knowingly, your voice still soaked in amusement. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Bob covered his face with both hands, defeated. You leaned down, kissed the tip of his nose, and whispered: “You’re so screwed.”

The Hard Deck was alive with its usual evening buzz. The music was playing, beer was flowing, and laughter filled every corner of the bar.

Everyone was there: Phoenix, Hangman, Rooster, Fanboy, Payback… the whole damn squad. They were mid-conversation, halfway through a second round of drinks, blissfully unaware that the night was about to take a sharp left turn.

Only you knew what was coming.

You sat at your table, watching the minutes tick by, a sly smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. Bob’s fate was sealed the moment he lost that stupid little bet, and you made damn sure he knew it.

When the moment finally arrived, you stood up slowly, deliberately, and tapped your glass with a spoon. The metallic clink clink clink rang out, cutting through the room and drawing attention. Conversations quieted. Heads turned.

You raised your drink with a dramatic flair.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” you announced, grinning wide as everyone stared in curiosity, “Tonight is not just any night. No no — tonight, we witness a man fulfilling a promise. A man owning up to his very poor choices.”

Confused murmurs rippled through the room.

You leaned forward with an extra sparkle in your eyes. “He lied. He got cocky... so he lost.”

Right on cue, as if the universe was working on your side, a blur of pale limbs flashed past the bar’s large front windows. Someone screamed.

“OH MY GOD—!”

There he was. Bob Floyd, red-faced, eyes wild with panic, completely naked, sprinting as fast as he could around the perimeter of the bar. Both hands tightly clutched over his crotch as his bare ass flashed for the whole base to see.

People exploded out of their chairs.

“WHAT THE HELL— BOB?!” Rooster practically fell out of his seat, knocking over a chair as he scrambled to the window.

“NO WAY!” yelled Hangman, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

Phones came out fast. Shouts and howls of laughter filled the room as people crowded the windows, trying to get a glimpse of Bob’s shame-filled lap of doom. At least three people got blurry, motion-captured photos of his pale butt bouncing as he rounded the corner, legs flying, hair a mess, and dignity left somewhere behind him on the pavement.

Phoenix slung an arm around your shoulders, nearly choking on her beer from laughing.

“What on earth did you do to him?” she asked, eyes still on the window as Bob disappeared behind the building.

You just sipped your drink like the queen you were and replied, “He lost a bet.” The two of you burst into laughter.

It was a night no one would ever forget, least of all Bob, whose heroic, humiliating jog would live on in base group chats and embarrassing wedding toasts forever. And you? You were absolutely going to remind him of it every chance you got.

Because next time he lies?

He’d damn well think twice.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!

I hope you guys enjoyed it! If you have any suggestions, don’t hesitate to let me know! I’d also be super happy for any feedback; whether it’s a reblog, comment, like, or even a follow.

HAVE A LOVELY DAY!🩷

BYEEE🍋🌼🍯

[komorebinked]

This is so Bob Floyd/Reynolds to me

[komorebinked]

HEARING YOU

PAIRING: robert “bob” floyd x female reader

RATING: explicit

WORD COUNT: 4225

SUMMARY:

Bob Floyd has a crush on the air traffic controller with the pretty voice.

The air traffic controller has a crush on the quiet WSO.

Nat is determined to get them to meet.

TAGS/WARNINGS:

explicit content (18+ minors do not interact), female reader insert, no use of y/n, not beta read, reader is an air traffic controller at NAS north island (take the jargon with a grain of salt), very requited crush, flirty jake seresin, wingwoman natasha, light alcohol consumption, semi-public sex (bob’s truck), making out, dry humping, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk.

The sky is just barely starting to lighten from an inky black to mottled blue when you swipe into the Cab, floor-to-ceiling windows giving you a bird’s eye view of the airfield below. It’s quiet this morning, conversation dialed to a low murmur. You get a few nods of acknowledgement as the door closes behind you with a soft click and you cross the room to your console, setting your travel mug of coffee down and tapping your workstation awake.

“We’ve got Dagger Squad again this morning,” your coworker, Jason, says with a yawn, rolling his chair beside yours. “Last drill of the week.”

