#robert bob floyd fanfiction

[sebsxphia]

shopping lists.

robert ‘bob’ floyd x reader.

￫ summary: you rush to the shops after work to do a quick food shop, but bob floyd was not on your shopping list.

￫ word count: 3.3K.

￫ warnings: mentions of food, supermarkets, feeling hungry and fluff, fluff, fluff.

￫ authors notes: my description of the supermarket is based off uk supermarkets, so i apologise if there’s inaccuracies to us supermarkets! this also hasn’t been proof read. my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

Bob was starving.

He cursed himself under his breath as he drove back from base. He had the driver's window in his baby blue truck rolled down and his forearm resting on the side, his fingers pushing through the sticky summer air as he drove. Air conditioning alone wouldn’t keep him cool, as he still wore his flight suit from training earlier that day. He could feel how the ring of sweat around his neck was sticking to his collar, but he simply didn’t have the time or willpower to shower and change on base.

It had just gone five o’clock in the afternoon and he had gotten off later than he expected. He would’ve already had a small meal to keep him going until dinner by now, but low and behold, when he awoke this morning, as the sun was only a crack along the horizon, he realized he had no substantial food in his fridge.

Bob was a planner. He would do his fortnightly shop routinely, but something came up at work and it had simply slipped his mind. The only thing he could do now was drive as fast as he could to the supermarket, slip in, whisk around the aisles in record time and drive back home to cook something up in under an hour. He had another early start the next morning and as always, he had a routinely early bedtime.

Being a pilot made his reactions lightening fast. This would be easy for him.

As he pulled into the car park and zoned in on a space, he noticed another car also going for the same spot.

You were inches away from the space and although he was in a hunger-fueled rush, being the ever polite gentleman that he was, he let you go for it. Through the glare of the late afternoon sun reflecting off your windshield, he couldn’t quite make out the person driving, but he saw how you politely lifted your hand off the steering wheel to motion, “Thanks!”

Bob responded in turn with his wave and warm smile. He drove a little further forward past your car to find another space and the reflecting sun moved against your windshield to reveal you in a clearer light. You had the sweetest little smile as you thanked Bob. Your lips curled up to meet the creases in the corners of your eyes and your cheeks were a sweet rosy colour.

As he drove away and around the corner of the car park, Bob chewed at the inside of his cheek, still with a small smile twitching on his lips. He had a small hope that he would see you inside, only because he wanted to let you know that he was more than happy to give you the spot.

No other reason.

He was pulled out of his thoughts about your sweet smile as he felt his stomach grumble furiously. After doing a loop around, he managed to find a spot at the opposite end of the car park. He of course cursed himself again under his breath for going shopping at peak hours after everyone had finished work on a weekday, but he only blamed himself. He didn’t blame you. You were simply there first.

The almost freezing blast of air conditioner on his face as he entered the supermarket, was a welcomed change to the ever-growing humid air outside. The tiny, blonde baby hairs on the back of his sweat-coated neck stood up momentarily, as the icy air flowed down and through his flight suit. He felt himself cool down almost instantly. He pulled up with a shopping cart and started with fruits and vegetables at the front of the store. He was desperate to move fast, but his boots were heavy and searingly hot with every step he took around the aisles. That was the only spot on his body that the air conditioning could not reach.

As he came to the end of the fruits and vegetables section, he turned to reach for the tomatoes when suddenly a flurry swooped by him. It caught his attention instantly and he whipped his head around, with his torso moving inwards towards the tomatoes to avoid bumping into whoever had just swept by him.

It was you. The same person in the car park who he had given his space to. He observed as you descended the cheese and yoghurt aisle.

A small lump got caught in his throat and he swallowed thickly, as he watched how your sundress swished around your bare calves. He couldn’t help but let his cobalt blue eyes from behind his glasses, glance over you. Bob was raised right by his mom. He was respectful and well-mannered, but the simple and undeniable fact was, that you were the prettiest person he had ever laid eyes on. Even from the glow of the cool light down the food aisle, it could not diminish your luminescence.

He reached his slender index finger up to his glasses and pushed them up his nose ever so slightly. The prior sudden movement had caused them to jolt down the bridge of his nose by a centimetre.

As you walked straight down the aisle and turned to face the cheese selection, the delicate material of your sundress moved back into place to frame your body. It rippled over each curve of your figure and Bob’s heartbeat doubled in time when he caught sight of your soft belly in your sundress. He sucked in a harsh breath between his teeth as he wondered for a fleeting second, how soft your belly would feel to hold when his face was buried between your thighs.

He registered the smile creases in the corners of your eyes. The same ones that he noticed first in the parking lot and how they narrowed to read the label in front of you. Your eyelashes fluttered against one another as you blinked against the glaring light humming above you. As you raked over your options, he watched how your teeth grazed over your bottom lip and chewed nimbly at it. The same habit he had.

He needed some cheese and yoghurt himself, so perhaps he could catch you there.

Bob meandered some meters behind you and acted as if he was choosing his yoghurt option. He already knew what he needed. The same yoghurt he’d had for the past five years, but he was drawn to you. Like a moth to the radiating flame.

He cocked his head behind him to glance in your direction and you had already moved down the aisle to assess your next grocery choice. He took his multipack of yoghurts, placed it in his cart and wheeled it around to stand by you, again acting as if he was evaluating his cheese choice. From behind his glasses, he took another sideways glance. You were performing a balancing act of holding your shopping basket’s flimsy handles, holding the cheese in your other hand and somehow holding open a small notebook and crossing out the presumed item, with a pen.

At a glance, Bob saw how inside your notebook was filled with lots of little scribbles, and crossed-out parts and as you went to close it, the front cover was decorated with sweet little stickers.

“Jesus Christ. That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.” He thought to himself.

As you went to slide the pen back into the elasticated band, it slipped from your balancing act and slid along the dotted tiles of the supermarket, straight for Bob’s direction. It hit the sole of his boots and he heard your voice for the first time.

“Ah, shit.” It was muttered under your breath with annoyance, but he thought your voice sounded like sweet honey.

Before his thought process could catch up to him, he wondered if you tasted like sweet honey.

You spoke directly to Bob this time, as you scurried over and bent down to pick up the pen by his boots. He caught a fleeting glance at the swell of your breasts, resting in your sundress.

You laughed out faintly with your apology. “I’m sorry, my mistake—”

As you moved too quickly with embarrassment to pick up your pen, your flimsy shopping basket was swinging and the cheese you were holding also fell out of your grasp.

“Ah! Fuck.” You quietly cursed again to yourself, or so you thought.

Bob had caught your second string of curses to you accidentally dropping something and he thought it was rather cute.

“Here, let me.” He chuckled to himself as he squatted down to reach for your cheese and pen.

Both now standing upright, he handed your belongings back to you and felt how the palms of your hands were as soft as butter against his fingertips. You looked at each other directly and now without the glare of your windshield, he could finally see every delicate feature that made up your beautiful face. He thought that you were so pretty.

You went to open your mouth and speak, but your words got caught on your tongue. This kind stranger was incredibly handsome. He looked smart with his clean-shaven face and his dusty blonde hair parted neatly to one side, with a thick swoop. His rounded glasses didn’t have a single smudge on them and his cheeks were round as he smiled at you, although it still didn't take away from his strong cheekbones and firm jaw.

