#otp: bob x imogen

[bobfloydsbabe]

burning flames | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc

a gold rush fic

SUMMARY: A heated argument reaches a fever pitch for Bob and his TA.

WARNINGS: academia au, enemies to lovers (if you squint), age gap (mid-to-late 20s/late 30s), power imbalance, mutual jealousy, SMUT (fingering), bob being grumpy and rude. strictly 18+/minors dni.

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

GOLD RUSH MASTERLIST

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SPECIAL THANKS to @cherrycola27 for letting me rant about professor bob and for sending thots when i ask for them. you're a real one.

A/N: very loosely inspired by the song style by taylor swift for the wonderful @laracrofted's 1989TGM writing celebration. this was supposed to be a mob boss bob fic, but that made me cry, so i switched gears and now here we are. i'm sorry this is so late, ames. enjoy!

“That’s all we have time for today. You’re dismissed.” He closes his book and listens to the sound of laptop lids being shut, chairs scraping against the old wooden floor, and chatter amongst his students. It’s a sound he’ll never tire of, no matter how long he teaches.

One sound is distinctly different, though. The sound of her voice. Sweet and soft. Lifting his eyes, he sees her talking to one of his students. Mike something. He can’t quite remember, but she laughs and puts her hand on his arm, making Bob clench his jaw.

Another student, Alicia, comes to his desk to talk about the upcoming assignment and what she can do to improve her grade. Normally, he would tell her to make an appointment at his office, but then Imogen laughs again, making heady eyes at that Mike guy, and he decides he has all the time in the world to talk to Alicia.

He tries to pay attention to his student, to answer her questions, and even tries to smile, but he can feel Imogen looking at him out of the corner of her eye. Her dark gaze is intense and sets his skin on fire in a way he’s been trying to ignore for weeks.

“So,” he hears Mike say. “What are your plans this weekend?”

Bob freezes. He lets his eyes wander over to Imogen, who’s still smiling. Next to him, Alicia is still talking, but her voice is far away and barely audible as he focuses on his assistant.

“I’m revising my dissertation proposal,” she tells him. “They rejected the last one for being too broad, so I have to narrow it down.”

Bob’s on that committee and strongly disagreed, but other members outnumbered him and he was forced to dissent. Dr. Kazansky had given her the news, and Bob remembers the heartbroken look in her eyes when she came to his office afterward. He’d wanted to comfort her then.

“Too busy to have dinner with me?”

Bob straightens his back, eyes still trained on Imogen as he dismisses Alicia, telling her to make an appointment if she wishes to discuss things further.

She mutters a thank you and scurries away. Imogen opens her mouth to answer, but Bob interrupts, certain he doesn’t want to hear the answer she’ll likely provide to this Mike character.

“Miss Van Doren,” he says, barely recognizing the hardness in his own voice. “My office. Now.”

He doesn’t wait for her to respond, but gathers his books and leaves the lecture hall without a glance back to see if she’s following. It doesn’t take long for him to hear her marching footsteps behind him, so he leaves the door open for her.

She slams it shut, so it rattles on the hinges.

“What is your problem?”

She’s furious. Nostrils flared, heavy breathing, and a delicious flush paints her cheeks pink.

“My problem?” he asks, placing the books on his desk. “What’s your problem?”

She drops her bag to the floor and crosses her arms in front of her chest. The gold necklace with her initial catches in the light, drawing his eyes down.

“I don’t have a problem,” she insists, taking a step toward him. “But you constantly berating me is getting old.”

He says nothing. He can’t. Not when she’s looking at him like she wants to wring his neck. Not when all the blood in his body is racing south, and he’s trying not to look at her legs, but they are on full display in that tight little skirt she’s wearing. Again.

He swears she’s doing it on purpose to rile him up.

He hates that it’s working.

She takes a deep breath, pushing her shoulders back, and looks up into his eyes. He’s always found hers unsettling, like she sees the parts of him he’s been hiding for decades.

“I know you don’t want me here, Dr. Floyd,” she says, gesturing around his office, making her short skirt even shorter, revealing more of her supple thighs. “You’ve made that abundantly clear, but you could at least show me the courtesy of not undermining me every time I talk to students.”

He frowns. “I don’t undermine you.”

She scoffs, gaze leaving him as her frustration fills the room. “You interrupted my conversation with Michael not five minutes ago,” she argues as her eyes find his again. Dark brown meeting ocean blue.

He steps forward, eyes wandering over every inch of her exposed skin, making his head spin with barely contained desire. “It was an inappropriate conversation.”

“He asked about my dissertation.”

Bob shakes his head. “No, he asked you out.”

“So what?” she throws her hands out to the side, exasperation turning into full-blown anger now. “He’s been trying to ask me out for weeks, but you always manage to interrupt. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you do it on purpose.”

He freezes. His heart’s beating painfully in his chest and his face feels like it’s on fire. There may even be steam coming out of his ears.

He watches Imogen run her hands through her hair, pulling at the roots, and he truly wishes she wouldn’t. It’s conjuring up very vivid images in his head that he shouldn’t have of his teaching assistant.

She looks at him expectantly, thinking an answer is going to come, but it doesn’t. He doesn’t know how to respond to that in a way that’ll make sense to her. It barely even makes sense to himself.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Bob says finally.

She scoffs. “Yeah, well, he treats me better than you do, and I know that’s a really low bar, but it’s better than—”

Bob crashes his lips against hers, swallowing the gasp she emits. For a moment nothing happens, and for a second he thinks he’s made a grave mistake, but then Imogen’s arms circle around his waist and she sighs against his mouth. 

He walks her backward until her back hits the wall behind his desk, and he presses her against it, trying to get closer.

He pulls away a few inches to look at her. Cheeks flushed, hair a little out of place, and pupils dilated. She’s never looked more delectable, and he knows she can feel his hard cock against her hip. He doesn’t care.

Taking a deep breath, her eyes search his face for something, but it’s unclear whether she finds it. “Why did you do that?”

Her voice is barely above a whisper. There’s no hint of regret, but the rational part of him knows this is a bad idea. He’s her superior, after all.

“You wouldn’t shut up.”

“So you kissed me?” she asks with an adorable wrinkle between her brows.

He frowns. Now sure he’s misjudged the situation, Bob leans back and squares his shoulders, letting his hands fall away from her neck.

“Oh no,” she tuts and grabs a handful of his sweater, pulling him back in. “Get back here.” She stands on her tiptoes and captures his mouth with her own, tongue dancing at the seam of his lips for entry.

He doesn’t have to be told twice. He leans his weight against her, pushing her against the wall, and groans into her mouth when she tugs on his hair.

His hands travel down her body. Grazing across the swell of her breasts, into the dip of her waist, the hips that have occupied his thoughts for weeks, and finally, her thighs. His lips never leave hers, and his tongue explores her mouth and the taste of mint that lingers from her toothpaste.

Imogen shudders as his fingertips tickle the back of her knees, whimpering at the touch.

His hands slide up the back of her bare thighs, feeling her soft skin under his palms. She moans into his mouth and it’s the most arousing sound he’s ever heard. He can’t help the roll of his hips, desperate for friction, for relief, for something warmer than his own hand.

