#Robert Bob floyd smut

[mynameismckenziemae]

*sigh*

I need this in my life rn.

Picture Perfect

Bob Floyd x female reader

Prompt: Imagine Bob receiving spicy Polaroids of his bride on his wedding day from @phoenix-rising-starbird-one 😘

Summary: You do just that ^ and have to deal with the consequences 😏

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 18+ ONLY.

Warnings: This is pure smut. Dom!Bob, teasing, spanking, humiliation, spanking, dacryphilia, orgasm delay/denial, taking dirty photos, p in v, etc.

*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•.

“Oh my God,” Natasha laughs as she flips through the small handful of Polaroids you just handed her, “these turned out so good! Look at you,” she brings one closer to her face to get a better look, “that’s the lingerie set I got you! Bob is going to die!”

Some of them were taken at your bachelorette party, some this morning when you were getting ready. Taken in the positions he likes you best; bent over, on your knees, looking up between your thighs.

“Give a few to Bradley and Jake, too. Oh, there they are,” you spot the boys as you look out the window of your dressing home, “Wow, look at him,” you breathe, seeing him in his tux, handsome as ever. “Go now, now’s a good time.”

Bob is talking to the wedding planner when Nat gets down to the courtyard where the men are congregating.

Bradley’s laughing about something Jake says before he presses a kiss to his cheek; their wedding is coming up next month. You watch as Natasha approaches them with a conniving look on her face. She discreetly hands them each a couple of the photos and gives them instructions before turning toward Bob.

You smile as they hug each other; so much is being said without words. They talk for a moment before Natasha hands him her photos before patting him on the back and walking away.

He watches her, confused, until he looks down at the photo. His face turns beet red before he looks up a the sky for help.

*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•.

Bradley’s next. He places his photos into Bob’s hand discreetly just as the photographer finishes up with the groomsmen's pictures.

Bob gulps before he looks down at your body in various states of undress in suggestive positions. Bradley and Jake grin as Bob slowly flips through the photos, flushing further with each one.

*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•.

The photographer finds you next, taking your bridal portraits before hiding you back away in the dressing room.

There’s a text from Bob when you check your phone. Reading it sends a pulse of desire through you before settling between your thighs.

Bob: You are in so much trouble.

You: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Bob: I’ll be sure to remind you.

*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•.

You figure you missed seeing Jake give Bob his photos, but right before Jake escorts Natasha down the aisle, he shows you them in his hand and winks.

Bob’s widen in disbelief when Jake slides the photos into his hand as they do that handshake/hug thing men do. He looks down at photos quickly before sliding them into his pocket with the others.

The heat leaves his expression though when your guests rise and he sees you for the first time.

*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•.

You’re officially ‘Mrs. Floyd’ and can’t keep the smile off your face as you walk hand in hand down the aisle. The naughty photos forgotten with your newly-wedded bliss.

After the photographer steals the two of you away during the cocktail hour, Bob leads you away from the reception hall.

“Where are we going?” You ask, “Dinner starts in 30 minutes.”

“In here,” He finds your dressing room and ushers you inside, making you instantly remember the photos when he locks the door. You whimper as he turns to you with a dark, heated look.

Your eyes widen and look around in a panic as if there’s somewhere to hide in the wide open room.

He’s onto you before you can even attempt to flee. He pulls you against him, hard and pressing on your stomach while he kisses you roughly with teeth and tongue, distracting you as he walks backward to the couch by the window where you watched him earlier.

Suddenly the world spins and the next thing you know, you’re splayed over Bob’s knees.

“What-what are you doing?” You ask breathily, looking over your shoulder at him, face burning.

You knew there would be a price to pay for your little stunt, but you figured it would be after the festivities tonight, or tomorrow when you get to the hotel for your honeymoon. Surely he’s not going to spank you now, not with all your guests waiting downstairs?

“Your mascara is waterproof, right?” He ignores your question to ask his while he pulls the silky white material of your gown up over your butt. “Fuck,” he whispers when he exposes your soaked lingerie.

“Yes,” you whimper as his fingertips brush the white lace underwear, “why?”

“Wouldn’t want to ruin your makeup when I make you cry,” he murmurs as he tugs your underwear to your thighs.

“Wh-oh!” Your question gets cut off by your gasp as his big, rough hand lands on your ass.

Bob usually drags your spankings out; warming your skin up first, rubbing the sting out between swats, dipping his fingers between your legs to tease your clit and finger your holes while he scolds you for getting so wet, making you count out loud…

But not this time.

This time, he’s merciless. Spanking you over and over with harsh, stinging slaps that steal the breath from your lungs. You’re biting your lip so hard you’re afraid you might draw blood from the effort to stay quiet.

“Been married for an hour and already over my knee,” he sounds so disappointed, but his cock is telling you different; he’s harder than ever against your side.

Tears begin to well in your eyes as he focuses his attention on the lower part of your ass, making sure you feel it every time you sit down for the next few hours as he repeatedly spanks your sit spots, making you squirm as it gets to be too much. Yet your arousal coats your thighs.

The tears start to spill over and your ass is on fire when he finally relents. He’s breathing hard as he guides you onto the couch; propping you over the arm with your knees on the cushions.

You gasp when you hear the click of the camera a moment later

“I think I’ll add these to the ones you gave me today,” he chuckles, “look at me, I wanna capture your sad little pout and those alligator tears, pairs nicely with the redness of your ass.”

You whimper, pussy clenching in need at his words. Your face heats with humiliation as you turn your head to face him, resting your head over your crossed arms.

Another flash and click of the camera before the cushion dips behind you. There’s a moment of fumbling before he guides the head of his thick cock through your arousal and pushes inside.

Your cry is muffled by your arms as he bottoms out inside you, not giving you time to adjust before he pulls out to do it again.

“You think you can get away with teasing me all day Mrs. Floyd?” He growls when you clench around him like a vice at the use of your brand-new name.

“You don’t get to cum until I say so,” he pants. His hand releases the bruising grip on your hip to slap your reddened, tender skin again, “maybe it’ll be later, maybe I’ll let you tomorrow morning, or maybe I won’t until we get back from our honeymoon. Can’t wait to watch you hesitate before you sit down, see you squirm when my cum leaks out of you and stains these pretty white panties,” he snaps the lace against your thigh, “see how you like being teased.”

Other than a needy whine that escapes, you give no further protest; you’re getting exactly what you wanted when you decided to give him those naughty pictures.

His hips slap against yours a few times more before stilling as he releases with a low groan. Your eyes pinch close at the overwhelming need to get your own release as he twitches inside you.

He pulls out of your trembling body before gathering the cum that follows and pushing it gently back inside you before sliding your underwear back up.

Your again neglected pussy pulses with another click of the camera once your undies are back in place.

“Open,” his husky tone has you opening your heavy eyes. You obey, looking at the lens of the camera as you clean his fingers with your mouth. “Good girl,” he hums, capturing it with a final photo.

*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•.

A/N: …I have nothing to say about this. No excuses. Nothing. I’m not even ovulating right now. 🥴

Tagging who I think may enjoy this (sorry if I’m wrong!)

@lexixstewart

@dizzybee03

@its-the-pilot

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@atarmychick007

@littlezee80

@k-k0129

@jessicab1991

@landpiranha-blog

@fandomology101

@writtingrose

@rascallyrascalreads

@seitmai

@withahappyrefrain

@blindedbythelightt

@tastefulregularthots

[sebsxphia]

husband bob who fingers his wife so hard she squirts and his wedding ring slides off 😂

(he makes her lick it clean after)

￫ authors notes: omg please, my dear anon! i giggled so hard, i love this so much! 🤭

￫ warnings: sex and squirting.

giggly sex with bob is not uncommon. as much as he can be mean dom bob, he’s also the most loving, soft and romantic lover you’ve ever met. on this particular occasion, he just wanted to finger his pretty little wife and have them squirt over his fingers before bed. he loves seeing you writhing with pleasure (from himself) more than anything.

as you reach your high and come over his fingers with dripping squirts and loud whines, bob coaxes you through it as he always does. “there’s my good girl. that’s it, keep goin’, darlin’. my pretty little wife is so good for me, o— oh—”

he watches with wide eyes from behind his glasses as his wedding ring slides off and falls onto the soaked towel below you. he continues to move his fingers inside of you and lets you ride out your continual high, but his lips have curled up into a small smile and he’s trying his hardest to hold back a small laugh.

as your eyes flutter open and shut, you catch sight of your husbands expressions and between heaving breaths, you pant out, “w— what? what is it?”

bob shakes his head, still with the twitching grin on his lips. “nothing, my darlin’. don’t worry, you’re doin’ so good for me, baby.”

“bobby!” you blurt out again, now with a curious expression forming.

his head drops and he finally lets out a laugh as he admits what’s just occurred. “you squirted so hard that my wedding ring fell off.”

you clasp your hand over your mouth and let out a bubble of giggles. bob lifts his head up, with bubbling laughter also coming from himself. his wedding ring is pinched between his fingers, with his chest flushed and rosy red up-to his cheeks. he leans over you to place a kiss to your lips, muffling your paired amusement ever so slightly.

“come ‘ere.” he breaks the kiss and presses his wedding ring to your lips. your tongue instinctively wraps around the warm and damp ring, occasionally letting yourself lick his fingers clean. “good girl. that’s my pretty little wife.” bob presses a soft kiss to your nose with a beaming smile still.

[attapullman]

Pretend | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: You aren't sure what's worse: having to share a bed with the boy who was your first boyfriend who you haven't seen in years, or having to pretend he's your boyfriend when you wish he actually was.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: f!reader, light smut, 18+ only as always, unprotected pinv, fake dating trope, one bed trope, lots of switching between present and past tense whoops

A Note From Mo: It's Choose-a-Fic! Thank you to everyone who voted and has been part of my 500 Follower milestone! Hopefully you like the fic I wrote just for you (with a little extra one bed trope as a special thank you)! 😘

Coupe glasses tinkle and laughter rings out as the rehearsal dinner draws toward an end. Everyone’s had a little too much of the hotel’s signature white sangria. On your left, Isabel and Reuben are frozen in blissed smiles, the outdoor lights casting an ethereal glow. An idyllic night before the wedding.

You should be relaxed. You’ve had a little wine, the most delicious dinner, and tomorrow your college roommate is getting married at this stunning resort. But every time that big hand grazes your shoulder or his breath heats the skin of your cheek, you’re reminded none of this is real and you desperately wish it was.

The only difference between six-year-old Robert Floyd and the man standing in front of you is the broad shoulders. Those pink cheeks are just as prominent and his eyes are wide behind updated corrective frames. Sandy hair politely brushed off his face. Even his thin lips warp in that same warm smile that instantly relieves tension. The only significant difference is those shoulders that fill out the entire doorway as he checks his rooming assignment with Isabel.

From where you stand behind her, suitcase in tow, you feel your cheeks warm and your gaze drop. You haven’t seen him since the engagement party where you muttered, “it’s a small world after all” more than once. It seemed all too coincidental that your college roommate would be marrying a guy who just happens to be in the same Navy squadron as your first grade boyfriend. 

To be fair, you had “dated” Bobby Floyd for a total of a week before your parent’s divorce landed you on the opposite side of the country. There hadn’t even been a formal breakup. He’d simply been the guy you jokingly referred to as your “first love” at wine nights. Occasionally you remembered his collection of vintage Coke bottle caps. 

He was practically a figment of your imagination until Isabel introduced you to the man in the nicely ironed pale blue button down and you sputtered out that you already knew each other.

You’re so lost in how bizarre the coincidence of it all is that you zone out through Bob’s check-in and the next few guests that arrive. It’s not until her line of relatives has dwindled that she remembers you’re sat behind her, sorting out the favors for after the reception. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should have given you your card earlier!” she apologizes as she flips back over her clipboard to find your room number. It’s all forgiven, you were waiting to finish up your bridesmaid duties before checking in. Get the work out so you can slip on your bathing suit and enjoy the amenities - pool, sun, and cabana boys - before dinner tonight.

She hands you a room card and walks you through the map of the hotel. You miss the second half while gathering up all your items, mentally trying to remember exactly how many rights before a left. Dinner is at seven and anything else surely she will remind you. With a kiss to her cheek, you head off to your room to begin the fun part of this destination wedding.

The property is stunning, all sun-washed sandstone and lush tropical plants. Deep blue terry cloth draped over the sun loungers you would live on all weekend. Some sun to compliment what should be a flawless wedding weekend. Maybe you’d get lucky and one of Reuben’s hot Navy friends would join you for some eye candy. You deserved a little one-weekend-in-paradise romance.

Suite 4. It’s a little deflating to remember that you’re in this big suite alone because all the other bridesmaids have dates. A least you have some privacy. The intricately carved door accepts your room key and you push the heavy wood open, ready to change and relax.

W-why was Bob in your villa?

Standing amongst the floor-to-ceiling windows draped with ochre that overlook the ocean, white oak furnishing topped with plush linen bedding, and a trailing pothos overtaking the wall, was Bob Floyd - right in the middle of changing his shirt. Equally wide eyes taking you in as he held the bunched heathered grey cotton right in front of his head, thumbs through the head hole, mouth open in shock.

“What are you doing in here?”

What was he doing in here? This was your room. “Why are you in my room?”

Despite knowing he’s not in the wrong, his cheeks tinge a deep pink. Takes a moment to pop his head in the hole of his shirt and brush out the wrinkles. You cling to to the annoyance of him interrupting your afternoon instead of focusing on how toned he’s gotten as an adult.

“This is my room. Suite 4. See?” He holds up a card identical to yours, the glossy ‘4’ reflecting the sunlight. The same ‘4’ that looks back at you. 

Clearly there’s been some sort of mistake, someone at reception accidentally typing in the wrong number while going about their busy day or Isabel reading her meticulous list wrong. An easy fix. 

You bite your lip. “Oh. Maybe I grabbed the wrong card. I’ll go find Isabel and sort it out.”

“I’ll come with you, she might have handed me the wrong card. Probably supposed to be sharing a bed with Fanboy.” He’s impossibly sweet as always. 

You have no idea who or what a Fanboy is, but you accept his company back to reception, leaving your bag in the room purely because the bridesmaid dress alone weighs a half ton. The walk back there - with a few long turns - is a tad awkward as you both walk in silence, occasionally jerking your heads in the direction to turn.

Isabel has wandered away from reception, and is now soaking in one of the poolside bars with Reuben, their lovesick smiles contagious. She gives you the warmest smile when you approach, face splitting in two as she takes in your companion. “Hey, you two! You get settled in okay?”

God, this is awkward. Thankfully before you can muster the courage, Bob steps in. “I think there’s been a mix up with one of our rooms.”

Her eyebrows furrow as takes in what he said. Eyes flit to her lounger where her clipboard of rooming assignment lies within her tote. Reuben sips his frozen margarita in casual interest, not involved in the logistics.

“Which room are you in?” Even without her clipboard, Isabel is pretty sure she knows who is in what room. She spent months perfecting these details.

You hold up the glossy ‘4’, now slightly sticky with your sweat.

“Four? Hmm, I’m pretty sure that’s right. Was there a problem with the key? Both your keys?”

You give her a bewildered look. “One of us has the wrong key. We’re not sharing a room.”

“Why not? Your prude parents aren’t here to care if you share a room with your boyfriend.”

Every muscle in your body freezes. What is she talking about?

And while you’re paralyzed on the spot, Reuben looks like he’s about to throw up the margarita. Because he knows exactly what just happened. And not only is it his fault, but he does not have a solution.

Before you can question Isabel, the pilot is throwing his arm around your shoulders and grabbing Bob’s elbow, whisking you two away, calling out to his confused fiancée not to worry, he’s got it handled. The controlled hands of a fighter pilot steering you back in the way of Suite 4 while his face reads like he’s watching a plane crash.

Reuben won’t answer any of your questions, holding up a palm while you sputter out the who, what, where’s? of what is going on. Bob silently allows himself to be directed, confusion upon his brow, but patient enough to wait for an explanation. 

Once you’re privately within the confines of Suite 4, the soft scent of bergamot and sandalwood wrapped around your bodies, Reuben finally confesses his mistake.

“Isabel thinks you two are dating.”

You expect to see eyeballs on the floor from how violently they pop out of your head. What? Bob doesn’t look much better. You two have barely spoken in decades, let alone are in a relationship! Why in the hell would Isabel think that?

Reuben drags a hand down his face, wishing he was back in the pool drinking. “When Bob over here told me that you two dated way back, I casually mentioned it to Is. When she asked the other week if he’d be good sharing a room, I thought she meant Fanboy or Harvard.”

You skip over the fact that Bob has talked about you to other people to focus on the details. “She meant me.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” By this point he’s rubbing the skin on the back of his neck raw, eyes wildly desperate. “Can you two share? It’s only two nights.”

Your eyes meet ocean blue as you both look at the single bed, then at each other. Bob intervenes calmly. “Why can’t you just tell her we need another room?”

Reuben crosses his arms across his chest, suddenly defensive. “We don’t have any other rooms. We booked the place out entirely. Short of Aunt Muriel keeling over, one of you would have to be at another hotel.”

“That’s fine,” you quip, grabbing your suitcase and ready to get the hell out of this situation.

“There’s nothing within a half hour drive. And you’re both in the wedding, that is not going to fly with Isabel.”

You’re tough, you can do hard things. Two nights at a gorgeous resort where you have to share a king-sized bed with the sweetest man on the planet? Could be so much worse. From a look at Bob’s face, he’s having the same realization.

And right as you’re about to tell Reuben that it’s not a big deal, he sends in the clincher. 

“You’re also gonna have to pretend you’re dating.”

“You’re joking.” Your tinny voice rings out in the room. You can do a lot of things - go to a wedding alone, sleep in the same bed as Bob - but you draw the line at pretending you’re dating someone you hadn’t seen until an engagement party six months ago. Nope, no way.

You look at Bob, standing with his hand resting low on his hip, watching this entire scene unfold. Giving him an expectant look, he smooths out his face and gives you a little nod. He’s on whatever team you’re on.

And just as you were about to tell Reuben to get lost, Isabel’s sweet face floods your mind’s eye. That happy smile she always greets you with, and her dismay that something had gone wrong with your room. Her perfectly planned out wedding weekend ruined by her misunderstanding a minor detail. She would insist that you have separate rooms, even if it interfered with plans, and she’d be upset - the smallest tinge of disappointment clouding her bridal smile.

Isn’t the job of a bridesmaid to make the bride not have disappointment?

And now, sitting here at the rehearsal dinner, warm conversation all around you, you can still hear yourself let out a large huff of breath and agree. “Alright, we can pretend for the weekend.”

It’s a decision you stand by, but doesn’t make the subtle way Bob has been playing your boyfriend the last 24 hours any easier. He plays devoted partner a little too well. Carrying your beach bag down to the water that afternoon when everyone wanted to sit by the pool, sweetly rubbing sunscreen into that spot on your back that you can never reach. Grabbing a drink for you when he went up to the bar. 

Your lonely wedding weekend is suddenly filled with this broad-shouldered Navy man who gives you a shy smile every time you make eye contact.

There wasn’t time to put in ground rules before Reuben threw you you to the wolves to socialize with the rest of the wedding party. When Isabel saw you, standing a healthy foot away from Bob and her sculpted eyebrow raised, it was the first test of this “relationship”. Your heart slamming in your chest as you slipped a hand around that thick bicep and rested your hot cheek against his shoulder. His own face fighting anxiety as he allowed you to set the pace. Isabel’s smile brightening as she beckoned you closer, instantly fawning over the two of you and the way Bob’s hand fits a little too nicely around your waist.

Thankfully the copious amount of relatives and friends constantly interrupting Isabel and Reuben prevented your friend investigating too close into this development in your love life. Happy to believe over some intentionally placed hands and the casual way he throws sweetheart in when asking if you want a drink.

“Now that I have you alone, why didn’t you tell me you were together? First loves reunited?!” Isabel drags you away to the other bridesmaids, Bob giving you a small wave as he joins the men. 

You shrug, making a show of looking at the hibiscus to avoid her eyes. Desperate for a believable lie. “I didn’t want to…uh, distract from your big day?”

She wraps you in a warm hug you don’t deserve. “Not distracting in the slightest. He’s the best, you’re so lucky!”

You throw a glance his way, watching his good-natured grin as Reuben’s groomsmen, mostly aviators he’s worked with over the years, joke and jostle on the other side of the lawn. It’s side glances like these that carry through the night; when he pulls your chair out for dinner, asks the waiter to refill your water, and offers you half of his dessert. When your eyes do meet, you drown in the twin oceans that twinkle back at you.

By the time you’re heading back to Suite 4 to share that big bed, you’re pretty sure you’re not pretending to like him anymore.

You’re regretting not putting up the pillow barrier Bob so kindly offered to set up. It seemed childish at the time - you didn’t need a divider to stay on your side of the bed - but now you’re lying here in your little cotton pajamas you did not expect anyone to see and you can hear him breathing and the room is a little too warm. Every sense is on high alert and a pillow barrier would give you an inkling of privacy.

In the silhouette of the moonlight peaking through the curtains, you watch the planes of Bob’s face as he peacefully sleeps beside you. If he’s good looking in the daytime, he’s breathtaking at night. Pale eyelashes against his cheeks, lips slightly pouted, hair mussed from changing sides. You wish you could smooth your fingers over the planes of his face, appreciate the sharpness of his jaw, the roundness of his cheeks.

Tomorrow you have to pretend all over again to be in love with him. A feeling that’s already starting to creep inside you. A whole day of his gentle touches and laughs against your cheek. He was the perfect boyfriend that week in grade school, and even more perfect as an adult. Holding his hand made you want to never let go…which promptly made you want to jump out of your skin. 

This was a tiny white lie to get through Sunday morning. That was it.

You keep replaying the last moment before you retired back to your hotel room for the night. The drunken group sitting around the fire pit, a bottle of tequila making its way around the circle. Not enough chairs so you ended up in Bob’s lap, body cradled in the firm comfort of his chest. 

He made it so natural, the way his hand ran up and down your arm when you shivered in the night chill. You knew he could feel the shock up your spine when you noticed how intently he watched you during your story of how Isabel found a rat in your dorm room. He made you feel like the only person out there by the fire pit. The only person on this island.

When even the tequila couldn’t keep you warm any longer, the group disbanded in favor of cozy beds and hot showers. And even when no one else was in sight he still kept his arm around your shoulder to share his warmth, the pinching heels you’d shed in his hand as he asked whether you wanted to shower first.

Lips accidentally brushing your ear when he said he liked your dress; it matched the bougainvillea.

While you hadn’t spent much time together since your parents moved you away too long ago to remember, you were continually floored by how thoughtful he was still. He remembered how Isabel didn’t like ice, and that a few members of his squadron had allergies. Giving up his water because the woman next to him was without. Not to mention how he seemed to go the extra mile with you. All the years of boyfriends before this and not a single one had ever noticed you picked the pine nuts out of your salad; your new fake boyfriend requesting a fresh one sans nuts.

And it was borderline torture watching him get ready for bed post shower. Face and chest red from the scalding water and slick hair pushed back, towel slung a little too low as he dug through his suitcase. You were still speechless as he offered to put up a pillow barrier or something if it would make you more comfortable, making sure you knew he respected your boundaries.

His eyes were so blue without his glasses…

Caution to the wind, you run a finger over his cheek, brushing away a rogue eyelash and promptly turn away from him. Only one more day and you would be free of wanting a man that wasn’t yours.

The Fitch wedding day was perfect. Wide smiles, bridal lace, stunning hydrangeas, and not a dry eye in the house when Isabel and Reuben officially became husband and wife. It was the storybook start to a happy ever after. 

The sunlight blessed ceremony was followed by a lantern-lit reception, dancing and drinking overtaking the sprawling beach-front lawn of the hotel. You stayed out until the evening ended, the wedding party laughing and overfilling glasses of champagne until the last lantern was blown out. 

You barely remembered your rooming/relationship situation until a warm hand was on your forearm, asking if you were ready to go back to the room. It’s entirely unfair how good he looks in his suit. All day you’ve admired it, from the moment he emerged from the bathroom asking for help with his bow tie to an hour ago, when the wedding party did one last rendezvous on the dance floor. 

Bob has an ease on the dance floor, clearly practiced, the hand on the small of your back gently guiding. A hand big and warm and more distracting than trying to remember your own footwork. The dark-haired woman he seems close with whooping out, “Look at those moves, Floyd!” every time you get close, her own date cheering along. 

You shake the memory from your brain as Bob walks you back to the room. Keep the pining to a minimum until you can get to the airport and not have to see him ever again. You’re doing this for Isabel, your own emotions have no place. Even as you watch him open the door to the room and welcome you inside, looking so perfectly boyfriend-shaped.

Your skin feels too hot, your head clouded by bubbles and loud poppers exploding into the sky. Shedding this satin dress and getting into a warm shower sounds like heaven, washing away the buzzing ill-content flooding your body since you joined the wedding group that morning hand-in-hand with Bob. But a broken zipper interrupts those plans.

“Bob?” He stills on his way to the bathroom, bow tie loose around his neck. You indicate to the stuck zipper you’re fiddling with, warmth flaring at the top of your cheeks at your predicament.

The tips of his ears flush as he walks to you, chest a breath away from your back, admiring the way the satin flows over your curves and dips. Takes a moment to gather your hair over your shoulder before reaching for the zipper. The skin of his pinky accidentally brushes your neck, twin breaths catching at the shock. 

Firm fingers guide the zipper onto the track. As they guide the cool metal down your back, the boiling point that has been simmering below the surface since yesterday afternoon comes to a head. The lace of your bra is visible. Now the silken band of your underwear. The air of the room is still, eagerly awaiting what happens next.

While his voice is shaky, his words are firm. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Your head turns to the side, eyes catching his profile, too scared to look at him directly. 

“What are you pretending to do?”

His face falls into the crook of your neck, fingers tightening along the satin of your hips. “Pretending I’m doing our friends a favor. Pretending I’m not falling for you. Pretending every time I touch you it’s not the best part of my day.”

Your hand wraps around his, rough skin and satin beneath your fingers. Needing to tether yourself to reality to make sure this isn’t a champagne-fueled dream that he’s professing against your neck. 

“In that case, I don’t want to pretend anymore either.”

While you can’t see him, you can feel his realization against your skin. Brow furrowing, lips parting. The soft brush of his nose as he straightens up, uses his hands to turn you to him. Finally forced to look at each other amidst the information divulged.

You aren’t sure who leans in first, who braved the waters of uncharted territory. Time stills and speeds up as his face grows closer. The scent of sandalwood and bergamot that’s followed you all weekend replaced by the woodsy mint of his cologne you’ve treated yourself to when tucked into his side. Anyone outside can hear two hearts beating erratically, anxious and excited. 