You blinked in a flurry as you took in his build. You were accustomed to seeing pilots around here with the air base being so close to town, but it was rare to see one in what you presumed was a flight suit of some kind. It was deep forest green in colour and harmoniously blended against his striking eyes from behind his glasses. It wasn’t tightly fitted, yet still, his broad shoulders and firm biceps were flexing against the coarse material. His thighs stood strong with his heavy boots planted firmly against the tiled floor. He was tall and practically towered over you, but he respectfully kept a distance between you both.

“I’m sorry again, thank you.” You smiled bashfully at him. Your eyelashes were still fluttering against one another and your rounded cheeks were dusted pink.

Bob couldn’t help himself. He grinned as he shook his head and politely rejected your apology.

“No need to apologise, Ma’am. It’s all good.”

Suddenly your eyes widened and your eyebrows raised with them.

The glimmer from the overhead light in the supermarket made your eyes sparkle with such an inviting glow.

“Oh! You were the nice guy in the parking lot! You let me take your space!” You pointed your finger towards him. His truck was significantly higher than your car and you were only able to get a glance at his face from behind your windshield.

Bob let out a chuckle and waved his large hand in front of him, diminishing the idea. He further wanted to wave off the ever-growing flush of heat that was creeping up from his chest. It flushed over his neck and cheeks and sat right under his glasses. The blasting air conditioning had once again failed him and his chest, neck and cheeks were now flushed warm.

“Oh, hey. Not at all, it wasn’t my space. You had it, fair and square.”

You giggled in response. His respectful and polite demeanour had your stomach feeling as though a million and one butterflies were fluttering through you, making their way up through your heart and coming out of your mouth with sweet giggles.

“Alright, thanks again though, I appreciate it. I was in such a rush after work. Always the way, isn’t it?”

You laughed again and the sound flowed to Bob’s ears, making his playful smile reach the tips of his ears.

“Tell me about it.” He agreed with a grin.

You flashed a last beaming smile at Bob as the conversation between two strangers in a supermarket came to its natural end and you turned around to continue following your shopping list.

That’s what he thought.

As you turned down the aisle, you once again cursed at yourself for not being more forward, flirtatious, or whatever it would be that would land you his number. He was gorgeous. Undeniably handsome. And he was so stupidly charming and polite.

You turned on a quick heel to see if he was still there, but he had disappeared and you were left alone in the chilled aisle, with nothing to comfort you but your notebook and the static overhead lights.

Bob too mentally scolded himself for not asking such a pretty sweetheart like yourself for your number. As he watched you turn away, he chewed on his bottom lip, curled his fists tightly, released them and then walked away.

He was a gentleman. He would not harass someone if they didn’t show a sign of being interested in him. But he was sure you were. He had a sharp and watchful eye, and he saw how rosy your cheeks turned and how your chest stuttered slightly as your breath got caught in your throat. But he was pulled out of his battling thoughts but his stomach grumbly furiously at him again.

He whisked down the remaining aisles to finish his shop, still with the hope of a fleeting chance to see you again, but he couldn’t ignore what his body was telling him. As he checked out, tapped his card on the machine and wheeled his shopping cart out of the store, he still had both his trained eyes on his surroundings. Just in case there was a single chance, a perfect moment, where he could catch you. Bob had been extremely methodical about his choices in life and he only ever perused something if he was certain. He had never been so utterly and completely sure that you were the one for him.

He fished his truck keys out of his flight suit pocket and just as he was about to turn the key in the door, he remembered.

“Fuck. Tomatoes.”

Bob didn’t need a list. It was all written down mentally and he rarely forgot things, but he remembered that as he was about to reach for the tomatoes, you came by earlier in a flurry. He would’ve called it fate if he ever had a chance of seeing you again.

“Fuck! Tomatoes.”

You groaned and threw your head back in annoyance. It was on your list, sitting on the next line down under cheese and then you remembered why you forgot it in such a fluster. You slammed the boot door of your car back down, locked it shut and headed back inside to grab the final item. Your feet moved quickly along the tile floor and you turned on your heel to find the stack of plump, rosy red tomatoes in front of you.

“Hello again.”

The familiar voice made the tiny baby hairs on your neck stand up and a row of goosebumps rise on your forearms in tow. His smile radiated warmth as it crinkled up in the corners of his eyes. He stood tall over you, still in his flight suit, but again you didn’t feel intimidated in the slightest. You felt a true sense of calm and safety wash over you.

Your lips parted to gasp with happy surprise at seeing him again, before they curled up into a relieved smile, mirroring his own.

“Hello again.” You repeated back to him. “I forgot tom—”

“I forgot some tom—”

You both spoke in unison, before snorting out a quiet laugh between yourselves.

“Apologies. You go.” Bob gestured towards you and the vegetable stand.

“I’m going to make a sauce when I get back home, but I completely forgot the main ingredient.” You waved it off with another giggle, yet still, you did not attempt to reach for said important ingredient. You simply stayed facing him with a gleaming smile.

Bob’s mouth watered at the sound of your homemade tomato sauce. His stomach still growled at him from inside, but he also felt how it twisted and turned on itself with exhilaration. He pictured coming home to you after work, sitting down together at your dining table and sharing the homemade sauce. You were, without a fault, the only person he had ever truly envisioned a future with and he couldn’t repeat the same mistake as before.

He nimbly chewed at his bottom lip, failing to notice how you were also doing the same, as he mentally prepared his next statement.

“That sounds, delicious. I hope I’m not oversteppin’ here, and please tell me if I am, but I’d love to have y’ number, Ma’am. I’d love to try some of y’ homemade sauce, if that’s okay with you?”

Bob was not an overly religious man, but he swallowed thickly and prayed with every hope that the last part of his sentence didn’t come across in the wrong way. It felt longer than mere seconds to receive your response, but he breathed out a short sigh of relief when he saw how your eyes crinkled up into an animated smile to match his.

“Yes, yes! I’d love that. Please, let me get my book…” Your fingers were trembling with giddy anticipation as you worked to open your bag and reached for your notebook. “Uh…” You flipped through to find a clean page and when you landed on one, you gestured it towards him. “Here you go.” You gushed.

“Thank you.” He began. “I’m Bob, by the way. Bob Floyd.”

You mentioned your name and he felt his heart flutter at how pretty it was. By how eagerly you had accepted his proposal to exchange numbers, he could see that you were just as into him, as he was with you. And so, he let his true feelings become known.

“That’s a real pretty name, sweetheart.”

You sucked in a harsh breath between your teeth and let out a bashful, “Oh…”

The sweet name that he had just called you, made your legs nearly twitch and tremble on the supermarket floor.

His long, slender fingers curled around the pen as he scribbled down his number. Your notebook and pen looked so small in his hands.

When he offered it back to you, you wrote down your number in a flurry and tore the piece of paper out from the binder. You handed it over and he tucked it into the top pocket of his flight suit. You thought that that was the hottest thing you have ever witnessed a man doing.

Bob Floyd, as you now knew him, had seriously gotten into your head and clouded any reasonable senses.

You both exchanged some further light conversation, still with Bob shamelessly and sweetly flirting with you, before you both picked up your tomatoes, paid and left for the car park together. He insisted on walking you to the car to ensure that you got there safely, even though it was still broad daylight and when he left, he placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

You both went back to your separate homes and cooked your separate meals. As you were about to get into bed you sent Bob a text, the taste of your homemade sauce still dancing on your taste buds.