His hands travel up under her skirt, feeling the plumpness of her ass in his hands make him push against her again and she’s meeting him with her own movement.

“Professor,” she moans, as he trails wet kisses along her throat, running his tongue over the skin afterward.

He hums, kneading her ass-cheeks, growing harder as he rocks against her. Even separated by layers of fabric, the friction is enough to drive him mad.

“Dr. Floyd,” she says, pulling his hair hard enough that his lips detach from her throat. Her pupils are wide and hungry, mirroring his own, and their heavy breaths mix in arousing unison. “I’m still mad at you.”

A smug smirk spreads across his face. “I know,” he says and removes one hand from her ass. He uses it to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Don’t go out with him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The words hang in the air. Bob keeps one hand on the side of her neck while the other remains under her skirt, playing with the edge of her panties. He holds her gaze, waiting for her to make the next move. To tell him where she stands, what she wants.

He sees the moment she decides, the corner of her mouth turning upward just enough to be a smile.

“Show me.”

Yanking her panties to the side, his fingertips glide along her folds, feeling her already soaking for him. Her mouth forms a perfect o as she gasps, and he wonders what else that pretty and vicious mouth can do.

Her fingers curl into the hair at his nape, gasping when he finds her clit. “So pretty like this,” he whispers, kissing the underside of her jaw.

“Professor,” she whimpers. “Please.”

“Come on,” he says, leaning back to watch her. Her brown doe eyes have gone dark with hunger and desire, arousal clear from the bead of sweat on her temple, and his cock is so hard he’s about to go insane. Yet, he still leans in close, his lips featherlight against her ear and whispers “moan for me.”

He leans back just in time to catch the look in her eyes when he presses his thumb against her clit and she lets herself moan. Louder than he expected, so his hand flies over her mouth, keeping her quiet, but feeling her smile beneath his palm.

His thumb massages her clit while his index finger finds her entrance, warmth begging him to enter. Bob meets Imogen’s eyes, asking without saying the words because he doesn’t trust either of them to keep their voices down.

Her nod sends him to heaven.

She moans into his hand as his finger slides inside her. He’s hot all over, groaning into her neck at the sensation of her. “So fucking tight,” he mumbles against her skin, making her clench around him.

Tightening her arms around his shoulders, she whimpers against his palm, and her hips meet his motions as he pumps his finger inside her. Her juices spread across his hand, and before long, he adds a second finger.

His office fills with the sounds of heavy breathing, muffled moans from Imogen, and barely contained groans from himself. He can feel her getting close, her legs trembling, struggling to stay upright. Leaning his forehead against hers, he removes his hand from her mouth. “Quiet,” he mutters against her lips.

She nods as she kisses him, open-mouthed and desperate, and his thumb draws tight circles on her clit as he angles his fingers against that spot inside her. She’s there. He knows it. “Good girl,” he whispers. “Cum for me.”

She does. Gushes around his fingers, writhing in his arms. He guides her through her high, holding her against the wood-paneled wall behind her. Her head falls against his shoulder as she comes down, and a long whine escapes her throat as he withdraws his fingers.

Leaning back to give her a little space, he takes in her unkempt hair, swollen lips, and the breathtaking pink flush in her cheeks. Her eyes flick down to his hand, then turn to the very obvious bulge in his slacks.

“I–”

She takes his hand, the one with fingers covered in her cum, and brings it to her lips. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she closes her mouth around his digits, swirling her tongue around them, tasting herself. He’s entranced, can’t stop watching her when she hums as if it’s the most delicious meal she’s ever had.

She withdraws his fingers with a pop, letting his hand fall back at his side. They stay there, looking at each other, processing what just happened between them. Not only is she his teaching assistant, but he’s on her dissertation committee. He has power and influence, and while she’s not his student, he is her superior.

“I…” he tries again, but trails off.

She smirks, squaring her shoulders. “Close your mouth, Dr. Floyd,” she says and sidesteps him, adjusting her skirt. “You’re too smart to be a mouth breather.”

She crosses the office, gathering her bag from the floor where she dropped it, and he gets a peek at her panties as she bends over. White lace. His slacks have never felt tighter.

Unsure what to say or do, he stands there watching while Imogen tries to make her hair look presentable. “Alright,” she mumbles after a minute. “See you tomorrow.”

The door closes behind her, leaving Bob in his office, surrounded by books, paper, a chessboard, a laptop he’s forced to own, and the memory of his TA coming undone on his fingers.

There’s only one word to describe the situation he now finds himself in.

“Fuck.”

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TAGLIST: @roosterforme, @kmc1989, @bradshawsbaby, @cherrycola27, @wkndwlff, @yanna-banana, @bluezraven, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @hangmandruigandmav, @keyrani, @just-in-case-iloveyou, @solo-pitstop-vibes, @yuckosworld, @have-a-nice-day-k, @writingshae, @the-whitegirl-is-back, @dizzydisaster, @floydsmuse

[bobfloydsbabe]

Rebecca, I don't know what to say. You captured the dark academia vibes, the secret love affair between Bob and Imogen with the bygone touches and stolen kisses. I love it so so much. Thank you for making this and for loving him as much as I do 🥹🧡📚

"You may not want me here, Dr. Floyd,” she begins through clenched teeth, forcing him to look up. She holds his gaze, determination and a hint of defiance in those dark doe eyes. “But you’re stuck with me. So, I’ll be back tomorrow and we can start over. Have a good day." - Gold Rush, by @bobfloydsbabe 📚🍁✨ | (eccentric professor!Bob Floyd)

[bobfloydsbabe]

you're mine | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc

SUMMARY: Professor Bob claims Imogen.

WARNINGS: SMUT, unprotected p in v, public sex (locked bathroom stall), getting caught but not really, age gap (mid 20s/late 30s), power imbalance, possessive professor bob. this is basically straight up porn. strictly 18+/minors dni.

WORD COUNT: 1k

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SPECIAL THANKS to @withahappyrefrain for serving me this idea on a silver platter. This filth would not exist without you, and for that, you deserve a special shout out. Everyone say thank you, Abby. Seriously. Or else. Enjoy ✨

He knows he’s holding on to her hand too tightly as he all but drags her out of the banquet hall and into the bathrooms nearby. He needs to make sure she knows she belongs to him, that all those fumbling grad students have no chance. They have no right to her. She’s spoken for. Now and forever.

The bathroom door closes behind them, and he crashes his lips to hers immediately. She returns it, matches his fervor and her hands thread through the hair at his nape.

“Need you,” he mumbles against her mouth, backing her into a bathroom stall, not caring that someone else could come in. He just needs to feel her, be inside her. Claim her, let her and everyone else know she belongs to him. No one else can make her feel the way he does.

He doesn’t break the kiss as he reaches for the latch and locks the door to the stall. She’s already moaning, roughly pulling at his hair as he hikes the skirt of her dress up, and finds her panties already soaked.

Pushing them aside, he runs his fingers over her slick folds, feels her arousal pooling in his palm within seconds, and she gasps when his finger finds her clit.

He wants her to feel good, but he’s desperately hard and if he’s not inside her in the next two minutes, he might spontaneously combust.