His lips are warm and comforting, just like everything else about him. Pressing delicately against yours, taking his time and letting you set the pace. You’re torn between the shock of how divine he feels and the greedy need for more. Senses overwhelmed by him; you want to taste more, feel more, see more.

When he pulls away, a gentleman not wanting to overstep, you’re breathless.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss you.” His confession is paired with pink cheeks and large hands playing with your fingers. 

You can’t help but to tease him, the banter from your childhood coming back. “Did it live up to expectations?”

“Way, way better.” Your smile is swallowed in his kiss, chins knocking as you trade off enthusiasm. A groan leaving Bob as you grab his hands and walk back to the bathroom. That hot shower still sounds amazing, but you need more of him.

The travertine tiles glow in the soft light as you watch your childhood love remove his suit, taking time to fold the pieces on the counter, letting you indulge in unbuttoning his crisp shirt as you share another sweet kiss. His own hands twisted in the dress barely clinging to your skin. The sounds that escape him as your hands explore his chest are purely sinful, meant only for your ears.

He barely lets you bask in his body, honed from years of Naval training, before he’s stripping the satin from your frame. You beg for another kiss, but he denies you. He can’t be distracted from watching every inch of skin being revealed. From letting his fingers follow the fabric as it pools at your feet. From kissing his way back up your body until your head falls back against the wall, fingers beckoning him to the shower.

“You’re so beautiful.” It’s more breath than words, but ignite the goose flesh along your skin as he adjusts the hot water and shower head to your liking.

Minutes or hours passed as you reacquainted under the steam. Your fingers tangled in wet strands of sandy hair, fingers slipping along any skin you can reach. His own hands tightly hugging your body, holding you close as he appreciates your nude form. Swallowing each other’s moans as his fingers dip between your folds and you run your palm along his shaft.

The universe has ceased to exist by the time Bob kisses you against the shower wall, fingers wrapping under your thighs to hoist you to his level. Loving the way you giggle as your arms wrap around his neck, trusting him wholeheartedly. Eyes trained at where he lines up with you, relishing the way your breath catches in anticipation. He kisses your forehead as a promise to take care of you, a promise you know he’ll keep.

Once he’s seated deep in you, the moment about connecting rather than getting off, he tilts your head up to check in with you. A kiss as his eyes search you for discomfort. The flames of his eyes burning the brightest blue. One final clench around him and he knows he needs to move; if not for his sake, for yours.

It’s the most glorious dream as he fills you completely, hips rocking into yours as sweaty foreheads meet.

When he brings you to orgasm, a steamy moment punctuated by your muffled screams against his shoulder, there’s nothing fake about the affection as he peppers you with praise. Or when he fills you with his own release a moment later, exhaling thank you, thank you, thank you.

A pillow barrier isn’t even discussed as you lay in his arms that night, cheek against bare chest. His arm trails down your arm like it had the night before, a mindless action you now recognize as meaningful to him as to you. Sated and content, as it should be.

You sit up a little to run your nose along his neck, producing a low groan from him. “You need something, sweetheart?”

“I was wondering, after that,” you gesture to the shower, cheeks heating, “does this mean we’re, uh, dating again?”

He smiles at your flush, cupping your face with one of his large hands. Presses the sweetest kiss to your lips.

“You know, we never had a break up. Technically we’ve been dating this whole time.”

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[withahappyrefrain]

mmm i’m thinking “When I tell you to sit on my face, I want you to sit, is that clear?” with our beloved bobby. he’s very serious about face sitting, y’know 😌

He does!!!! Especially older BF! Bob ☺️☺️☺️ slight daddy kink at the end!

"You want me to what?" Surely, he couldn't have said what you thought he said.

Just moments ago, your limbs were tangled with your boyfriend's, hips jerking against one another. Bob's request made you stop in your tracks.

"I think you heard me darlin'," there was a twinkle in his eyes. Dare you say it, it looked almost mischievous. His normally bright blue eyes had darkened.

"Bob, if I sit on you, I'll cr-"

"When I tell you to sit on my face, I want you to sit, is that clear?" The sternness of his deep voice made your thighs clench. Bob extended his arms out, motioning you to grab his hands.

With shaking legs, you began to move up Bob's body.

"No one's ever asked you to do this, have they?" You shook your head and Bob could feel his cock twitch. Why every partner of yours has treated you like shit was beyond him.

But he was delighted that he would be the first (and hopefully last) person to show you this way of pleasure.

"That's it, atta girl," He encourages as your core gets closer to his face.

His obscenely large hands grip your thighs, kneading the soft flesh, "Fuckin' love these thighs."

"Really?" It was a genuine question. You were used to people focusing on your tits and ass.

"'Course I do. So fucking soft but I know they could crush me if you tried," He places soft kisses up your thighs, gentle bites leaving you gasping, gripping the bedframe for some stability.

"Then there's this sweet lil' pussy," long fingers skim your soaked folds, eliciting a whimper. You didn't question him this time; when it came to your cunt, Bob would worship. He made that known early on.

He gets up on his elbows, placing a kiss dangerously close to your clit, "Fuck, she's already so wet for me. You excited sweet girl?"

You nodded, trying to muster up all the available strength you had so as to not collapse from his words, "Y-yes sir."

The title earns a low growl from Bob, your thighs clenching at the sound. He could probably see it but you weren't concerned. Despite being in such a vulnerable position, you felt mostly at ease.

Except for the fact you had no idea what you were doing.

As if Bob could sense it, he placed his hands on your thighs, "Alright, y'gonna lower yourself slowly, okay sweet girl?"

You nodded, following his instructions.

Bob usually was patient, it was one of the many qualities that helped him become an Admiral. But the sight of your soaked core, just dying to be touched, made him lose all sense of the trait.

His mouth eagerly latched onto your cunt, tongue exploring every inch of you. A loud moan vibrated off the walls of his bedroom. Your fingers gripped the wooden bed frame tightly as Bob's tongue lapped up your arousal.

His hands moved to your ass, gripping the ample flesh. Bob would be the first to admit he was addicted to your taste, to you. If Bob could spend the rest of his life pleasing you, he'd die a happy man.

You found your hips rocking back and forth. Immediately, you stilled them. After all, that would be too much, right?

"Don't stop," Bob murmurs, his voice slightly muffled, "I gotcha baby."

The pet name made you weak both in the knees and the heart. How could one man be simultaneously so hot but also so fucking sweet?

Beginning the motions again, one hand moves down to grip Bob's sun kissed locks. He hums in approval, vibrating against your core. His tongue alternated from exploring your entrance to sucking your throbbing clit. As he continued his ministrations, you found yourself unable to keep your voice level down, the room echoing with your moans.

Perks of owning a house, don't have to worry about noise complaints.

Every time his buttoned nose brushed against your clit, it sent you closer and closer to the edge. You tried to slow your hips, but thanks to his grip on your ass, Bob was able to move with you ease.

"Bob-Bobby, I'm close," your voice was desperate, almost pathetic. You hardly recognized it.

And yet, you felt no shame. Gone were the days of being overly self conscious during sex. You had Bob now, who made you feel safe.

Still, it was a shock when he continued his ministrations, rather than lift you off. Your hips now had a mind of their own, rocking against Bob's face in an attempt to chase the high that was just within reach.

When you looked down, the sight below you took your breath away.

Blue eyes half closed in pleasure, hands kneading your soft thighs, sandy brown hair disheveled, some strands having fallen over his forehead. His mouth greedily devouring you.

He looked beautiful. He looked like he was getting just as much pleasure out of this as you, maybe even more.

Your head lolled backwards as white hot pleasure coursed through your body. Your hands gripped his hair, hips rocking erratically.

His name echoed off the walls, his moans mixing with yours.

"Fuck! D-daddy!" The nickname slipped out. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about ever since you and Bob started dating. It was just the concept of bringing it up that you were still figuring out.

A downright feral growl escaped Bob's lips. The next thing you knew, you were lying on your back, Bob's hard cock teasing your soaked entrance.

"Say it," he growled, "Say it again."

"Daddy?" Bob sharply inhaled through his nose, his cock swiftly entering and filling you completely.

"Daddy!"

Bob panted in your ear, his hips driving into yours at a feral pace.

Now that he had you, he was never letting you go.

[sometimesanalice]

Make Me Your Masterpiece

Summary: Bob credits you for helping him to find his new hobby. And when he asks if he can you paint you, you find you quite like the idea of being his muse.

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female Reader

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: fluff, smut, and basically an ode to Lewis Pullman’s hands (mdni)

(Author’s Note: smutty fics are the new friendship bracelet, spread the word! Happy Birthday, Ames! 🎉 @laracrofted)

You’ve always had a thing for Bob’s hands.

They were one of the first things you noticed about him that day at the coffee shop almost a year ago now.

You’d been reaching for your iced vanilla cinnamon latte when a big hand had wrapped around it just a half of a second before you could grab it. Which you wouldn’t have minded admiring them for a moment under any other circumstances, but after an endless string of meetings you’d been in a dire need of a caffeine fix- and not the weak stuff that people brewed in your office’s communal coffee pot.

“I think that’s-” you’d started.

“Oh, I’m sorry-” the coffee thief backpedaled.

The next thing you knew you were looking into the prettiest pair of ocean blue eyes. 

The two of you were startled out of the moment when the barista called out the next order as they’d set it on the counter.

By some kismet or fate, they had been a matching set. But instead of embroidered towels, it was his and hers coffee cups with your names written on them in a hasty scrawl.

Realization dawned over his features as he gave you a sheepish smile, “Think this one might belong to you, Miss.” He spun the coffee until he found the spot with your name. That little smile becoming a full grin as he’d said it aloud before passing the cup to you.

The hands had been good, the eyes had been great, but Bob’s smile directed at you had left you weak in the knees.

You’d been a goner right then and there.

And while you’d ended up almost ten minutes late to your next meeting, you’d also gone back to the office with his phone number written on a cardboard coffee sleeve that was tucked away safely in your purse and a date lined up later that week.

As it turned out fate had a name and it was Robert Floyd.

Barely twenty minutes into your first official date with Bob, his ears had turned a delightful shade of pink as his anxious fingers straightened the silverware on the white linen tablecloth of the Italian spot he’d taken you to. He’d fessed up and apologized as he came clean, telling you that he’d purposefully ordered the same coffee as you in hopes of getting to start up a conversation with the pretty girl who’d been standing in front of him in line.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you, since you looked busy. But I didn’t want to miss my chance,” he’d confessed over candlelight.

He’d told you how he’d only been at the coffee shop because he’d recently returned from a deployment and was fighting the jetlag that came with adjusting to being back on Pacific Standard Time, and that he normally preferred tea but he needed something with a bit more to it to get him through the day.

Instead of getting up and taking the bottle of wine to-go as a consolation prize, like you would have if it had been anyone else, his genuine earnestness had charmed you instantly. And you’d settled on having a second date with him before the first one had even really started.

You only let him sweat it for about thirty seconds before you took pity on him. With a light fingertip, you traced along one of the veins on the back of his hand and simply asked, “So other than being a meet cute mastermind, what is it that you do for a living, Bob?”

It was the best first date you’d ever had.

For your second date with him, you’d bought tickets to a ‘Paint and Sip’ event at a buzzy new bistro in town your friend had told you about.

You weren’t an artist by any means, but during that dinner date his antsy fingers and expressive hands had clued you into how nervous he’d been. You’d found your eyes drifting to them on more than one occasion. Partly because they were so enticingly disproportionate to the rest of him, but also because you couldn’t look him directly in the eye for too long without feeling your face heating up.

You thought it would be a good way for the both of you to work past the getting-to-know-you jitters, something that would keep your hands and eyes occupied enough to relax a bit more and have fun together.

Although instead of the seascape class you’d thought you’d signed up for, you’d willingly paid $86+ tax to watch Bob’s lithe, long fingers delicately grip a paintbrush in a way you thought was going to make you lose your mind.

You’d spent the whole first hour trying and failing to mix the perfect shade of blue before giving up when you’d realized that the man next to you, in addition to having really great hands, was also very good at painting. 

Bob had seemed surprised by that too because he’d kept flushing that wonderful shade of pink that had quickly become your new favorite color every time you complimented his piece.

He had steady, capable hands. But you were quickly learning that everything about Bob Floyd seemed that way. There was a quiet confidence about him. He didn’t shy away from the way he’d openly observed you, like you were a riddle he was enjoying learning to decode. 

You’d never known a man to be so attentive until him.

Bob’s tongue was peeking out as he’d worked on adding some wispy clouds to the top of his piece. You weren’t even sure what step you’d technically stopped at before you’d given up to watch the visual feast of him painting instead. Only halfheartedly adding random bits to your canvas along the way to make sure it wasn’t totally blank by the end of the session.

You’d been so zoned out watching him create that it was like a slow-motion sequence in a horror movie. You’d reached out for your wine glass, lifting it to your lips to take a sip, it had only taken you a split second to realize it wasn’t the full-bodied red you’d ordered that was coating your tongue, but the murky, gritty paint water instead.

Mortified, you’d looked over just in time to see Bob’s empathetic wince. You’d been hoping to fly under the radar, but it had turned out that you’d had more than one set of eyes on you.

“And we officially have our first casualty of the evening, folks,” the instructor cheerily announced to the group, “The rest of you can breathe easy now!”

You wanted to be able to laugh at your own expense, but you’d groaned as you buried your face in your hands.

It was not the way you saw the night going. You wanted to be dazzling, you wanted that pivotal third date with him. But now you were the girl who drank paint water whose canvas looked like it had all the same efforts as an enthusiastic fourth grader.

Bob’s hands had gently wrapped around your wrists before he’d pulled them from your face. And then he’d leaned in close, taking your chin in his hand and kissed you squarely on the lips, his tongue dipping in and sliding against yours to taste the acrylic pigment from your surprised mouth.

“Huh,” he’d said, contemplatively. He’d pulled away only far enough to look into your eyes and give you a soft smile. “Celadon blue doesn’t taste like a Cabernet, go figure.”

He brushed a light kiss against your cheek as he’d passed you your wine glass so that you could rinse the paint water taste out of your mouth. 

You couldn’t help but to still be a little embarrassed, but then you’d caught the way he’d shoot an unimpressed look at the instructor every time they passed by for the rest of the evening. You didn’t need a knight in shining armor when you had a Bob Floyd with a paintbrush and a cutting side eye.

You took him home with you that night and learned for yourself just how capable those hands of his were.

It was only later that you realized the exact shade of blue that you’d been trying so hard to capture earlier that night was the same color as the eyes that gazed down at you as Bob fucked you for the very first time.

There was no way you could have known that the ‘Paint and Sip’ date would have inspired him to pick up painting as a hobby.

First, he’d started taking classes at the Rec Center. His once a week classes later turned into him checking out books from the library. And then he’d turned his spare bedroom into a studio, as it has the best afternoon light in the Spanish style house he rents near the Naval base. He’d even bought a comfy chair for you to curl up in as he painted, a little nook of your own in his favorite space in his home. And steadily, the walls of both your apartment and his place fill up with all of his art.

You’d even had your favorite one professionally framed. The pretty landscape done in shades of soft greens that he gave to you for your birthday hangs in a place of honor above your bed. You like having that piece of Bob as one of the last things you see before you fall asleep and one of the first things you see in the morning on the rare occasion the two of you aren’t sharing a bed. You liked to imagine the hours he spent on it with the sunlight streaming through the open window as he lovingly and painstakingly created something just for you with his own two hands.

Although you did have to beg him to sign it for you. He claimed that since he does it for fun that there’s really no reason too, but you were adamant about it and he’d eventually caved and scrawled his name in the lower right-hand corner.

Now it’s become your personal mission to ensure that every Bob Floyd original has his signature on it when he gives his paintings out as gifts.

Everyone assumes that his art would be all straight lines and precise angles, but it’s your favorite moment when people get to see his abstract landscapes. He’d told you he spends so much time in the sky that he likes to paint what’s on the ground, the things he doesn’t get to see when he’s 50,000 feet in the air.

You could tell Bob was a little nervous when he first asked to paint you. 

After almost a year with him, you’d think he’d know by now that you’d do anything for him. Not to mention, you were more than a little in love with the idea of being his muse.

“Are you saying you want to paint me like one of your French girls?” you’d teased with a grin, unable to resist the opportunity. You always did have a thing for men with perfectly floppy hair.

He’d tipped your chin up so that you were looking into his blue eyes- a color you were positive couldn’t be replicated- and stated, “No, I want to paint you like my girl.”

Which is how you’ve ended up naked on the floor of his living room.

You’d been surprised when you came downstairs to see that the furniture had all been pushed to the side to make space for the king-sized top sheet he’d laid out on the floor. You figured it must have been from some mismatched set he had stashed in his linen closet because you’d never seen it before and you spent more than enough time in his bed getting familiar with his sheets.

Bob was shirtless and wearing only a pair of loose-fitting and paint stained jeans that were hanging low on his hips as he worked on getting all of his brushes and paints set up.

You were pretty sure that Michelangelo himself wouldn’t be able to do proper justice to Bob’s body. He wasn’t as built as some of his friends on the Dagger Squad were, but there was an undeniable sturdy steadfastness to him. Those defined shoulders and arms often were the stars of your afternoon daydreams, since you got to admire his handsome face anytime your phone lit up.

He came and met you at the bottom of the stairs, giving you a low whistle, “Well, aren’t you as pretty as a picture in my shirt.”

“Oh,” you’d said, feigning surprise and toying with the hem, “So it is.” And then you’d slowly lifted it up and off of you, revealing more of your body to his artist’s eye.

You never felt as good about yourself as you did when you were naked in front of Bob. The color of his morning skies eyes would always darken to a deep shade of Prussian blue as he took in the curves of you. With him you always felt appreciated, wanted, desired.

His greedy hands came to grip your hips pulling you to him until you were pressed against him.

“Is this how you wanted me?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair.

Bob slipped his hand behind your neck and tugged you in for a heated kiss. “I always want you.”

You never knew true distraction until you’d felt Bob’s lips against yours all those months ago. You’d happily lose minutes, hours, days to them. The thing about Bob is that he never does anything halfway. If he’s kissing you, he’s doing it thoroughly until you’re out of breath.

The sound of the air conditioner kicking on and the light draft that it coasted over you reminded you that there were other plans on the agenda. And that the sooner he starts, then the sooner he finishes, and the sooner you can feel his lips on other parts of you.

“Where do you want me?”

“In my bed,” he murmured against your lips.

His name started as a laugh but turned into a sigh as he dropped a line of kisses down your neck, “I meant, like on the couch or on one of the chairs from the kitchen.”

Bob pulled away and peered deep into your eyes, “Darlin’, I wanted to paint you.” He trailed a teasing finger down your soft stomach. “If that’s alright with you.”

You thought you were just going to be his subject, but as it turns out he wanted you to be his canvas too.

You’re trying not to shiver as he meticulously coats your overheated skin with cool paint. Goosebumps follow in the wake of every delicate stroke he makes along your body.

His hair was curled over his forehead in a way that had your fingers aching to touch him. There was a slight furrow between his eyebrows as he concentrated on the deliberate lines and curves he painted on you. The paint smudge on his cheek only made him all the more attractive to you.

Bob had tucked a pillow beneath your head before he’d started, a gesture that you appreciated now because time had lost all meaning to you. You had no idea how long you’ve been lying there. You were pretty sure every inch of you had to be covered by now.

He’d started along the plane of your stomach and steadily worked his way out from there. Up your arms. Along your clavicle. Over your breasts and tops of your thighs. You didn’t miss the way he’d smirked when you arched into that soft to the touch paintbrush as it glided over your peaked nipple. Or the way he’d hummed pleased when you’d try to subtly rub your thighs together to relieve the need that had been building as you laid there.

Bob loves taking his time with you. In bed, he loved teasing you until you had tears in your eyes and were begging for his cock. And it became clear very quickly that this would be no different.

There was an electric thrum that was pulsing through your body with every dip and swirl and brushstroke. The muscles of your stomach jump involuntarily as the fine hairs of his paintbrush drift over your hypersensitive skin making you whimper.

He tsks, “Gotta stay still for me, pretty girl. I’m almost done, promise.”

You release a shaky sigh and nod, not trusting your voice to betray just how needy you were for him. Although the self-satisfied smile on his face told you everything you needed to know.

You try to control your breathing as he works on finishing, but your shallow breaths sounded loud in his living room. You love getting to watch him work normally, but the intense way he is looking at you- his eyes your favorite shade of Prussian blue now- is too much for your hummingbird heart.

Just as your skin was collecting layers of paint from his brush, the space between your thighs was steadily collecting your wetness. You were so desperate for him to touch you, the need made you want to crawl out of your skin.

You hear the sound of a watery swish and the clink of a brush against glass and your breath catches in your throat in anticipation.  

“God, look at you,” Bob breathes, reverently, “You’re so beautiful. This might be my best work ever.”

Instead of the paintbrush, you can feel the path of his flame blue gaze traveling over you as he takes in the art he’s made out of you.

You open your heavy eyes and see Bob wiping off his hands with a frayed towel.

“There she is,” he says, giving you a smile that makes your toes curl. You didn’t notice it sitting there with all his paints until he was reaching for it, his dad’s old film camera. He holds it loosely in front of him like a question, “Can I take a few just for me?”

The answer is easy, “Yes.”

You trusted Bob more than any other man you’d ever been with. He’s never once given you reason to doubt his words because his actions always spoke for themselves.

The guys you’d been with before had been boys, Bob Floyd was a man.

The tension between the two of you is thicker than the acrylic he’d been using earlier as he snaps photo after photo. You admire the way his muscles shift as he bends and angles himself to get the perfect images.

He stands over you, the lens pointed down at you, “Look at me.”

You can barely breathe. You feel yourself getting even wetter at the thought of seeing yourself through his eyes. No one has ever made you feel the way he does.

“Bob”, you whine.

The camera clicks.

“I know,” he hums, “You’ve been so good for me.”  He sinks to his knees between your legs and hooks a hand behind your knee, pulling it up so it’s propped on the floor. And then he does the other so that you’re sprawled open for him, just the way he likes you to be, “Just one more, darlin’.”

The heat in his eyes has dried up all the words in your mouth.

He trails a finger down the soft skin of your inner thigh and you gasp.

The sound of his camera reverberates in your head.

“You’ve made such a pretty mess,” he drawls, as he gently sets the camera on the floor next to you. “It’s a good thing I put something down. You’re damn near dripping.”

“Bob, please.” You arch towards him like a flower in the sun.

He settles between your thighs and pushes them apart further so that his broad shoulders fit between them. The paint is still drying on your skin, but neither one of you cares about that now.

“You were so perfect for me. I appreciate you staying so still.” He drops a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Don’t worry, I know just how to thank you.”

Your body jolts at the first touch of his tongue on your clit. You can feel his smile against you, he knows exactly what he does to you.

Bob has always eaten you out like it’s what he was put on this earth to do.

Normally, he’s teasing you with gentle licks and tracing nonsensical shapes on your clit with his tongue until you’re a squirming mess for him. He knows your body so well, always building you up to the point where you’re breaths away from tipping over the edge and then pulls himself back before building you right back up again.

But tonight, there’s nothing playful about the way his mouth is working against you. His hot mouth is sealed to your clit. Bob hums in satisfaction with every keen and whine that he pulls out of you. He laves at you until you’re writhing underneath him, your thighs already shaking.

“Wanna paint you just like this,” he murmurs, sucking at the spot where your leg and hip meet. “But I don’t think you’d stay still long enough for me to finish.”

Bob dips down and gives you another long broad stroke of his tongue. He pulls back only long enough to spit on your cunt before diving right back in, chasing after his own taste on you.

Your hands are in his hair. Clutching at his shoulders. It’s taken him no time at all getting you to the point where you’re trembling and taut.

All the air leaves your lungs when he buries two large fingers into you. Your hips cant into his mouth on their own and he moans. Bob wraps an arm around your hips and presses down on your lower stomach to hold you in place.

You feel the paint smear beneath his warm palm. You were dying to see it. You hoped there was a handprint- his handprint- that disrupted all the lines and swirls of color that he’d decorated you with. Something that was distinctly him.

You were wearing his art and now you’re wearing him. The evidence of this moment in time on your skin.

His fingers and tongue weren’t enough.

You needed more.

“You cock, Bob, I need your cock,” you pant, tugging at his hair.

He meanly sucks your clit into his mouth in a way that has you crying out and jerking against him. You love it, you love him.

“God, I love it when you beg for me,” he licks into you again, “Sweetest sound in the world.”

Bob drops a sweet kiss on your clit, it’s a stark difference to the filthy way he’d been using his mouth on you. He rises to sit back on his knees between your parted legs.

He looks so good kneeling above you the way that he is. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a mess. That knot behind your bellybutton twists tighter because you did that to him.

He unzips his jeans and tugs them down low enough to pull his hard cock out.

It’s pretty enough to be featured in a gallery, you think to yourself, even in your desperate haze. It’s long, thick, perfect and yours.

Bob smirks when he notices you admiring him, pumping himself slowly a few times for your viewing pleasure.

The only time Bob Floyd was ever a show-off was when he was in bed.

He grabs your thighs and pulls them over top of his own, so that yours are draped over his obscenely, and then he thrusts easily into you.

You gasp at the sensation of being so full of him. It always takes you a minute to adjust to his cock, no matter how many times you’ve taken it now. His thumbs make little circles along your hipbones as your body relents and yields to the size of him.

“There you go,” he says, rocking into you, working you open, “Just needed this cock, didn’t you?”

You whimper your agreement. Your hips tilt into the pressure like you’re trying to get as much of him as you can. Wanting to show him how much you can take. You know you’ll never get enough of him.

He fucks into you at a reckless and unrelenting pace. You’re high off the feeling of seeing Bob like this, that you’re the one who gets to see him unreserved and uninhibited. He has your hips gripped so tightly, keeping you closer than close. And when you clench around him, you’re treated to a wrecked groan.

Your skin prickles with desire and the feeling of paint drying on you. His cock is hitting just the right spot inside of you and you know you won’t be able to hold off for much longer, not with the way he’s grinding against your aching clit.

Bob’s eyes glued to the spot where you two come together. You’re on full display for him. He watches the way you stretch and spread around him with every deep thrust with the same appreciative gaze that he admires his favorite artists.

It’s under his river blue gaze that your orgasm swiftly sweeps you away. And with your back arching and thighs quaking around his, you give yourself up to the endless current of it.

You know he’s close when his hips start to stutter.

Bob pulls out of you and wraps his large hand around his slick-shined cock and works himself with rough, purposeful strokes.

This time he paints you with himself, his come covering your stomach.

The only sound in the room is the two of you breathing hard, trying to catch your breath.

“Jesus Christ,” Bob huffs, raggedly, taking in his handiwork, “You’re my masterpiece.”