“this weekend, would you like me to show you how i make the sauce? would you like to come to mine? x”

You were caught by surprise when your phone dinged with a message notification moments after.

“I would love that, thank you for the invite, sweetheart. Can’t wait :-) x”

Bob lay in bed that night thinking about how to tell the story of how you both met at your wedding.

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @luckyladycreator2 @unmistakablyunknown @flames-thebitch @birdy-bat-writes @thedroneranger @randomfandomgirl97 @kmc1989 @swiftsgirlfriend

tagging those who may be interested: @sunblchdfly @floydsglasses @fridamoss @floydsmuse @bobfloydsbabe @laracrofted @hangmanapologist @rhettabbotts @lewmagoo @peachystenbrough @auroralightsthesky @cherrycola27 @withahappyrefrain @sugarcoated-lame @senawashere

[withahappyrefrain]

“Stop wiggling around, I’m trying to sleep! Wait… what’s tha… oh!”

Forced proximity with best friend Bob?

A chance to do friends to lovers with Bob? Say no more!

"Remind me to never let Javy book the Air B&B again."

Bob chuckled at your comment, despite agreeing, "Well at least we have an actual bed. Reuben and Mickey have bunk beds."

"So all the single people have to suffer?" You scoffed, continuing to shuffle through your luggage.

The annual lake trip was going well, until the room arrangements were revealed. It wasn't that you minded sharing a room with Bob.

It was the lack of a second bed.

Twenty years ago, when you were both eight, this wouldn't have been a problem. But then puberty, high school, and base camp occurred, which brought to light the crush you had been harboring on your best friend.

"We'll make it work. And if it's that bad, I can take the floor," he offered, always the considerate one. It was one of the many traits you adored about Bob.

"Robert James Floyd, absolutely not!" You scolded, eliciting a chuckle out of him. It was deep and low, just like his voice and you didn't want to admit how it made your knees nearly shake.

"I've slept in barracks before, it's the same thing."

The comment would have gotten a laugh out of you. In fact, you would have even made a remark back, probably about how you've also slept in truck beds and underneath a wide open sky.

But then Bob Floyd took his shirt off.

It wasn't even your first time seeing him shirtless, far from it. But now he had filled out, with muscle and a dusting of hair that trailed down from his chest, past his stomach.

God, was he always this hot? Had to be and somehow you just didn't notice it until later. Perhaps that was the worst part; you fell for him because of who he was. It wasn't as if he had some type of glowup over summer break, like you'd see so often in those stupid teen movies you'd watch to feel better about yourself. No, Bob Floyd was always a beautiful soul, inside and out.

And he wasn't yours. Couldn't be. The risk of him not reciprocating was too high. Plus, your family was friends with his'. That meant Thanksgiving, Christmas, Fourth of July, hell, even fucking Memorial Day gatherings would be tainted. All thanks to you.

The pressure was too high, the risk was too great.

But you could look, right?

"Sunshine?"

Bob's childhood now turned adult nickname for you broke the spell. Your wide eyes met his oceanic's. His hair, which had gotten darker over the years and now had threads of early greys, was mussed from taking off his shirt, some curls over the front of his forehead, others to the side. White shirt in hand, highlighting how massive they were when clutching the alabaster fabric. Brow's knitted together, combined with his narrow eyes and titled head created a downright adorable look of confusion.

"You,,,," he briefly turned around, to see if there was something on the wall behind him and that's why you wouldn't look at him, "You okay?"

You nodded eagerly, probably too eagerly, "Yeah sorry....I uh spaced out. Probably thinking of ways to get back at Javy."

Bob smiled, despite it never reaching his eyes when he nodded. You had turned around so quickly, unable to make such an observation.

"I'm going to go take a shower," grabbing the top and bottom you could find the quickest in your suitcase. You avoided eye contact with him, too busy feeling shame for getting caught doing something so lewd.

Rushing, you turned the water on in the showers. Focusing on ensuring you grabbed the correct products. Get the water to the perfect temperature and pressure, it exists, it has to exist because if it doesn't then you'll think about the dark body hair that went past the waistband of his jeans.

For about twenty minutes, it worked. You did your skincare routine, brushed your teeth for nearly two minutes, even blow dried your hair. Applied a lip mask, that stupid lash and brow serum the worker at Sephora conned you into buying. Moisturize every inch of your body, even though it was the dead of summer and you would sweat it all off before sunrise. That stupid reusable eye mask that you got because it was on clearance. Have you done the Wordle today, you should do the Wordle. You should do anything other than thinking about sharing a bed with your shirtless best friend.

It worked. Even put on some music, not too loud, just enough to hear and hum along.

It worked. For a while. But then you had used nearly every product in your cosmetics bag and it was time to get dressed.

Fuck.

You could never match a pair of socks, not even if your life depended on it. But tonight, fucking tonight of all nights, you had to grab a whole matching set.

The pale pink lace trimmed cami, paired with joggers. An oversized T-shirt that went further down than the pair of matching satin shorts.

You had brought the set when you were talking to a guy and thought you would be able to move on from the wonder that is Bob Floyd. What a fucking joke.

Maybe you could wear them, run back out to grab something else and run back in to change. No, why would anyone do that? If anything, it'll just make it more obvious that you didn't want to wear it in front of him. But what if you didn't change and Bob thought you had worn essentially casual lingerie on purpose? What if he found that weird? What if-

"You okay in there Sunny?" His voice always calmed you, always able to break you out of whatever self inflicted spiral you were on.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded despite Bob being unable to see you, "Yeah, I'm good. Just developed a more extensive skincare routine."

A short burst of laughter was released on the other side of the door, "You don't need all that. Already pretty."

"Bob Floyd, you are....." Charming. Amazing. Too good to be true. The love of my life,

"....too kind."

"Just telling the truth," his feet audibly stepped away. The butterflies in your chest were still exploding from his words. He made you feel safe, that this was Bob you were talking about. He'd never think you'd do something lewd or negative on purpose. Bob knew your intentions to be good. After all, he was your Bobby.

Just not in the way you want.

Your head cleared long enough to walk out the door, into the well lit bedroom. When he first made eye contact with you, you didn't even falter, simply smiling at him.

But Bob didn't say anything at first. Usually he'd make a teasing but well meaning comment about you taking so long. His thin pink lips parted, yet no words came through.

"Are you okay Bobby?"

The concern in your voice broke the trance. His features soften, his lips quirking into a half smile, "Yeah, I'm good. Just gonna shower and then head to bed."

Tension had left the room. Flopping down onto the bed, you scrolled through social media, watching all the videos and photos the squad had posted today.

"Uh, Sunshine?" You turned and lost your breath. Bob's hair was freshly washed, ends beginning to curl. A white shirt that was barely translucent and grey sweatpants that hung low on his lithe hips.

Bob Floyd had downright slutty hips.

"I don't think the bed is big enough for both of us to lay down."

Your brow crumpled in confusion, "Javy said this was a queen."

"Javy thinks anything that isn't a single is a Queen." Bob explained, not phased at all by this mistake.

Clearly it wasn't the first time. But you were still going to kill Javy Machado tomorrow morning.