You hum. “Flyovers are easy. Rooster’s leading the first run.”

“Nice. At least we’ll start off strong and not with someone trying to show off before the sun is even up.”

“And by someone you mean Hangman.”

“Bingo.”

You plug your headset into the jack and lift it over your head. “Maybe if we’re lucky Maverick will knock his ego down a couple pegs.”

“A couple pegs ain’t nothin’ for that one.”

You look down at the tarmac. The Super Hornets are lined up on the apron, gleaming beneath the floodlights. There’s movement below, tiny figures in flight suits and high visibility vests going through pre-flight procedures. You’ve always thought they looked like ants from up here.

Jet engines roar to life. Ground crews start to disperse. The aviators climb into their birds and get themselves situated. You press the button on your mic.

“Dagger Squad, Tower. Runway two seven is active. Taxi via Alpha, hold short at two seven. Launch order as briefed, Rooster in the lead. Call when you’re ready,” you say, the words sharp in the quiet room.

“Tower, Dagger zero two — wilco, taxiing via Alpha,” Rooster replies.

“Not even a good morning?” A female voice asks. You chuckle.

“Good morning, Phoenix,” you say to your friend. “And good morning, Bob.”

“Oh, uh…good morning,” Bob replies. You bite your lip, fighting a smile.

Natasha’s backseater, a WSO by the name of Bob Floyd, caught your attention when he first arrived to base. He wasn’t like some of the other aviators on the newly formed squad, loud and cocky with egos to match, and he didn’t clog up your radio with unnecessary chatter. He was sure, steady, and good at his job. Nat had nothing but good things to say about him whenever his name came up in conversation.

Which, you’ll admit, it often does.

Down on the runway, Phoenix smirks, switching to intercom. “You okay back there, Bob?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He asks.

“Just making sure you didn’t burst into flames.”

Bob doesn’t reply, focusing instead on the systems in front of him. His cheeks are flushed, the direct result of hearing your voice over the radio — sharp, controlled, a little raspy this early in the morning.

“I could introduce you,” Nat says. “If you want.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles.

The first time Bob heard your voice over the radio, he knew he was in trouble. You were calm and confident, a force to be reckoned with, and when your laugh crackled through the radio, his heart started racing the same way it did during take off.

Despite never having seen you before, his crush on you took root and refused to budge. Nat, always observant, noticed it right away and has been trying to play matchmaker ever since.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to meet you. He does.

But he’s also just…Bob. Quiet, observant, a little awkward. He worries that you’d meet him and be disappointed, that maybe someone like Jake or Bradley or Javy would be a better match.

“Dagger zero two, Tower,” your voice says in his ear.

Bob shakes his head to clear his thoughts and focus on the drill, a time-on-target run that means he has to be locked in to make sure the strike lands with precision.

“Wind two nine zero at six, runway is clear.”

Bradley taxis the plane down the runway and Nat follows into position. Bob taps his fingers on his knee, the adrenaline starting to kick in.

“Tower, Dagger zero two is ready.”

“Dagger zero two, you are cleared for take-off, runway two seven. Good luck.”

The jet engine roars to life as Bradley speeds down the runway before lifting off into the sky. Nat eases the jet forward.

“Tower, Dagger zero three holding short for two. Ready.”

“Dagger zero three, cleared for take off.” There’s a brief pause before you add, “Do a flip.”

Nat laughs, the sound drowned out by the afterburners as she takes off. After climbing a few thousand feet, she spins the jet in the air. Bob’s back slams into the seat and he lets out a breathless laugh.

“I give it a six out of ten,” you say. Nat groans.

“Tough crowd,” she grumbles, veering off to join Bradley.

The two jets fly together in perfect sync, level in the sky with Bradley in the lead and Nat following close behind. Bob’s focus remains on the navigation, watching the position as they approach the waypoint.

“Dagger three, time check,” Bradley calls on the comms. “Target flyover in two minutes, mark on 0700.”

“Copy,” Nat replies.