You’re covered in paint and come, but you’ve never felt more beautiful than you do right now as he looks down at you in awe.

“Did you remember to sign your work this time?” you ask, out of breath but teasingly.

“I think I left my mark, darlin’,” he says, with well-earned smugness in his voice. You can’t help but giggle. He flops down next to you, throwing his arm over his eyes, “Goddamn.”

You prop yourself up onto your elbows to look at yourself.

“Baby, I think you gave Jackson Pollock a run for his money.” You grin widely when he lets out an amused snort. “Wait, where’s your camera?”

He passes it to you, the fondness in his eyes makes your chest feel warm. You scooch in close to him and hold it up above your heads, the camera flashes when you kiss his flushed cheek.

That picture is the first one that gets put up in the new house, the one the two of you chose together when he asked you to marry him six months later. Followed by the soft green landscape that now hangs above your shared bed.

It’s your favorite picture of the two of you, happy and in love. You can just see a hint of the cloud he’d painted on your shoulder.

That night Bob had decorated your body with the place he loved best.

He gave you the sky and he made you his world.

Happy birthday, Ames! Your gift will be mailed eventually, it really was a lesson in chemistry, lol! Enjoy a Bob fic just for you in the meantime!

A big, bigggg thank you to the Bob Babes/Lew Crew girlies! @callsignspark and @attapullman I appreciate you two so much for being such ultimate hypegirls! And thank you to @theharddeck, you helped me out of my writers block and I've been so excited to write this since we talked about it back in January!

You can read my other stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken  @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[theharddeck]

it'd be a sweet situation (bob floyd x fem!reader)

pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: what's better than finding out the WSO you've had a secret crush is the same audio erotica creator that you've been crushing on for months? getting to watch him record new content...and maybe get involved yourself

word count: 5.9k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: audio porn, a truly absurd amount of dirty talk, overuse of pet names, oral sex (m and f!receiving), PiV penetration, some condescension and some dumbification.

A/N: not edited, not beta-ed, we publish for affirmation and speed babyyyy.

this post is a part 2 of my fic do you wanna make somethin' of it -- thanks for the love on the original!! hope y'all like! i may be planning a third so lmk if this scratches the itch or if we want breeding kink!bullriderrhett

When you asked Bob if you could listen to him record, he blinked at you, his expression somewhere between flattered and surprised, as a pink spread over his cheeks.

You loved when Bob blushed. 

It was the sweetest flush of pink, just so precious, and usually belied by something or another. 

Like when the rest of his expression was innocent, but his hand was stroking the inside of your thigh underneath a table at the Hard Deck. 

Like when you were begging him to let you come, praising every part of him that you could think of, and he looked up at you in wonder from between your legs. 

Like when he asked you to be “his girl”, make it official after a couple months, and you’d agreed before he could get the rest of his prepared speech out.  

Bob hadn’t posted in the last couple months (he explained that like you didn’t know), and his followers had been asking for something, anything, and you’d agreed that maybe something unscripted was the way to go. 

So now you leaned back against the wall Bob’s bed was pushed up against, watching him move around his small room with a focused expression on his face. He’d untangled cords, set up a microphone with a windscreen, and a smile played about your lips, watching him. You were just so fond of him. He was kind, he was sweet, he was hot and he was yours. 

You’d agreed to sit across the room, give him his space, but you had a sneaking suspicion this was going to really do it for you. You just hoped he wouldn’t be totally unaffected either.

He settled into his desk chair, cleared his throat, and started checking the microphone. He had a lamp set up over the desk, and it cast a golden glow over him. His brow was furrowed as he double checked his equipment, and you admired the way his tshirt fell over his shoulders, as he straightened things around his desk.

You could tell he was nervous. You could see it in the tightness of his expression, but you knew you’d both like this, so you smiled reassuringly over at him.

When he caught your eye, Bob smiled too, like he couldn’t help it.

“You ready?” he asked.

You nodded. “I’m excited.”

Bob huffed a laugh, shaking his head at you, at himself, the situation. 

He cleared his throat, before leaning back. From where he was sitting at the desk. He could just catch the edge of the door to his bathroom, which he swung shut. 

“Honey?” Bob called, his face still slightly turned from the mic, so it sounded far away. You imagined the door he’d slammed was a front door swinging shut, and instead of a long day of post-flight reviews, he’d been out on the ranch. 

“There y’are,” Bob said, closer to the mic now, but he was looking at you. You wrinkled your nose at him, and his lips quirked in an attempt to not smile. This was silly, it was fun, and you adored that he was bringing you into the fantasy with him. 

His head tipped to the side, golden hair falling in front of his glasses as he let out a long sigh. 

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

He said it so softly, like it was just an observation, fact, and you rolled your eyes at him. You were rewarded by his smile, beaming. 

“Nah, don’t give me that,” Bob shook his head at you, and you loved him like this, easy and light, “don’t roll your eyes like it isn’t true. Y’know the kinda day I had?”

You raised an eyebrow, and Bob was still smiling, and you felt like it was an inside joke between the two of you. Whatever he was going to say as Rhett, you knew it would be about Miramar. 

He started ad libbing, in that drawl of his that normally only came out when he was exhausted, and you let the fantasy wash over you. He might be talking about cattle and fence posts, but he meant FA-18s and potentiometers. 

“And then here you are,” Bob said, his voice getting softer. “No matter the day I had, no matter what else, I get to come home to you. Doesn’t seem fair, does it? How’d I get so lucky, hmm?”

You shook your head at him; you were the lucky one.

“The luckiest,” Bob said, after a pause, like how you remembered he’d always waited on his recordings. Being with him now, knowing him how you did, you wondered if this’d been how he’d imagined it—with you here, with him, answering him. 

“You missed me too?” Bob asked, almost curious. “Honey…don’t give me that look, come on. I know you’ve got supper on…”

The use of ‘supper’ was just darling, and it whisked you deeper into the fantasy. One where your world started and ended with Rhett, looking after him as he looked after you. Him keeping you safe, you keeping him taken care of. 

In that fantasy, there was always time. 

“Ah, you missed me like that,” Bob said, his voice dropping deeper. “That’s a pretty thought, isn’t it– my girl, in my house, just waitin’ for me to get home.”

His voice was almost dreamlike, and you shivered while he paused, waiting for the audience to say something.

“No, that’s not a fair question, honey; I always miss you,” he said, his head tilting back as he looked at you. “Miss how you look at me…how you say my name…how pretty your hair looks in this light…”

Bob laughed, a soft sound. 

“You must’ve really missed me,” he teased, “if my voice is doing it for you like that. Bet you’re already wet for me, just listenin’ to me talking about wanting you, hmm? You gonna show me?”

And you hadn’t planned to, you really hadn’t. 

But when Bob asked, acting like Rhett and talking like that, it made you want to. You pulled down your sweatpants before you could think about it, rewarded by the way Bob’s eyes widened like he hadn’t expected it either. He swallowed visibly, and he cleared his throat. 

“Shit, honey, I didn’t think you’d actually…do we have time? Before supper?”

You smiled at him, lifting a shoulder like sure, you could make time. Bob’s eyes twinkled as he grinned back at you, like even through the ridiculous pretense of recording an audio, he saw you, and was glad you saw him. 

“Alright, sweet girl, easy,” he said, his voice breathy, like you were rushing him. “Yeah, that’s it, feel me through my jeans.”

He palmed himself, a soft gasp slipping past his parted lips at the pressure of his grasp. You loved Bob’s hands, loved how they moved and worked over you, and seeing him grabbing himself was something else. He was a proportional man, but the bulge growing underneath his jeans didn’t seem any smaller, relative to such enormous hands.

“You can take me out,” Bob said, like it was a favor he was doing you, and you weren’t sure it wasn’t, as he slid the zipper down slowly. You’d seen him what felt like hundreds of times over the last few months, but you found yourself holding your breath as he shifted his hips to slide his jeans over his hips. He left them on just above his knees, and you could see the outline of his dick pressing against his boxers. 

God, he looked good. 

Slightly slouched in a chair, half undressed, his eyelids heavy as he looked through his lashes at you. He gave himself a lazy stroke over his boxers one more time, then pulled his cock out, sighing as his fingers wrapped around it. You pressed your lips together to trap in the pleased whimper that was threatening to escape; you couldn’t help it. 

Bob reached for the lube, squeezing a little on his hand away from the microphone before he spread it along his cock. He moved slowly, so no wet sounds could be heard, not yet, but you watched his shoulders drop slightly at the pleasure of the softened glide. 

“Does that feel good?” you asked it softly, quiet enough and from across the room, knowing you wouldn’t be heard, but at the sound of your voice, Bob’s eyes fluttered close. 

“Fuck, honey,” he whispered, into the mic, but straight to you, “yeah, you feel so good.”

You loved that he meant it, that even though it was his hand, it was you that was making him feel this way. 

You slipped a hand into your underwear, a whine slipping past your lips as you felt you were already wet. Bob’s eyes flew opened, his lips parting as he realized what you were doing. Even though he wasn’t touching you, you felt him, and it was always going to end here, wasn’t it? Bob’s sweet, sexy voice, you acting like it didn’t affect you, and then touching yourself with him. 

“Sweet girl,” Bob breathed, and you heard it in his voice, his pride in you. You loved being that for him, being here with him. “You look so fucking pretty like this. In our house, that pretty hand wrapped around my cock—”

He broke off as you shifted, peeling your underwear away and running your fingers through your folds so he could see. You loved the image he was describing—coming home to each other, finding relief in each other’s bodies. A cowboy or a pilot, either way, this man was yours, and he made you feel so good. 

“That’s it, honey,” Bob’s voice sounded gruff, and your eyes fell closed as you lost yourself in the fantasy. “Fuck, honey, your hands…you feel so good,  shit. Here, honey, let’s get you out of this, yeah? Lemme play with that pussy, while you’re takin’ such good care of my cock.”

He could already see you, so it was just for the fantasy, but your knees fell open as you spread yourself open for him. Bob groaned, and your fingers brushed over your clit. You’d done this before, this scene he was describing, even if it was slightly different, so it was easy to envision. Both of you braced against the nearest wall, unable to look away from his cock in your hands, and him reaching for you, wanting to bring you the same pleasure. The way your fingers looked so small around his cock, the way his hand fit between your thighs, both of your knees going weak. 

“So wet for me,” Bob praised, and your mouth dropped open as your fingers dipped between your folds, like his would. “You’re so perfect, so warm and ready for me…fuck, sweet girl, you make me want more than your hand.”

You moaned softly, your head falling back against the wall behind his bed. You wanted that too, more, and your hand wasn’t enough. 

“I’ll take you to bed later,” Bob promised. “Lay you down, take my time with this pretty pussy, fill her up…ah, honey, fuck, I can feel you clenching on my fingers…How’d I get so lucky, hmm? You’re so perfect, so good for me, so fucking good for me…”

Bob trailed off with a moan, and you heard his hand speed up as he continued to praise you. You coveted the sounds, and more than that, you finally understood what he’d meant the first time you’d been together, because you were jealous of a fantasy. Anyone who listened to this recording, they’d hear Rhett telling them they were perfect, so good for him, and they could think on that all they wanted but Bob, Bob was yours. 

Bob’s head fell back as his hand gripped his cock tightly. You saw his thighs tensing against the floor, and the column of his neck was exposed in the most inviting way so you took it as just that—an invitation. 

“Honey, fuck, what are you doing?” Rhett’s reaction and Bob’s were the same, as he realized you were kneeling on the ground, your hand closing around his cock. Your knees spread on the hard floor, your fingers wet from your own desire, and wrapped around him. Bob moaned, a disbelieving, overcome sound, as you guided him into your mouth. His eyebrows creased worriedly, and his eyes darted to the microphone, but as your lips closed around his tip, you held his eyes, and you moaned. 

Loud. 

Loud enough for him to feel it, loud enough that you knew the mic picked up on it, loud enough that he knew it wasn’t an accident.  

“Shit, baby,” Bob groaned, his voice low, “that mouth…” 

And you would’ve smirked, but your mouth was too full of him. God, you loved how he felt. Heavy and thick and you didn’t love the taste of lube, but you worked your hand over his length and contented yourself with playing with his sensitive head. He just had the prettiest cock. It was leaking now, for you, and you lapped at him, traced each ridge and divet, teased the veins and pumped his length with your hand. 

Bob was gasping, and when you looked back up at him, you couldn’t miss the adoration on his face. He looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were real, like he knew you were just as possessive as he was, and it made him even harder for you. That heat in his expression had your other hand sneaking between your legs, and Bob’s hand lifted to your hair, brushing it back. His big hand settled on top of your head, not controlling not forcing, but needing to touch you. Your thighs spread and you moaned again as your fingers brushed over your heat while he sat heavy on your tongue. 

“That’s right, sweet girl,” Bob rasped, his voice truly wrecked. “Keep playing with yourself. Ah, honey, I’m not gonna last long. Wanted you all day, and now those lips around my cock, fuck—”

He broke off as he hips pushed his cock farther into your mouth. As he did, you realized you couldn’t taste the lube on his cock anymore, only your arousal and the musky salt of him. God, you loved it. You tasted so good together, and you knew it was the farmwife fantasy, but you loved being this for him. Like you’d just been waiting for him to come home and get his hands in your hair, his cock in your mouth. 

“You couldn’t wait till after dinner, could you?” Bob grunted, a hint of condescension creeping into his voice that made your eyes fall close. “You make me feel so good, honey, shit. That mouth, sweet girl, it’s so good. You’re taking me so well, like you needed this just as bad as I did—did you? Did this get you through the day too? Knowing it’d end with you on your knees for your man, his fat cock in your mouth?”

His glasses were sliding down his nose, his chest was heaving, and even tough his words were tinged with condescension, they couldn’t disguise the worship underneath. Each stroke of your tongue, hollowing of your cheeks, pulled a hitched breath or a soft gasp from him, and you loved each one. Your hand lifted from between your legs to his thigh, your nails digging into the pale hair there as you took him deeper as Bob groaned. 

“Fucking hell, what you do to me, honey,” he groaned, his voice tight, and you really didn’t think you needed to breathe. You took him until your nose brushed the hair at his base, and Bob was panting like he’d just pulled 10 Gs, and he couldn’t tell which way was up. He moaned as you held there, his hand slipping from the top of your head to the back of your neck, cradling you. His thumb brushed the front of your throat, feeling where you were stretched around him, an he moaned again, a wrecked, gorgeous sound. You loved that he was past words, that everyone listening was just going to hear his gasps, those beautiful moans, and know you were here. Between his thighs, hands and marks on him, claiming him as yours. 

“I’m gonna come, baby,” he gasped, and you felt your chest swell with pride, humming lightly so he knew it was okay. You pulled back, bobbing your head, and his moans grew longer until his hand moved again, holding your head steady as his cock jolted. He came hard down your throat, his warm release spilling down your throat, a claim of his own. You swallowed him down, your mouth loosening around his sensitive cock, and licking at him as he pulled out. You licked lightly around his cock, placing a teasing kiss on his tip, and Bob groaned softly.

You couldn’t hide how smug you felt. 

That was your man, weak from the orgasm you gave him, sounding wrecked and satisfied from your mouth.  

“You’re lookin’ real proud of yourself there,” Bob said, his voice gruff again. You sat back on your heels, smiling up at him. He chuckled softly, pulling you up as he leaned down to kiss you. His tongue swept into your mouth greedily, chasing a taste of the release you’d pulled out of him, and you loved that he was just as filthy as you were. His hands fell from your head to the tops of your shoulders, and he caressed the soft skin of your upper arms lightly. 

“I’d better return the favor, hmm?” he murmured against your lips, and you opened your eyes to catch the spark of mischief in his eyes before his hands curled under your arms and he lifted you. He moved you quicker than you understood what was happening, and then you were in his seat, he was on his knees, and he wasted no time in diving between yours. 

Your back arched off the chair at the first sweep of his tongue over your cunt, and you clapped a hand over your mouth, but it was too late for that. 

“Absolutely fucking not,” Bob pulled back to say, his longer fingers winding around your wrist and pulling it away from your mouth. “You had me moanin’ like a virgin when you got your lips on my cock, and I deserve to hear the same from you. Let me hear those sweet sounds, honey.”

His voice was deep, dark and teasing, but he was watching you carefully, and you knew if you said you were uncomfortable, he’d stop. Just like you knew you wouldn’t ask him to, because you wanted your claim on him on the recording. Not just that you’d pulled that orgasm from him, but that he was worshiping you, that you were his as much as he was yours. 

You let your hand fall away, and Bob smiled sweetly at you before his mouth was back between your thighs. His tongue made you forget about the recording in no time, as his tongue worked over you. Bob always went at oral like it was end game, like it was a favor to him, like he never wanted to leave. He kissed and sucked, licked and teased, and soon you were panting with each stroke of his tongue. 

“Y’sound so good, angel,” he murmured into your cunt, his voice thick, and you moaned as he pressed teasing kisses over your lower stomach and thighs. “How’s it feel?”

“So good, baby,” you whispered, your fingers winding into his hair and pulling him back into your pussy. He went, chuckling, but eagerly resuming his efforts.  He spread you open with his thick fingers, his tongue delving into your cleft as he lapped at you, chasing the arousal that he’d stoked with just his words, and you felt like you were melting into the chair. 

“Let me have it then,” Bob said, pulling back. His glasses were fogged as he looked up at you, and you moaned at the sight. His strong fingers stroked over you, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips, like he was desperate for your taste. “Come for me, sweet girl, come on my fingers and my tongue, open this sweet cunt for me, let me feel it…”

His fingers kept teasing over your slit as his lips closed over your clit. His tongue circled your sensitive bud as his fingers stroked over you and you pulled his hair tightly, remembered not to call out his name at the last minute, and came with a cry. You were trembling, melting and soaring and shaking, your legs over Bob’s broad shoulders as he fucking drank your orgasm from between your legs. He didn’t let up, continuing his gentle caresses until your orgasm sputtered out, leaving you thrumming and sated. 

“So fucking pretty, sweet girl,” Bob was whispering, his touch gentling. “You did so good for me, didn’t you, so beautiful and sweet. God, you’re perfect.”

You opened your eyes to find him looking up at you, a soft smile on his face. You brushed his hair from off his forehead, glad his glasses had cleared enough for you to see his beautiful eyes. You were going to kiss him, a reversal of your earlier positions, when you recognized the rolling motion in his shoulders. You looked down and…shit, he was hard again. Your jaw dropped open as you looked up at Bob, in time to see a blush spreading across his cheeks. 

“Are you…” you asked, trailing off when your voice was raspier than you expected. “Can you go again?” 

“We don’t have to,” Bob mumbled, almost sheepish. “I, uh…I wasn’t kidding, I really did miss you today, and you sounded so good, and it’ll go away, we can—”

You kissed whatever asinine alternative he was going to offer off his lips. Your man was hard again because he’d worked himself up while eating you out? Fuck that, you were gonna have him now. 

You both moaned into the kiss, the taste of each other mingling and this time when Bob moved you, you let him guide you. He pulled you to stand, his hands holding you steady as he took his seat again, then pulled you to straddle him. You kissed him as you settled on his thighs, his hands still adjusting things around the desk, and letting you focus on him. God, he was something else. So beautiful and sweet and strong, and then hung to boot, and you felt the a spark reignite from your earlier orgasm. Your hands trailed over his tshirt, his broad neck and the soft curl of his hair at the back of his neck, and you leaned back when Bob leaned back to pull on a condom. 

“You just had that handy?” you teased him, though it lost some of its sting since you were so breathless, “You kept a condom in your pocket all day?”

Bob huffed a laugh, even as his ears heated again. 

“I don’t think you get it, honey,” he said, pausing as he rolled the condom down his length, “every moment I’m not in this warm cunt, I’m wishing I was, and planning for when I can be. If that means carrying a condom around all day, so as soon as it’s over, I can slide into this sweet pussy, then yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do.”

You smiled at him, knowing you looked infatuated and dopey, but basking in his shameless enthusiasm. It felt good to be with him, good to be adored by him, like the sweetest affirmation. Any teasing remark was quieted when Bob shifted, prompting you to rise over him. You both held your breath as he lined himself up with you, and you braced your hands on his shoulders as you started to sink down on him. 

God, you’d never get used to the stretch of him. 

Loosened by your orgasm and practice, your stomach still tensed at the pressure of his cock easing into you. Bob’s hands were stroking soothingly over the small of your back, and his forehead wrinkled as he frowned, stopping himself from rutting up into you. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Bob groaned. “You’re still so tight, you feel so good.”

You only managed to whimper as you continued to sink onto him. He felt so thick, broad, and you loved how full you felt with him. Like a puzzle piece, like a safe haven, like the only place you wanted to be. Your thighs were burning when you finally took him all the way, and you could’ve cried from how full you felt. You wound your arms around his neck and Bob mirrored your motion, his arms bracketing around your lower back. 

“Beautiful girl,” Bob soothed you, his words as much an embrace as his tight grasp. “Y’feel so good around me, shit. Tell me it’s this good for you, honey?”

“So full,” you managed, somehow breathless. “I feel you so deep, baby.”

“So deep,” Bob agreed, kissing you lightly. His lips brushed over yours in soft kisses until the tension faded, until you were squirming in anticipation, until you needed more than the deep press of him.  

“Need you to move,” you whispered against his lips, and you felt Bob’s warm breath as he laughed. 

“I don’t know, honey,” he teased, leaning back, languid. “I tried to get you out of this, but you’re the one who needed it…maybe you should ride me for it, if you want this cock so bad.”

Even as he goaded you, he lifted his hips into yours slowly. You whimpered at each slow push of his hips, punctuated by another taunt. 

“You couldn’t wait to get your hands on me…” he whispered on another stroke, impossibly deep he was inside of you, “then your mouth…then you had me on my knees for you, sweet girl, and that still wasn’t enough for you, was it?”

The drag of his cock was so slow it was intoxicating. You were so full, and he was pushing deeper, and you could barely focus on his words. It was so slow and you needed more, and you weren’t one to back down from a challenge, so you rolled your hips. 

It was Bob who groaned this time, at the swivel of your hips and the way you clenched around him. 

“I remember it differently, baby,” you told him, even though your voice was shaking. You worked your hips faster, the rhythm you wanted, Bob’s thick cock filling you just right, at a tempo you knew would get you there in no time…if you could sustain it. 

“Tell me,” Bob said, his hands falling to your hips, supporting your motion as you writhed over him. 

Your hand wound into his hair, and you smiled when his lashes fluttered as you pulled lightly. Your hips were smacking down into his as you worked yourself on his cock, fast and desperate, chasing. 

“I remember,” you panted, licking your lips and smiling as his eyes tracked the motion, “Remember you whining from my mouth…cumming down my throat after a minute or two…rutting against the air with your mouth between my thighs.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bob moaned, and you grinned at him, triumphant, as his hands tightened on your hips. He clenched you tightly, planted his feet and drove his own thighs up to meet you. The sound of your ass hitting his thighs was loud, but not as much as the wetness between you. It was audible, the proof of the desire you drove each other to, the desperation and need and the fact that neither of you was easily sated, except in the other. 

“Give it to me,” you whispered and Bob groaned, his head nuzzling into your neck. He licked at the skin there, teeth grazing over you, both of you gasping for breath as your bodies writhed against each other. He was so deep inside of you, bruising and conquering and he was everything. You craved the stretch of him, but more than that, it was just him. His heavy cock, his strong hands, his soft whine that was building. You could feel your thighs weakening, but not Bob. He drove up into you with a hunger, like he needed this pace, this release, just as much as you did. 

“You’re so fucking warm, sweet girl,” he gritted. “God, you feel so good. I’m losing my mind, honey, it’s so good. You’re clenching down on me, makes me not want to leave. Gonna stay in this cunt, spill here and stay here till I’m hard again, then do it again.”

You moaned, tightening around him. You wanted that, wanted him, only him. The circle of his arms, the press of his cock, the smell of his sweat and the brush of his lips.  

“Do it,” you begged, and that was what it was: begging. You needed it, needed him, and didn’t care how desperate you sounded about it. “Let me feel it, baby, please, come in me.”

“Fuck,” Bob moaned, properly moaned. “Ya had to say please, didn’t you, so sweet like that, how the hell do I say no to you—can you come with me, honey? Don’t want to get there without you…”

You whimpered at his words and the way he was thrusting up into you. You were so close, so fucking close and you were certain you’d shatter before you got there but then Bob pulled you slightly forward. Only slightly, and without changing the rhythm of his hips, he pulled you forward so your clit was brushing against him. You cried out, your arms scratching at his back at the added stimulation, at the way he was rewriting. 

“That’s right, honey, shit,” Bob whispered, each stroke of his hips a brush against your clit. Your legs were shaking, you were pretty sure you were crying, and the only thing you could comprehend was Bob’s voice and arms around you. “Scratch me up, hold me to you, I’m not going anywhere. I can feel you getting closer, honey, please tell me you’re close. God, you feel so good, I’m gonna cum so hard, I need it to be with you—please, honey, fuck—”

He clenched his arms around your body, holding you tightly to him, the way he did when he was about to cum and so caught up in it that he wasn’t worried about holding you too tightly. You moaned as he ground up into you, his cock thrusting into you and his strong arms banding you to him. You went limp as you came, moaning wordlessly, and you felt him relax as he recognized it, his back arching as he pumped into you roughly. He was practically rutting into you and you curled around him, craving it, the roughness and rightness of him. Bob shouted roughly as he emptied himself into the condom, a beautiful sound of abandon that made you nuzzle into him, even as your toes curled.   

The room was quiet, except for the sounds of both of you catching your breath. Bob’s hand was running lightly over your back as you nestled into his chest, and your hand was playing with the edge of his shirt in front of you. You bit your lip, trying not to laugh at the current state of undress, but of course, Bob felt you shaking. 

“What is it?” he asked gruffly.

“We’re just out here, pooh-bearing it,” you said, pulling on his shirt for emphasis. “We couldn’t even…I don’t know, it’s just silly. Half dressed but matching, without pants.”

Bob chuckled, his chest shaking as he pulled you tighter to him, before shifting to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Of course,” he said dryly. “I’m trying to think of a clever way to say ‘that was the hardest I’ve cum in I don’t know how long’, and you’re here thinking about children’s cartoons.”

“I also thought that was very very good,” you said, consolingly, patting his chest. 

Bob caught your hand in one of his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles like a gallant night of old. He sighed, kissed them again, then twined his fingers with yours. “I like coming home to you.”

You blinked, then froze. “Oh my god, we’re still recording!!!”

Bob laughed, a sound so sweet and joyous that you couldn’t help but join him. He reached over and flipped off the microphone, even as you frantically tried to remember if you’d said his name. 