"Here, if we both sleep on our sides, it'll be good."

"Like spooning?"

"Uh yeah," a hand came up to rub the back of his neck, "That's one way to think about it."

You supposed it was better than feeling his ass against yours, "Alright, well....come on in, the water's fine."

It took some time to figure out the arrangement. What was one supposed to do with their other hand? The final agreement consisted of your hips flushed against Bob's, his arm slung over your waist.

Zero awkwardness in the air. It felt....natural.

"Night Bobby."

"Night Sunshine."

Things were looking up. There was no way this would change your friendship or threaten to reveal your well kept secret. Sleep was well within your reach.

Then Bob moved. And kept moving. Due to his closeness, you felt every maneuver, no matter how subtle.

"Floyd, do you mind?"

His movements continued, as if he was trying to avoid your body while somehow simultaneously hang onto it.

A loud huff left your lips, "Stop wiggling around, I'm trying to sleep! Wait, what's that...."

Oh.

Your hips were flushed against his, your ass perfectly fitting the space formed by his thigh meeting his hip. Right against his hardened groin.

The sweatpants were thin. He didn't have anything underneath. Thanks to the flimsy fabric of your shorts, you could feel him greatly.

You were in bed with Bob Floyd. Bob Floyd was in bed with you, rocking an erection. You were being held by Bob Floyd, in bed. Bob Floyd had a huge cock, a grower.

Silence filled the room, tension thick enough to be cut with a butter knife. Neither one wanting to move, for fear of making it worse.

He let out a shaky breath. He developed a rhythm, almost imitating one sleeping.

You shifted, just enough for your thigh to rise, but subtle enough to play off as nothing.

His breath hitched.

Inch by inch, your hips began to gyrate, rubbing against his clothed cock.

"B-Bobby," you were panting, as if having run a marathon. His fingers sank into your hips, gripping the plush flesh as he flipped you onto your back, towering over you.

You moved to sit on your elbows, to raise yourself up to argue. From years of play fighting, he was fast as lightning, pinning your hands above your head.

Bob slowly lowered himself down until his nose brushed against your, his soft hair brushing your forehead.

"Twelve years." Was all he said, gritting through his teeth, squeezing your hands in hopes it would tethered him to Earth.

All that came out of your mouth was a hum of confusion. In the moonlit light, you searched for his eyes, trying to read them.

"Stuart Hendricks asked you to prom. You had been hoping all month he would ask you. Hell, I even helped him. Told him your favorite musical and which song to sing. I was excited for ya. And then you said yes to him and I wanted to punch him. I never had thought about fighting someone until then. Took me a week to realize why I was so angry."

Oh my God.

"Eight to ten years ago," you confessed. It was Bob's turn to knit his eyebrows together.

"Eight to ten?" He repeated, "Why is there a range?"

"I remember feeling....funny when you came back from boot camp. You had filled out a bit and had on those adorable military issued glasses. But it took me some time to accept what I was feeling," you explained.

How you found those glasses endearing was beyond Bob's understanding. But it didn't agitate him, it was just one of the many things he loved about you.

"That's a lot of time lost," his voice was barely a whisper.

You nodded, "Can we.....can we start making up for it?"

"Yes," he nodded, dropping his head lower, "one hundred percent yes."

His lips were like heaven. He molded his body to yours, chests flushed together, limbs tangled within one another. A hand that spanned the entirety of his neck, his thumb guiding your chin upwards so he could deeper explore your mouth.

"Heard you singing....and it just felt....felt like we were living together," he confessed in between kisses, "felt so right, like that's what it's supposed to be like."

Nodding feverishly, your hands found purchase in his thick hair. Tugging on the sun kissed locks, earning a groan from Bob that made your thighs clench.

"Can....can I touch you?" Always the gentlemen, your Bobby.

"As long as you don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it sunshine," his mouth latched onto your neck, leaving open mouth kisses along the side, teeth gently grazing your sensitive skin. A hand grabbed your leg, hitching it to wrap around his waist.

Bob Floyd was fucking heaven.

[deakyjoe]

I Got Chills, They’re Multiplying

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader (fem, she/her)

Category: sick fic, fluff

Summary: Despite being stubbornly independent, Bob won’t let you push him away in your time of need.

Warnings: sickness, sexual references and innuendos, implication of Bob having a “lieutenant” kink, just fluff mostly, reader is used to pushing people away, they’re like hella in love but won’t say it

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: Wrote this exhausted because I haven’t been able to sleep these past few days due to being sick. Enjoy!

Consider buying me a coffee :)

You stared at the last text message Bob had sent you.

Okay, get well soon!

It was unclear whether the constant pounding in your head was what was making you feel sick or if it was how quickly the text conversation had ended with your boyfriend. Well, kind-of boyfriend. You'd been on a lot of dates over the last few months but hadn't actually made it official yet.

It's not like you expected anything from him, you were used to men being pretty dismissive, and his message was actually very friendly, especially with the exclamation point at the end, but you couldn't help but feel a pang of something at him just ending the conversation like that.

To be fair to him, you had told him that you were fine, just had a cold or a minor case of the flu. It was a little worse than that but you weren't used to telling people your problems, used to keeping them bottled up inside. So you guess you couldn't really blame him for taking your word for granted and assuming that, as you'd said, you were fine. And maybe he was busy.

You sighed and tossed your phone aside, burying your face in one of the many blankets you'd dragged to your couch in an attempt to feel slightly warmer. You were being ridiculous, this is exactly what you wanted. And what you expected. At least you had peace and quiet for the day whilst you recovered.

Drifting off into a dreamless sleep came naturally with the state your body was in and you were thankful for it, hoping that the headache that had been plaguing you since you first woke up that morning would be gone by the time you woke up again.

It wasn't.

In fact, it only got worse when the rhythmic throbbing in your skull matched the timing of the person knocking on your front door. You groaned quietly to yourself and dragged yourself up off the couch, wrapping a blanket tight around your shoulders and padding to the door with only one sock on. You figured the other one must have fallen off during your nap.

You didn't even bother looking through the peephole to see who was bothering you, hoping to just snap at them to go away once you'd managed to unlock the door.

That plan was foiled when you were greeted by your favourite pair of baby blue eyes behind wire framed glasses. You immediately softened at the sight of your kind-of boyfriend.

"Oh, hi." You croaked, immediately feeling sheepish that you were about to shout at him without even thinking about the consequences.

Bob frowned at you, giving you a quick once over. "You're sick."

"Yes, I told you that." You chuckled, coughing into your elbow as soon as the words had left your mouth.

"Sicker than you let on." He clarified.

You shrugged, not knowing what to say. He was right. But that's just who you were. Keep everything to yourself, was your motto.

So you just asked him a question instead. "Why are you here? I said I was fine."

Bob smiled at that. "I think your exact words were 'yeah, I'm good' which I knew was a lie."

"Oh." That surprised you.

He went further. "You only say you're good when something's wrong."

God, were you that easy to read?

"So, I thought I'd come check on you." He stiffened suddenly. "I hope that's okay."

You didn't think it possible but somehow you softened more under his worried gaze. "Yes, that's very okay. Do you want to come in?"

You opened the door wider for him, stepping aside and grinning when he hurried in and kicked off his shoes. It was then that you noticed what he was wearing. Blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He looked good. Very good. If you didn't feel like you were dying then you'd definitely be jumping his bones right about now. You still kind of wanted to. You pushed the thought aside.