You watch from the tower, clipboard in hand. Today’s target is unmarked, just coordinates for a spot in the ocean, making it a more difficult run than a terrain drill. The clock above your console glows red, time ticking closer to the mark. Rooster’s voice sounds over your headset.

“Tower, Dagger zero two and zero three inbound for flyover.”

“Copy, Dagger zero two. Tower standing by for time,” you call back.

“Quick push, eight knots,” Bob says to Nat. She nudges the throttle forward, picking up speed. “Perfect, hold it. We’ll be right on top.”

“I’m counting on it,” Nat replies.

Bob smiles beneath his mask and begins to count down under his breath.

Five, four, three, two—

Bradley speeds over the mark, Nat following closely behind him. You scribble the time on your clipboard.

“Dagger zero two and zero three, flyover complete. Nice job,” you tell them. “A double zero. Impressive, Bob.”

Bob blinks, surprised by the compliment. “T-thanks,” he manages to stutter.

Nat follows Bradley back towards base, keeping in tight formation. Bob’s thoughts are a loop of your praise.

“Tower, Dagger zero two and zero three inbound,” Bradley says.

“Dagger zero two, pattern is clear,” you reply.

Bradley lands first, followed by Nat, the impact of touchdown jolting Bob in his seat. The aircraft director waves them forward off the landing area and Nat steers the plane into park. The deck crew gives her the okay to kill the engine and Bob’s ears ring in the silence of the turbofan going still.

The canopy lifts and Bob removes his mask, taking a deep breath of the salty air. Ground crew gathers around the jet, going through the post-flight check. Nat unbuckles her harness and eases out of the cockpit first, climbing down the ladder with practiced efficiency.

Bob moves slowly, his stiff limbs making him feel like a newborn calf. He climbs down the ladder and joins Nat on the tarmac, tugging his helmet off and holding it in his hand. Bradley approaches, followed by Jake, Reuben, and Mickey, who are suited up for the next run.

“Damn, Baby-On-Board. That was clean,” Jake says, a heavy hand landing on Bob’s shoulder. “Don’t know if Fanboy is going to beat that.”

“If he does, I’ll buy his drinks tonight,” Nat chimes in.

“How the hell am I supposed to beat a double zero?” Mickey asks.

Nat smirks. “Exactly.”

Bradley, Bob, and Natasha return to the ready room, where Maverick already has the playback ready on the monitors.

“That might have been the cleanest run I’ve seen out of this squad. Tight formation, quick adjustments,” Maverick says with a sharp nod. “Nice job, Lieutenant Floyd.”

“Thank you, sir,” Bob replies.

After they’ve been dismissed, Nat drags Bob down to mess for breakfast. She sits across the table from him, picking at her eggs while he sips from his styrofoam cup of coffee.

“You coming out with us tonight?” She asks. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Maybe,” he replies. She lifts an eyebrow at him.

“Come on, you’ve blown us off like, three times now. That’s bad for morale.”

“You know I don’t like crowds.”

“When half the crowd is your squad, that’s hardly an excuse.”

He sighs. “Fine, I’ll be there.”

Nat gives him a wide smile.

He doesn’t notice the mischievous glint in her eye.

Nat: Hard Deck tonight?

Nat: You can’t say no

Nat: I know you’re off tomorrow.

You laugh at the series of texts from Nat. You’re back in your apartment early in the afternoon, enjoying the extra downtime — a benefit of working an 0500 flight drill with the Daggers.

Yeah, I’ll come, you reply.

Later, you arrive at the Hard Deck a little earlier than Nat’s suggested time. The small bar is busy but not yet packed and you easily find a spot to squeeze into, flagging down Penny. The older woman smiles at you.

“Hey, stranger,” she says. “Long time no see.”

“Did you miss me?” You ask. She chuckles.

“‘Course I did.” She grabs a glass from beneath the bar. “The usual?”

“Please.”

You take a moment to scan the room, recognizing a few faces from around the base. By the pool tables, you spot a group of men playing a game. A tall man with neatly combed blonde hair and Navy issue glasses leans over the table, lining up a shot and sinking two solid colored balls into separate pockets.