“We don’t have to use it,” Bob reassured you, pulling you back into his arms as he resettled. “Or I can edit it, or really, whatever you’re comfortable with. Regardless, not for recording’s sake, but just for posterity: that was fucking hot. Unreal. I’m the luckiest guy alive.”

You smiled, not sure if you were embarrassed you’d forgotten, or proud of the both of you. 

“You should’ve kept recording while you said that,” you mumbled, and Bob pulled back to look at you. He didn’t say anything for a moment, then a slow grin split his face. 

“You’re jealous,” he said, pleased and proud, and you rolled your eyes before he resettled you on his chest. “I wasn’t sure if that’s what you were thinking, I thought it might’ve been.”

You pursed your lips. “We should publish it.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell he was smiling. 

“Let’s give it a listen first, honey,” he said, appeasingly. “Make sure you’re okay with it, then we can decide if you want it out there. For me, I think it’ll do numbers…but I only care about an audience of one.”

It was cliche.

So cliche it was cheesy, but you smiled to yourself at his sweet words. That was how you felt too…but it couldn’t hurt to remind the world that they might like the idea of Rhett, but you were the one with the real deal. 

You were pretty sure that, regardless of what Bob said, you were the lucky one. 

I Missed You Too It’s been a long day out on the ranch, and I can’t wait to get home to my girl. Turns out, she’s been waiting for me, too. [M4F] [Overheard] [Couple] [Oral] [Finish Inside] [Strong Language] [Moaning] [Love Confession] [SFX]

tattedlily: AN OVERHEARD FROM RHETT IS THIS REAL OH MY GOD SORRY TO MY COWORKERS I’M LISTENING AT MY DESK 

bucklebunny69: Don’t mind me, just losing my mind over the fact that rhett has a gf and they sound so hot together

luvbug1985: SHUT UP THIS SOUNDS SO REAL

sarahwasnthere: okay but do y’all want a third orrrrrrr

sweeeeeetgirl: overheards aren’t normally my thing, but for rhett i’ll try anything and i think i’m converted?? I couldn’t hear her at first but the way HE changed like you could hear when she got involved i’m gonna be sick holy shit 

babygrl902: when will someone fuck me like this 

justjennn: okay but like the chemistry between the two of them?? Like they’re so reactive to each other i hope you guys do more!!

luvbug1985: nope i had to comment again bc the bi panic this audio caused?? Hearing her gasp/moan in response to his dirty talk is tewwwwwww much i immediately need more

//

tagging: @sometimesanalice @laracrofted @hangmanssunnies @withahappyrefrain @cheekymcgrath @mxgyver @lewmagoo @sebsxphia @callsign-fangirl @callsignspark @daggerspare-standingby @rhettabbotts @teacupsandtopgun @attapullman @yuckosworld @skteaiy @yanna-banana @briseisgone @gigisimsonmars @milesmillergf @katiedid-3 @hangmandruigandmav @3tabbiesandalab @marchingicenotes7 @callsignmedusa @ryebecca @tgmavericklover @cottagecori @becks-things @mulletmcghee @straightforwardly @high-speed-r @rcmupout @purelyfiction @fairyheart @sunsetsimpsblog @angelbabyyy99 @cremebruleequeen @marvel-djarin @sgt-barnesveins @supernaturaldawning @echo-ethe @sunlitide @alilstressyandlotdepressy @hughesvolpe @aczhang777 @saltsicklover @whatislovevavy @phoenix-rising-starbird-one @briseisgone @mycobrakai1972 @hangmanshoney @sorchathered @lewmagoo @katfanfic @bringbacktim @b-bradshaw

[deakyjoe]

Pattern Breaker

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader (afab)

Category: smut, fluff, friends to lovers, idiots in love

Summary: A love confession turns to more once Bob knows you’re interested.

Warnings: 18+, smut (!!), protected p in v sex, f receiving oral (pussy eating king), vaginal fingering, grinding/dry humping, handjob, kissing, groping, scratching/marking, Bob fucks, love confessions, fluff, talks of bad dates, reader described as having hair and being shorter than Bob (but nothing else), swearing/cursing - let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 7.1k (it kinda ran away from me)

A/N: My humble contribution to the Bob Fucks Agenda 🫡

Consider buying me a coffee :)

Bob Floyd was head over heels in love with you.

Yet he had no idea what series of mistakes had landed him here. In the Hard Deck. With you. Sat next to him. In a tight booth. Your thigh pressed up against his. Tracing patterns with the tip of your finger on the back of his hand. Many would argue that this didn't seem like a bad thing. Why would something so intimate with someone he was in love with be a mistake? Well, the issue was that you were doing it in a totally platonic way.

You were doing it mindlessly too, as you engaged in idle conversation with Phoenix opposite you, which almost made it worse. Bob Floyd's brain was whirring at a million miles per second over something you were doing without even thinking about it. It took every ounce of self restraint to stop himself from moving. Closer to you or further away, he didn't know. But he tried to stay still. So very still. Just so you'd keep doing it.

He was also desperately trying to pay attention to the story you were telling Phoenix, about the latest bad first date you'd been on. It appeared to be a regular thing with you. A string of first dates where you knew before you'd even ordered the entrées that they wouldn't be the right guy for you. And you always had valid reasons, at least in Bob's opinion.

"He told me he doesn't like sunsets." You groaned. "Like, who doesn't like sunsets?"

Bob personally loved sunsets.

Phoenix frowned at you. "Did he give a reason why?"

Bob imagined that Phoenix was feeling a little guilty about the whole thing. After all, she was the one who'd set you up with this guy. But he was thankful for it. He didn't know what he'd do with himself when you finally managed to find the right guy and it wasn't him.

"Something about the day ending and having a mindset about being on the grind I think, I don't know." You sighed, pausing your finger's movement against the back of Bob's hand for a moment before carrying on. He almost had a heart attack when you pressed your cheek into his shoulder and started leaning against him as well.

"Sorry it didn't work out. I can find you another guy maybe, umm..." Phoenix trailed off with a thoughtful hum.

But you waved her off. "No, it's okay. I think I'm done with blind dates for now."

Bob's head snapped towards you. Oh?

"If you're sure." Phoenix started to rise from the table, pressing her hands into the wooded surface. "I think I'm gonna call it a night. See you two tomorrow."

"Goodnight, see you tomorrow." You smiled at her, nudging Bob with your elbow when he stayed silent.

He flinched away from you. "Ow! What? Oh. Yeah, goodnight."

Phoenix's eyes flicked between the two of you, an amused huff leaving her mouth before she gave you both a mock salute and left the bar.

There was a silence between the two of you for a moment as you relaxed against Bob's shoulder a little more.

"What about you? Ready to call it a night?" You asked, turning to rest your chin on his bicep so you could look up at his face.

He glanced at you briefly, turning away again when he realised how close your faces were in that position and cleared his throat. "No, I'm good here for a little longer. If you are?"

You nodded and sat up, extracting yourself from his touch completely. Bob almost sobbed at the loss of contact.

"Yeah, I'm good." You paused to take him in, how he wasn't looking directly at you. He did that sometimes. You always figured he was just a little awkward about eye contact. Which was a shame considering his eyes were your favourite shade of blue.

Bob did flicker his eyes towards you then, wondering why you were staring at him silently. "Are you okay?"

You shrugged. "I kinda wanted to talk to you about something."

"Yeah?" He turned to face you properly, knees angled towards you to show that you had his full attention. "What about?"

You looked at him for a few seconds too long, enough to make him anxious and you think that maybe you'd given something away with your eyes. "You know how when we met we just clicked?"

Bob was surprised at that question. But he knew exactly what you meant. So he nodded. "Yeah."

You scrunched your nose and looked away from him for a second. "Well, I'm not clicking with any of these guys I'm going on blind dates with."

He knew that, you’d said as much. So he really didn't know where you were going with this. "Okay...”

"I just wish it was as easy as it was with you. Like we just work together so perfectly, I don't even feel like I'm trying with you."

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, looking sideways at you. "Uh-"

Your eyes widened and you were quick to clarify, hands held up in apology. "And not like I don't put any effort into it with you but just like I don't feel as if I'm constantly trying to make it work, y'know?"

He nodded again. "Sure."

You sighed frustratedly. "Do you get what I'm trying to say here, Bob?"

"Not really." He shook his head and gave a weak, apologetic smile.

You chuckled. "I'm trying to say that I've never clicked with a guy like I have with you."

"Right." He straightened up.

"But we're just friends." You said slowly.

He hesitated. "Mhm."

You squinted at him. "To cut it short I'm trying to say that I think I'm in love with you."

Bob could have fallen out of his seat.

"Oh!"

Now, that caught him really off guard.

"Well, I'm trying to figure out my feelings for you. Because they're certainly more than friendly!" You laughed quietly. "Which isn't really fair. To me or to you. But it's gotta be done because I'm sick of not clicking with men and being on dates where I'm just constantly thinking of how much easier it would be if I were sat across from you instead."

Bob ignored most of your rambling, fixating on one little statement. "Why's it not fair?"

Your face crumpled momentarily. "It's going to make it awkward for you if I am in fact in love with you. And it's unfair for me because I might be in love with a guy who only views me platonically."

Bob looked at you for a moment, eyes wide and almost pleading, and uttered your name softly.

You frowned. "What?"

He gave you a meaningful look.

"You do view me platonically, right?" You leant backwards. "Right?"

He glanced away from you before looking back, giving a short and sharp shake of his head. No.

The world shook around you.

"But- but you never made a move. I thought that you..." You trailed off into distressed thought.

"Oh, I made moves. Just not very obvious ones apparently." He cleared his throat with a quick cough, scrunching his face momentarily in embarrassment.

"Why did you never just say?"

"I guessed that you weren't interested since you never seemed to reciprocate my- my moves." He scratched at the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed at the thought of his moves.

"But I'm all over you!" You exclaimed. "I'm so touchy!"

He froze and turned to you stiffly. "I thought you were just like that. With everyone!"

"Have you ever seen me touch another human being half as much as I touch you?" You said monotonously.

"Well..." He thought about it. He hadn't. You gave hugs, sure. But you certainly didn't stand with your head resting on anyone's shoulder, arms wrapped around their bicep like you did with him. You didn't sit next to anyone, legs resting over their thighs, like you did with him. You definitely didn't trace patterns on the back of anyone's hand like you had been with him earlier.

You let him think about it for a few moments before interrupting his thoughts. "You didn't answer my question. Why didn't you just say?"

Bob looked deep into your eyes, recognising the look of regret he could feel within himself. "By the time I had the courage to... the friendship was already solidified. And I thought it would ruin it."

"Oh, Bob." You smiled widely at him. "You should've said something. I had a huge crush on you when we first met."

Have a huge crush. Have.

He perked up slightly. "You did?"

No. Do.

"Yeah! I buried it after a while because I figured you weren't interested. And now I'm realising that I'm probably in love with you anyway." You found it almost funny how the two of you seemed to be in the exact same situation and yet had no idea how the other was feeling.

He decided to be honest. "It would certainly brighten my day if you were."

You had a thought suddenly. "Walk me home?"

Bob felt a sense of whiplash from the rapid change in topic. But didn't question it. "O-okay."

You grinned at him and motioned for him to get up, following him out of the booth and grabbing his hand once you were stood next to him. Not having to worry about closing out a tab with Penny since you'd been paying for drinks each time you ordered, you didn't hesitate in dragging him behind you out the back door of the Hard Deck and onto the beach.

You took a glimpse at Bob next to you, finding him already watching you. "Figured we could do the moonlit beach walk on the way back to my place."

He just nodded, not missing the way you were still grasping onto his hand as the two of you started walking in the direction of your home. The moonlight beach walk wasn't an uncommon occurrence between the two of you. You'd done it countless times before, in fact. It was just a nice thing to do that happened to involve some nice views that you both enjoyed. It just felt different this time, Bob thought to himself.

He had to ask. "Your last blind date, did he really not like sunsets?"

You looked at him, delighted by the seemingly random question. "Yeah. How off-putting is that?!"

"Very." Bob mumbled. "Y'know... I really like sunsets."

Ah, you saw what he was getting at.

"I know." You chirped. "I'll never forget the sunset on the day we met when you explained that the reason they're so colourful is because of the way the light scatters through the atmosphere. It was very purple that night."

His eyebrows shot up. He'd forgotten he'd told you that. But you were right. It had been very purple. He'd watched you take about thirty photographs of the sky. And knew then that he was in trouble.

The rest of the walk back to your place was quiet, a few passing comments made between the two of you as you pointed out a cute dog and Bob showed you where new flowers were beginning to blossom on a tree you regularly saw. Your hands stayed intertwined the whole time, swinging gently between your bodies.

It was easy. Just how it should be.

Silence shrouded the two of you as you approached your front door, wondering what was supposed to come next. Bob was still hung up on your sudden abandonment of your conversation back at the Hard Deck as you stopped at your door. Why had you dropped it?

The question escaped him as you suddenly tugged him a lot closer, so your chests almost touched, and lowered your voice.

"Come inside."

It wasn't proposed as a question, or even a request, but as more of a statement. Like you were telling him that he should follow you into your home to find out what happens next. Because of this, Bob could only reply with one thing.

"Okay."

There was no turning back now.

You beamed at him and rushed to unlock your door, flicking on a light switch once it was open and ushering him in behind you. Bob had been to your place countless times before, even crashed on your couch once or twice after nights there had run a little too long, but this time felt different. Just like the walk on the beach had.

He supposed it was because of what the two of you confessed earlier that night. But he still couldn't shake the thoughts about the fact that the conversation hadn't carried on to a point where he knew what was going to happen next between the two of you. Bob wanted answers. And he guessed that they were hidden in the depths of your home.

You guided him to your kitchen, offered him a drink which he politely declined, and stopped suddenly in the middle of the room to turn on your heel and look at him.

"Do you know why I asked you back here?"

He stilled a few paces in front of you. "Honestly? No."

You smiled at that. "Because I decided that I am."

Bob was even more confused. "Am what?"

You barked out a laugh like you suddenly realised you'd left out half of your sentence and that what you'd said had made no coherent sense. "In love with you. Absolutely head over heels. One hundred per cent.”

He said nothing in reply, sensing that you had more you wanted to say. He was right.

"And I wanted to be able to explore that possibility for us without prying eyes. In the privacy of my home." You huffed, slightly frustrated. Bob took a single step towards you. "I don't- I don't know how to say this."

He closed the gap, hands resting on your arms to reassure you. You'd never struggled to tell him anything and he certainly didn't want that to start now. "It's me. You can say anything to me. You know that. It's okay."

When you met his gaze again, your eyes were slightly glassy with tears. But you blinked them away. They were angry tears at yourself for taking this long to get to this point with him. It should've happened so much sooner.

Your eyes flickered to his lips. Bob knew what that meant, he was feeling it himself, but wanted you to say it.

Letting out a slightly shaky laugh, you composed yourself. "You might need to let me spiral and talk for a minute."

He smiled softly, surprised he wasn't doing his own spiralling and talking in this situation. "That's okay."

You nodded and sighed. "Okay, so. I don't want things to change between us. Well, I do. But, like, not everything. I still want us to be us. I still want to be able to tell you everything and have easy conversations and just go for walks on the beach and talk about meaningless things and have you explain stuff to me that you think I'll find interesting and sit close to each other just because we can not because we have to."

You stopped for breath and Bob felt like he was having to restrain his heart from bursting out of his chest.

"We'll still just be me and you and things will be easy between us. Like they always have been. But now... instead of sleeping on my couch after late nights, you'll- you'll sleep in my bed. And we'll kiss and, god, have a lot of sex I hope."

Bob chuckled at that and you joined him, happy to see that he wasn't freaking out at everything you were saying.

"We'll still be me and you but just... evolved. Right?"

Bob had started the evening knowing he was head over heels in love with you. He couldn't believe the night was ending with that love somehow growing even more, combining with yours to create some force that defied the laws of nature. The room was practically swimming in it, he could feel it prickling at the surface of his skin and taste it on the top of his tongue.

He nodded firmly at you. "Me and you but evolved."

You visibly relaxed under his hands and smiled giddily up at him. "Great, can you kiss me now?"

You didn't have to ask Bob twice.

The kiss started off sweet, almost innocent. A few, slightly open mouthed, pecks as the two of you giggled against each other. It was something new for the two of you. So even thought it felt right, it was still new territory to explore. But it didn't take long for it to take a turn. As soon as you opened your mouth fully to lick gently against Bob's lips, it was like something in him snapped.

An arm snaked around your waist and tugged you flush against him, chest to chest, and his other hand tangled in the back of your hair. His nose crammed into your cheek, his glasses falling slightly askew, as he licked into your mouth hotly with his head angled down to meet you halfway.

Your head whirled with the thought that he was good at this. Bob Floyd was an extraordinarily good kisser. Why hadn't you done this sooner?

You let out soft moans to encourage him despite him not even seeming shy about the idea anymore. In fact, Bob had no sense of restraint left in him. He'd waited so long for this, for you. And now he was lost in the feeling of your skin against his and the sounds you were making in reply to what he was doing. Which is why he let his hands drift across you more, not anchoring his touch to any specific place.

You felt like you were on fire, no time to breathe as breaks for oxygen were mere fractions of a second long. You'd never imagined him being capable of making you feel like this so quickly. Your lower abdomen burning with desire and your panties already practically soaked through. And he hadn't even touched you intimately yet. You could only hope that you were having half the same effect on him.

Bob's hands lowered themselves slowly, tracing along your ribcage, circling your waist, gripping at your hips, before he tentatively let them rest on your ass. You hummed in motivating appreciation and pushed yourself up even more to kiss him impossibly harder. He took that as a good sign, fingers digging into the flesh beneath them and rocking your pelvis towards his. Where you found that he was hard.

A noise rumbled in your chest, leaking out as a high pitched whine directly into his mouth.

Bob pulled away with a slight look of concern in his eyes which now held almost no trace of the blue shade you'd come to adore, pupils blown wide enough to engulf his irises. "Is this too much? We can slow down."

You shook your head, slowing down being the last thing you wanted. "No, I'm just surprised that you're so... handsy. I always thought you were a gentleman."

"Oh." He blushed a deep red, the colour reaching the tips of his ears. "I'm just eager, I guess. We can wait. I mean, I can wait. If it's too much."

You leaned back in closer to him, lips brushing across his. "Don't you think we've waited long enough?"

He did.

Somehow the second round of kissing was even more searing, almost consuming, than the first. Your arms wrapped around his neck, one hand gripping tightly onto his hair and tugging occasionally. Bob didn't let up squeezing at your ass after he'd realised that the sound you'd made previously was one of pleasure and not pain, rocking your hips into his a couple times more for good measure.

When his lips moved to trail a line of kisses down your jawline and onto your neck, your eyes practically rolled back into your head. This was too good to be true. You were stood in your kitchen, at almost midnight, and Bob was sucking a hickey into your neck. How was this even real?

You realised that if you didn't move soon then the two of you were going to end up fucking on the kitchen floor. And whilst you weren't totally against the idea, you figured you should at least offer him the comfort of a bed for your first time together.

"Bedroom, Floyd. Now." You gasped, grasping his hair to pull him away from your neck. But when you got a good look at him, you almost abandoned the idea completely. His hair was ruffled from where you'd been pulling at it, his glasses sat crookedly on his nose, his face was flushed a rosy pink, his lips were swollen and kiss bitten, and his eyes were darker than you'd ever seen them. He was a sight to behold.

You snapped back to reality, fixed his glasses so they sat correctly on his face, clenched your legs together, and grabbed a fistful of his shirt to tug him behind you towards your bedroom. Bob, of course, had no complaints about this and followed you very happily. After watching you kick off your shoes as the both of you scurried down your hallway, he did the same. Not many thoughts were occurring in his brain at that moment, not any clean ones anyway, but one thing was certain as he looked at you: he'd never wanted someone more.

The bedroom door slammed shut behind him and before he had the chance to take in any of his surroundings he was pressed up against it and your lips were on his again, your hands desperately clutching at the bottom of his shirt to untuck it from his pants.

"Why- do- you- always- wear- your- uniform?" The question was asked between fiery kisses. Not that you were complaining. You loved to see him in his uniform. But he always looked so formal.

Bob waited until you were too distracted trying to unbuckle his belt to kiss him so he could get his answer out fully. "You once told me I look handsome in it."

You paused and tilted your head up to look at him. Taking in his open expression, you could tell that he was being honest. "God, I fucking love that you listen to me."

He laughed momentarily before his jaw snapped shut and he swallowed thickly as you began fumbling with his belt buckle again. "Your hands are shaking."

The observation was simple but had you freezing anyway. "Care to help a girl out then?"

Bob could tell that you were getting anxious, nerves suddenly overruling the initial excitement and lust. He could understand. He was currently running on the high of you dragging him to your bedroom. Maybe you also needed something like that to keep you going.

He glanced over your shoulder towards your bed and nodded towards it. "Lie down."

Bob watched as the fire quickly re-ignited in your eyes and you did as you were told, bouncing on the mattress as you sprawled yourself across it. Undoing his belt completely, he took a few steps towards you until he stood between your open legs.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows to watch him eagerly. The mattress dipped as he knelt on it and crawled across it until he was hovering over you.

You hummed quietly, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. "Hmm, I like this position."

He leaned in close, as if going to kiss you. "I thought you might."

His voice was low, rumbling deep in his chest. It was a tone you'd only had the privilege of hearing a few times before. During late nights when he was tired and could barely keep his eyes open as you continued to talk his ears off with meaningless nonsense but did so anyway just so he could listen to you talk. When he'd held you close to him during crowded nights at the Hard Deck and spoken directly into your ear so you could hear him over the sounds flooding the place. Moments that were intimate between you both but you'd been too oblivious to see as more than platonic.

It was the voice that Bob Floyd used to flirt with you.

You pulled back, wide eyed, to get a good look at him. "Oh, my god. You have made moves."

His brows scrunch for a moment, a confused laugh bubbling out of him. "Yeah, I said so earlier."

"I know but that voice." You poked his chest accusingly. "It's your flirty, sultry, bedroom voice! You've used it on me before!"

"It's not my-" He paused, thinking about it for a second, and then shrugged. "Oh, yeah. Maybe you're right."

"I like it, it's hot. Do it again." You giggled when he rolled his eyes, reaching your hands up to start unfastening the buttons on his shirt.

"And what would you like me to say?" His voice dipped back down to the low tone and you had to suppress a shiver.

"Anything. I just like hearing you talk." You reached the last button and helped him slide the shirt from his shoulders, revealing a white undershirt that you knew always resided underneath. The brown uniform shirt was discarded somewhere on your bedroom floor.

"How about how I think it's time for you to start removing some clothes? Since my shirt's off and my belt is unbuckled." His raised a finger to trace along the neckline of your t-shirt.

You whined. "Not fair. You're not even showing any skin yet. If I take my shirt off then all I've got is a bra on underneath."

Bob chuckled, low voice lost for a moment. "Is my white t-shirt not the equivalent of your bra?"

You pondered it for a moment. Maybe he was right. "Depends if you like the way my tits look in this bra as much as I like the way your biceps look in that white shirt."

He took a quick glance at his arms which were caging you into the bed, hand planted on either side of your head. "My biceps, huh?"

"A weakness of mine, I admit." You shrugged and sat up, pushing at his chest to give you some room. "Have to stop myself from biting them when I rest my head on your shoulder."

"For the record, I'd totally let you."

With a laugh you took Bob's hands in yours and guided them to the hem of your shirt, giving him a nod of confirmation. "You would now but let's be honest, it would've been a little unusual of me to just suddenly bite you before."

He tried desperately to keep eye contact with you as he pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it aside. "Maybe, but I wouldn't have said a word of complaint."

"I'll remember that for the future." You paused and noticed his frozen stare. "You're allowed to look, y'know?"

He knew but he was holding himself back with the knowledge that he'd probably go feral once he saw you without a shirt on. Just below his eye line he could tell that the bra you were wearing was lacy and pretty much see-through. He took a deep breath before looking properly and let out a very low groan when he saw that your nipples were hard and very visible through the fabric.

Bob's dick twitched in his pants at the sight. He feared he wouldn't last very long once the two of you actually got going.

You leant back on your hands and watched him look over you. It was kind of entertaining and certainly a confidence booster for you. "Like what you see?"

His eyes met yours again. "Shut up. You know I fucking do."

That sent a ripple of heat through you. Despite knowing him for so long, you'd never heard Bob curse. He'd let out the occasional damn at big inconveniences but never anything more than that. You figured it was part of him being such a gentleman and the fact that he loved to point out that his mother raised him right.

"Careful, Floyd. That dirty mouth will get you in trouble." You flattened your back onto the bed again, pulling him down on top of you by a handful of his shirt.

"If by trouble you mean with you underneath me then I'm willing to take that risk." His voice somehow got lower, a raspy edge being added to it. It's like he knew exactly how to break you.

You grabbed his face in your hands and pulled him down to kiss you again, you'd gone too long without feeling his mouth on yours, and you revelled in the grunt he let out against your lips.

This was a whole new side to Bob that you were seeing. And you were loving it. Somehow it was still so easy, the two of you continuing to just bounce off of each other and the sexual chemistry was luckily just naturally there as well. You thought it may have been slightly awkward between you but you'd never felt so confident about sleeping with someone in your life.

Bob realised he should probably check something before the two of you got any further so pulled away momentarily. "Do you have a condom?"

"Oh, yeah! Wait, hang on-" You slid away from him, hanging over the edge of the bed to rifle through a drawer in your nightstand. Producing a small box, you waved it triumphantly at him.

"Hoping those blind dates were going to be successful, huh?" He teased, reaching out to grab your waist to drag you back underneath him. He was relieved you had the box but if you didn't then he knew it wouldn't have stopped him from doing other things to you until you were able to buy some condoms.

Your jaw dropped. "No! Just never underprepared."

"I applaud your readiness. I'm sure if the apocalypse hits then we'll be thankful for your supply of condoms."

"If the apocalypse hits then we'll be tasked with repopulating the Earth and have to have lots of unprotected sex to do so." You bit back playfully, glad to see when his eyes fluttered shut momentarily at the mention of doing it raw. "Oh, you like that thought, huh?"

"You caught me. Guilty." He raised a hand in surrender before gesturing at you. "Now let's get naked so we can have lots of protected sex."

You had to fight back a surge of laughter but let a few giggles escape when you found Bob looking at you with an amused look of his own. You were glad that the two of you were still able to joke and be you even in an intimate moment like this, relieved that it didn't suddenly become serious.

Clothes were discarded and quick kisses were exchanged as the two of you inched closer and closer to where you both really wanted to be. After your bra had been unclasped and thrown into the void with every other item of clothing, and Bob had thoroughly explored your chest with both his hands and mouth, you fell back onto the bed with him on top of you for another round of kissing. It's like the two of you couldn't keep your lips separated for longer than necessary.