"Didn't realise how hot it is outside. I'm freezing." You mumbled, shuffling back towards your couch. "Do you want a drink?"

"No, thanks. But if I did then I'd make it myself. I'm here to look after you." He placed a hand on the small of your back to guide you in the direction of the blanket pile you'd previously made, smirking at the sight of it.

You shifted away from him. "You don't have to touch me. I'm sick and disgusting right now."

He huffed. "You're beautiful and lovely like always."

"Liar." You grumbled, pushing back into his hand nevertheless.

"No, just smitten and honest." He confessed, sitting you down on the couch and wrapping you in the millions of blankets. "Have you eaten today?"

You shook your head no. You didn't feel up to cooking.

"Want me to make you something?" He stood in front of you with his hands on his hips.

"No." You sighed. "It's okay."

"Yeah, I'm making you something."

You huffed. "You really don't have to-"

"I want to." He cut you off. “I don’t want you to think you can’t ask me for things. You know I care about you, right?”

You nodded slowly. “I know, I’m just used to doing stuff for myself.”

Bob smiled gently. “I know that. But now you don’t have to. I’m here for you. To help. Or whatever you need.”

You were about to respond with a fond thank you when you were interrupted by his cellphone chiming in his pocket.

“Sorry.” He grunted, pulling the device from the front of his jeans.

“It’s okay.” You coughed, curious as to why he was suddenly frowning. “Who is it?”

"Had plans with the team tonight. Was supposed to meet them for drinks." He mumbled, typing away on his phone.

"Oh, god." You rubbed your hand across your face. "Please go. You don't have to stay here. Don't let them down."

Bob suddenly looked up from his screen and gave you an amused smile. "I'm sure they'll understand that I'm looking after my sick girlfriend."

He said it so casually, as if he’d been doing it regularly. Your heart rate picked up at that. Girlfriend. His girlfriend. Bob Floyd's girlfriend. You could've squealed with glee. You stayed silent and settled for a pleased grin.

He sighed to himself once he’d replied to his team and placed his cell down on your coffee table. “Where were we? Oh! Right. Me cooking for you.”

“Like I said, you don’t need to do that.” You pulled your feet up onto the couch after a particularly violent shiver ran through you. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Bob reached out and pressed the back of his hand onto your forehead. “You have a fever. And you’re still shaking like we’re in Antarctica.”

“It’s just my immune system fighting back.” You hummed, leaning into his touch as he moved his hand down to cup your cheek.

“Exactly. And I’m sure some warm soup will just help your immune system out.” He crouched down in front of you, taking the other side of your face in his other hand. “Please let me take care of you.”

The words were so softly spoken, so tender, that you almost started crying. No one had ever sounded so sincere before, especially when it came to your well-being. If you weren’t so scared of infecting him, you would’ve leaned forward to kiss him.

So you could only reply quietly, with the smallest of nods. “Okay.”

His face burst into a dazzling smile, the kind that made you never want to stop looking at him. “Okay. You rest some more and I’ll go make that for you.”

You smiled weakly back at him, suddenly remembering something. “I don’t think I have any soup.”

Bob didn’t falter. “That’s alright. I’ll figure something out.”

You thought that maybe you were a little bit in love with him.

“Help yourself to anything.” It didn’t need to be said, he knew your kitchen pretty well at this point and you always made it clear that he was free to eat or use anything in it when he was over at your place.

He nodded, pressed a kiss to your forehead and stood up. “Try to sleep a little. This might take a while.”

You snorted, regretting it immediately as it made your throat feel all scratchy. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

Bob paused for a second, halfway to taking a step towards the kitchen, and looked back at you. “Lieutenant?”

You nodded, mouth twitching at the corners.

He seemed to think on it for a second. “Hm, we’ll come back to that.”

You giggled quietly into your blanket and settled back onto the couch, closing your eyes and thinking of Bob Floyd. Your boyfriend. Your extremely caring boyfriend. Who was in your kitchen making you soup! When did you suddenly get so lucky? The musings drifted away with you as you slipped into unconsciousness.

Some time passed before you were awoken again by Bob stroking the side of your face and softly uttering your name.

You rubbed your eyes as you sat up, slightly confused as your head cleared. “What’s going on?”

“Soup.” He replied simply, picking up your legs and sitting down before placing them across his lap. He leaned forward to grab the bowl and spoon on your coffee table and then turned to face you.

“You gonna feed me?” You teased.

Bob smiled. “I would if you wanted me to but I’m sure you’d rather I throw this soup in your face than do that.”

He was right.

“Hm, when did you get to know me so well?” You asked, half joking as you took the bowl and spoon from him. The soup was a rich green colour. What he’d found to put in it, you had no idea. “Always thought I was closed off.”

“You are.” He shrugged. “But I pay attention.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his again. He was just looking at you with a slight smile, hands smoothing up and down the lengths of your clothed legs.

You were definitely a little bit in love with him.

You defaulted to a joke. "Remind me when I'm feeling better that you're gonna get it sooo good."

Bob snorted. "I think the fever is making you delirious."

"I'm just frustrated because you, somehow, look hotter than usual and I'm too sick to do anything about it." You gestured vaguely to his outfit, using the spoon to point.

“I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt.”

“Hot.” You insisted.

"Okay, I'll remind you." He rolled his eyes. “Now eat your soup.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” You mumbled, dipping the spoon into the thick liquid.

He huffed out a laugh.

You weren’t surprised in the least that the soup was delicious. You were starting to believe that Bob might actually be the perfect man, some sort of miracle sent to Earth to apologise for all the wrongdoing in the world. How he’d managed to concoct a good soup out of the limited ingredients in your kitchen was beyond you. And yet, he’d done it.

“What the hell did you put in this?” You asked, frowning at him mock suspiciously. If you didn’t know him better you’d think he’d ordered it to your place while you were asleep. But Bob Floyd wasn’t that kind of guy.

“Some stuff I found laying around.” He shrugged modestly. “Didn’t follow a recipe or anything.”

You scoffed. “You’re something else.”

He just shrugged again, a pleased smile playing on the corners of his lips, and watched you practically inhale the rest of the dish. He was very glad you’d eaten it.

“How you feeling now?”

“Better.” You admitted. “But I don’t know if it’s because of the soup or because you’re here.”

Bob’s heart thudded against his rib cage at that confession. “Just happy to help.”

You hummed and stared at him fondly.

He had trouble getting his next question out, distracted by the way you were looking at him. “Do- do you- do you want to go back to sleep?”

You hesitated before answering him, mulling an idea over in your mind. “There is something I want.”

“Oh, yeah? What is it?” He was willing to do anything for you.

“Don’t want you to get sick.” You sighed.

He smiled. “I think we left that concern behind when I first got here.”

Your eyes widened. “No! Don’t make me feel guilty.”

“I’m not trying to.” Bob assured you. “But I doubt whatever you want is going to have a higher risk of getting me sick than me just sitting here next to you.”

You grumbled something underneath your breath to yourself.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind getting sick off of you.”

Maybe you were a lot in love with him.

So you let it burst out of you. “Wanna cuddle.”