He’s cute in that unassuming kind of way. The sleeves of his shirt highlight the lean muscle of his arms and the fabric stretches nicely over broad shoulders that dip into a narrow waist. Penny sets a drink by your elbow and you hand her some cash with a quick thank you, your attention drawn back to the man.

“Well if it ain’t the princess herself, visiting us from her tower,” a voice drawls from beside you. Jake grins at you when you look over at him, his eyes flicking down your body. “Lookin’ good, by the way.”

“Hangman,” you sigh.

Jake was the first of Nat’s squad members that you met after befriending her. He’s loudmouthed, cocky, and he flies just the same. You’ve had to correct him from the tower on more than one occasion.

“What, you’re not happy to see me?” He asks, mock hurt. “Because I’m sure happy to see you, darlin’.”

You roll your eyes. “Not after the shit you pulled during your drill.”

“I was just showin’ off for you.”

“Five seconds ahead of mark isn’t anything to be proud of.”

“You wound me,” he says. The door opens and you spot Nat, waving her over.

“Save me,” you whisper loudly when she’s close enough to hear you.

“Bagman, quit bothering my favorite controller,” Nat says, slinging an arm over your shoulder. “She’s too good for you, anyway.”

“Something we can agree on,” Jake says, winking at you. “Fine. You know where to find me.”

“Don’t count on it.”

Jake disappears through the crowd, heading straight for the pool tables. He greets the men with friendly familiarity, patting each of them on the back.

“He’s relentless,” Nat says. “It would be admirable if it wasn’t so pathetic.”

Penny comes by, greeting Nat and taking her order. Your friend requests a second drink for you on her tab, despite your objections. When her beer and your fresh glass are delivered, Nat grabs your arm and drags you over to the pool tables.

“I knew you couldn’t stay away, princess,” Jake says. “You want to play?”

“I don’t know how,” you tell him. Beside you, Nat hides her laugh in her drink.

“That’s okay, I’m a real good teacher.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll give it a shot,” you relent. While Jake sets up the table, you say hello to Reuben, or Payback as you know him over the radio, the other member of Nat’s squad that you’ve met in person. You introduce yourself to the rest of the unfamiliar faces, putting names to voices and call signs.

The tall blonde man from earlier is sitting down now and you catch him staring at you before he ducks his head and focuses intently on picking the label of his beer bottle with his thumb nail. You’re about to approach him when Jake shoves a pool cue in your hands and says, “Ladies first.”

Jake is rambling on about how to play pool as you line up a shot, striking the racked balls with impressive precision, three solid balls sinking into pockets. Jake frowns across the table. You come around to his side and lean over for another shot, sinking another ball.

“Forget princess,” he grumbles. “You’re a shark.”

Some times later, the game finishes in your favor and you hand your cue to Nat to take the next game. You pat Jake on the back.

“Better luck next time, Bagman,” you tell him.

The blonde man is still sitting in the same spot. He looks up at you when you approach him, pretty blue eyes going wide.

“Hi,” you tell him. “We haven’t met yet.”

It’s you, he thinks. The air traffic controller. If he thought your voice was pretty over a staticky radio, nothing could have prepared him for hearing it in person. He’s surprised you noticed him over here — you looked like you were having a good time with Jake, destroying him in a game of pool.

He suddenly realizes you’re waiting for him to respond but he’s been staring at you.

“No, uh, don’t think we have,” he says.

You take a seat on the stool beside him, keeping yourself angled towards him.

“You must be Bob,” you say, reaching a hand out and introducing yourself.

He huffs a laugh. “What gave me away?”

“You’re quiet.” You don’t say it like it’s a bad thing. Just a truth, an observation. He ducks his head and you add, “I like quiet.”

For the rest of the night, you sit beside Bob, drawn into conversation with the man. It’s a little awkward at first but once Bob starts to get comfortable, the shy WSO really starts to open up and you can’t help but be drawn to the sweet, funny guy he reveals to you.

“Well. I’ll be damned,” Jake says, watching the two of you across the room. You’re leaned in close, laughing at something Bob said, your hand on his bicep. The man looks like he’s about to combust. “Bob’s got an audience tonight.”