His bare chest pressed into yours, a sheen of sweat gliding between you, as he rocked his hips against you, grinding his hard length into your clothed pussy.

If you'd told Bob at the beginning of the evening that this was how his night would end then he would've laughed and told you he didn't believe you. But now that he was here, he couldn't have imagined it any other way. That's what made him realise that enough was enough.

He suddenly broke the kiss and sat up again, kneeling in between your legs. Hooking two fingers into the waistband of your panties, he made eye contact with you. "May I?"

You nodded vigorously.

Bob shook his head. "Words."

You could've orgasmed right there and then. "Yes, you can."

He took that answer and started to slide your panties down your legs slowly, helping you to lift your hips to get them off easier. Once they reached your ankles he plucked them off and cast them aside, planting a quick kiss on your calf before lowering your legs either side of him again.

You reached for the condoms to pass them to him, aware that you were only the one step of removing his underwear away before he'd finally be inside you.

But he pushed your hand aside, choosing instead to slide his palms down your thighs. "In a minute."

"We haven't got forever, y'know. Get on it." You laughed, curious as to what he was doing.

"Gotta get you ready first." He mumbled, pushing your legs apart so he could see better.

Oh? "I can assure you that I'm plenty ready and wet and would like your dick inside me now please."

"So polite." He hummed with a smile on his face. "And I can see how wet you are. Just gotta make sure that you're relaxed enough to take me."

"Somebody's confident about their size, huh?"

He laughed as he shook his head. "Would you rather me not go down on you?"

As much as you were teasing him not to, you very much wanted him to. "Fine, if you insist." You replied with a sigh and an exaggerated roll of your eyes.

Bob almost chuckled, but when he looked up into your eyes again he was met with an angelic vision. You were stretched out on the bed, naked, for him. All for him. He reminded himself to thank the universe at some point. But, before that, he needed to thank you by making you come.

He shuffled back on the bed, moving your legs over his shoulders as he did so, and laid flat on his stomach before you. And got to work.

Bob practically devoured you.

You writhed underneath his grasp, one of his arms thrown across your stomach to keep you in place, as he licked and sucked at you. Your clit throbbed against his tongue as he flicked it from side to side over the sensitive spot. One of your hands flew to tangle in his hair as your legs trembled on either side of his head.

"Oh- oh, my god." You panted, chest heaving with laboured breaths. You looked down at him to see that his glasses had fogged up. You let out a slightly strangled laugh at him as he decided to slide a finger into you at that moment.

"Fuck me. Fuck, fuck, fuck." You gasped and collapsed back onto the pillows.

Bob moaned into you and you let out a cry at the feeling of the vibrations running through you. His finger pumped in and out of you. Slowly at first before he increased the pace and then, once you were somehow even wetter, introduced a second finger.

And with two of his fingers inside of you, bending slightly to hit that sweet spot inside of you, along with his tongue making tight little circles on your clit, it didn't take long for the pressure to build in your lower abdomen and then suddenly explode through you. Your body shook with pleasure, a tidal wave of profanity and primal noises escaping your mouth.

Bob gave you no time to rest though, surging up your body and kissing you again, giving you a taste of yourself which had you moaning into his mouth. When he pulled back again, you smiled. His glasses were still foggy.

"Can you even see through these?" You asked, reaching up to take them off of him. Wiping gently at the lenses with your bedsheets, you awaited an answer.

"Not really. I usually take them off for this kind of thing. But I forgot. In the excitement." He looked away from you, embarrassed. Funny how he could still be shy despite having just eaten you out like no one else had before.

You hummed quietly, taking his face in your hands to direct him to kiss you again after you'd placed his glasses down on your nightstand as you wrapped your legs around the backs of his and bucked your hips up towards him. "Are we going to do something about you now? Because I know you've been hard since we first kissed."

"I was hoping you hadn't noticed how quickly that happened." The low, raspy voice was back and you felt yourself melting a little on the inside.

"Difficult not to when we were practically dry humping in the middle of the kitchen." You trailed a finger down his torso over his, extremely sculpted, abs and stopped at the waistband of his boxers, hooking the tip of your finger inside.

He watched what you were doing. "I did get a little carried away there, granted."

You paused, asking him the silent question of approval to carry on, before slipping your hand into his underwear and grabbing him. His skin was soft and velvety under your palm and, before you even had the chance to start stroking him, his dick twitched in your hand. "Mmm... so sensitive, Bobby."

He whimpered quietly, squeezing his eyes shut.

You reached for the box of condoms again, realising this probably wouldn't last very long if you did much else with your hand, and pulled one foil wrapper out. Quietly uttering his name to get him to open his eyes again, you pushed the condom against Bob's chest. "Put it on."

He didn't reply, didn't need to reply, just followed your instructions and did as he was told. Straightening up again into a kneeling position, he flailed around a little in an attempt to kick his underwear off. You tried not to laugh. When he succeeded, he ripped the packaging open with his teeth and rolled the condom onto himself in one smooth motion. And then he positioned himself over you, notching the tip of his length at your entrance.

He looked down at you for confirmation to go ahead.

You had one last teasing comment. "Your confidence in your size was warranted."

He huffed out a laugh. "I'd be insulted in your lack of confidence if I didn't love you so much."

Warmth bloomed through your chest. It had been implied several times throughout the night but hearing the words come out of his mouth meant so much more. He loved you.

You beamed up at him. "Glad to know that your love for me overrides any possible offence. I'll be using that to my advantage in future. Now please fuck me, I'm going crazy here."

Bob adored the way you were able to flip a conversation so easily. But he was glad you'd said it as he was beginning to experience his own temporary insanity being on the brink of having sex with you but not quite being there just yet.

He pushed into you slowly at first and then all at once, not being able to hold himself back. Once he'd bottomed out he paused for a moment, a choked groan leaving his throat. You whined at the stretch, glad for the previous orgasm prepping you for this.

"Just- just give me a second." Bob warned you, hanging his head as he took deep breaths.

Patiently, you waited.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for him to get a grip of himself as he eased out of you before slamming back in again. You gasped at the sensation. He set a pace, a steady yet almost brutal one. The loud sounds of sex filled the room and you hoped your neighbours were long asleep.

Bob buried his face in your neck, using his elbows to keep himself from smothering you. The noises he let out into your skin were heavenly and you were thankful that they weren't too muffled. You clawed as his back, making scratches that you'd have to apologise profusely for the next day.

"Fuck, harder please. Please harder." You didn't think it was possible for him to go any harder, the way he pounded into you already making the headboard shake, but you begged him to anyway. And somehow he found a way.

Your skin prickled with a burn where he slapped against you, one of his large hands sliding down to grip harshly at the flesh of your ass in order to pull you impossibly closer to him. He continuously hit that sweet spot inside of you, your eyes rolling back in your head at the feeling. The pressure was steadily building in your stomach, getting tighter and tighter with every thrust of Bob’s hips.

You clung onto his shoulders tightly as you plummeted off the edge, your thighs locking in on either side of him to lock him in place. Bob paused his movements for a second, feeling you clench around him as your throat formed a silent scream that came out as a gasp, and only started up again when you relaxed beneath him.

He pulled away from your neck to look down at you, finding a giddy smile on your face. He kissed you, all teeth and tongues, as he pumped into you a few more times before spilling into the condom. And then he collapsed on top of you.

The two of you stayed there for a couple of minutes, both catching your breath.

“I’m glad you had so many failed dates.” Bob whispered into the glistening skin of your chest.

You laughed quietly. “Me too.”

He eased himself up slowly, pulling out of you with a hiss, to dispose of the condom. “Do you think Phoenix purposely set you up on bad dates so you’d admit your feelings for me?”

You thought about it for a second. “Probably. She knows I’ve had a crush on you for forever. And I can’t think of any other good reason that she’d set me up with a sunset hater.”

Bob pulled back the covers on the bed and gestured for you to get in, crawling in beside you. “Can’t believe that guy.”

“I know!” You laughed and turned on your side to look at him. “Wished she’d done it sooner then we could’ve been doing this for a lot longer.”

He joined in on your laughter. “Trust me, we’ll have plenty of time now to be doing this a lot more.”

You smiled. “I’m glad.”

He smiled back. “Me too.”

You scooted closer to each other, limbs tangling together into one big mess, softs words of love exchanged between you as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep in each other’s arms.

A/N: this is the longest thing I think I’ve ever posted as a single thing… hope you enjoyed!

[ohtobeleah]

Vice //

Summary: Bobs one vice in life just so happened to be the very embodiment of what banished Adam from paradise. The human equivalent of that stupid fucking apple that he and Eve ate. You were Bob's forbidden apple: His only vice in life. His guilty pleasure and undoing. You were Jake Seresins little sister.

Warnings: Bob Floyd x F!Seresin!reader. Age gap. Reader is 24. Bob is 35. Smut! 18+ only. Unprotected sex. Oral both male & female receiving. Porn with a slight plot. Star crossed lovers.

Word Count: 5.4k

Author Note: Lewis fucked us all up with this stellar outfit. Now it’s Bobs turn to fuck us.

“You enjoying the party?” Robert Floyd, for the most part, was an enigma of a man. He didn't drink, he didn't smoke, he didn’t gamble or participate in extreme sports. He didn't seem to have any sort of vice or undoing that threatened to short circuit his usually settled persona. His ability to just exist without an urge to go a little off the rails drove Jake Seresin up the wall. “Or at least trying to?” Jake asked as he nudged at Bob's shoulder. 

The usually egomaniacal aviator had invited all the Daggers to his family's summer vacation home for a weekend off. And let’s face it—If there was one thing the Seresins knew how to do it was throw a fucking party. And oh boy, did Bob Floyd have a reason to accept that invitation–because unbeknownst to his entire team, the people who knew him better than most, he did in fact have an undoing, he did have a vice. 

That vice just so happened to be the very embodiment of what banished Adam from paradise. The human equivalent of that stupid fucking apple that he and Eve ate. You were Bob's forbidden apple: His only vice in life. His guilty pleasure and undoing. 

You were Jake Seresins little sister. 

“I'm officially Nats personal beverage holder.” Bob replied as he stood with Jake overlooking the deck littered with people dressed in ridiculous neon he didn't know, didn't care to get to know and people he knew of that really didn't seem to know he was there. Except Jake's immediate family, and the Daggers. “But yeah–it's been a good day.” Lies, complete lies. Bob just wanted to go home. He wanted to change out of the ridiculous outfit Phoenix had helped him toss together and just be. His only reasoning behind accepting the invite out to good ol Texas was you. 

And much to Roberts Floyds dismay, he hadn’t seen you all day. You weren't present at the Seresin family get together. That was a crime in and of itself, but Bob couldn't blame you for skipping out. Hell he kinda wished he had to. 

“Why don't you let your hair down a little?” Jake smirked as he took the beer in Bob's hand and took a swig. It was now his, Phoenix could get another one. “Crack open a beer, kick your feet up?” Jake continued as the sun had begun to set over the waters edge. “You’re off duty, and I won't snitch.” 

“I'm good.” Bob smiled softly, this just wasn't his thing. It was clearly Rooster's thing though, he hadn’t stopped all day. He’d been running a complete muck with Coyote for what felt like forever. Bob was pretty impressed the guy was still standing. “I haven't seen your sister around?” Bob tried to play it off as casually as he could, but there was a split second in the silence that followed where Bob thought that his casual curiosity could have been taken as more than just that. “Just noticed she wasn't here, the rest of the Seresin gene pool is.” It was the easiest excuse Bob could have given to throw Hangman off his scent. Jake raised a single brow for a few seconds as he looked at his fellow aviator–trying to decipher if there was more to that statement than met the eye. But as he took another sip of the beer he’d stolen, pondering, he decided Robert Floyd wasn't exactly your type. 

“Nah, she's still in Alberta the last time I spoke to her.” Although there was a caution in Jake's tone, he gave Bob the reason behind your absence. “Living the life of the young and the free.” He chuckled to himself softly as he shook his head. You had always been what your family considered a ‘Flight Risk’. Jake understood it, your parents not so much. You were the black sheep, the one out of the three Seresin siblings that didn't have a career plan by the age of fifteen and a scholarship to college by graduation. “Miss her though.” It was then Jake looked at Bob with squinted eyes before he placed the now empty beer bottle back into his hand. “Don't ever tell her I said that.” 

Hang on–Was that supposed to be a test? Bob didn't know what to say, so he cleared his throat and shook his head as he pressed his lips together in a fine line. The safest thing to say right now was nothing at all. Play meek. It worked out well enough for him so far. 

“Try to at least look like you’re enjoying yourself man.” Jake teased as lovingly as he could before he turned to head on down towards the lake. It really was a beautiful time of year, Bob would at least admit that. 

While everyone around him seemed to be overindulging in extracurricular activities that made Bob feel more like a recluse than ever before, he wandered into the lakehouse that could technically be considered a mansion. The place was massive. Made of old pine and oak. He made his way upstairs to the bathroom closest to the room he was sharing with Fanboy and Rooster. He thought he’d hide out for a while, have a shower, decompress, and hopefully find it somewhere inside himself to enjoy the rest of the festivities to come later in the evening. 

But as Bob turned the handle on the old wooden door that led into one of the many bathrooms in this mansion-esk lake house the Seresins owned, he was stunned to see you stepping out of the shower in a towel that just barely covered your ass. 

“Hey! Do you mind!?” You hissed at the sound of the door opening behind you. Bob's jaw nearly hit the ground with a thud at the sight before him. You were the last person to expect to see here. Especially not even fifteen minutes after Jake had just told him you were still in Alberta. In a whole other country, a million miles away from where he wanted you to be. 

Here. 

But somehow you were. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a cruel summer after all? 

As you turned around to see who had inadvertently forgotten the universal code to knock before entering a closed bathroom to scold whoever it was that intruded on your privacy, your hardened expression of annoyance softened almost immediately as the person standing in the doorway. Not yet in the bathroom, Bob stood still in the hallway silently and in shock. How were you even here right now? Naked in the bathroom after what seemed like a shower? With sopping wet hair and glazed skin. 

“Jesus Christ Bob don't you knock!” You hissed as you reached over to pull Bob into the bathroom by the neon muscle-T he wore. Before you shut the door and made sure to lock it, you looked both ways down the hall. Nope, not a single soul was in sight. Good. “You scared the hell out of me.” 

Bob's eyes lit up at the sight of you before him. His eyes were clear as baby blue crystals on a good day–but whenever he was looking at you? Robert Floyds eyes let you know where home was. 

“What are you doing here?” Bob asked as he watched you walk over to the vanity to continue drying your hair. Holding it to one side as you looked at him in the mirror looking at you. He stood behind you with hands gently holding your hips, thumbing at the fuzzy fabric of the towel that clad your curves. “Your brother just told me you were still in Alberta. I've spent the most of my day looking around for you only to find out you weren't even coming.” A one sided smirk appeared across your face as you watched Bob duck his head to kiss the exposed skin of your neck. He paused against you to take in the aroma of your body wash, Raspberries and Juniper. “But yet here you stand? What gives, kid?” 

You and Bob had a complicated thing going. The first time you met the big eyed, bigger hearted Weapons System Officer was at a ceremony acknowledging the efforts and near sacrifices the Daggers had made during the uranium mission that saw your older brother permanently stationed in North Island. 

Bob was the cute guy who never took his eyes off you the entire night, he swore he could watch you for hours on end without ever getting tired of the view. You reminded him of someone though, your mannerisms, your laugh, the way you show boated when you won that game of darts against Rooster. That's when the penny dropped. 

You were Hangman's little sister. Forbidden and untouchable. 

“I heard that a certain detachment team was on the annual invite list and changed my mind last minute.” You explained softly as you held Bob's arms in your own around your waist. His chin fell to your shoulder as he held you tight to his chest. Looking at you looking at him through the mirror in front of you. “I missed you.” 

“Is there a reason why you’re out here in the cold instead of inside where the party is, Lieutenant?” Bob heard a voice coming from behind him as he looked out over the back deck of the Hard Deck. he just needed some fresh air to wrap his mind around the fact he thought a Seresin was stunning. 

“You must be the famous sister we’ve all heard so much about?” Bob replied as he watched you come to stand beside him, fishing out one of those stupid vape things Fanboy had told him about from your back pocket. “Hangman talks highly of you.” Bob's eyes lingered on the way you held it to your lips, he watched as you inhaled, held, pulled the contraption away from your glossed lips and gestured it out for him to take as you blew the excess away. 

“Reluctantly, that's me.” You admitted. “You’re Lieutenant Floyd.” Bob's heart skipped a beat when you said his name. He wanted to ask you how you knew but his expression must have given it away because through a soft chuckle of your own you answered the question on the tip of his tongue before he even had to ask. “It's pinned to your jacket.” Right.

“Those things will kill you ya know.” Bob smiled softly as he watched you take another hit as you looked out over the railing, leaning against it with your elbows. “Aren't you worried?” 

“As opposed to flying F-18’s into enemy territory on highly classified missions?” You shot back through a teasing smile before you pocketed the thing you knew you should probably give up before it became an addiction. “We all die soon enough Lieutenant Floyd, living in the moment is more my speed.” 

“Bob.” Bob replied with a soft smile. “You sound like your brother, but please, call me Bob.” There was a moment of silence shared between the two of you before you looked the aviator up and down with a knowing eye. Before Bob knew what he was doing, he was following you down the steps towards his car, he was the designated driver for the evening for Phoenix, Rooster and Payback. But after you leaned in to whisper in his ear the hottest thing he'd ever heard– Bob venmoed them all enough to cover a taxi. 

“Well Bob, Bob Floyd, do you wanna get out of here?” 

“Yes Ma’am.” Bob knew it was wrong, but he swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded to your request. He did want to get out of there, with you. Yes. He’d never wanted to get out of somewhere more in his life. You were gorgeous.

You snuck in through Bobs garden gate every night that summer just to seal your fate. 

“I missed you too.” Bob held your gaze in the mirror as his hand began to wonder. You didn't stop him from exploring, but your graze broke from his as you watched his slightly callioused and large hand roam down the expanse of your towel clad pelvis. Slowly, seductively, all the while he broke from looking at you to kiss the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “You stopped texting me?” It was a question disguised as a statement, but you knew Bob wanted an explanation to your sudden lack of contact. It had been just shy of two entire months. “You miss me but you stopped texting me? That's a little contradictory, don't you think kiddo?” 

“I was trying to get over you.” Whimpers, that’s what your words came out like as your head fell back against Bob's exposed shoulder. His hand kept exploring—lower and lower until finally he was peeling up the fuzzy fabric of your towel. Creeping between your legs right where you wanted him. “You’re my brother’s—“ Before you could explain that you felt sick of yourself for crossing the line with Bob, his fingers were delicately and deliberately slipping past your slick folds as your knees nearly gave in. You had to reach up and out around Bob's necks to steady yourself. Your breath caught in your throat as Bob's nimble fingers worked to slowly yet oh so perfectly tantalise your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“I’m not your brother's anything.” Bob growled in your ear. You brought out a primal instinct in the Weapons System Office not a single soul but yourself had ever seen. “You ghosted me.” 

“You’re thirty five.” It wasn’t enough of an excuse not to fuck you. Again that was. Over and over and over again. 

“And you feel twenty something.” Bob smirked against your shoulder. The same shoulder he worked to mark up. “How old are you again?” 

“Twenty four—“ It came out barely above a whisper as you spread your legs a little wider as Bob spread your pussy apart. Circling the very spot he knew was your undoing. Its only purpose in life was to bring pleasure, that sensitive bundle of nerve endings. “Bob—“ You breathed as he snaked his supporting arm up from around your waist to untuck the white towel that had been hiding your perfect silhouette from him. It had been far too long for Bob's liking. “We shouldn’t—“ But Devils roll the dice and angels roll their eyes. What didn’t kill you made you want him more. “We really shouldn’t.” 

That fact was a no brainer. Bob knew he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be here in the bathroom of one of the most extravagant lake houses he’d ever seen. He shouldn’t be hiding away with you, Hangman's little sister, with the pads of two of his fingers dancing over your clit as you wither away in his warm embrace. He shouldn’t be obsessed with the way you sound trying to contain the whimpers that threaten to escape you as your arousal coats his digits.

Bob shouldn’t have slept with you the first night he met you. He shouldn’t have slept with you in the days and weeks that followed. He shouldn’t have felt the way you came around his length like you’d never felt an orgasm before. He shouldn’t have laughed when you told him you were starting to catch feelings—and Bob definitely shouldn’t have told you that he may or may not have been falling in love with you. Because that’s the last time he heard from you before you ghosted him. 

Bob knew he shouldn’t. But he was going to over and over and over again because he only had one vice. One undoing. 

You. 

“Tell me to stop and I will.” Bob groaned as he stopped his taunting ways and spun you around to face him. The sudden loss of satisfaction made you pout, but when Bob shifted you up onto the vanity as he stood firmly between you legs, that pout vanished rather quickly. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll walk away. I’ll go back downstairs to that shitty party.” For a moment Bob reverted back into his normally reserved self. He ducked his head so your gaze couldn’t match his own. “I only came here with the hope in mind you’d be here.” 

It made your heart skip a beat inside your chest. You really liked Bob. He was kind and compassionate and he listened to you when you spoke, he didn’t just stand there and nod. Pretending. He valued your smile and your laugh and unlike your brother who gave him chronic headaches on his best days—Bob seemed to like the time he spent with you. He couldn’t get enough of you. 

“I want you.” Was all you said before you were fisting your palms into the fabric of Bob's muscle-T. Since when had he gotten so big? Bob wasn’t this big when you last saw him. His arms were the size of tree trucks now. You would have remembered that. “I’ve never not wanted you.” It felt so wrong but oh so right to admit as you pulled Bob's shirt up and over his head before you tossed it away. Forgetting its existence. “I'm sorry I ghosted you, it’s just you’re my brothers—“ Before you could finish your sentence Bob's lips were on yours in a feaverish kiss that took your breath away. His hands cupped at your cheeks to keep you close before he wrapped his digits into the mess of wet hair behind your head. 

“We all die soon enough, living in the moment is more my speed.” Bob interrupted as your eyes glazed over his, searching for any ounce of regret he might have. “Where’d that version of you go? The one who didn't care?” 

“She died when I started falling in love with you.” It was enough to send Bob over the edge as he drank in the sight of you. All his for the taking as he caressed your cheek with one hand. “That's why I left, you told me you loved me and I knew I loved you back and that's crazy, this, is crazy Robert.” Trying to deny inevitable feelings was never a good idea. All it did was cause chaos and suffering for both parties involved. “You can't love me, and I can't love you, it'll never work and my brother will kill you. He’ll delete you off the face of the earth!” You tried to smile through the tears that threatened to spill very momentarily. “And I don't know about you, Bob, but I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you.” 

“We’ll figure it out.” Bob cooed as he ran the pad of his thumb across your lower lips. “Right now though? I just wanna be with you.” With gentle hands you worked at the belt buckle that was cinched around Bob's waist. Looped around the jean shorts he wore that made his outfit all the more atrocious. “I've missed you, missed everything about you.” 

“Well Lieutenant–” You teased as you discarded Bob's belt to the side, it landed on top of the muscle-T he’d once been wearing as you slowly worked to unzip his fly. “Now seems like as good a time as any to get acquainted.” Bob's lips were once again on yours in a needy lust filled kiss the second he could break his gaze from your beautiful eyes. His hands were all over you, exploring your curves and dips as you sunk your hand into his boxer briefs. Palming him off as his soft moans echoed against the back of your throat. 

“Oh god–” Bob choked out as you worked your fist up and down his erection, standing to full attention and straining against the confines of his shorts. “Baby, baby I'm dying here.” It was all mumbled into your mouth as Bob continued his assault on your mouth, his tongue danced with yours expertly like it hadnt been two entire months since he’d last seen or felt you. “Let me get these pants off.” 

With a giddy grin that expanded ear to ear you pulled back so that you could watch Bob shimmy out of his jorts. He was a sight that made your mouth water. Since when did he get so fucking big? 

“You've been working out?” You asked to fill the silence that filled the bathroom. Bob hopped around on one foot for a second as he tried to rid himself of the remaining articles of clothing that still adorned his body. 

“Yeah well it was either that or through myself a pity party because the woman I admitted my love to up and vanished into thin air.” Bob huffed as he stood up straight, completely naked and exposed in front of you. “So yeah, I worked out, alot.” 

“How's your cardiac output?” You teased as you watched him step closer to where he’d left you on the vanity, pumping his hardened length a few times as he did so. “Because I’m in real need of a good fuck.” Bob's cheeks flushed a crimson hume at the way you spoke to him. He loved it, no one ever spoke to him the way you did. So open and free. “Make me feel good Lieutenant.” You pleaded through a needy whine as you felt Bob pull you forward by your hips. Lining you up with the tip of his shaft. Teasing your entrance as he slid his tip between your folds, collecting your arousal with every move. The sexual tension was enough foreplay for the both of you. “Bob, please.” 

With one motion, Bob was pressing himself inside you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Drawing him in as close as you could pull him as every inch of him slowly disappeared inside you. It felt heavenly, you felt full, complete. 

“Ohh fuck–” You gasped when Bob bottom out and pressed his forehead to yours. “God did your dick get bigger too?” Bob chuckled at your remark as he remained still inside you, giving you a second to breathe and stretch to his girth. He had always loved the sight of your pretty and perfect pussy full of his cock. 

“Not that I've noticed.” Bob smiled as he kissed you before slowly pulling out a few inches only to push himself back in. working up a slick rhythm that made the pair of you lose all sense of any consequence that may come of your impromptu rendezvous. “You’re perfect, so perfect for me aren't you baby?” It felt like heaven and hell all at once. 

“Missed your cock.” You whined as Bob picked up the pace enough that it had your jaw dropping and your eyes rolling. “Oh god feels so fucking good.” You could feel the grip Bob had on your hips as he fucked into you–manouvering your body just enough that when his balls slapped against the curve of your ass his tip kissed your cervix. “Ahh–” 

“Shh–” Bob pressed the palm of his hand across your mouth to silence your screams. “Do you want someone to find us?” He asked as he picked up the pace. Fucking you hard. “Do you want your brother finding out who fucks you this good? That you like older men? Is that what you want, baby? For him to catch us in the act so you don't have to tell him?” Your lungs felt like they had been ignited from the lack of oxygen as Bob kept his hand across your mouth and pressed up against your nose. It felt otherworldly, being manhandled like this, dominated. 

Bob didn't dominate at anything in life. But he sure did dominate in the bedroom. 