A long whine escapes her throat, and he knows she’s ready for him. “Please, Professor.”

Reaching for his belt, she undoes the buckle and opens his pants. He’s mesmerized as her hand dips below the waistband of his boxers, lets a groan out as her hand makes contact with his cock. He’s leaking pre-cum, and she spreads it across the tip of his cock, making him moan in pleasure. 

Even when he’s in control, she finds a way to take some of his power.

He knows he should get her ready to take him, and any other day, he would happily let her touch him like this until he cums in her hand, but now? Nothing but being buried deep in her sweet pussy occupies his mind.

“Baby,” he grunts as he grabs her wrist and pulls her hand away. His whole body screams at him not to, but he knows this won’t satisfy him.

He pulls his pants and boxers down just enough for his achingly hard cock to spring free, and he grabs her ass. Meeting her gaze for the first time since they entered the stall, he tells her to jump, and she does without hesitation.

“Good girl,” he praises, lining himself up with her dripping entrance. “You good?”

“Yes. Fuck me.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice. He’s seated all the way inside her on the first thrust of his hips, and his jaw goes slack from the feeling of her tight pussy fluttering around him.

He wants to allow her to adjust to him, but he can’t. Setting a brutal pace, she whimpers and whines, and all he can do is watch the space where their bodies meet. The way his cock glides in and out of her unrestrained spurs him on, and he can already feel the coil of orgasm growing.

“Hated watching those boys flirt with you,” he mumbles against the swell of her tits that are on the verge of spilling out of her dress. “Hated seeing you smile at them. You belong to me.”

She whimpers, hands gripping his shoulders as her back slams against the steel wall repeatedly. “All yours.”

He groans, his tongue licking the sweat off her salty skin. “They can’t touch you,” he grunts and punctuates the statement with a hard thrust, making her cry out in pleasure.

He vaguely registers the sound of the bathroom door opening, but it closes again almost immediately. He’s not embarrassed that he almost got caught with his pants down. It was this or fucking her on the floor of the banquet hall for everyone to see, but those boys don’t deserve to see her like this. Only he does.

“I’m close,” she whispers into his ear, breathing shallow and strained. “Mmm, just like that.”

He snakes his hand between them and finds her swollen clit, drawing tight circles. “No one else can make you cum,” he growls. 

“No one,” she agrees. “Only you.”

His orgasm approaches at breakneck speed. “I’ll ruin you for anyone else. You are–shit–you are mine to play with, to destroy, hmm, to love. Cum for me, baby. Give it to me.”

She gushes around him, crying out his name while his thrusts grow erratic and his vision blurs.

“All mine,” he babbles through labored breathing. “Gonna fill you up.”

She’s whimpering and whining, sensitive as her orgasm subsides and his builds. “You’re gonna walk around full of me. Fuck, I’m gonna cum…”

He spills inside her. Her pussy clenches around him, holding his cock in a vice grip as she milks him for all he’s worth.

He stills and the room goes quiet, save for their breathing. He rests his head against her chest, and he can hear her heart thundering.

“Professor,” she whispers after a moment.

He lifts his head and looks at her. A delicious flush covers her cheeks, her pupils wide and dilated, making her eyes appear black instead of their usual brown.

She looks like she’s been fucked.

He loves knowing he’s the one who did it.

Pulling out of her, he watches as their shared release drips out of her swollen pussy. She hisses at the loss of him, and whines as he sets her back on the ground.

“How do I look?” she asks when they’ve adjusted their clothing and tried to tame their hair.

He grabs the back of her neck, pulling her into a bruising kiss. “Like mine,” he whispers and beckons her mouth open with his tongue. “You’re gonna walk out there full of me, and when we get home, I’m gonna fill you up again.”

She moans against his lips. “Is that a promise, Professor?”

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TAGLIST: @withahappyrefrain, @sebsxphia, @kmc1989, @seitmai, @roosterforme, @just-in-case-iloveyou, @auroraseddie, @sweetwhispersofchaos, @millieb-3199, @cremebruleequeen, @sio-ina-bottle, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @bradshawsbaby, @hangmandruigandmav, @attapullman, @bobgasm, @solo-pitstop-vibes, @bluezraven, @cherrycola27, @bcarolinablr, @xoxabs88xox

[bobfloydsbabe]

dirty mind | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc

a gold rush fic

SUMMARY: Imogen learns something new about Professor Bob.

WARNINGS: suggestive language, allusions to smut, age gap (mid 20s/late 30s), power imbalance. strictly 18+/minors dni

WORD COUNT: ~ 1k

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SPECIAL THANKS to @ryebecca who sent this delicious prompt. It took on a life of its own, so I hope it's okay that I posted it separately. Your love for Eccentric Professor Bob is one of my favorite things about working on this AU, and I know I can always talk to you about him. You see and understand the vision. Enjoy ✨

She runs her fingers along the book spines in his home office, so much more neatly organized than the ones on campus. She’s impressed.

“What are you doing?”

She glances over her shoulder and finds the professor leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed in front of him. Behind him, the house is dark and quiet. Only a faint beam of moonlight hits the wall near the staircase.

Smiling to herself, she refocuses her attention on the books. “Browsing.”

Illuminated by the lamp on his desk, she can make out several titles that she knows and loves. Fiction mixed with historical texts, old dissertations from former students that send a pang of jealousy through her, and a small section of books he’s written himself.

His footsteps sound behind her as he draws nearer. “It’s not a bookstore,” he tells her, voice still rough from sleep. “Or a library.”

Casting another glance over her shoulder, he’s now leaning against his desk, watching her. He’s only wearing boxers, and the lamplight makes his chest look even broader and more defined.

“I know. No bookstore or library would be caught dead with disorganized shelves like these.”

“They’re organized,” he argues, but she hears the lilt of teasing in his tone.

“Method to the madness,” she agrees for the sake of peace. “If it makes sense to y–no way!”

Through his rumbling chuckle, she pulls the book out and opens to the title page.

She spins around to face him so fast she feels a little dizzy and Bob has to reach out to stabilize her. “You okay?”

“Am I okay? You have a first edition of Fanny Hill. Of course I’m not okay.”

She holds the fragile book in her hands, flipping through the pages as gently as she can, so she won’t damage it further. It’s from 1748 after all, and she tries not to judge him for not storing it properly. As a history professor who works with texts even older than this, he should know better.

“Must’ve cost you a fortune,” she mutters to herself, turning to the bookcase again to put it back, only for her eye to catch sight of another familiar title. “Is Lady Chatterley’s Lover also a first edition?”

“I believe so.”

She scans the entire shelf and finds only novels in a similar genre, and she suddenly feels hot all over at the knowledge that he’s read these books and enjoyed them enough to get first editions.

As if sensing the change in the atmosphere, Bob comes up behind her, chest flush with her back. Sweeping her hair to the side, his fingertips graze her skin. He leans down and places the lightest kiss to her neck, and a shiver runs down her spine, breath hitching at the sensation.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

His hand travels down her body. The dip of her waist, the width of her hips, and the bare skin of her thighs. Her whole body’s on fire. He’s everywhere, low voice stirring something deep inside her.