“I’ve been trying to make this happen for months,” Nat tells him. “Don’t you dare do anything to screw it up.”

“Roger,” he replies with a mock salute, returning his attention to the dart board.

Penny shouts for last call and Bob looks up, surprised to see how empty the bar has gotten. He checks his watch.

“I don’t remember the last time I was out this late,” he says. You smile at him.

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” you tease. “But I guess it’s time to head out.”

Disappointment settles in his chest. “Right, yeah. We should…go.”

Bob walks with you out of the bar, hands shoved in his pockets so that he doesn’t give in to the intense urge to pull you into him. The air is a little colder now that the sun has set and he notices the way you shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“How’re you getting home?” He asks.

“I was going to walk. My apartment isn’t too far once you get off base,” you tell him.

“I can give you a ride.”

“You don’t have to—“

“Please,” he interrupts. “It’s late and cold. My mama would be disappointed in me if I didn’t.”

You give him a soft smile. “I definitely don’t want you disappointing your mama.”

He leads you through the parking lot to his pick up truck and unlocks the doors, opening yours for you. He waits until you’ve settled into the passenger seat before shutting the door and jogging around to the driver’s side.

The short ride to your apartment is quiet, the silence broken only by your occasional directions. It’s not awkward but something settles between you that makes his heart pound frantically against his ribs, blood rushing in his ears.

Bob pulls into a spot near your building, putting the truck in park. It’s late enough that your complex is quiet, the parking lot dark and empty. You unbuckle your seatbelt but you don’t reach for the door, turning to face him instead, one leg tucked beneath you.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you tell him.

“Me, too,” he replies. He clears his throat. His eyes drop to your mouth, gaze drawn to your lips like a magnet.

“Are you going to kiss me, Bob?” You whisper.

“Do you want me to?” He asks, just as quiet.

You nod your head. He swallows nervously, unbuckling his seatbelt before leaning toward you and lifting a hand to cup your cheek. You tilt your head into his touch, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. His thumb drags across your bottom lip and when your mouth opens with a small sigh, he pulls you in for a kiss.

It’s the kind of kiss that makes your blood run hot in your veins, slow and sure and deep. You shift a little closer, the center console pressing uncomfortably into your stomach but you don’t care, not enough to stop, not enough to pull away from the intoxicating warmth of his mouth. His tongue tangles with yours and there’s an unexpected confidence in the way he tilts your head to his liking, chasing the best angle.

He pulls back suddenly and before you can ask what’s wrong, he’s reaching beneath the center console flipping it up, removing the annoying barrier. You grin at him.

“That’s convenient.” He laughs, the sound a deep rumble in the quiet of the cab.

“C’mere,” he says, a little breathless, the words stringing together. You shuffle a bit closer and he wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you across the seat until you’re in his lap, legs open over his thighs and the steering wheel at your back. He runs his palms up your thighs and traces the curve of your waist. “You are—god—you’re a dream, you know that?”

He says it so earnestly, like it’s an undeniable truth, and something in you cracks. You kiss him again, harder this time, a little desperate. Your hands are in his hair, messing up the neatly combed strands. He groans when you tighten your grip, his hands squeezing your hips.

“You have no idea,” he murmurs, lips leaving messy kisses across your jaw, down to your neck, “how long I’ve wanted this.”

“Really?” You ask. He nods against you, sucking the sensitive skin over your pulse between his teeth.

“First time I heard you,” he says, “on the radio. Prettiest voice I’d ever heard, right in my ear.”

You rock your hips, moaning when you feel the hard length of him beneath you. He slips a hand beneath the hem of your t-shirt, reaching up to tug the cup of your bra down to expose the tight bud of your nipple. He pinches it lightly, making you gasp.

“Knew you’d make some pretty noises, too.”

He lifts your shirt, just enough that he can get his mouth on you. He sucks your nipple between his lips, swirling his tongue around it before releasing it with an obscene pop and moving to your other breast to give it the same attention. You squirm in his lap, your core aching for friction.

Bob lifts his head, looking up at you. His hair is a mess and his blue eyes are dark behind his slightly foggy glasses, splotches of pink coloring his cheeks.