Bob didn’t even respond to you, just scooped you up into his arms and maneuvered the two of you into the position he knew you liked - him on his back with you half on top of him and half next to him, one leg and one arm slung around him, your face buried his chest and head tucked under his chin, one of his hands moving to stroke up and down your arm, trace patterns across your back and comb through your hair.

He knew you so well.

You nuzzled your face against his t-shirt. “Thank you.”

He inhaled deeply. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“I want to. You didn’t have to do all of this.”

“Making you soup is nothing. It’s not like I’m giving you a kidney.” He paused. “Although I’d probably do that too.”

You chuckled against his chest. “What I mean is, most guys would’ve accepted my ‘I’m good’ text and carried on with their day. You didn’t.”

“Because I knew you were lying.” He reminded you.

“That’s my point. No one has ever known I was lying before.” You tilted your head up to look at him. “I’m glad you knew.”

“Me too.”

Bob wanted to kiss you but knew you’d kill him if he tried. So he settled for the smile he gave you that always made you look away nervously. Which you did, as predicted, and then swiftly fell asleep against him. He wondered how’d he’d gotten so lucky. Sure, he was caring for a sick person but it was the happiest he’d been in a long time. Which should sound ridiculous but to him it made more sense than anything.

He was knocked out of his thoughts when you whined lowly in your sleep and held onto him tighter. He smiled down at you and held you closer to his chest.

Bob knew then that he was a lot in love with you.

A/N: And we’re back!

[sometimesanalice]

for the prompt party, how about: “i can’t help it,  i feel so sleepy and cozy now.” with our fave blue eyed WSO?

💖 @callsignspark

A reason to write a sleepy, cozy, domestic Bob?!?! Don’t mind if I do, Elle! 🫶🏻 (ps I still owe you a birthday fic, but please accept this humble offering in the meantime!)

There were a lot of things you liked about Bob Floyd.

You liked that he’d made a point to read your favorite book when you’d first started dating, because he wanted understand the things that made you you. 

You liked that he was the type of man to remember an offhand remark, it was as if he wanted to collect every crumb of you and nothing was too small to escape his notice. Like the time you mentioned being excited for summer fruit season, and he’d brought you a box of peaches from the farmers market the moment they’d arrived.

And you really liked the way he whispered the sweetest things as he fucked you into the mattress, the intoxicating sound of his baritone murmuring in your ear as he rendered you thoroughly boneless. His honeyed tongue was just as good at making you swoon as it did at making you come. 

But one of the most unexpected things you’d learned about him since he’d become your boyfriend, was that he could not seem to make it past the first 40 minutes of a movie without falling asleep. 

The two of you had sailed through that tentatively affectionate part of starting a new relationship, where every inch moved the two of you moved closer to each other felt like a new milestone. 

From sitting a respectful distance, pinkies just barely touching, in the getting to know you stage. To sitting snuggled close with his arm over your shoulder, enjoying getting to be curled up against him because you could and he was yours. To straddling his lap, those big hands roaming everywhere, and missing whatever was on TV completely because close enough wasn’t close enough. 

You’d been a big fan of each phase, but your favorite was easily when he was sprawled out on top of you like your own personal weighted blanket.

The first time he’d done it was after you’d made him your family’s favorite chicken soup recipe. The weather had just started to change, which in San Diego didn’t mean much, but you’d decided that since it was technically Fall it had been time to woo him with something warm.

He’d just finished doing the dishes, at his insistence, since you’d been the one to cook. You were lounging across the couch trying to find a movie to watch when he’d come over- with a groan and stretch that had revealed just a peek of skin- and flopped himself right on top of you, still ever careful in that way of his. All of his warmth, all of his sturdy weight pressing you into the cushions of your couch.

No one had ever made you feel as safe and secure as he did.

You were only a few minutes into the comedy you’d put on when you felt him stir, trying to sit up. “‘m sorry, honey, I’m probably squishing you.”

“I can take it,” you’d teased, with a wink before wrapping your arms and legs around him, keeping him in place.

He didn’t protest further, only inched himself over a little bit so that the couch was doing most of the work, while you combed your fingers through his hair.

The movie hadn’t even reached the half way point when you heard the first of his soft snores. You’d smiled to yourself and let the movie finish playing, not wanting to disturb him by reaching for the remote.

What you didn’t expect was for it to become a thing. 

You thought it was a fluke the first time it had happened.

The second time it happened, you thought he might have been messing with you. 

By the third, you were entirely amused.

When the two of you were curled up together on the couch, Bob was always slipping a hand under your shirt, his fingers idly tracing patterns onto your skin until slowly but surely they stopped moving at all. Usually right around the time you hear those first deep, slow breaths and quiet sighs of sleep.

But tonight, you’d decide to put your theory to the test. With your handsome blue eyed boy draped across you, you cued up a movie, stealthily starting the timer on your phone at the same time you’d clicked play. 

And sure enough, around 33 minutes in those long fingers of his stopped their circling. And just past the 40 minute mark you’d heard that gentle snore. 

You bite your lip, trying not to giggle. "Bob."

There's a long beat. “Hm.”

"Are you awake?” you ask, rubbing his back.

“Just resting my eyes.” It’s a sleepy mumble.

“Oh, really,” you muse. “Well then, can you tell me what just happened? It was pretty big plot twist.”

He lifts his head up, propping himself up on an arm to look at you.

“If you get me a couple minutes to google it I can,” he says with a sheepish smile.

You tip your head back and laugh, entirely and thoroughly charmed by him. “Is that what you’ve been doing after every movie night? Because I’ve been keeping track, and you sir, have yet to make it all the way through any of movies we’ve watched in the last few weeks.”

“Busted, huh?”

“Very. I had a theory and everything, backed with some serious scientific evidence,” you tease, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

Bob huffs a laugh, his ears a sweet shade of pink. “I can’t help it,” he says, doubling down and nuzzling his face into your neck, “I feel so sleepy and cozy now. You’re so soft and you smell really nice.”

Fond. You’re just so fond of him.

“Let’s make a deal,” you suggest, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “As the official resident de facto cinephile in the relationship, I’ll handle all the movie related questions the next time we go to trivia night with your friends, sounds good?”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” You feel his smile pressed against your neck.

“Ok, you can go back to ‘resting your eyes’. I’ll send you the wiki article for you to read later.”

He chuckles softly. “I love you, honey. You’re the best.”

You were already warm with him on you, but now it radiates all the way down to your toes. “I love you too.”

[nurse-floyd]

Stitched With Love

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Reader

Prompt: by the amazing @vivwritesfics “Bob floyd receiving a homemade jumper or something. That's it, that's aaaaaall I want you to think about.”

Warnings: None.

You stood in the doorway of your and Bob’s small bungalow, waiting for Bob to come home. It was a ritual you had every day when he came home from work. Smaug, your trusty German Shepherd you both had adopted to keep you company when he was on long deployments, stood at attention at your side, his tail wagging as he waited for his dad. The soft hum of distant jets taking off and landing sounded in the distance.

That day, you were particularly excited for Bob to come home. You had spent weeks working on a gift for him after he told you a story about his favorite sweater his gran had knitted for him when he was younger and how he hadn’t taken it off for days when he first got it. The story had sparked an idea, and you had spent the last few weeks secretly running back and forth to the craft store for yarn and secretly crocheting while he was at work or sleeping.