As his hand trails up her skin, he inches toward her inner thighs where she’s sensitive and the wet patch in her panties should embarrass her, but it doesn’t.

“Tell me,” he whispers, breath tickling her ear.

She stifles the whine rising in her throat, willing it away. “Who knew you were hiding such a dirty mind.”

He chuckles against her skin, and his hand reaches the edge of her panties. “Baby,” he whispers, “I’m hiding so much more than a dirty mind.”

His other hand presses against her stomach, pushing her against him and his hard chest. She tries to rub her thighs together, but his hand there keeps them open. His fingers skim across her clothed clit, making her squirm in his embrace.

“Oh, you’re desperate for it, aren’t you, baby?”

She wants to say no. She wants to tell him to fuck off, try to convince him she’s playing a game, and he can’t reduce her to a stuttering mess with just a few words and touches. But she doesn’t. She can’t. Not when she can feel his growing desire against her back, and not when he pushes her panties to the side, drawing slow, torturous circles on her clit.

“In your dreams,” she manages, but it comes out airy and needy.

He pulls his hand away from her aching pussy, and the high-pitched whine that leaves her throat seems to shock them both. He recovers quickly, spinning her around to face him, his features half illuminated by the lamp on his desk.

“You’re always in my dreams,” he tells her, walking her backward until he’s crowded her against the bookshelf. “And in my dreams, you’re always desperate for me, for my mouth.”

He’s sinking to his knees, and one hand trails down her leg, placing it over his shoulder. He glances up at her, a cocky look on his face as his fingers hook into the waistband of her panties. “You want me, baby?”

She nods furiously, unable to form the words when he’s right there, so close to where she wants him. Needs him.

“Tell me,” he demands, voice dark and dangerous.

“I want you.” She’s trying to hold on to some semblance of self-control, but she’s babbling. “I want your mouth.”

“Good girl,” he praises, and then he pushes her panties to the side again.

His lips close around her clit, sending her into orbit.

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TAGLIST: @joaquinwhorres, @kmc1989, @roosterforme, @just-in-case-iloveyou, @rosie-posie08, @attapullman, @sweetwhispersofchaos, @millieb-3199, @auroraseddie, @keyrani, @solo-pitstop-vibes, @hangmandruigandmav, @cremebruleequeen, @cherrycola27, @seitmai, @bradshawsbaby, @sio-ina-bottle, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @bcarolinablr, @bluezraven

[bobfloydsbabe]

yours | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc

a gold rush fic

SUMMARY: Professor Bob is working on his next book when Imogen comes home and suggests they try something new.

WARNINGS: academia au, age gap (mid 20s/late 30s), power imbalance, SMUT, cockwarming, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, praise, possessive bob, discussion of birth control and protection, intimacy, and a little fluff. strictly 18+/minors dni.

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

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SPECIAL THANKS to @up-thereinthesky for the Lew pic and to @attapullman who sent in this delicious ask that set my horny little brain on fire. What was supposed to be a short blurb took on a life of its own, so here we are. Thank you for loving Bob and Imogen as much as I do. Enjoy ✨

He’s sitting at his desk, staring at the blank document on his laptop, when he hears the front door open and close.

He smiles to himself as her stomping footsteps get closer. She’d never survive as a spy with those heavy footfalls.

“Hey,” she says when she appears in the doorway to his office. “You still at it?”

He hums, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Getting nowhere.” 

“Maybe you should take a break,” she suggests and crosses the room, placing her ass right in his lap.

“Perhaps I should,” he agrees and presses his lips to her shoulder. “How was lunch with your parents?”

She scoffs. “A disaster,” she mutters, snaking her arms around his neck, and presses her forehead against his temple. “I don’t know why I expected it to go well. It never does.”

He squeezes her waist, turning his head so their lips can meet. It starts off slow and sweet, a little lazy, just kissing because they can. He’s so lost in her, he barely notices when his cock hardens.

She grins into their kiss. “Someone’s excited to see me,” she mumbles against his lips.

“Just ignore it and kiss me.”

He means it. He doesn’t want to start something when she’s just come home from a bad meeting and he’s supposed to be working on his next book.

She does as he says and keeps kissing him, but after a minute, she pulls away. He sees her eyes dart down to his growing erection.

She looks almost shy when her eyes meet his again. “Do you want me to keep you warm?”

He gapes a little. “Are you asking if you can cockw–”

“Cockwarm you, yes,” she finishes for him, and he detects no hint of joking in her tone.

“Baby,” he whispers, placing his palm against the back of her head. “I’d never ask you to do something you’re uncomfortable with.”

She frowns, lips pursed in an adorable pout. “I’m not uncomfortable,” she insists. “I want to.”

“I don’t have a condom.”

She shakes her head. “We don’t need one.” He opens his mouth to argue, but she beats him to it. “I have an IUD, and you’re the only person I’ve been with.”

“Baby, are you sure?” He’s stroking her hair even as she nods.

“Okay,” he agrees and kisses her lips.

She slides off his lap. He rids himself of his joggers and boxers, and strokes his cock to full hardness while Imogen slips her black panties off. She tosses them aside and they land on his laptop keyboard.

As she climbs back in his lap, a sudden thought strikes him. “I don’t have lube either,” he says, trying not to sound disappointed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Smirking, she reaches for his free hand and guides it to her pussy. “Not a problem, Professor.”

She’s already soaking for him.

He holds back a groan as he runs his fingers up and down her folds a few times. He pulls back, looks into her dark doe eyes, and sees love reflected back at him.

He loves her. She loves him.

“You ready?” The hand that isn’t holding on to the base of his cock snakes around her body and rests on her ass.

She nods. “I’m ready.”

She rises to her knees, and he guides his cock to her entrance. They moan into each other’s mouths as his tip slips inside, but then she hisses and Bob’s eyes shoot open.

“You okay?”

"Yeah," she assures him, but her face contorts into a tight grimace. “You’re big.”

He smiles, a breathy chuckle escaping as he leans forward, brushing his lips against her cheek. “I know, baby,” he mutters. “Take your time.”

She nods, biting her lip as she sinks further down on his cock. “Mmm, feel so full.”

“I know,” he repeats. “You’re taking me so well, keeping me nice and warm.”

Stifling a moan, she tightens her grip on his hair. “Keep talking,” she whispers.

“So good for me,” he mumbles, groaning as she slides even further down his cock. “So fucking tight, so warm.” She’s whimpering now. “Almost there, baby. You can do it. My good girl.”

Then their hips come flush with each other, and he’s seated all the way inside her. 

Even though she said it was fine, he can tell she’s feeling the stretch. Bob always makes sure to prep her to take him, and often they don’t need lube, but right now he sure wishes they had. He doesn’t like the face she’s pulling.

Leaning forward, he kisses her lips gently. “You did so good, baby,” he assures her.

It’s quiet when the tension leaves her body, and she sighs deeply into his mouth. His fingertips run up and down her spine, and she shudders at the sensation.

They stay like that, foreheads pressed together. Skin to skin in the most intimate way possible, pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together.

“How was lunch with your parents?”

She jerks back, a deep dent between her brows. “You really want to talk about my parents while you’re inside me?”