“Let me get a taste of you gorgeous.” Bob groaned as he pulled out of your fucked out cunt, watching as your arousal dripped out and down to your ass. He dropped down to lick a nice line up your pussy—collecting anything you’d give him as he settled around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Shaking his head all the while his glasses fogged. 

“Ahhh! Fuck! Bob!” Your legs shook as your hand flew down to grip at Bob's hair, slightly damp from swimming, slightly dry from the heat of the sun he’d once been in. Now? He was between your legs, enjoying his favourite meal. 

Bob lapped away at your dripping core for what felt like an eternity. You weren’t going to complain about it either as you pulled at his hazel locks and let your legs drape over his strong shoulders. You wanted so badly to say it out loud. Your heart was near bursting out of your chest with need to scream it to the heavens as Bons eyes met yours from between your legs. So you said it. 

"I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?” Bob looked up grinning like a devil. 

“So sweet, you’re like candy.” Bob's chin was coated as he came up for air, you were so close. “Let’s see how pretty you look when you cum all over my fingers.”

“Please, please—“ You were so desperate to feel that familiar release. “Bob, I wanna cum for you.” With lustful baby blue eyes that seemed three shades darker he slipped two fingers inside you. Coaxing you forward in a come here motion. Knowing exactly what to do and when to do it to send you hurtling towards you first, but certainly not your last orgasm. “Ahhh fuck! Yes—yess!” 

“Oh I can feel you clenching around my fingers baby, why don’t you show me how pretty you look when you cry?” Bob knew you were standing on the edge with the way you were clinging to him. “Come on darlin’ don’t get all shy oh my now, cum of me.” It was as if your body knew who it belonged to as your feet rose and your legs shook. “Yeah that’s it, cum for me you filthy girl.” Bob growled as he watched your jaw slack. Your eyes began to roll into the back of your head as your chest puffed towards him. He pumped his fingers in and out of you so expertly that he had you gushing. Crying out his name like a perfect symphony. 

“Bob, Bob, ohhh fuck Bob!” Bob grinned ear to ear as he watched you cum, watched your entire body burn from his touch and only his. There wasn’t another man on earth who could make you come alive like Robert Floyd could. 

He fingered you through it, waiting until you were steady and breathing through it. Your back pressed against the mirror in an attempt to support yourself as Bob moved away to turn on the shower. 

Steam immediately began filling the bathroom that smelled of sex and need. You didn’t need any more time to come down from your high as Bob came back over to you with a naughty look in his eye. 

“What are you up to Floyd?” You giggled as Bob scooped you up off the vanity and carried you into the shower. Warm water rained down over the pair of you as Bob connected his lips to yours, pressing your back up against the cool tiles as you sunk low on his length. Taking him with ease as he slowly bucked his hips. 

“Just taking care of you.” Bob mumbled as he supported your weight up against the wall. Fucking into you like you were his personal sex toy. “Love being inside you, so tight and perfect, all for me.” 

Bob was quick to change his angle, he wanted to feel all of you, give you all that he could. As your tongues fought for dominance against one another Bob hooked his arms up under your knees and held your still. Bucking his hips into you with so much force it knocked the breath right out of your lungs. 

“Ahhh fuck oh my god—!” 

“Shhh, shhh I got you baby I’ve got you.” Bob smirked to himself. He loved the way you came completely undone for him. “You look so pretty like this, all fucked out with nowhere to run, I could keep you up like this all night.” That Bob could, the way his arms were glistening from the water pouring over you made you clench around him. He was big, bigger than ever before. “Oh god if you keep doing that I’m gonna cum.” 

“Wanna taste it.” You mumbled as Bob fucked into you. “You’re cum, I wanna taste your cum.” Bob had to refrain from filling you up then and there. The way you said it with such a needy little whine had him just about ready to burst. “Please—please Lieutenant.” There was also something about the way you’d call him Lieutenant from time to time that also got Bob all hot and bothered. It was different with you, you made his official rank into something that could be used as sexual gratification. “Let me taste you.” 

As Bob helped you get your feet down on the ground, Jake was in search of another bottle of tequila he could distribute shots with. Surprising, the house was empty—he thought he was the only one inside until he heard the unmistakable sounds of a man who was under the influence of sexual desire. 

“Who’s that?” Hake chuckled to himself as he raced up the stairs, curiosity getting the better of him. As he reached the top of the stairs, Jake heard the unmistakable sound of running water through old pipes, mixing together with desperate moans. 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, just like that darlin’ feels so good the way you're taking my dick down your throat right now.” Bob threw his head back as he held the back of your head with a splayed out palm. Helping to guide you up and down his shaft. “Gonna cum do that pretty throat of yours—“ Jake thought he was hearing things when he stopped outside the bathroom door. He swore he could hear Bob Floyd inside that bathroom. It couldn’t be, could it?

“Missed your cock so much— You giggled as you pumped your fist up and down Bob's shaft as he verged closer and closer to his high as you looked up at him. “Probably more than you missed me and my pretty pussy.” And that’s when Jake had to hold back the pride he felt for Baby Bob so it could make room for the rage that flooded his body in the moments that followed. 

“Shut it Seresin, keep suckin’ me off baby I’m so goddamn close.” Bob guided you head back to the tip of his cock that he tapped against your awaiting tongue. You took him down your throat with ease, gagging as he held you still with your nose brushing against his perfectly trimmed tamed pubic hair. “Ohhhh I’m there, I’m so there!” Bob groaned as he felt his orgasm pooling at the base of his shaft. “I’m gonna cum! Arghh—!” 

Jake felt a rage he’d never felt before bubble up inside his chest. He had never felt such a betrayal, Bob with his baby sister, with you. You were off limits to everyone—Jake always had his money secretly on Coyote since he’d known you the longest but Bob? The fucking WSO!? No. Not happening, or at least it won’t be happening again. 

“Oh god I’m cumming—shit shit shit shit!” Bob pulled his throbbing cock from your mouth as you gasped for much needed hair. He tipped you forehead back as you opened your mouth and welcomed the hot spurts of cum that coated your face. Washing away under the fall of the shower head. “Fucckkk—look at you baby, so pretty coated in all my cum.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“For the record?” Bob held you close to his chest as you stood before the fogged up mirror once again. Showered and wrapped back up in a fresh towel. “I’d keep secrets just to keep you.” He sighed as he kissed your temple, dressed and ready to join the party once again. Knowing that you wouldn’t be too far behind him. “I’ll see you soon?” 

“See you soon Bobby.” Just as Bob chuckled to himself and opened the bathroom door, an enraged Jake Seresin lunged at Robert Floyd, throwing a single punch that landed right against Bob's cheek that sent him down towards the ground with a thud. “BOB!” You gasped as you held your towel to your chest and raced to his aid as he groaned. “Jake! You ass hole! What the hell is your problem!” 

“Consider that a fucking warning Floyd.” Jake scoffed as he shook his throbbing hand. He’d been waiting outside the bathroom ever since he came upstairs. “Stay the hell away from my sister.” Jake spat as he walked away, leaving Bob a heap on the floor of the bathroom as you cradled him in your lap. Fuck. 

Yep. It was definitely going to be a cruel summer.

****************************

[bradshawssugarbaby]

High On Lovin' You - Bob Floyd x Reader

a/n: this is an entirely self-indulgent fic inspired by a dream I had the other day, not beta read and may have some errors? I tried y'all. also inspired by h.o.l.y. by florida georgia line

pairing: bob floyd x wife! reader

warnings/content: bob as a dad, mentions of pregnancy, breeding kink, p in v, creampie, smut, fingering.

word count: 2.1k

The Californian breeze was warm and refreshing as it blew in off the coast of Coronado, brushing against your skin. You followed Bob up the brick-laden steps of Rooster’s seaside home, your daughter, Sunday, balancing on Bob’s hip as he jogged up the steps. You couldn’t help but admire the way he managed to make something as mundane as running up a couple of steps holding a baby effortlessly attractive.

His sandy coloured hair had been brushed back slightly, a change from his normal, military-approved style, and his wire framed glasses had been replaced with a pair of prescription aviator sunglasses. His baby blue polo shirt hugged his figure, accentuating his toned chest, his biceps flexing against the sleeve of the shirt as he held Sunday. He’d dressed her this morning, in a baby blue gingham dress that matched the hue of his shirt perfectly, with her curly blonde hair pulled back off her forehead with a coordinating headband, adorned with a bow.

“You ready to go see Uncle Roo, Sunny?” Bob cooed at your daughter, stroking her cheek gently with his index finger as he spoke to her.

Sunday giggled and cooed at her father as the three of you walked around to the side gate of the house. Bob reached around over the gate door to unlatch it, and as you watched him, you couldn’t help but notice that his normally slender build was appearing more and more muscular and toned. You knew that Bob had been spending a lot more time with Rooster lately, and by extension, Hangman, who’d convinced all the guys to start hitting the gym with him before trainings under the guise of “team-building” but you were convinced it was because he didn’t want to work out alone anymore. The gym sessions combined with carrying an almost toddler around were enough to have an impact on Bob’s upper body strength.

Bob looked over to you for a moment, flashing you a smile before walking up to Rooster with a firm handshake and a hug. Bob set Sunday down on the grass to play, watching as she started playing. He’d insisted on giving you a break for the day, feeling guilty for spending the last week and a half working overtime and putting in longer hours as they trained for an upcoming mission. You knew there was no use in arguing with him about it, and the extra time spent with Sunday meant the world to him. Besides that, something about seeing Bob take on the role of doting dad was driving you crazy with arousal, and you were going to make sure you did something about it later tonight.

“Sunday, come here, honey!” Bob called as he chased after your now very active and mobile 11 month old daughter. 

Later that night, you watched as your husband whispered goodnight to your baby daughter over the monitor on your phone, your heart fluttering at the sight of him leaning his tall, slender frame down to kiss his little girl on the forehead, murmuring sweet sayings to her that were barely audible over the noise of the sound machine that was playing.

 “Ok, I think Sunday’s finally gone down for the night. They aren’t kidding when they say that sleep regressions are the worst, are they?” Bob chuckled as he bounded down the stairs, shaking his head as he gently wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in tightly towards his body. 

“Have I told you yet that you’re the best husband in the world?” 

“You might have mentioned it earlier when she spat up on my shirt right before Rooster’s party for his promotion, but I’d be ok with hearing it again.” 

A cocksure grin appeared on Bob’s face as he nuzzled into your neck, placing soft, gentle kisses against the curvature of your body. A soft, surprised moan fell from your lips as his mouth made contact with your skin, but that was all the encouragement Bob needed to start kissing a trail from the top of your shoulder up to your ear. His movements were playful and light-hearted, but he knew that was what drove you wild. His hands caressed at your waist, sliding down to your hips as he pulled you in closer to him with a gentle yank, the curves of your ass now pressed firmly against his body. You could feel the fabric of his dress pants beginning to tighten against you as he began hiking up the skirt of your dress, giving your ass a firm squeeze.

“Bobby!” You giggled, shaking your head as you felt your heart race as if this was your first time being intimate with him. 

That was the thing you loved about Bob, he made every time feel as great as the first - the passion, love and excitement of when you’d spent your first night together, recaptured as if it was happening all over again. Bob had always been a passionate lover - your first night together he’d sheepishly confessed to you that he’d only ever had one girlfriend before, and he dated her throughout his high school years until he graduated and left for the Naval academy at 18. He’d been worried that his lack of variety in the field had made him inadequate, and he assured you that, if there was anything he was doing that you wanted him to do differently, he’d learn it for you. It’d been nothing short of perfect - you teased him that he must have been reading Cosmopolitan or something to know all the right places to touch you and kiss you, to which he just shrugged, pushing his glasses up on his nose with a grin.

Since that day, it was clear to you that Bob was a people pleaser, and there was no one on earth who he wanted to please more than you.

“You looked so hot in that dress today, babe. You’re stunning, you know that?” He purred into your ear as he continued to run his hands along your body, his breath hot on your neck as he spoke in that low, seductive tone he knew drove you crazy.

“Robert Floyd, you’re pushing it,” you teased, shaking your head.

“Now, now, darlin’, that’s Lieutenant Commander Robert Floyd. If you’re gonna use my full name, better be using that rank too, got it, pretty girl?”

You gave Bob a mock salute, a shit-eating grin on your face as you looked at him. Bob pulled you in closer, holding your hips firmly against him, your dress hiked up to your midsection as he gave your sides a gentle squeeze, his fingers digging into your flesh ever-so-slightly as he held you. Grinding your hips against his, you grinned wickedly as Bob let out a groan. He spun you around quickly to face him, his blonde eyebrows raised quizzically at you. His bright, deep blue eyes were locked on yours and you felt like you might melt right there on the spot.

“Now, a pretty girl like you, she deserves to be treated right by her husband, doesn’t she?” Bob hummed, his fingers toying with your inner thigh. 

“Mhmm, is that so?”

“That’s what I reckon,” Bob smirked, his accent shifting, becoming thicker as he slipped into his natural Kentucky drawl, his fingers brushing against your wet slit.

“Bobby!” You hissed, unable to stop the soft gasp that came out of your mouth with it. 

“I think, since you do such a good job taking care of Sunday and I, I should return the favor, don’t you?” 

Before you could open your mouth to speak, Bob pushed two of his long fingers past your folds, pumping them into your core at a tantalizing slow pace that left you practically aching for more. He smirked as his fingers worked at your core, feeling your body clench at the movement of his hand. 

“Fuck, Bobby,” you mewled, feeling yourself tensing up at his touch, “Feels s’good.”

Bob pulled his fingers out of you, your body aching at the loss of contact. He stood upright, quickly undoing his belt at a break-neck pace. He smirked as he noticed you biting your bottom lip, watching him as he shimmied quickly out of his khaki coloured dress pants and boxer shorts. Reaching into the pocket of the now discarded pants on the floor, he pulled out a shiny foil square of packaging. As he started to open it, you shook your head, whispering in his ear, your voice in a breathy whine as you spoke.

“We don’t need to use that if you don’t want to, baby. I wanna feel you.”

“That so, baby? Thought you wanted at least two years between kids?” He laughed softly, raising an eyebrow quizzically at you.

“I know what I said. That was before I saw you handling Sunday so well at Rooster’s this afternoon. Now I’m thinking 20 months is good enough,” you replied with a shrug, your lips curling into a smirk as you tried to convince your normally level-headed and rational thinking husband to forgo any form of contraception. 

Bob furrowed his brow in thought for a moment before tossing the condom wrapper behind him with a grin.

“What the hell, I’m on board,” He shrugged as he lifted you up, causing you to squeal in surprise as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Bob carried you effortlessly over to the couch before dropping you gently down on to the leather sectional. He grinned as he hovered down over you, lining himself up with your entrance. He dragged the tip of his cock against you in a teasing manner, causing you to shudder and whine as you felt him make contact with your clit. He gave you a wicked grin as he watched you squirm before gently pushing himself forward. He paused for a moment for you to adjust to his size - something you should be used to by now, but yet, each time your body needed that extra moment or two to stretch around him. 

“That’s it, pretty girl, taking my cock so well,” Bob cooed as he pushed himself further into you, maintaining the slow pace he’d begun with. 

“Bobby,” you whined as he filled you, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly.

Bob began thrusting into you at a leisurely, slow pace, his voice low and husky as he grunted in your ear, reminding you of how good you feel, how you were all his, and how your body felt like it was practically made for him. You squirmed and shuddered with each thrust becoming harder and sharper, perfectly calculated to hit exactly where you wanted each time, something that was to be expected of a man who’s job entailed precision and skill when it comes to angles. 

“You feel so fucking fantastic, honey. Can’t wait to put another baby in ya. That’s what you want, isn’t it baby? Want me to give you another baby?”

Bob’s hips crashed into yours repeatedly as he thrusted, his sharp, quick movements beginning to grow sloppier as he edged closer to his orgasm. You tossed your head back in ecstasy as he bucked his hips into you, the combination of his words and his movements just about pushing you to your orgasm. 

“C’mon honey, tell me what you want from me,” Bob husked.

“Need you to put a baby in me, please, Bobby,” you cried out, unable to hold back any longer as his latest thrust pushed you to your boiling point.

As if your words flipped a switch inside of him, Bob’s hips bucked forward once more as he grunted, spilling out inside of you as your body clenched around him tightly.

Breathless and panting as you both rode out your orgasms, Bob couldn’t help but laugh as he looked at you, shaking his head.

“So what was it about my parenting that got you worked up?” He smirked, unable to shake the grin off his face as he leaned down to kiss your collarbone.

“Honestly?”

“Honestly, I know something got you worked up today, and I doubt it was the backyard barbecue at Rooster’s.”

“Your biceps have gotten huge from carrying Sunday around everywhere, and with the polo shirt and the aviators today, and you were all proud of yourself for coordinating your outfit with Sunday’s, it was a combination of things, but,” you breathed, shaking your head as you grinned, “imagine how you’ll look balancing two toddlers on your hip.”

[peachesandcreames]

Sunday Gun Day 🔥🥵

[vivwritesfics]

Romp In The Hay

Bob, his partner, and their perfect life on their farm

Warnings: smut, p in v, sweet shit

He starts his day off in a thick jumper, working from the moment the sun rises. His love is still sleeping, and that's the way he likes it. Starting to work while his partner kept sleeping.

By the time the sun bathes your farm in warmth and light, he pulls his jumper over his head and hangs it over the fence as he feeds the cows. His ladies. He throws their feeds into the trough so he can distract them to get the hay into their field.

Waking up, you walk to the window. With no neighbours but the animals on your farm, you stand in the window with the sheet wrapped around you.

It takes him a minute to spot you, and his hand raises in a wave. You can't help but stare at him, at the way his arm flexes as he waves.

As soon as the cows have hay and water, he grabs his jumper and heads back into the farm house. Getting dressed into his clothes, you make your way down to the kitchen and get started on breakfast.

"Good morning," he says, walking up and wrapping his arms around you. Half the time his voice was raspy from lack of use in the morning, but he had been talking to his cows this morning, making his voice usable. His lips meet the exposed skin of your neck.

"Good morning, Bobby," you reply, hand coming up to push your fingers through his hair. It had gotten long since he left the navy, but it suited him. "How are the girls this morning?"

"Mabel is ready to pop." He sits down at the kitchen table and you plate up his breakfast. Mabel,his favourite cow. It had taken so many tries to inseminate her, Bob was so worried you were going to have to get rid of her, sell her for meat. This time, it took. Bob was over the moon when the vet told you of Mabels fate. Her calf is going to be gorgeous, you both know.

You kiss your husband before he digs into his breakfast. Bob pushes his glasses up his nose as you sit opposite him. "What's on the agenda for today?" You ask.

Bon takes you through it. It's a busy day, but every day on the farm is a busy one. Your hand touches his across the table. "Do you think we'll have any time for the two of us?"

Bob blushes red at your question. He clears his throat as he stands up and grabs both of your plates. He drops them into the sink and walks over to give you a kiss on the head. That's all the response you needed.

The two of you get on with your day. Work on the farm is hard, but the both of you wouldn't give it up for the world. Being able to watch Bob getting hot and sweaty is definitely a bonus.

When he goes into the barn, you follow him. You stop him from grabbing the straw for the chicken coop and take his hand, pulling him further into the barn. "C'mon, Bobby," you whisper with a shy smile and begin unbuttoning your top.

Call him a weak man, but Bob just can't say no to you. He let's you pull him closer, presses his lips to yours as you pull him onto the hay. His hands grip your hips, flipping the two of you over so that you sit on top of his.

His glasses were knocked askew as he kisses down your neck. Your movements are slow, almost gentle as you grind down onto him. "Fuck, honey," Bon grunts between kisses.

Sweetly and slowly, you undress each other. The two of you drop your clothes onto the floor of the barn before you return to each other, unable to stay away for too long.

Bob's hands roam. Where they were once soft, they're now rough, with calluses. The feel of them against your skin is something you never want to forget.

Your hand travels down his stomach. He's softer now than when he was in the navy. Still strong and physically capable, but soft. His stomach isn't all hard ridges and muscles beneath your fingertips.

Your hand wraps around his cock. He sucks in a breath at the feeling.

The two of you fumble through foreplay, desperate for Bob to be inside of you. And, when you finally sink down onto him, Bob releases a breath. "I wish we could stay like this," he whispers, his fingers dancing up your side.

You shift your hips. "We've still got stuff to do," you answer, hands settling on his chest.

Bob pulls you in, kisses you slowly. His hips begin moving, gently thrusting up into you.

It wasn't fucking, it wasn't just sex. It was the two of you savouring what little time you have. Bob holds your hips, moves you above him. His breath comes out in short pants, but he didn't slow down.

Moans fill the barn. Neither of you have to care. There is nobody around to hear you, nobody around to catch you in the act.

It was easy to come undone around Bob. With his entire attention of you, you fall apart around him. It seems to be effortless for him, almost like he he doesn't have to try.

You slump against him, lips touching his chest.

Bob gave a few more desperate thrusts. "Squeezin' me, honey," he whispers, eyes screwing shut. His hips stutter as he finishes, spilling inside of you.

The hay hadn't been itchy on either of your skin until now. Maybe it was because you have to much to do, the feeling against your skin forcing the two of you to get up and get dressed.

There was no time to do anything other than pull Bob towards you, give him one last kiss before you get on with the rest of your work.

Life is perfect. Life on your farm, life with your husband.

[mynameismckenziemae]

Every Part of You

Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: Bob shows you how much he loves your body; curves and all. Based on this prompt (thanks @phoenix-rising-starbird-one for the idea!).

Rating: Explicit! This is intended for adults (18+) only! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: smut, dom!Bob, body worship, cum play, ass play, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, spanking, uniform kink, mirror sex, body insecurity. I think that’s it.

Please note-reader is curvy and has hair long enough to pull. If that offends you, don’t read.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

"Come in," you call when the doorbell rings, knowing it's Bob, "I'm in here."

"Sorry I'm late, that last hop took longer than expected," he replies, toeing his off shoes by the door before entering the living room, "I haven't showered yet either, couldn't wait any longer to see you...”

He trails off when he sees you biting your lip, looking him up and down like he's a piece of meat.

You thought he was cute when you met him on the beach in a tee shirt and swim trunks, more so later when he had put jeans and a sweatshirt on for the bonfire. Handsome when he wore slacks and a button down on the first date, sexy when he woke you up with breakfast in bed the next morning in nothing but gray sweatpants.

The bottom line is he always looks good. But in service khakis? He's downright mouth-watering.

"I've never seen you in uniform," you murmur as you rise, fingers tracing the color ribbons on his chest, “you look good, Bobby."

"You think so?" His lip quirks before he brushes his lips over yours.

You nod as you wait for him to kiss you, but instead, he kisses the side of your mouth down to your jaw, shivering at the smell of his clean sweat and jet fuel.

"You look good too, honey," he murmurs, his big strong hands finding your legging-clad ass to squeeze, "love your ass in these."

A bashful smile tugs at your lips as he continues his assault on your neck as he walks you back towards the couch, lifting the oversized tee over your head.

Bob loves your body; even the fuller, thicker, and squishier parts you hate. But when you open your eyes and see your reflection in the large mirror in the corner beside the couch, those parts are all you can focus on.

"Let's-ah," you sigh breathlessly when he nips your collarbone, reaching around your back to unclasp your bra, but you hold it up by the cups before it can fall. "Can we take this to the bedroom?"

Where the late afternoon sun isn't steaming in through the sheer curtains, and there are blankets to cover up with.

Your back arches when he sucks a bruise there before opening his eyes, brow furrowing when he finds yours focused on your soft belly instead of him.

"Nah," he replies, continuing when your eyes flick to his in the reflection, "I want you right here. Right now."

Oh.

"Why do you want to go to the bedroom?" He asks though, sensing your hesitation.

"I don't know," you lie, looking away and focusing on the tan buttons of his shirt, "it's just... kind of bright out here."

"Which is exactly why I want to stay," he tilts your chin, forcing you to look at him, "so I can see your beautiful body."

Without thinking, you huff out a laugh of disbelief and your eyes roll before widening at your rudeness.

"Sorry, that was-"

"Disrespect of a superior officer," he interrupts with an exhale, slowly shaking his head.

His body language shifts in an instant as he straightens. Gone is your sweet, easy-going boyfriend. The man who stands before you radiates a quiet, but unyielding confidence.

Arousal races through you at the change.

“I’m sorry Bobby,” you gulp at the new, almost predatory look in his eyes, “I’m just-“

“Just digging yourself in deeper with your fake apologies?” He finishes for you while he gently pulls your hands away from your chest, letting the bra from your arms, “and it’s ‘sir’ to you.”

You choke back a whimper and your nipples tighten in response to his request-no, his order.

“Put your hands on the mirror,” he says, lightly flicking your nipple before stepping back.

You take a shaky breath in before doing as asked, looking at the floor instead of your flushed face and naked breasts.

“I’ve let this behavior go on too long,” he says, slowly pacing behind you, “it ends today.”

“Wha beha-“ you cut off with a gasp when his hand slaps your ass, the thin material of your leggings offering no protection.

“I don’t want to hear anything from your pretty lips besides ‘yes sir’, ‘no sir’, or ‘stop’ if I do anything you don’t like. Do you understand?”

Your heart is about to beat out of your chest as you nod, which earns you another spank.

“Use your words.”

“Yes sir,” face burning at the way your voice shakes.

“That’s what I like to hear”, he replies, the smile evident in his voice as he pulls your leggings over your ass. “Pretty,” he whispers as his fingers follow the lace of your thong down your cheeks, chuckling when he feels how soaked they are taking them off too, “wet too, but you won’t be needing these either.”

He pulls your hips back into his to rub his clothed erection over your ass before sliding his hand up your spine, making you arch your back. His hand slides into the back of your hair and you whimper when he grips the roots, guiding your head up.

“Eyes on me,” he says lowly. Only his erection and the faint pink staining his cheeks give away how affected he is.

“Yes sir,” you whisper.

“I love every single part of you,” he punctuates it with a roll of his hips, “your beautiful eyes that I too often get lost in. Pouty lips that get me hard just from thinking about how they stretch around my cock,” his hand releases your hair, coming around to brush his thumb over them. He sucks in a breath when your tongue darts out to lick it.

“Your neck, God. Don’t know how many times I’ve thought about how good it would look with my hand around it,” his hand trails lower, making your eyes flutter when he lightly squezes. “The way your arms wrap around me in my sleep. Never knew I’d like being the little spoon,” he smiles into your neck as his hands slide down your arms to your hands, “the soft hands that fit perfectly in mine, that feel so good on my cock, this finger” he taps your left ring finger, “will have to hold up the rock I’m gonna put on it someday.”

Your already-pounding heart skips a beat at that. You’ve only been dating for 2 months.

“These,” he grunts, cock surging against your ass when he cups your breasts, “the way these full, gorgeous tits bounce when I fuck you, God. And the little sound you make when I do this,” he pinches your nipples and makes your breath catch, “yeah, that’s the sound. Sensitive pretty nipples. Could suck on ‘em all day.”