You heard the familiar sound of his truck coming up the street. Smaug was practically buzzing at your side, waiting for your cue to run out to see his dad. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him step out. You never got tired of seeing him come home to you. Despite the exhaustion etched on his face, his expression lit up as the German Shepherd practically launched himself, paws on his chest, as he licked Bob’s face.

“Alright, bud, alright,” he laughed, “get down now,” he commanded.

Smaug came running back to you, his tail wagging so hard you thought it’d break as Bob followed behind him. He pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, placing a kiss on the side of your head. “Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, “missed you.”

You smiled back at him, pulling him inside. “I missed you too, baby. I have something for you.”

His eyes squinted with curiosity as you grabbed his hand and led him into the living room where a neatly wrapped package sat on the coffee table. You handed it to him, practically bouncing with excitement.

He sat down with the package, Smaug at his feet curiously sniffing it. His eyes widened as he uncovered the jumper. It was a deep navy blue, his favorite color. The stitches were even and precise, showing just how much love and time you had put into it.

Bob looked at you, his eyes filled with love and gratitude; you could have sworn you saw tears begin to form too. “You made this for me?”

You nodded, suddenly feeling a bit shy at the idea. “I did… Do you like it?”

“Like it?” he repeated, “Sweetheart, I love it.”

He immediately pulled it up and over his head. It fit him perfectly; the jumper hugged his broad shoulders just right, not too tight and not too loose. He ran his hands over the soft wool, a wide smile spreading across his face.

“It’s perfect!” he said as he pulled you into another hug. “This is the best gift.”

You melted into his embrace, his hold tight as he held you for a moment. “I’m glad you like it. I know it’s getting colder in the mornings, and I wanted something to keep you warm on your way to work.”

The two of you settled onto the couch, Bob’s arm wrapped around you as he pulled you close. That jumper definitely wasn’t coming off for the evening and possibly the foreseeable future. You’d have to pry it off him eventually to wash it, but seeing his face made all the effort worth it.

[pinkdaisies9285]

Shiny Rings and Forgotten Means

Bob x Reader

Summary: Waking up next to your handsome boss wasn't on your list of things to do on a Las Vegas business trip. Waking up with a shiny, new ring wasn't either.

Warnings: Fluff, Vegas Wedding trope, CEO!au, kinda of Implied Smut

Word Count: 983

Author's Note: Here's my story for @bobgasm 's Au Writing Challenge! I almost forgot to post it so, I hope you enjoy it!

Waking up next to your boss wasn’t on your bucket list, especially when you don’t remember the night before. Everything was very blurry and only spurts of memories came back. Trying to remember more, made your headache even worse. The pulse behind your eyes was making itself very present. Reaching the nightstand quietly, you see a little glimmer reflecting off your hand. Looking closer, you see a stunning ring nestled on your ring finger. Forgetting about trying to find your phone, you completely focus on the piece of metal encompassing your finger. How did you get there? Why is it there? More importantly, who did you marry? The groan behind you gave you a queue of who this mystery husband was. Turning around, all thoughts flew out of your mind. The man who married you was none other than Robert Floyd, your boss.

The man in question had rolled over to lay on his back which allowed the sunlight from the windows of the room to wake him up. Squinting his eyes open, his vision focused on you. His eyes widened along with yours. Both of you seemed stunned by the situation at hand.

“May I ask why you’re in my bed, Dove?” he asked with a raspy voice.

Dove, the nickname he gave after working for him for a year. It came from you one morning humming a random melody while getting work done. When he heard your little melody, he jokingly called you a morning dove. So it spurred the nickname Dove, which is what he only calls you now.

“That I do not know Mr. Floyd, but could you explain this?” you replied holding up your left hand to show the glittering ring. You wanted answers to why you had what looked like a wedding band on your hand.

Robert grabbed your hand looking down at the pretty diamond ring with surprise and confusion. What made you more anxious was when you spotted a ring sitting on his left ring finger. He seemed to realize that as well when he had cradled your left hand in both of his.

“Dove, did we do something last night?” he questioned slowly. Looking up at you, he realized that you were trying not to throw up. You looked nauseous and panicked. This was true for the most part.

While you had always had a small crush on the handsome young CEO, you knew the boundaries of a personal assistant. Don’t flirt with him and don’t try to date him. These two mental rules you had been set in place very early in your career with Robert. Yet, by the time you had been working for him, you were completely enamored. He was kind, willing to work with you, and gave you a nickname that made you flustered still to this day. Now if you were connecting the dots correctly, you were married to him? Married to the man who haunted your dreams with fleeting touches and soft words. Married to the man who has been your boss for almost six years.

“I have zero idea, Mr. Floyd. All I know is that we had secured the deal with Mr. Robinson and decided to celebrate. After that, I can’t remember anything else,” you replied. Quickly getting up, you decided to see if anything in the room would give you more hints.

Scanning the area, you see a piece of paper sitting at the desk. It was hidden under a quickly thrown notebook. You inch closer to it, hoping it would be the key to your and your boss’s answers. The document had an official-looking seal on the bottom right corner and in the middle had both your signatures. In a pretty cursive said Certificate of Marriage with the officiant’s signature underneath it. You truly had done it somehow, you married your boss without any memory of how you did it.

Robert had made his way over to where you had been standing frozen looking at the pretty piece of paper. Looking over at what you were staring at, he found the answer to all the questions running around his head. He was married to you. He married you, his gorgeous assistant. The one that haunts his dreams all the time. His assistant whom he told himself he would never fall for. He didn’t know if this was a divine stroke of luck or a sick cruel joke. How would things go now made him feel unsure.

Should he immediately call his lawyer to file divorce papers? Or does he continue to float in this hoax of a marriage? His heart is yearning for the latter but his mind wants to immediately make sure you’re comfortable with what’s happening first before his feelings. So, he decides to break the tension stewing in the air for ten minutes.

“What would you like to do, Dove?” he softly asked. He didn’t want to scare you away with the prospect that he liked this.

You turned and looked at him for the first time since waking up. What do you do? Tell him that you’re okay with how things have panned out? Tell him you would divorce him as soon as he said he didn’t want this because you wanted him to be happy? You felt sick to your stomach like you just got off a roller coaster after eating a whole funnel cake. God, what do you do? Your brain and heart were at war with this decision. Live in this fantasy or break your heart by doing the right thing.

“I don’t know, Bobby,” you mumbled. Widening your eyes, you realized what you called him, Bobby. Looking over at him, you saw that he was smirking.

“Well, I do Dove,” he replied.

“What’s that?” you asked tilting your head to the side.

“Start our Honeymoon,” Bobby said still smirking.

You definitely were in for a ride.

Divider Credit: @cafekitsune

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Main Masterlist

[lewmagoo]

the ties that bind | bob floyd

description: in which your lover unravels you completely

warnings: 18+ only, bondage, orgasm denial, vibrators, daddy kink, light pussy slapping, some begging, spitting, aftercare

pairing: bob floyd x afab!reader

Robert Floyd was ruthless. 

No one expected that of him just by looking at him. He was a quiet, passive person. He preferred to blend in, to watch from afar. No one expected him to have a mean bone in his body. And, really, he was sweet as pie. The greatest lover you’d ever known. 

But, unbeknownst to all the friends who claimed he was “passive” and “timid”, he was also wicked, and he quite enjoyed having you entirely at his mercy, willing to do whatever he asked of you. And that was precisely the position you found yourself in at that very moment.