He can’t help the chuckle that passes his lips. “I never want to talk about your parents,” he explains. “But you came home from lunch upset.”

She sighs, rests her head in the crook of his neck. “They asked me to break up with you.”

He hums, not surprised in the least. After almost a year of being together, you would think her parents would give up and just accept it, but they haven’t. Bob knows they likely never will.

“Hey,” he mutters, making her raise her head to meet his eyes. “I love you. You know that, right?”

Unexpectedly, or perhaps not entirely, she clenches around him. “Fuck, baby,” he groans into her neck. “Don’t do that or this won’t be cockwarming anymore.”

“Maybe it was an excuse to get you inside me,” she says, her tone sounding a little too innocent. She leans down and her lips graze against his ear. “Maybe I just wanted your cock.”

He lifts his head as his hands travel down her spine. “Oh, yeah?”

She nods, biting her bottom lip with her doe-like eyes wide and innocent, as if she isn’t greedy for him, and he’s sure she’ll be the death of him.

Grasping her ass, he plants his feet solidly on the ground and thrusts up into her. He revels in the sound that escapes her, gasp turning into a breathy moan as her fingers scrape across his scalp.

“Do it again,” she whines, eyes closed in pleasure and pussy holding him in a vice grip. “Fuck me, Professor. Make me yours.”

“Open your eyes,” he demands. “Look at me.”

She does, pupils wide with desire and desperation, a delicious flush rapidly spreading across her cheeks and down the column of her throat.

“You are mine,” he growls, punctuating the statement with another deep thrust. “All mine.”

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TAGLIST: @attapullman, @bobgasm, @joaquinwhorres, @kmc1989, @bcarolinablr, @cremebruleequeen, @xoxabs88xox, @auroraseddie, @roosterforme, @bluezraven, @sio-ina-bottle, @bradshawsbaby, @sweetwhispersofchaos, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @keyrani, @cherrycola27, @just-in-case-iloveyou, @seitmai, @solo-pitstop-vibes, @millieb-3199, @hangmandruigandmav, @sebsxphia

[bobfloydsbabe]

AAAAAAAAAH I LOVE IT

This is legitimately perfect for Bob and Imogen. You captured the atmosphere of their story and the vibe of their relationship so beautifully. Those little touches and tender moments, the wine and the baths, and the academia setting. It’s stunning.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU

Bob & Imogen from gold rush by @bobfloydsbabe ✨

[bobfloydsbabe]

Eccentric Professor Bob is horny on a good day, but on vacation? Absolute menace. He wakes up horny, cock hard and desperate for Imogen, but she’s not complaining. It’s slow and lazy, leaving her incoherent and boneless. She wears that skimpy bikini that drives him wild, and he just has to have a taste until she’s coming undone on his tongue and her back arches off the sun lounger. He’s whispering filth in her ear as they eat lunch at a local restaurant, and he fucks her in their pool, not caring if the neighbors can hear her scream his name. As they make dinner, she brushes past him to choose the wine, and he’s not sure how it happens, but he has her bent over the table, thrusting into her hard and deep. Dinner almost catches fire, so they go out to eat instead. Afterward, as they walk home, Imogen pulls him into a secluded alley, drops to her knees, and proceeds to give him the blowjob of his life. By the time they make it back to the house, he’s hard and ready again, but he takes his time then. He carefully undresses Imogen, groans at the sight of her special vacation lingerie, and enjoys every second of taking it off her, watching it fall to the ground. He spreads her out on the bed and worships every inch of her, paying attention to places he usually neglects until eventually she’s begging for his cock. He loves her needy noises and his name sounds like heaven on her lips. He has her clenching around his fingers first, withdrawing right as her orgasm is about to hit and she whines so loud he can’t help but grin. When he’s inside her, he pounds into her, telling her how beautiful she is, what a good girl she is, that she’s all his. She’s moaning and babbling, clawing at his back, and he’s never known love or sex like this. She cums twice, and he finishes inside her with a shout of her name. Afterward, he carries her to the bathroom and cleans her up, praises her, tells her how much he loves her. She hisses from sensitivity when he cleans between her legs, and he presses a soothing kiss to her forehead. Back in the bed, they lie naked in each other’s arms, tracing patterns across freckled skin. Eventually, Imogen drifts off to sleep. He watches her and wonders how on earth he got so lucky. Then she moves in her slumber, hiking her leg up so her knee grazes his cock, making him harden. He considers waking her up so they can go again, but decides to let her sleep and resorts to take care of it himself. He tries to be quiet, stifling moans and keeping his body as still as possible, and it really only takes a few minutes to spill into his hand. “You’ll be the death of me,” he whispers into her hair, but knows he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[bobfloydsbabe]

"ask me to stop and I will" screams eccentric professor Bob and Imogene but that's just me (I do miss them)

IT DOES. I miss them too, so let's check in, shall we?

strictly 18+/minors dni.

"Ask me to stop and I will."

He doesn’t want to. He wants his hands to remain on her, feeling her smooth skin under his fingertip as her breath hitches, begging for more. Hands resting on his shoulders, her big doe eyes focus on him.

She shakes her head. “Don’t stop.”

The corner of his mouth turns up as his fingers trail up her thighs and disappear under the hem of her skirt. He expects to find the edge of panties, but there’s no resistance. No extra fabric separating his hands from her ass. The discovery elicits a groan from deep in his throat, making him press himself harder against her, seeking friction for his achingly hard cock.

His voice is but a strained whisper. “Forget something?”

He peers down at her, finding her cheeks flushed and a look of innocence on her face, as if she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing to him. She’s a minx, and she’s his.

“I don’t think so,” she mutters. His fingers wander from her plumb ass, now tracing patterns on the inside of her thighs, teetering on the edge of where he knows she wants him the most. She’s unable to stifle a needy whine.

“I think something’s missing.”

“Huh,” she mutters. She doesn’t sound as nonchalant as she tries to. Bob has her right where he wants her, but her next words let him know two can play this game. “Mind checking, Professor?”

She knows calling him that drives him wild, and it’s that word that has him throwing caution to the wind. His knuckle grazes her wet and inviting cunt, and they both know there’s no stopping now.

He has to have her. It’s life or death.

BYEEEE I MADE MYSELF HORNY WRITING THIS

[bobfloydsbabe]

eccentric professor bob floyd (historical romance version) sneak peek

Encouraged by my wonderful friends @withahappyrefrain and @ryebecca, I present you a sneak peek at the historical romance AU fic I'm working on for Eccentric Professor Bob and Imogen. I shared the beginning of this for a tag game a couple of days ago, but I've added more to it since then. Enjoy ✨

“Who’s there?”

The flickering candle comes closer, and slowly, the holder’s dark doe eyes come into his line of sight, along with long wavy hair and soft-looking skin.

“Lady Imogen,” he says when she stops a few paces away. 

“Professor,” she greets, one brow quirked. “What brings you here at this time of night?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Her breathy chuckle fills the quiet library. “So you could,” she agrees. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get something to read.”

“I had the same thought,” he admits. He’s trying not to look at her state of undress, but his eyes travel down to her simple cotton nightgown, and his breath hitches. She’s not wearing a dressing gown.

Imogen seems unfazed by his wandering eye.