“Please?” You whine, eyes falling closed.

He steps away and you shiver when the heat from his body is gone too.

Your body jolts and your eyes fly open when his hand comes down on your ass a second later.

“Is ‘please’ one of the words I said you could say?” He asks after spanking your right cheek twice more.

“No sir!” You shake your head.

“Didn’t think so,” he gives the left side equal treatment before straightening to growl in your ear, “Keep your eyes on me.”

“Yes sir,” you pant, feeling a little lightheaded by how turned on you are. You don’t have to look to know your arousal is leaking down your thighs.

“Love your belly,” he continues, hands resuming their gentle journey like they didn’t just take your breath away with their harsh spanks, “so feminine and soft. Can’t wait to see it round and swollen with my baby inside.”

His nostrils flare as he thinks about fucking a baby into you. You whimper but don’t say a word, keeping your eyes on his.

“And your legs? Christ,” he breathes, rutting into you harder, “strong thighs that wrap around my head when you cum and squeezing tight when I don’t stop.”

It’s a love-hate relationship when he overestimates you like that.

“Hell, I even love it when you put your freezing feet on me to warm them up,” he chuckles, and you smile. He kisses your shoulder before he straightens, “Stay put while I get a condom.”

“No sir,” you blurt, shaking your head.

He gives you a questioning look, “What is it?”

“Take me bare,” you breathe, “I want to feel you without.”

His eyes squeeze closed as his head drops back with a groan. You squirm when he opens them again, hardly any blue is visible with how blown his pupils are.

“Are you sure?” He asks, hands going to his pants button, waiting for your answer.

“Yes sir,” you bite your lip, “We’re both clean.”

“Your period is due in a few days, right?” He asks as he fumbles with his pants before guiding his cock between your legs.

“Yes sir,” you laugh breathlessly that he knows your cycle that well as he pushes in easily even though hasn’t touched you there yet.

“Oh fuck,” his voice gets higher as he feels you for the first time without a barrier, “this pussy was made for me,” he groans, heading lolling back, “You’re so wet and warm.”

Your fingers turn white as your grip tightens on the edge of the mirror, whimpering as he fucks into you with fast, rough thrusts.

“And-and these hips, baby,” he pants, giving away he’s growing close. His fingers flex against them hard enough to bruise, “thick and full and the perfect place to hold while I make a mess of you.”

“Yes!” You nod, catching yourself quickly, “Sir! Yes sir!”

Even without any stimulation to your clit, you could cum like this. If he keeps going just that…

“Ah! Sh-shit!” He gasps, pulling out suddenly.

A strangled whine leaves you as he suddenly pushes between your cheeks to release there and across your lower back. A shiver wracks your body as you feel the warm evidence of his release.

“Mmm,” he hums as he releases your hips, sliding back to cup a cheek in each hand and squeeze, “I love your ass.”

You nod along, hardly listening anymore as your body trembles from being denied release.

“The way it jiggles when I pounds into you from behind,” fingertips trail through his release, gathering it before sliding them between your cheeks. You tense with a sharp inhale when he finds your puckered hole, “How good it’s gonna feel when I fuck it.”

“Yes sir,” you force yourself to relax, sighing at the foreign feeling of being touched there. It helps he’s kissing the sweet spot under your ear.

“I really like the recoil when I spank it,” his spent cock twitches back to life as if to emphasize his point, “which is going to happen whenever I think you need reminding of how much I love your body.”

“Yes sir,” you breathe, deflating a little when he steps away.

But he steps in front of you, “Did you really think I’d leave you wanting?” He drops to his knees with a smirk.

“No s-sir,” you stutter when he leans in to kiss your needy, swollen clit.

“Better not be,” he murmurs hotly against you, “now watch yourself. You need to see how beautiful you are when you cum.”

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Hope ya liked it 🙃

Tagging my Bob girlies:

@lexixstewart

@dizzybee03

@its-the-pilot

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@atarmychick007

@littlezee80

@k-k0129

@jessicab1991

@lonelysoul50

@landpiranha-blog

@fandomology101

@writtingrose

@rascallyrascalreads

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@sorchathered ry

[sebsxphia]

Imagine

Bob putting soft cock in his bunny so they can feel it grow and stretch them out

￫ a/n: oh goodness fucking hell yes please dear anon jesus christ i’m foaming at the fucking MOUTH rn 😵‍💫🤤

￫ c/w: cockwarming and p in v.

you’re pawing at his chest as you straddle him on the sofa, with your face nuzzled in between where his neck meets his shoulders and mouthing at his warm, bare chest.

“need you, bobby, please.” you softly whine.

he chuckles quietly before cooing at you. “i’ve got you, ‘m right here, bunny.”

one of his large hands is still cradling your head and letting his fingertips scratch your scalp. his other hand reaches down to the waistband of his grey sweatpants and pulls them down, freeing his soft cock. “it’s a little soft right now, bunny, but i’d never deny my sweetheart.”

the keenness of you rutting your hips along this thighs and hearing you needy whines, mixed with his hand giving it a couple of strokes, allows it to harden ever so slightly. it’s just enough so he can sit inside of you, but still soft enough that it doesn’t fill you whole.

you let out a huff of content breath at suddenly feeling so connected to bobby, before grinding your hips more. you’re still kissing and mouthing at his bare chest, with little groans leaving your lips.

“feels s’ nice, bobby. i like feeling you grow ‘n stretch me out.” you murmur against him.

bob lets out a silent, “oh.” before settling his large hands to your hips and moving them against his own. you whimper at each movement, being able to feel his tip nudge deeper inside of you and his shaft grow. you felt bob’s warm lips press against the shell of your ear and kiss you tenderly, with his voice soothing in your ear.

“does that feel nice, bunny? feelin’ my cock stretch out my sweet cunt? so good for me, letting me fill my sweet bunny whole.”

[attapullman]

If Only the Neighbors Knew | Neighbor!Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: A month of stolen kisses culminates in Robert hosting the HOA meeting and getting you on his couch. The ladies of the neighborhood may make him blush, but only you can make your sweet neighbor weak in the knees.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings + Notes: Robert "Bob" Floyd x f!reader, 18+ only folks, swearing, unprotected pinv, oral (f!receiving), self-indulgent as per usual, too many italics. Oh, I am blushing and humbled at all the love that Neighbor!Bob has received! It's exactly a month later and now he's back and making us collectively drop our panties again, as well as all the other women in the neighborhood! But don't worry, he's only got eyes for you ;) Happy Holidays, my dears, thanks for reading!

meet Robert From Next Door here

He’s setting up refreshments in the dining room. The perfect viewpoint to where you perch on his slate gray sectional, making small talk with the neighborhood. Knees primly crossed under your skirt, smile wide as you laugh about the neighbor kids’ shenanigans. And all he can think about was when you walked in, the soft flush in your cheeks when you said, “Hi, Robert,” and gave him the lightest peck on the cheek, as if you did it all the time. As if it didn’t make him weak in the knees.

The only perk of hosting the HOA meeting is that you’re in his home. The fact other people are also here? Not ideal. It’s been a month since he had you straddled on his lap, sweetly moaning into his mouth, and frankly he wants to send everyone home so he can try the same thing on his couch. 

But he offered to host because it’s the neighborly thing to do. Swung by the market on the way home from base and grabbed crackers and cheese, mixed nuts, and too many bottles of wine because once someone brings up the length of grass everyone turns to drinking.

He’s replenishing the plastic cups and water jug when he catches your eye. The small quirk of your smile, a silently flirty hi, has him flustered. Time to start this godforsaken meeting so he’s closer to getting you alone.

“So, Lieutenant Floyd, what’s new with you?” Mrs. Jacobs has already helped herself to enough wine by the time he joins the neighborhood in his sitting room. She’s flanked by her cronies - minions in matching sweater sets - and all instantly turn their attention on him. While not someone who normally turns heads, the day Robert Floyd bought his little bungalow with the creaky porch he was instantly the talk of the street. A young single Naval officer? The women could barely believe their luck. They were all married, but shameless flirting had never been out of question.

He takes a slow sip of his iced tea, biding time. On the other side of the room, he can feel your amused smile. The rumor mill would churn violently if anyone found out what was going on with you two. So you had been sneaking around the last few weeks. A few stolen afternoons kissing on the couch, errand trips turned into steaming up his truck’s windows. It’s been the best month of his life.

The WSO is spared answering when the president of the homeowner’s association clears her throat to start the meeting, shushing her grumbling husband. The collection of husbands sat at the back with their beers, arms crossed, giggling like schoolgirls at their comrade’s chiding. Normally Robert sat with them, but felt bold and came to sit near you on the sectional, one large decorative pillow acting as a barrier.

As expected, the meeting is trivially boring. While he tries to focus on repair costs and chimney safety, all he can think about is your hand only inches away. If he only shifted a few inches - only a few, it would be subtle - he could run the tips of his fingers along the back of your soft hands, intertwining your fingers and rubbing his thumb soothingly along your wrist. And if he was that close, he might as well dip his face into the crook of your neck, where the scent of your perfume was strongest and most delicious. While he was there, it would be so easy to press a k-

“Anyone have any questions about this?” He’s abruptly distracted from his daydream by several neighbors raising their hand, disgruntled by potential disruptions to their homes.

You catch his eye, eyebrows raised, curious on his thoughts about filter replacement. Or if he's as bored as you are. But he simply gives you a dazed, shy smile, his eyes lingering just a second too long on your lips.

The meeting adjourns - thank god - and neighbors create their cliques to download. It feels safe to start your own conversation (the first the two of you have spoken since you pressed a kiss to his cheek) and you turn to him eagerly. Just as you’re about to compliment his selection of cheese, a manicured hand reaches past you and touches Robert’s bicep.

Mrs. Jacobs and company have returned. “Lieutenant, before I head out I wanted to thank you again for taking care of my lawn last week. Such a big help.”

The tips of his ears blush pink, the tone of his neighbor’s voice a tad too suggestive for a simple chore. Mr. Jacobs was nearing his sixties and spent most of these meetings complaining about an old sports injury. It seemed the least the young WSO could do was offer landscaping help after all that rain last week. His mower was already out and he’d mown the Jacobs’ lawn without a second thought. 

It had helped you had been outside planting bulbs. He liked the eye candy in your slightly too tight jeans.

The women continue to praise him and his generous ways. His cheeks on fire as Mrs. Connelly gushed about how great it was to have a big, strong Navy man in the neighborhood. As much as he wants to look at you, the embarrassment flooding his system has his eyes glued to the hardwood.

“You know,” Mrs. Branaugh began, exchanging an excited glance with her friends, “the city hall fundraiser next month is a little short on volunteers for our auction. Any chance any other lieutenants would be available?” Her eyes shamelessly rake down his chest, practically salivating at the idea of fighter pilots parading around in suits. 

You feel the licks of jealousy itch at your palms. 

He sputters out words, unsure if they’re agreement or excuses. Robert’s suffocating on his embarrassment. Mrs. Connelly and Mrs. Jacobs delight in his blush. The latter gushes, “I’d be happy to pay any of them to mow my lawn this summer.” She turns to her friends and winks. “Shirtless, of course!”

You nearly spit out your drink. The host of the evening looks moments from passing out. Your middle aged neighbors are cackling, lost in their tipsy fantasies. It’s time for everyone to go home.

Thankfully most of the men are ready to leave the gossip fest and return to their abodes. Gathering up their wives and thanking Lt. Floyd for his hospitality, the neighborhood departs the tidy bungalow, calls of, “Come over for dinner sometime!” thrown over their shoulders.

Amongst those leaving is you, slipping on your winter jacket and adjusting a thick scarf for the short walk. Barely recovered from his neighbors’ lascivious comments, he’s sad to see you go. Wishes you would straggle behind and pretend to help clean up, only to ignore the dishes and catch up in the biblical way. He can practically feel your soft skin in his hands. But you give him that sweet smile of yours and follow Mr. Sampson out the door, the promise of another time.

He’s never hosting these meetings again.

After much coaxing from her husband, the last of his neighbors finally leave and he’s alone in his bungalow again. Finally. The cheerful oxford blue walls, the hand-me-down dining chairs, the framed photo of his squadron above the mantle. Being permanently stationed has its perks.

He makes quick work of cleaning, bringing the remnants of his makeshift cheeseboard to the kitchen before wiping down the dining table and straightening the couch cushions. The multitude of empty wine bottles are taken out to the recycling before turning off the porch light, ready to retire for the night. He’s getting a glass of water when a sound pricks his ear.

The faintest knock. So quiet he would miss it had he been anywhere else in the house. Instantly on the defense, tall, broad frame coming to its full height, he’s prepared for the worst as he approaches the back door that leads to his small yard. 

Another timid knock. 

The biggest, warmest smile takes over his face as he opens the door and sees his visitor. There you stand, cheeks pink with cold and your lip trapped between your teeth. You sneak. 

Robert quickly invites you inside, enveloping you with his warm body once you’ve toed off your boots. The hug has tension escaping every muscle, finally back in each other’s arms as it should be. The secrecy, while necessary, is the worst.

“Did you forget something?” His deep voice mumbles into your hair. You push back to look at his face, but his hands are steadfast on your hips, holding you exactly where he wants you. In the month of shared kisses and lighthearted flirting, he’s never had you alone in his house.

Resigned to resting your cheek against his shoulder, you reply, “Didn’t want anyone suspicious if I stayed behind.”

“Ah, so you did the ol’ double back?" You nod. "And you’re sure no one saw you?” His mischievous smile shows he’s all jokes, but in the back of his mind he’s curious if any of his neighbors saw you in the minute gap between your backyards. The same trek he’s been making for weeks after all the lights on the street are out.

You shake your head against his soft crewneck. It’s been three days since you’ve felt his warmth and you’re melting. The faint smell of sage and citrus - and a tinge of jet fuel - flooding your senses and you’re so glad you risked sneaking over. 

Watching him host the HOA meeting with his little refreshment table? So hot. 

While you both want to sit down over a cup of cocoa and catch up on how silly your neighbors are, something else is on your minds. It’s been lying dormant for weeks now, awaiting the moment to rear its head. And in the dim lighting of Robert’s house, on a quiet winter Friday night, the moment is just right.

The first kiss is intended to be innocent, lightly brushing his lips against yours to remind you of his affection. Enjoying the plush softness of your glossy lips. But when the softest of moans leaves you, desperation hits.

He needs you.

The two of you have been playing it safe - you are neighbors after all - but as mere mortals there are needs to be met. The softness of your skin. The broadness of his shoulders. The tension that has been building and building since he watched you dunk that tea bag and knew it was now or never.

You tear away from his face, as painful as it is, to rasp against his jaw. “Robert, your house is so nice. Can you show me your bedroom?”

Squeals of delight bounce off the hallway walls as he all but drags you to the other side of the house. His fingertips dig into your hips, a little too eager, his glasses slipping down his nose as he steals kisses. As he showers you in affection, you appreciate his home out of the corner of your eye. The small collection of black-and-white snapshots from different naval bases he’s worked on. A pencil holder that looks handmade. Your heart lurches for this man whose heart is too big for this bungalow.

Feet slow at a doorway, his hands steadying you against the frame. As you look up into his sky blue eyes, nerves shoot down both your spines. The delicious thought pops into your head that you’re finally going to see him naked and you feel lightheaded.

He can’t let himself think about your body or he will pass out.

His bedroom fits him. Lamps cast a cheery glow onto the mahogany dresser where he keeps a majority of the US Navy paraphernalia he’s been collecting since he was a child - little figurines and framed airshow stills. A large wingback chair sits cozily in the corner, laden with a flannel he had debated wearing; you’re glad he stuck with the buttery soft crewneck you can’t help running your palms over. And the main event, against the far wall, looking as inviting and luxurious as anything, is Robert’s king size bed. He prides himself on the curved wood headboard he spent a summer working on.

Tentatively, he takes your hand and invites you over the threshold. Your eyes rake over everything to find any red flags (none found - it’s okay he has a lot of plane figurines and not a lot of houseplants - he’s gone half the year, those plants are gonna die) before you let your fingers brush over the blue gray of his heavy plush comforter. Similar to his living room walls.

“You must like blue.”

Cerulean eyes sparkle. His fingers tangle in the cobalt cashmere of your sweater. “I really like blue.”

This time, your lips brush his. The softest sweep before letting yourself lean into him, greedily running your tongue across his thin lips, begging for entrance. His cheeks the softest mauve as he opens his mouth to groan his pleasure. Despite your new surroundings, it feels like home when your tiny pink tongue finds itself nestled against his.

A bolt of heat travels down your spine and your hands fist in his crewneck, torn between enjoying the soft fabric and wanting it off. While your hands are desperate and needy, running up and down his torso in indecision, he’s so soft and gentle with you. Fingers tracing the delicate slope of your jaw, a warm hand on your hip teasing the skin above your skirt. Sweet noises blown directly into your mouth as he savors your taste.

The past month has built this up. That year of tension? Absolutely nothing compared to the burning heat across your skin every time you see him now. You know how he tastes, how he smells, how he whines when you lick the spot behind his ear. The itch consuming your body needs to be scratched, needs to be tamed. You need him.

He seems to be on the same wavelength as you feel his hands lead your hips toward the bed, legs awkwardly backing up until they hit crisp bedding. The man keeps a tidy bed. You’re hopelessly more attracted to him.

Tenderly Robert lowers the two of you to the bed, your back relaxing against the blanket as your hair frames your face. The tips of his fingers trace your cheek as he appreciates how beautiful you are. Embarrassed by the attention, you pout until he brings his lips to yours again, loving the way his entire body encloses around you, keeping you safe.

Your legs have a mind of their own as they wrap around his hips, arms sliding down his torso. His cheeks heating as he catches onto you, his own hips rolling into yours. The low noises escaping your throat as he grinds against your bare thigh, turning him on even more. Your chest pressed against his, the swell of your breasts as your back arches - it’s heaven. If it weren’t for your grounding presence stroking a hand through his hair he would think Phoenix crashed the jet that afternoon.

Finally too impatient to wait any longer, you tug on the hem of Robert’s crewneck, silently begging for it to go. He sits up - awkward to do when his pelvis is glued against yours - and pinches the neck of it, shrugging it off his solid frame. Knocks his glasses askew a bit. When he turns back to you, white hot desire slaps you in the face. This six foot pilot, shirtless, with smoldering blue eyes behind fogged glasses and mussed hair? There are no words.

Who would have thought peppermint tea would lead to all this?

You lose yourself in his kisses again, running your hands along the smooth expanse of skin now available. Your hips desperately rutting against his for more friction, a pool of arousal settles in your underwear with how fucking good he looks covered in your affection. Your lips find his neck and suck, the sounds emitting from him indecent. His hands settle at the hem of your skirt, brushing the skin of your thighs as he worries the fabric, contemplating his next move.

“Please.” It’s quiet, but your plea nearly echos in the room. His eyes meet yours. “Please touch me.”

There’s no going back anymore. Reluctantly pulling away from your body, he lowers himself to his shins, large hands smoothing over your thighs. As he rubs soft circles into your muscles, the hem of your skirt shifts higher. His heart thuds at the sight of your gorgeous, soft thighs, completely on display for him. Tentatively he presses a kiss to your inner knee. When you don’t shy away, he pecks another slightly higher. His nose skims the thin skin and you whimper. It’s music to his ears.

Your skirt is nearly around your waist, delicate panties in view. Robert’s heart violently slams in his chest and his erection throbs, begging to be freed from his jeans. He can’t help but focus on the spot that conceals your center, your arousal wet and dark. 

His lips kiss your inner thigh again, just inches from where you desperately want to feel them. “May I?”

You’re frantically nodding, your fingers crashing into his as you work in tandem to get the offending little piece of lace off. As they come down, his kisses trail up, teasing the skin to elicit tiny whimpers. Hot breath skims your pelvis and it’s torture. He delicately places your knees on his broad shoulders, warm skin on warm skin.

Propping yourself up on one elbow, desperate to see his face, his pretty blue eyes smile at you as he finally, finally licks one broad stripe up your folds.

Your brain effectively short circuits.

Like a broken dam, once he’s had a taste there is no going back. Hot, thick swipes over your wetness, desperate to soak up your sweet arousal. Unintentionally his nose crashes into your clit, his messy tongue work bringing him deeper and deeper within you. Above him, you’re singing his praises, mouth open wantonly. “Right there! Right there!”

The hours he’s spent wondering what you taste like, if you’re even sweeter than your kisses, have paid off. He’s addicted. Wrapping his arms around your gorgeous thighs, obscene sounds squelching from his lewd tongue, he brings a thumb to your clit to draw deliciously tight circles. The way your back arches has him panting. 

It’s hard to tell whether it’s the tingle in your toes or the fiery knot in your stomach that grows faster. The way his tongue flicks over that ring of muscle has your head spinning. His lips capture a fold and suck, moaning at how sweet you are for him. 

“Taste so good, baby. Knew you would, my sweet girl.”

Your head falls back when a finger prods at your opening, slipping through your silky wetness. If his tongue was good, his fingers are a gift. A thick digit that reaches deep, finding that spongey spot that makes your stomach curl. It works its way back and forth, bringing moans to your lips and entrancing him as he watches you take him so easily. He can barely help himself when he slips in a second, salivating over how effortlessly you stretch for him.

“That’s my girl, so good.”

Two fingers deep and a hot mouth on your clit, the world is careening around you. All sense of direction lost, too hot in your sweater, hips desperately following his lips and fingers. Your hand shoves in his hair, holding him there because it feels so good. He thrusts deeper, stretching his fingers within your tight walls. The pressure against your cervix and clit make your head pound. And then suddenly…

“R-Rob-by!” You wail into the bedroom, voice lost amongst the hot air and salacious sounds coming from between your legs. Thighs tightening around his cheeks, knees buckling as you bring your legs to your torso, curling into yourself as your orgasm blindsides you. Your brain dizzy with pleasure and relief as he keeps working his tongue within you, one hand stroking your stomach soothingly as the other disappears over the edge of the bed.

Time disappears as you lazily ride his tongue until the oversensitivity kicks in. As your hips squirm away, he presses one last kiss to your clit before dragging himself up to stand. Despite only having two brain cells left after your orgasm, you’re instantly wet again watching how he grinds his palm against the thick bulge in his jeans. 

“That feel good?” Your eyes droop happily as you nod, a little sheepish. “You are so gorgeous, so good for me. I’m a lucky man.”

As you sit up on boneless limbs, he swoops down to press a kiss on your sweet lips. The tangy linger of your taste coats his mouth. By itself it’s sexy, but then you see the wet smudges and fog of his glasses, askew on his nose from where he pressed so hard into your cunt, and a deep groan escapes as you attach yourself to him again.

Reaching down, your fingers are desperately working the button of his jeans - the need to feel every part of him against you so dire - but he’s stilling your hands, kissing along your neck. A little flushed at how close he is to cumming at the thought of your hands on him.

His lips brush your ear. “Want to enjoy your mouth any other time, but I really need to be inside you. Please.”

You’re both openly moaning out your insatiable hunger as you fall back and scoot toward the pillows, sitting up on your knees to unzip your skirt and discard it and your sweater. His hand dips beneath his jeans as he soaks up your skin, the way your bra just barely covers your nipples. He makes no show of pushing down his jeans, pulling them from around his ankles along with his socks. His mind is carnally focused on getting you completely naked as he tugs the front of his boxer briefs down to relieve the pressure on his cock.

The two fingers suddenly make sense. Robert is a big guy - not quite as big as the rest of his squadron, but naturally takes up space with his broad shoulders and large hands - and you feel silly for not connecting the dots. His cock is thick, veiny and red tipped, balls bulging with cum. You gulp down a thick breath knowing he’s about to cram every inch of it into you. This is what you’ve been waiting for.

Since the moment Robert stood on your stoop and introduced himself, the magnet between you has fought harder and harder to bring you together. Pulling by invisible strings, bidding their time, until they finally snapped and you gave into your desires, hands rushing all over while taking time to learn the curve of each other’s bodies. Finding the freckles on his shoulders. Exploring the dip of your back. And as you lay beneath your next door neighbor, breaths heavy and nervous and excited, you allow the magnets to snap together fully as he slowly thrusts his hips until they mesh into yours.

He’s deliciously thick, stretching every part of you as he pants heavily into your neck. Kisses sooth your skin while your nails mark his. In the low light of the room, he gazes at you, so enamored with the way you look taking him. The obscene wet sounds of his hips meeting yours, slow and steady so he can savor the way you squeeze him. Your whimpered noises spurring him on.

You bring a hand to his cheek, using every ounce of will to focus on his sweet face. “This is…this is even better than I imagined.”

He couldn’t agree more. Paired with the dreamily debauched smile on your face, his hips piston faster, arms squeezing tighter as you moan wildly. Bodies vibrating with pleasure, your legs wrap around his thighs for the leverage to meet his thrusts. He grunts as hands tangle in his hair, pulling lightly. The eye contact is intense, unable to look away as you both feel the build up. God, his eyes are the perfect shade of blue.

Your fingers slip to your clit, ready to propel you to the finish, when his thumb knocks you away. His circles are tight and rough as he gazes at you with desire-dark eyes. “It’s okay, let me help you.”

Your kind and overly helpful neighbor. Who lends you his lawn mower and hangs up Christmas lights. Who always compliments your coffee. Who times his thrust with a harsh push to your clit and has you immediately careening off the cliff, seeing bursts of light as your second orgasm of the night envelopes you.

His mouth attaches to yours, tongue lapping up your taste, as you moan through your aftershocks. His cock is still deep, stroking that spongey wall as he works you through and chases his own pleasure. You’re still so tight around him and he’s ready to cum. Making sure his lips don’t leave yours, he draws back and thrusts deeply, watching the way your body surges with his strength. Once, twice, and your eyes roll back as he lets go, filling you with his spend so you have everything he can give.

A streetlamp flicks on through the window. You’re only just catching your breath when Robert slips from the bed. A tap turns, there’s some rustling, and he returns with a soft cloth to help you clean up. Too tired to speak, the two of you just exchange sweet smiles as he once again comes to your aid.

The bed dips and he’s back against your body, cocooned in his dreamy coverlet, clean-shaven face pressing kisses against yours. His cheeks the lightest pink as he lowly whispers, “Hi.”

You can’t help the wide grin that overtakes your features. “Hi.”

No other words are needed to express the satiated happiness bursting through your hearts and every pore. His arms wrap around your bare shoulders tighter. A full year of pining for you, of making any excuse to help out to be in your presence…so worth it for the way his whole body feels whole when you’re around.