“Can I eat you out?” He asks. “Please?”

He asks so eagerly, so sweetly, that all you can do is nod your head and let him guide you down to your back on the seat beside him. His hands reach for your jeans, his fingers deftly popping the button and dragging the zipper down.

He tugs the denim over your hips and down your thighs, freeing one of your legs completely but leaving the fabric gathered in a heap around your other ankle. You sit up a little to give him some space, your back pressed to the door. He settles between your thighs, staring down at you with a hungry look in his eye.

He rests his heavy palm on your mound, dipping his thumb down to drag it over the wet spot that’s formed on the gusset of your underwear. He grazes your clit and you gasp, flexing your hips to chase the sensation. His other hand presses your hips down into the seat.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he says, voice low and steady. “You want to take care of you?”

“Mhm,” you hum, your head thumping against the car door when he draws slow circles over your clit.

He slides his hand beneath the elastic of your underwear, finally touching you. It’s lewd and messy, the way he swipes his calloused fingers over your slick heat. You can hear how wet you are, even above the blood rushing in your ears and the sound of your breathing.

He pulls your underwear down to your knees and ducks beneath them, his face close enough to your cunt that you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, making you shiver in anticipation. He kisses the inside of one thigh, then the other, before licking through your folds with a satisfied groan.

Bob takes off his glasses, tossing them on the dash with little regard for whether they remain in one piece. He doesn’t care, he’ll get new ones if he has to.

He tastes you again, licking a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit before circling his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. You reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair and he outright moans against your pussy, tongue moving faster.

You’re so on edge that you know this won’t last long, not with the way he eats you like a man who just stumbled across an oasis in a desert. You can feel the combination of spit and slick dripping to the seat below you as you grind yourself against his mouth.

“Look at me,” he says, pausing for only long enough to get the words out. You lift your head and he holds your gaze as his attention returns to your clit.

His vision is blurry without his glasses but he can still see the way your eyes roll back when he flicks his tongue just right or how your mouth drops open and the sweetest sound he’s ever heard spills from your lips when he sucks your clit between his lips and hums.

“Bob—fuck—oh my god,” you cry, trying to keep your voice low, trying to remain cognizant of the fact that you never even made it out of this man’s truck before he was between your thighs.

He slides two fingers inside of you and you moan, long and loud and desperate, that knot of release growing impossibly tighter. He drags his fingers along your front wall, hitting a spot that makes the knot unravel, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave, every nerve lighting up with the euphoria of it.

Bob reaches down to press a hand to his cock, rutting into his palm. It only takes a few flexes of his hips for him to come in his pants like a teenager, sticky heat filling his boxers as he moans, his forehead pressed to your thigh.

“Holy shit,” you gasp. “That was—“

“Good?” He asks hopefully. Your answering giggle is a little wild, a little incredulous.

“Great. Amazing. Spectacular,” you assure him. He smiles against your skin.

When he’s caught his breath, he sits up and helps you get your underwear back in place. You shimmy back into your jeans, sweat damp skin making the effort more harrowing than it has any right to be. Bob reaches for his glasses and puts them on, blinking at the adjustment to his vision. Once you’re dressed, you turn towards him again.

“I can—“

“I already, uh—“

“Oh.” You bite your lip. “Maybe next time?”

“Yeah?” He asks. You nod.

“Definitely.”

You lean forward and he meets you halfway, capturing your lips with his, matching wide smiles making it less of a kiss and more of a shared breath. You pull back, reaching up to smooth his hair into place.

“Where’s your phone?” You ask. He reaches into his back pocket for it, handing it to you.

You dial your number and save it into his contacts. “Call me tomorrow.”

“Yes m’am,” he answers.

You give him one last lingering kiss before opening the passenger door and hopping out of his truck, shutting the door behind you. He doesn’t start the truck until he sees you disappear through one of the apartment doors.

As he’s driving home, his phone pings with a new message. He checks it when he’s back on base.

Nat: You’re welcome, btw.

Thank you for reading! 💕

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michael holden has once again infiltrated my mind