“Did you find something advanced enough to challenge your mind, Professor?”

He drags his gaze back to her face. “Not yet,” he says. “Perhaps you have a recommendation?”

In the candlelight, her mouth turns up in a smile that makes her keen eyes sparkle. Humming, she scans the shelves he’s standing in front of, inspecting the titles and writers, and he wonders, not for the first time, where she’s been hiding all his life.

Knowing of her is one thing, but knowing her is something else entirely. He longs to touch her. To feel her skin against his, the taste of her tongue, the sounds she’d make when he gives her pleasure. He wants all of it but is entitled to none of it.

He aches in a way he’s never done before.

“Ah,” she says, having spotted something interesting on the shelf. She reaches past him, her breast grazing his chest as she stands on her tiptoes to reach. Despite the fabric separating them, every cell in his body’s on fire, and the blood that first rushed to his head now travels south to his cock.

If her breast through cotton does this to him, he’s afraid of what would happen if he touched her bare skin.

Unaware of his internal crisis, Imogen grasps the book she’d spotted and settles back on her feet. She studies the leather-bound book for a moment. “I’m surprised the Countess even has a copy of this. She does not strike me as someone with a vested interest in the subject.”

“Perhaps the Earl added it to the library,” he says without knowing what book it is and takes a step away to put some distance between them.

“The Earl is a dear friend of my father’s, but he is not an intelligent man,” Imogen explains. “The Countess is a brilliant woman. I am quite certain it was she who acquired it.”

Imogen offers the book to him. He snatches it out of her hand quickly, hoping she won’t look at him too long and notice the extra limb throbbing in his trousers.

He opens to the title page, brow furrowing when he realizes the book she’s recommended to him. His head whips up.

“I’m sure you’ve already read it,” she says, looking uncertain for the first time since she joined him. “Darwin makes a compelling argument. I wrote him a letter with a list of questions, but never received a reply. I’m sure he thinks me a feebleminded woman who won’t understand the complexities of his theory.”

Robert closes the book. “If Darwin thinks you feebleminded, he is a fool.”

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TAGLIST: @bobgasm, @attapullman, @kmc1989, @bluezraven, @seitmai, @roosterforme, @just-in-case-iloveyou, @sweetwhispersofchaos, @auroraseddie, @cherrycola27, @keyrani, @solo-pitstop-vibes, @sio-ina-bottle, @hangmanapologist, @bradshawsbaby, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @bcarolinablr, @xoxabs88xox

[bobfloydsbabe]

italian holiday | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc

a gold rush blurb

SUMMARY: Professor Bob has big plans for his three-week holiday with Imogen.

WORD COUNT: 277

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“What’s going on in that big brain of yours?”

Bob and Imogen are walking along the beach, lights bouncing off the water from the villas built into the rocky landscape that surrounds the quiet seaside village.

Bob has his arm draped over her shoulders and keeps her pressed gently against his body as they walk. They’re carrying their shoes, allowing bare feet to leave footprints in the soft sand that the calm waves wash away before you can blink.

“Nothing,” he says and kisses the side of her head. 

Imogen stops and looks up at him. He’s wearing a blue linen shirt that makes his eyes look crystal blue, even in the warm light of the setting sun. He looks more at ease here than at home, and she decides Italy suits him.

“Robert Floyd,” she warns with a teasing lilt to her tone. “Don’t lie to me.”

His breathy chuckle makes her smile, and she knows when he leans down and presses his lips against hers that he’s planning something. She knows his contemplative face like the back of her hand.

“Fine,” she says, shoving gently at his chest. “Don’t tell me, but you’re up to something and I will figure it out.”

He drops his shoes in the sand and pulls her in by the waist. He kisses her again, deep and languid, making her toes curl in the sand and desire shoots through her every nerve ending. 

When they part, they’re breathless, and Bob slides a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“You don’t have to guess. I’ll tell you.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “When?”

“Soon,” he promises and pecks her lips.

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TAGLIST: @joaquinwhorres, @kmc1989, @attapullman, @bobgasm, @sweetwhispersofchaos, @sio-ina-bottle, @millieb-3199, @solo-pitstop-vibes, @cremebruleequeen, @hangmandruigandmav, @seitmai, @just-in-case-iloveyou, @auroraseddie, @roosterforme, @xoxabs88xox, @cherrycola27, @keyrani, @bradshawsbaby, @bluezraven, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @bcarolinablr

[bobfloydsbabe]

the holiday truce | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc | sneak peek

a gold rush fic

SUMMARY: Bob and Imogen call a truce and spend the holidays together.

WARNINGS: academia au, enemies to lovers, age gap (mid 20s/late 30s), power imbalance, smut (not in sneak peek), christmas. strictly 18+/minors dni.

A/N: inspired by a conversation with @joaquinwhorres. bob and imogen celebrate christmas, but i've done my best to limit the references to it. i'm aiming to post sometime in december, but i hope this sneak peek will get you excited for it. let me know what you want to see in this fic. enjoy!

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She stands on the street, looking up at the Boston brownstone. Around her, thick fluffy snowflakes fall to the ground. Not enough to cover the sidewalk in a blanket of white, at least not yet. One falls against her cheek and melts on contact, and she’s sure her hair’s littered with them.

She feels a bit like a pig at the entrance to a slaughterhouse. Certain doom on the other side of that front door in the shape of Dr. Robert Floyd. Known to friends as Bob, apparently. She didn’t know he had friends, and certainly not that they call him anything other than Robert until she overheard Dr. Kazansky talking about him.

Drawing in a deep breath and releasing it into a misty cloud, she squares her shoulders and walks up the steps to the front door. The black paint is peeling off and the knocker could use a good clean, but Imogen knows the professor well enough to know he won’t prioritize it. She’s seen his office, and it’s not a pretty sight.

The door swings open, letting warm yellow light spill into the street. Silhouetted by the glow, Dr. Floyd looks as if he’s wearing a halo, like an angel descended from heaven.

“Miss Van Doren,” he says, and as her eyes adjust to the sudden light, she notices a faint smile on his face. “Glad you could make it.”

He steps aside, hand still on the doorknob, allowing her to walk past him and inside the entrance hall. She catches a whiff of his cologne as he closes the door behind her. Spices and ink. Him.

A coat rack hangs on the wall with three coats evenly spaced out. Underneath it is a small bench and next to it are the professor’s shoes. The classic brown oxfords he wears to work and a pair of sensible winter boots. Both are spotless. 

Unlike his office, the house appears perfectly tidy. Her mouth hangs open as she takes in the elaborate light fixtures, wood paneling, framed artwork on the opposite wall to the coat rack depicting a nye of pheasants. Not the type of art she expected, but it feels like him somehow.

She can feel his eyes trained on her as he steps up behind her. “Let me take your coat,” he says, voice deep and gravelly. She nods, slipping her purse off her shoulder and placing it on the bench.

His fingertips graze her neck, sending a shiver down her spine when he grasps the collar and slides the wool off her shoulders and down her arms. Stepping around her, he puts the coat on the rack for her.

“Come on,” he says once she’s toed her boots off and placed them haphazardly next to his own. “Dinner’s almost done.”