Sleepy eyes flutter up at him, trying so hard to stay awake and enjoy this time together. He presses a kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger on the light layer of sweat his deep thrusts caused. If only his squadron could see him now, his sweet little neighbor half-asleep after a night with him.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he mutters into your hairline as he pulls the blanket around your shoulders. You barely hear him as you begin to dream about a sandy-haired man who brought you the sun, the moon, and the stars.

When the first streams of morning light begin pouring in - because someone was a little too busy doing the deed to close the curtain - two sets of eyes pop open. You’re facing each other, foreheads rested upon the same pillow, eyes half-slits as you adjust to the light. Robert radiates heat, and you curl even closer into him. His lips turn in a satisfied smile as you burrow into his chest.

As the sun rises higher in the sky, the two of you continue chatting in low voices. Legs tangled under the sheets, Robert’s head propped up as he listens to your story about accidentally setting your old kitchen on fire trying to make pancakes. His deep laugh crinkles his eyes, pausing to press the lightest kiss to the corner of your pouting mouth. 

You’re just starting to lean into the kisses - hard not to when he looks so kissable - when a grumbly gurgle sounds out from below the covers. Both of your eyes shoot toward your abdomen, a hungry monster in the midst.

“You hungry?” His eyes are so impossibly sweet. You nod slightly, embarrassed at your crass stomach. But he’s already giving you a kind smile and helping you out of the bed, finding a pair of sweatpants and a weathered soft hoodie to keep you warm. 

In plaid pajama pants, your neighbor guides you to his kitchen, with the cheery maple cabinets and old-fashioned diner clock, and settles you onto the bench seat in the breakfast nook. “Coffee? Tea…peppermint tea?”

It should actually be illegal how good he looks when he winks at you with that little smirk shirtless. 

“Coffee is fine,” you reply, your cheeks hot. He busies himself with coffee and contemplates what he has to constitute for breakfast, and you busy yourself with the day before’s paper. He’s started the sudoku, but abandoned it when his sister called. 

Vaguely familiar with the puzzle game, you look at the little scribbled numbers in the boxes to see where he’s left off. Either the mind-blowing sex or lack of caffeine has gotten to you, because you haven’t a clue where to start from.

A steaming mug is placed before you before an arm wraps around your shoulders, looking over your progress. “Yeah, I was stumped too.”

He walks you through his thought process, thick, long fingers tracing over the paper as he points out what should fill out each box. Your eyes stray to him over and over, enjoying how passionate he is about his daily activity. Watching him blush and tilt your head back to the puzzle every time he notices you staring.

You’ve finally gotten a few boxes sorted out when you remember your coffee. Placing a thankful kiss to his cheek, you take a small sip. 

“I don’t know how to say this nicely, but this is the worst cup of coffee I’ve ever had in my life.”

Your expression is neutral, trying to keep the disgusted look off your face (unsuccessfully) and he bursts out laughing. Pushing the mug as far as possible from you, missing the delicious imported coffee in your own kitchen, you gladly accept the kiss he presses to your cheek as an apology for the worst thing you have ever consumed.

“How about you are in charge of drinks from now on and I’ll be in charge of food?” 

You eye him wearily. “If that’s how you make coffee, I’m scared to see what your cooking skills are like.”

He promises you that his mom requests his lasagna recipe every time he’s back home, and that he’s fairly capable of putting pre-made things in the oven. Good enough for you. Leaning in and molding your mouth to his, the two of you share enough kisses that his bad coffee grows cold.

Turning your attention back to the sudoku puzzle, eager to finish, Robert tightens his grip on your waist. Appreciates the way you look in his clothes after spending the night in his bed. The excited look in your eyes as you solve another box. God, you look so good in his life.

He muses privately that you should just sell your house. He has no plans to ever let you go.

taglist: @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @creatchie8 @hangmanapologist @just-in-case-iloveyou @maryelizabeth13 @petersunderoos96 @rhettsluvr @roosterforme @topherwrites @yuckosworld

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[withahappyrefrain]

Deserve it (Bob Floyd x reader)

Summary: After working hard, your boyfriend gives you several rewards.

Warnings: older BF Bob, slight daddy kink, definitely some dd/lg vibes in here, older BF Bob eats it from the back okay, fingering, language

“Hey sweet girl,” his voice was deep, the gravel showing off his age. The very sound made your knees nearly buckle.

Not that you had to worry about falling; Bob already had one arm wrapped around your waist, the other draped around your leg, long fingers gently tracing the soft flesh of your bare thigh.

His broad chest was pressed against your back, salt and pepper stubble gently brushing against your temple.

Despite feeling so small in his arms, you had never felt more secure.

When Natasha invited you to her co -worker's barbeque a year ago, you knew it was done out of politeness. You had just moved to the area and her sister, your best friend, wanted to make sure you were actually going out and meeting folks. Nat was doing you a favor, nothing more or less.

You just wanted to get through that night, to beat your anxiety over being the youngest person there by nearly a decade. The most you were expecting that night was a few conversations and drinks.

Meeting a real life prince charming that night was not on your Bingo card.

At first, you thought Bob was just being a good host as he spoke to you. That was the polite thing to do, considering he was in his late thirties and you were just a friend of a friend.

Even when he asked for your number, you tried to be realistic. You had been led on before, had placed your whole heart in someone just to be disappointed.

A year later, Bob had more than proved he was serious about his relationship with you. The age difference didn't make a huge impact, aside from childhood references and social media knowledge.

Bob was patient. He understood you hadn't been in a serious relationship until he came along. He was more than happy to guide you, never making you feel stupid or unworthy.

“Hi Robby,” you giggled, feeling his skin heat up at your special nickname. Only you got to call him that, just like only he got to call you his sweet girl.

Bob continued peppering your jaw with light kisses, his large hands continuing to gently stroke your exposed skin.

“How was your day? Did your presentation go well?” His attention to detail was one of the things you loved most about Bob. He was invested in all aspects of your life.

“It did! They're going with my proposal.” It was impossible to hide your wide grin, especially when Bob spun you around to show the matching one on his face.

You only saw that slightly crooked, honey drenched smile for a brief moment, as Bob pressed his lips against yours.

Despite dating for a year, his kisses still made your heart flutter. His hands would cradle your jaw, practically covering the entirety of your neck. He always bent his knees, not wanting you to strain yourself while trying to reach his lips, your comfort always at the forefront of his mind.

“Knew they would,” He murmured against your lips, “So proud of you, my smart girl.”

Your knees practically buckled at the praise. Some would have felt it was condescending, you disagreed. You loved that Bob was proud of you. In fact, you wanted it, wanted to be his good girl.

“Stay here, wanna show ya something.” Bob pressed a gentle peck to your lips before walking out of the bathroom.

You bit your tongue, holding back a comment about Bob buying you things. It was a battle you'd never win. Bob spent his money on you and Lego sets, and that was how he preferred it.

So when he showed you the tennis bracelet he had purchased, you just smiled. No comment on how his money would have been better spent elsewhere.

“May I?” He motioned to your wrist. You held it out so he could gently place it on your wrist. While it was simple, you knew the diamonds would sparkle once you were in light.

Once the bracelet was secure on your wrist, you threw your arms around Bob’s neck, head buried in his broad chest.

“Thanks Daddy.”

You could hear him sharply inhale through his nose, the nickname always drawing a visible reaction out of him.

“‘Course baby,” his hands moved from your back down to your hips, “Did you eat breakfast today?”

You nodded proudly, “And lunch!”

Bob dipped his head down to press a kiss on your forehead, “Been so good today sweet girl. Think you deserve a reward for it.”

You looked at your bracelet, confused, “I thought this was-”

Bob shook his head, a near Cheshire like grin on his face, “That's just because I wanted to. So tell me sweet girl, do you want a reward?”

You tentatively nod your head, heat flooding your face, “yes please.”

He's pleased that he didn't have to remind you to use your words. Bob places one last kiss to your temple before spinning you around, forcing you to face the bathroom counter.

Without even thinking, you lean forward, your chest brushing against the marbled counter.

Bob hums in approval. You've learned quickly.

He quickly kneels down, his large hands trailing up your bare thighs. He's able to effortlessly spread your legs apart, pushing up the hem of your skirt to reveal your bare cunt.

“Been such a good listener baby. So proud of you,” he cooed, holding back a chuckle at how your legs trembled at the praise.

You were so sweet, always wanting to be good for him. It had taken you some time, the idea of being with someone who truly loved you and wanted the best for you was a new concept.

You shuddered upon feeling his breath against your core. Unable to see him, all you can rely on is touch. His deft fingers gently parted your soaked folds, sending sparks throughout your body.

Your body lurched forward when Bob's mouth made contact with your entrance.

Prior to Bob, you didn't know someone could be so enthusiastic when it came to giving oral. It was always seen as something required before sex, not an act that could be enjoyed on its own.

Then you met Bob.

Bob, who cared about your pleasure more than his own. Bob, who didn't view sex as a thing, but as an experience.

The bathroom quickly filled with your breathless moans. Your chest was pressed against the counter, your soaked cunt completely at the mercy of Bob’s mouth. His large hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, sure to leave bruises.

Not that you mind. Having a physical reminder that you belonged to him was thrilling. You quickly learned that Bob loved marking you, nearly bordering on an obsession. Hickies, hand shaped bruises, bite marks. He couldn't get enough of your body.

“Taste s’good, s’fuckin sweet,” Bob groaned inbetween lapping up your arousal. A large hand snuck around the front of your body, long fingers quickly finding your clit.

Your hand found the back of his head, clutching his sandy brown locks in hopes it would be enough to ground you. His mouth felt like heaven. Each stroke of his tongue pushes you further and further away from clarity and closer to that pleasurable edge.

“C-close,” you gritted through your teeth. You didn't need to ask him permission, but knew Bob wanted to know when you were near.

He loved to watch you fall apart.

Just as expected, his mouth was replaced by his fingers, your cunt welcoming the stretch. His breath was hot on your ear as he was now leaning over you.

“So pretty like this,” he cooed, “I know, you're so close. Just let go sweet girl, I got ya.”

You gripped the edge of the counter as white hot pleasure coursed through your body.

Bob watched you in the mirror, memorized by how your body reacted to his nimble fingers.

What a long way you had come. At the beginning of this relationship, you were hesitant to allow him to see you in such a vulnerable state, to have him hear you let out such lewd sounds. You would ask for the lights to be off, would have buried your head into the pillow to muffle your sounds.

Now you felt safe to fully let go, to show him all of you.

“There ya go, that's it.” His voice was soothing, a sharp contrast to how his fingers were thrusting in and out of your soaked entrance, “Comin’ so hard for me, sweet girl. Fuckin’ love it.”

His hand continued its ministrations on your poor cunt, his lips ghosting over your temple. Your body leans into his, craving more.

Before Bob, the idea of coming twice in the same session was preposterous. Unrealistic.

Now it was the bare minimum.

This time when you came, your legs shook, your brain practically blacking out from the pleasure. You could hear how hard you were coming, lewd squelching sounds vaguely ringing in your ears.

“It's okay, I gotcha, Daddy’s gotcha,” He whispered against your hair, wrapping his arms around your waist to help you stand up as you recovered from your high.

“Made a mess,” you mumbled, able to feel how much you came on your inner thighs. But now your head was in a pleasure filled haze, only able to vaguely register that Bob was leading you to bed.

“I know, and I'll clean you up. But I want you to lay down first.” The back of your head gently hits soft pillows, your body melting into the mattress. True to his word, Bob returns with a warm washcloth, gently wiping you down.

“You wanna take a nap, sweet girl?” he murmured in between pressing gentle kisses against your forehead.

“But dinner-” you started, only for Bob to gently shush as he helped you out of your skirt.

“I'll move it back. You had a big day, you deserve to rest.”

“Robby?” You hummed, opening your eyes to find him helping you into one of his old T-shirts.

“Whatcha need, baby?” He asked, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Can….can I keep you warm? While we nap?”

This time it was his turn to blush. Bob nodded, quickly moving to take off his pants and boxers, laying down on the bed. He didn't need any help, watching you come twice had made him hard enough.

With his help, you were able to move into his lap, your hand finding the base of his cock, wrapping a hand around it so it could align with your entrance.

A content sigh left your lips upon being filled with his cock. You laid your head against his chest, your breathing slowing down as Bob traced shapes on your back.

You were always amazed by how well he filled you. So full, unlike anything you had experienced before.

Without thinking, your hips began to lazily grind against his, the movement causing his cock to shift inside you.

Two large hands gripped the soft flesh of your hips, stilling your movements.

“Later,” Bob said, eyes still closed, “Want you to rest now sweet girl.”

He was far from done with you. But Bob also knew you would need your energy for later.

Besides, good girls deserve a nap.

And you were his best girl.

------------------------------------------

@lewmagoo @sometimesanalice @charmedkim @thepurplelovewitch @sio-ina-bottle @sugajar @briseisgone @idontcare-11 @cherrycola27 @auroralightsthesky @ryebecca @bobfloydsbabe @hangmanapologist @sebsxphia @mxgyver @callsignspark

[bradshawsbitch]

sweet as honey | bob floyd x f!reader

this is can be read as a continuation of my valentines challenge song fic 'best friend'!

this is based on an idea that @sebsxphia elaborated on as one of their lovely nonnys asked about bob practicing eating out on you😵‍💫 thanks for letting me write this out, seb!🫶

disclaimer; in my head, bob floyd is pussy eating king™ and i felt it was my civic duty to tell you all about it. man has been obsessed with it since he first saw a spread in a porn mag about it, and he'll be damned if he doesn't find out exactly what you like.

warnings; best friends to lovers, mentions of intoxication, cunnilingus, pussy drunk bob, afab reader, no use of y/n.

plot; you have always needed bob, but what if he forgets the one time he actually had you?

tagging people who might like; @lewmagoo @rhettabbotts @hangmanapologist @roosterforme @theharddeck @mothdruid @bobfloydsbabe @roleycoleyreccenter

Soft whispers of love confessions had turned to sleepy reminiscing as darkness fell outside of the window, starlight and moonshine illuminating the outlines of two bodies intertwined in between pristine white sheets. Bob had never thought that he would ever experience feeling so at peace and so whole - the way he had somehow always felt when you were around. This was different though, he felt like he’d finally come home after years of wandering around. 

Even better, he had managed to make it out alive after the worst mission he’s ever flown. He had made it back to you. They had done it. The adrenaline should be overwhelming him, the emotional toil should be tearing at his insides - he should feel like a monster lurks inside his chest ready to claw and tear at his chest - but he doesn’t.

Bob only feels the soothing hands running over his face, only feels the soft breath ghosting over his face as words of love sink into his very skin. Only hears your soft giggles and your emotional voice telling him you loved him. You loved him. God, the very notion made Bob dizzy.

His larger hands had settled on your waist, his thumb softly ghosting over the same warm spot again and again. A couple of times he had noticed the motion had elicited goosebumps over your skin, and if he squeezed his hand slightly he sometimes felt you shiver.

It drove him mad. How responsive you were to his touch. He wondered if he could make your breath hitch, if he could have sweet, soft sounds spilling from your parted lips if he let his hands and lips roam all over your body. 

In his mind, there were… fuzzy memories, that he was not entirely sure if they were memories, or just a recollection of a wet dream his teen self had conjured up of you. Either way, the details were rather blurry, but his mind was replaying soft sighs… your soft moans for him. It must have been a dream.

“Do you–” you trailed off uncertainly, voice still barely above a whisper “Do you remember that one night when we were 18?” Bob furrowed his brows at the way you avoided his attempts at eye contact, stubbornly keeping your face nuzzled into his neck.

“Darlin’, we spent many nights together when we were 18…” Bob smiled, letting his thumb brush softly across your cheek “You’ll have to give me a little more,” his voice was low as he tried to coax you into making eye contact with him again. Craning his neck to try to observe your face as you laid on top of his chest.

“You were drunk, I think - didn’t seem like it at the time…” you trailed off, again, Bob smiled softly, letting his palm stroke soothingly up and down your back.

“Unfortunately, I was drunk many nights back then too, Sunny. What is it you’re nervous to tell me?” 

“Do you remember going down on me?” Bob’s eyes had fluttered shut some time ago, shot wide open at that sentence - jumbled flashes of sounds and sensations flooding his mind. 

“Oh… oh god, that wasn’t— that wasn’t a wet dream?” Bob could kill himself. Could actually go back to the Super Hornet and try to do what Phoenix does with all of that pilot shit until he ran himself into the damn ground. 

“You mean to tell me… that I have had the immense honor of having my fuckin’ face buried between your legs and it was not a dream?” he heard your nervous giggles, and groaned as he squeezed his eyes shut tight, before shuffling so that you were lying beside him, looking into your eyes - they looked apprehensive, perhaps a little bashful. 

“I am so sorry, darlin’... I truly- I had no idea– I thought that was just one of many dreams my imagination conjured up about you,” Bob murmured, brows pinched together “Did I hurt your feelings terribly?” he never wanted to hurt you, never wanted to be the reason you shed any tears or felt any discomfort.

“I mean - I wasn’t sure, I mean I wanted you to, God, it’s all I ever wanted after it too! But I guess I was a bit upset a little while after when you never brought it up…” you trailed off, fingers tracing intricate swirls on his sternum, gaze following your finger carefully, avoiding his eyes. 

“Sunny…” Bob spoke softly, his fingers tilting your chin up to look at him, searching your eyes before slowly letting his lips connect with yours, warmth spreading between the both of you as your lips moved together languidly. 

“Will you please tell me about it?” murmuring against your lips, Bob wanted to see if your story could jog his memory of the first time he apparently ate you out. 

He felt your lips quirk into a smile, before you broke away, nuzzling your face into his neck, where you placed soft, wet kisses that had his breath hitching, a small, soft moan leaving his lips as yours latched on to suck softly at his pulse point.

“Well… I asked you…” 

It was late, the party had ended almost an hour ago, and you and Bob were lounging around in your childhood bedroom, walls covered in a soft pink - and your forgotten stuffed animals placed on bookshelves that were filled to the brim with books you’d read in your early teens. You’d told your mom several times you wanted to get rid of them, but she insisted that your younger sister might want them now that you were 18. 

Bob was sprawled on the floor, chuckling softly at something he read in a women’s magazine you’d bought last week. 

“What’s so funny, Robby?” you spoke softly from your bed, having laid down on the plush blankets and covers that were bunched in the middle of it. You’d stayed sober this night, wanting to make sure Robert made it home safe. 

“They’re… dead wrong about some of these like ‘tricks to tell your boyfriend to do in bed’ stuff,” Robby replied, amused, twinkling eyes finding yours as you looked at him quizzically. “Oh yeah, think you know better than the women who wrote the article, Floyd?” 

“Mm, I know I do. These women can’t have gotten good head if their best tip is to ‘tell him to spell the alphabet with his tongue’,” he scoffed before closing the magazine with a shrug. Licking your lips, you took in his lanky form spread out on your carpet, tight, black jeans sitting low on his hips - just giving you a peak of the grey boxers underneath. 

“What do you think, huh, Sunny? Is that the best tip you’d give a lover?” he was smirking now as he looked up at you. Biting your lower lip, you shrugged “I don’t know…” 

“Well, what’s felt the best when someone’s gone down on you then?” you were sure Rob could tell that heat had rushed to your cheeks and neck, warming your body as you avoided his gaze. 

“I– no one’s ever made me cum with their mouth. They just wanna– get to the other stuff, y’know?” you hedged, finally looking at his blue eyes. His brows were furrowed, almost completely disappearing behind his horn rimmed glasses. “What do you mean?” his words were only a little slurred now, and he seemed more alert than he had been all night. 

“I mean, most guys I’ve been with have been reluctant to you know… go down! They stay there for a little while and then sort of– deem you ‘ready’ for the important part, I guess,” you shrugged, as if this was universally known. Your girlfriends had all agreed with you, most of their boyfriends would only use their hands, or if they had to they’d be down there for a couple of minutes before wanting to get their dicks wet instead. 

“That’s fucking insane!” Robby exclaimed, and you shushed him swiftly, not wanting him to wake your mother and father. “That’s fucking insane!” he stage whispered, making you giggle, as he made his way over to your bed, sitting down on the end of it. His palm wrapped around one of your ankles, slowly letting his thumb rub circles at the exposed skin there.

“Sunny… do you mean to tell me, you’ve never been given oral until you’ve cum?” Robert wouldn’t let you look away, and maybe you couldn’t have even if you’d wanted to, his blue eyes were so captivating… so beautiful. Shaking your head, you looked up from beneath your lashes at him. 

“Do you want to?” Robby murmured, and you found yourself nodding before you could think twice about it. You’d always wanted Robby, always needed him. Craved his touch. And now he was offering it to you. “Sunny, you let me know what feels good, okay? I don’t want to hear a peep out of you unless it’s genuine sounds of pleasure, okay?” Rob’s voice was breathless as he leaned in to place fluttering kisses along your neck.

“Is this okay?” he murmured against your skin and you nodded as your eyelids fluttered closed, a small exhale leaving you as Bob’s frame hovered over yours after having gently laid you back against the pillows. 

“Good, I’m gonna take your jeans off now, okay, sweets?” you appreciated that he was talking you through it, as if he instinctively just knew you - knew your very inner workings, even if he was a little intoxicated. 

“Doin’ so good for me, Sunny… so pretty,” he sighed as he took in the cute pattern of your lacy thong. You’d only recently started wearing them, and found yourself happy that you chose baby blue ones - ones that when Rob gazed at them made you want to clench your thighs together at the groan he let out at the sight. 

“No, baby - open for me, that’s it - gotta keep your legs spread for me, pretty girl,” the blond hummed before settling between your legs, your panties still in place, which confused you a little. “Relax, honey,” he murmured as he kissed your inner thigh, his strong hands gently massaging your thighs. His lips explored the soft skin of your inner thighs, making you squirm each time his hot breath came closer to your core.

There was an ache there now, and ache you had never felt with any previous partner. An ache so deep, so strong, that an involuntary whimper left you as you tried to grind down, desperately needing your best friend to touch you.

“Baby… Sunny, you’re soaked for me… made these pretty light blue panties a nice navy, hm?” Bob groaned, pressing his nose against your clothed pussy, inhaling before placing soft kisses on your mound and gently against your covered clit, eliciting a soft mewl from you.

“Smell fuckin’ heavenly, babe - probably taste even better,” Bob groaned, and as you looked down, you could see him shuffling his body around, one of his legs now tucked a little higher than the one that was stretched out below him. 

“Still feelin’ okay up there, honey?” he murmured, looking up at you. Licking your lips you could only manage a pathetic ‘uh-huh’ in confirmation as Bob’s fingers pushed beneath your panties to drag up and down your wet slit. 

“Robby!” a breathless whine tore from you as the pads of his fingers gently pressed against your clit, before slowly dragging down to your opening and back again. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet… god,” Bob groaned, bucking his hips into the mattress once before he pushed the baby blue fabric of your underwear to the side to push his face closer to your cunt. His nose nudged at your lips, and you gasped as he let his pointed tongue tease the seam of your lips, his low moan at tasting you making your own hips buck slightly. 

“Robby, please - oh!” you hadn’t finished your sentence before Rob licked a broad stripe from your core to your clit, where he gently laved his tongue over it, over and over again. Breathing hard, small, pathetic noises left you, your hands clutching at the covers beneath them - before you let one hand tangle itself in Bob’s blond tresses, tugging in time with his licks and suckles on your clit. 

The hand that wasn’t holding your hips down sought yours out, and as Bob blindly found your hand, he intertwined your fingers for him to hold as he experimentally swirled his tongue around your entrance. He glanced up at you briefly, and seeing you panting and letting out soft mewls for him, he decided to try to let his tongue fuck into your wet hole. He’d seen in the various videos he’d studied that it drove some of the women wild, whilst some preferred getting only their clit stimulated.

As Bob fucked his tongue into your opening, you saw stars, a delirious and loud moan leaving you as your upper body shot up slightly - tugging harshly on his hair before biting your lips to keep quiet. As the muscle slipped in and out of you, shallowly at first and then deeper and more frantically the more Bob could tell you liked it, you noticed the bed was rocking slightly. Looking down, you could see Robby grinding his hips hard into your mattress, his own moans soaked up by your dripping cunt. 

“Fuck, never want to leave… this fucking beautiful pussy,” Robby was whining, licking, laving, sucking on your clit before fucking his tongue into your hole again, making you moan, gasp and whimper beneath him.

“Rob, baby, fuck - I– I’m so fucking close, feels so good– you feel so good!” you were gasping for air as Rob slurped and sucked at your cunt, seemingly lost in his own pleasure as well, rutting his hips hard and fast against your covers. 

“Fuck, please give it to me Sunny, give it all to me - fuck, wanna have you on my tongue…” Robert murmured laving his tongue over your clit, suckling it gently into his mouth before fucking his tongue into you repeatedly.

With a cry and a harsh tug on your best friends hair, you came undone in the most earth-shattering way - never in your eighteen years had you felt like this, had never felt so safe and taken care of as you did with your best friends face pressed deep in between your legs, eating your pussy as if it was the last thing he was doing on this earth.

A long, drawn out moan could be heard as Bob continued to lick you through your orgasm, seemingly reaching his own high at the same time you did as his hips stuttered and jerked against the mattress. 

“How was that, honey?” Bob murmured as he kissed and licked your inner thighs clean, languidly letting his tongue roam over your core, seemingly not having gotten enough of you. A soft whine fell from your lips as you squirmed a little, feeling sensitive after having cum so hard. Rob chuckled softly before placing a kiss to your pussy, and resting his head against one of your thighs, his hand still held yours as he removed his glasses, placing them beside the two of you. He had his eyes closed, positioning your legs comfortably around his form, his other hand splaying on your lower abdomen under your shirt. 

As his breathing evened out, so did yours. You stayed that way most of the night, before you woke up as the sun rose to illuminate your room, and you moved to close the drapes and go to the bathroom, to wash away the traces of Bob’s love. 

“Oh god…” Bob groaned as you finished telling the story. Smiling, you placed a soft kiss on his lips “It’s still the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” you confessed with a shrug, as your best friend wrapped his arms tighter around you with a groan. 

“Fuck, don’t tell me that Sunny… you’re drivin’ me wild… y’mean to tell me I’ve known my whole life what you taste like? What those soft little sighs, moans and whimpers sound like? The ones I’ve dreamt off as I’ve laid in my damn bunk missing you?” you could only laugh softly under your breath “M’afraid so, honey,” you stroked the back of your hand against his cheek. 

“Would I ever be allowed that privilege again, baby?” Bob purred against your ear, nibbling softly at the lobe before placing a chaste kiss just beneath it. 

“Oh, I definitely think that can be arranged…” you smirked, gently taking your bottom lip between your teeth as Bob again rolled the two of you so you were on top of him. 

“Excellent, darlin’... but this time, I want you on top…”