Imogen frowns, grabbing her purse and following him down the narrow entryway and into the open-plan kitchen. “You cook?”

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, she catches the smile on his handsome features. “I do,” he tells her, rounding the large island and reaching for an empty wine glass. “Red or white?”

She blinks at him, not sure how to feel about him being nice and personable. They may have agreed to bury the hatchet for a few days, but this is beyond unsettling. His light blue shirt has the top buttons undone, giving her a view of his collarbones and a thin silver chain around his neck.

“Red,” she says finally, trying to shake off the weird sensation of being in his home and watching him do normal things like pour a glass of wine.

He hands her the glass, raising his own and clinks them together. “Happy holidays, miss Van Doren.”

“Imogen,” she corrects him and takes a long sip, tasting the tannins on her tongue. “Is there anything I can help with?”

He trains his blue eyes on her. They appear darker than usual, maybe from the wine in his system or the tension cackling between them. His lips turn up at the corner. “Now you want to be helpful?”

Heart pounding in her chest, her cheeks warm under the intensity of his gaze. She wants to say something back, a witty remark, a counterpoint, a quip, but she can’t think of anything. Instead, she nods dumbly.

He smirks, the crinkles around his eyes deepening. “No,” he says at last, coming up in front of her, leaning down until his lips are a hair’s breadth away from her earlobe. “But you can sit that pretty little ass down and look sexy for me.”

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[bobfloydsbabe]

rose blush | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc

a gold rush fic

SUMMARY: Professor Bob has a special surprise for his TA on Valentine's Day.

WARNINGS: fluff, allusions to smut, age gap (mid 20s/late 30s), power imbalance, brief mention of past relationships. strictly 18+/minors dni.

WORD COUNT: 1k

GOLD RUSH MASTERLIST

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SPECIAL THANKS to @laracrofted who said Professor Bob gives off strong Valentine's Day vibes. I had to agree, even if his deliciously grumpy ass would deny it. So, enjoy a candlelit bubble bath with our favorite professor. Thank you, Ames!

“Robert Floyd, you didn’t.”

They’ve already had an amazing dinner at a restaurant with red wine and delicious pasta, and now he’s only gone and done this.

“I didn’t,” he whispers in her ear, arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. “The hotel staff did.”

She smacks his arm, but can’t fight the grin spreading across her face. The filled bathtub stands in front of them with lit candles all around the edge and rose petals sprinkled over the bubbly water. An ice bucket with champagne and two glasses sits on a tray straddling the edges of the tub, and her heart sings for this man.

It’s hard to believe where they started compared to where they are now. They still argue, still have to pretend they don’t want to rip each other’s clothes off all the time, still have to make people believe their relationship is only that of professor and teaching assistant. It’s hard to keep up, and she knows that’s why he booked them a hotel outside the city. Valentine’s Day weekend no less. He’s being romantic.

“Go on,” he breathes against her skin.

She turns in his arms, wrapping hers around his neck, and rises to her toes. “You’re coming with me.”

He chuckles and pecks her lips. “Wasn’t even up for debate, baby.”

He slides one of the thin straps off her shoulder, leans down to kiss her collarbone. A shiver runs down her spine, and a breathy laugh tickles her skin. He knows what he’s doing when he pulls the other strap down, too.

With a few tugs, the dress falls in a pool of red fabric on the bathroom floor. The professor’s eyes travel the expanse of her body with a hungry look, like he’s ready to devour her.

She feels powerful. Seductive.

Stepping closer, he lifts a hand and runs his finger along the underside of her breast while keeping his eyes locked on hers. She shivers as his fingertip grazes her nipple, and it pebbles immediately.

She holds her breath, but can’t fight the shiver running through her. It makes the professor smile in a way that makes him look younger, and he leans down to kiss her. Gentle but hungry. Possessive.

“The water’s gonna get cold,” she reminds him.

“Right,” he whispers, leaning back a little. “Let’s get these off you.” He reaches for her panties and carefully drags the red lace down her legs. At a quick tap to her ankle, she steps out of them and Bob tosses them aside.

Rising from the floor, he offers his hand for balance as she steps in and she takes it, still amazed by the size difference.

As she sinks beneath the surface of the water, letting herself be engulfed by bubbles and rose petals, Bob undresses. She watches as he sheds his clothing, and she’ll never tire of looking at him or that surprisingly lean body he hides. If all the students who have a crush on him knew what Imogen does, they would lose their minds.

But she’s not willing to share.

He joins her in the water and reaches for the chilled champagne, pouring a glass for each of them.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Imogen,” he says, voice deep and rumbly. Hearing him say her name makes her stomach flip, even all these months later.

She clinks her glass against his. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

She tips the glass back, enjoying the way it fizzles down her throat. When she puts her glass down, Bob’s watching her with a burning look in his eyes.

Cocking her head to the side, she narrows her eyes. “What?”

He shakes his head slightly. “Come here,” he mutters into the quiet room, his voice bouncing off the tiled walls.

With a smile, she glides through the water until she’s straddling his thighs, arms around his neck. He leans forward and captures her lips in a demanding kiss.

She’s not sure how long they stay like that, just kissing each other and being close, but she feels the moment he gets aroused.

She pulls back with a grin, fingers playing with the damp hair at his nape. “I knew shower sex was your thing, but bath sex too? You’re ready anywhere, huh, Professor?”

His arms tighten around her waist, pulling her even closer to him, and their foreheads press together. “I don’t do this.”

She frowns, pulling back. “What, bath sex? I was joking.”

He looks up at her. His cheeks have flushed from the heat in the room and the alcohol coursing through his system, and he looks almost nervous. “No,” he says, and she hears the hesitation in his voice. “I don’t do this.” He gestures at the champagne, the bathtub, and maybe even the hotel room.

“Take women on Valentine’s dates?”

He shakes his head. “Never.”

Her brows shoot up. “Ever?”

“Ever,” he confirms.

“You’re telling me you’ve never had a girlfriend?”

Now he looks almost offended. “I’ve had girlfriends,” he tells her. “It just never lasted very long.”

She goes quiet, and silence hangs heavy in the air. Only the faint sound of bubbling champagne and flickering flames from the lit candles fill the room.

He takes a deep breath. “Does that scare you?”

She comes back to herself, eyes meeting his again. “No,” she says, voice quiet at first. “I’m just confused.”

“Confused?”

“Robert, you’re a catch,” she says, tugging on his hair gently. “You’re attractive, successful, and romantic when you want to be.”

“I don’t want to be romantic,” he says, hands travel down her back.

Leaning forward, she kisses him passionately while his hands find her ass in the water and pull her closer to him. Her cunt grazes his erection, and she gasps into his mouth.

“Too late for that, Professor,” she mutters, voice light and breathless. “Because this is pretty damn romantic.”

His hands knead her ass as his lips leave open-mouthed kisses all over her neck, his tongue tasting her skin. “I’ll show you romantic.”

He makes good on that promise.

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TAGLIST: @joaquinwhorres, @attapullman, @bobgasm, @just-in-case-iloveyou, @kmc1989, @rosie-posie08, @auroraseddie, @bcarolinablr, @cremebruleequeen, @sio-ina-bottle, @roosterforme, @sweetwhispersofchaos, @bluezraven, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @bradshawsbaby, @hangmandruigandmav, @xoxabs88xox, @seitmai, @cherrycola27, @keyrani, @millieb-3199, @solo-pitstop-vibes

[bobfloydsbabe]

what if i love you | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc

a gold rush fic

SUMMARY: In the early morning hours, Imogen contemplates her relationship with Bob.

WARNINGS: academia au, fluff, angst-ish, power imbalance, age gap (mid 20s/late 30s). strictly 18+/minors dni.

WORD COUNT: 401

GOLD RUSH MASTERLIST

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A/N: I hope you enjoy this quick blurb I wrote for Eccentric Professor Bob and Imogen, where we get a rare insight into her perspective of their relationship. It's a vulnerable but sweet moment for them ✨

She watches him from the doorway of the ensuite bathroom.

It’s the early morning hours, light just starting to peek through under the curtains. Outside, a furious spring storm rages on, but in here, the sound of his heavy breaths fills the room. She smiles to herself as his chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm.

No one has ever made her feel as alive as he does. He might not say it, but she knows he values her opinion. Yesterday, when she presented yet another dissertation proposal, he fought for her, and she’s convinced it’s the reason they finally approved it. She’d been so angry with him afterwards, terrified everyone would know they’d crossed the line of professionalism–that he was only pushing for the approval because they have an intimate relationship.

She should have known it was a bad idea. That the sex would complicate things, and that getting to know him would change everything. She should have known, but she did it anyway. She still fell into his bed and got lost in his passion.

She crosses the room and climbs back under the comforter. Even in his sleep, Bob reaches for her. He wraps his deceptively muscular arms around her and brings her closer until her face is buried in the crook of his neck.

His lips find their way to the top of her head, and he places a gentle kiss there. “Mornin’,” he mumbles against her hair. 

She doesn’t fight the grin that spreads on her face. “Thought you were sleeping.”

“I was,” he says, voice still thick with sleep. “Then my girl left my bed.”

She cranes her neck upward, eyes locking with his. “Your girl, huh?” He hums and leans down, pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss.

“Wish we could stay here all day,” he mutters.

God, she wishes they could too. Just the two of them in this bed, tucked away from the rest of the world. Hidden away from those who will judge them when they learn the truth. Part of her wants to quit as his TA or remove him from her dissertation committee, so they can be together without fear of repercussions.

It’s a distant and unrealistic dream, but she aches for it. 

“Me too,” she agrees, burying her face in the crook of his neck again and breathes in his scent. Leather and ink. Him.

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TAGLIST: @joaquinwhorres, @kmc1989, @sweetwhispersofchaos, @roosterforme, @millieb-3199, @bobgasm, @attapullman, @bluezraven, @just-in-case-iloveyou, @bradshawsbaby, @bcarolinablr, @seitmai, @sio-ina-bottle, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @hangmandruigandmav, @solo-pitstop-vibes, @cremebruleequeen, @auroraseddie, @rosie-posie08, @cherrycola27, @keyrani

[bobfloydsbabe]

rose blush | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc | sneak peek

a gold rush fic

SUMMARY: Professor Bob has a special surprise for his TA on Valentine's Day.

WARNINGS: fluff, smut (not in sneak peek), age gap (mid-20s/late-30s), power imbalance. strictly 18+/minors dni

WORD COUNT: final count tbd

“Robert Floyd, you didn’t.”

They’ve already had an amazing dinner at a restaurant with red wine and delicious pasta, and now he’s only gone and done this.

“I didn’t,” he whispers in her ear, arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. “The hotel staff did.”

She smacks his arm, but can’t fight the grin spreading across her face. The filled bathtub stands in front of them with lit candles all around the edge and rose petals sprinkled over the bubbly water. An ice bucket with champagne and two glasses sits on a tray straddling the edges of the tub, and her heart sings for this man.

It’s hard to believe where they started compared to where they are now. They still argue, still have to pretend they don’t want to rip each other’s clothes off all the time, still have to make people believe their relationship is only that of professor and teaching assistant. It’s hard to keep up, and she knows that’s why he booked them a hotel outside the city. Valentine’s Day weekend no less. He’s being romantic.

“Go on,” he breathes against her skin.

She turns in his arms, wrapping hers around his neck, and rises to her toes. “You’re coming with me.”

He chuckles and pecks her lips. “Wasn’t even up for debate, baby.”

COMING TO SCREEN NEAR YOU IN FEBRUARY

[bobfloydsbabe]

Everyone say thank you @attapullman because she’s the reason there will eventually be a follow-up to the cockwarming fic involving Professor Bob telling Imogen to beg for his cock 😵‍💫

enjoy this sneak peek i just wrote

I’ll see myself out 🫡

[bobfloydsbabe]

"I believe I could make you do it." with our favourite professor and teaching assistant 😵‍💫

Morgan, my love, this is an excellent choice for Bob and Imogen. It took me a hot minute to come up with a scenario that made sense for them, but I think I got there in the end. Here's a ~450 word blurb. Enjoy ✨

sinful prompts open for: eccentric professor bob

18+ | MINORS DNI

“I believe I could make you do it.”

She turns her head, looking at the professor who’s lying next to her on the bed, chest heaving and covered in sweat. His face and neck flushed a deep rosy shade, and his hair mussed.

“Do what?”

He rolls on top of her, a grin playing at the corner of his mouth. His skin is hot against hers as he leans into her neck, leaving languid and wet kisses there.

“Beg for it.”

Imogen snorts. “You think you can make me beg? Please.”

Her hands roam his back, tracing the muscle patterns along his spine and feels his shoulder blades move when he raises his head to look at her.

“I can,” he insists, letting his hands run along the column of her neck, and over her breast. “I’ll make you cry out my name and beg for my cock.”

He closes his mouth around her nipple, teasing it with his teeth, and her back arches off the mattress at the sensation. She’s still sensitive after their previous activities, but her thighs rub together of their own volition.

He moves to her other nipple and groans when she digs her nails into his back.

“So soft,” he mumbles against her skin as he crawls lower. “All mine.”

His possessiveness should terrify her, but it doesn’t. It fills her with a carnal desire that he worships her like this, and everyone who came before will never compare.

Her hands find his hair and she tries to push him lower to where she wants him, but he tuts at her. “Someone’s desperate,” he mutters as his fingertips trace a line over her hips and down to her thighs.

“Please, Professor,” she whines when his breath fans over the tops of her thighs, impossibly close to her wetness. “Please touch me.”

“I am touching you,” he says, fingers running along the inside of her thighs and one knuckle grazing her clit, making her gasp.

“I need your mouth.”

“I don’t hear you begging yet.” He runs a finger along her slit with a featherlight touch, and she writhes and pants, dangerously close to doing what he wants.

“Professor,” she whimpers, scooting down towards him to increase the pressure of his touch.

“Ah ah,” he warns. He places a palm against her stomach, holding her in place. “Beg. Beg for my mouth, my touch.”

She shakes her head, whole body trembling with need. “Never.” The word sounds breathless even to herself.

“Do it,” he demands, voice dark and dangerous. “Beg for my cock.”