Bound to his bed, unable to escape, skin buzzing hot with anticipation, wondering what he was going to do to you next, and thinking that maybe, just maybe, you had bitten off more than you could chew when you had agreed to do this.

In the beginning, it had sounded like such fun. Wicked, sinful fun. You had been the one to bring it up, after all. You'd gone to your lover and proposed the idea. And he, ever the sinner, had eagerly agreed. The decision was mutual, and when he had asked you if he could do anything he desired to you, within reason and boundary, you had told him yes.

But now here you were, naked, writhing, trembling. He was above you, a devious smile on his sweet, handsome face. And at that moment, with his pale blue eyes burning right into your own, you were beginning to slightly regret even suggesting this whole thing. He was punishing you in the most wonderfully painful way imaginable, and you weren't sure how much longer you could handle it.

He had you stretched out across the mattress, arms tied to the headboard, legs bound and held apart so he could easily access the very center of you. Your skin was slick with sweat, eyes squeezed shut as you put every ounce of energy you had into holding on to what little control over yourself you had left.

You could feel that all too familiar burn in your lower abdomen, threatening to engulf you in searing pleasure. But you couldn't let go, not yet. You just had to hold out a little while longer, and you would finally get your reward. But goddammit, it was hard.

Maybe it would be a little easier if you could make noise, let out your frustration through cries and moans. But you weren't allowed to make a sound, though, per his rules. If you so much as let out a whimper, you would be denied your orgasm and endure whatever punishment he deemed fit.

When he'd told you this, you had underestimated just how hard it would be. Sure, I can be quiet, you thought. Now, you were wishing you had never let him make the rule, because all you wanted to do was scream at the top of your lungs.

You'd lost track of time. Had it been minutes? Hours? He'd had that damned vibrator against your cunt for ages, on high, a setting you rarely used together because it was so intense. But he was feeling ruthless today, and was quite enjoying the sight of you squirming uncomfortably, pulling at your restraints. You looked up at him with wide eyes, silently begging him to offer some relief from the intense vibration, but he refused to oblige.

Bob knew your body well, had you memorized like the back of his hand. He knew how you moved when you were about to tip over the edge, knew the look on your face, the tense in your muscles. And whenever he saw those telltale signs, he pulled the vibrator away promptly, leaving you to buck your hips into the air and bite your lip hard in bitter frustration.

He was enjoying this, really. He'd never seen you so desperate before, he had to admit. It had his head spinning, body warm with desire. All he wanted was to be inside you, feel your slick warmth envelop him. But he was exercising every ounce of self-control he possessed. He would be inside you all in due time. Right now, his priority was getting you to the edge again, give you just the slightest taste of release before pulling away just when your body was nearly at its peak.

He watched you bite the inside of your cheek, surely hard enough to draw blood. You were trying your best to respect his wishes, to follow his command. And for that, he loved you. You were his good little plaything, and he made a mental note to reward you tenfold after he was finished with you. You were handling this all better than he thought you would.

He ran his free hand down your bare stomach, leaning down to press a kiss to your glistening forehead. "Mm, you're doing so well, sweet baby. Hold on just a little longer and Daddy will let you come."

I have been holding on! You wanted to shout at him. But you bit your tongue - literally. If you yelled, it would surely earn you a bruised bottom and a denied orgasm. You could feel it, though. Searing through you like molten lava, threatening to burn you alive. Your chest began to heave, and as Bob looked at you, he saw the slightly panicked expression on your face.

Instantly, he turned off the vibrator, partly because he couldn't handle waiting any longer, and partly because he knew you were nearing the end of your rope, and he didn’t want to push you there quite yet. He set the handheld wand aside, reaching up to gently stroke the side of your face, praising you yet again. "You're being so good for me."

You nuzzled your warm face against his large palm before his touch was gone, leaving only a soft rush of air in its wake. The sound of him unzipping his pants had your cunt clenching around nothing, knowing that in a few short moments, you would be filled to the brim.

When he came back into view, he was completely bare, and you watched through hazy eyes as he reached down, lazily tugging that thick, heavy cock before he situated himself between your spread, trembling legs. In that moment, he wanted to tell you to beg for it, as he often did. But he wanted to see just how long you could stay silent.

Leaning down, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your lips, tongue ever so slowly sliding over your bottom lip. Then he went lower, hungry mouth suckling at your soft breasts. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin and you huffed, bucking your hips up in search of him. He held you down with his hand against your pelvis. “Uh-uh, be patient,” he scolded.

Deft fingers danced along the front of your body before he caressed your spasming pussy, so swollen and hot to the touch. “Poor lil thing. Need me so bad, don’t ya?” He hummed with mock sympathy. You looked up at him with wide eyes, frantically nodding. 

“Guess I’ll give the baby what it wants.” Then, he guided his cock toward the place where you needed him most, and he began to nudge into you. 

At the initial stretch, you let out a gasp, trying so hard not to whimper. How on earth were you meant to stay silent when that gorgeous cock of his was currently beginning to split you right open? Your own arousal provided more than enough lubricant for him. "Look at you," he murmured, "soaked and ready for my cock."

You pulled at your restraints again, leaning up, hoping he'd kiss you again. But he ignored your silent plea, placing his hands on either side of your arms, holding himself up as he began to slowly thrust into you.

He couldn't help but groan deeply at the feeling of you, so snug and warm around him. He knew it wouldn't take long for him to reach his end, and he was glad that he'd edged you so much, because that meant you'd finish right along with him.

He brought his mouth down to your breasts again, sucking and biting as he picked up his pace, fucking into you more deliberately. Beneath him, you were trying desperately to keep your mouth shut, to remain silent as he carried on. But he was making it damn near impossible. He felt so good, filling you deliciously, each ridge and vein brushing against every last inch of you.

You closed your eyes, the sensations bubbling up within you growing too intense, enough to draw tears. They began sliding down the sides of your face and into your hairline, hot and wet. You moved in tandem with him, rolling your hips, wanting and needing more. You were getting close, simply from the stimulation of his pubic bone against your swollen clit, the gathering of sandy curls around the base of his cock only heightening those sensations with each brush against you.

If you stayed quiet just a little longer, you knew that he would let you come soon enough. In the beginning, he'd told you that you would only be allowed to come while he was inside you, and now, your sweet release was so close you could almost taste it on your tongue.

Bob was growing a little rougher, a little faster, a little deeper. He was making noise freely, groaning and growling, filthy words swimming through your head, telling you how good you felt, how wet you were, how you were made to take his cock. You wanted to scream, cry, wail. It was becoming so overwhelming that you weren't sure how much longer you could hold out. You were biting your cheek so hard you could taste copper in your mouth.

Then he was all but pounding into you, hard and fast and unforgiving, and you couldn't hold it in anymore. A scream bubbled up in your throat, and you let it free, filling the room with the shrill sound. That's when your lover stopped, going still as could be. When you opened your eyes, he was looking right at you. And that ocean blue you loved so much? It had gone nearly black.

He grabbed your face roughly, forcing you to keep eye contact. "What was that?"

"I-I-I'm sorry Daddy!" You began to sob, body undulating beneath him. "I c-couldn't help it!"

"That's not good enough." He pulled out of you, immediately climbing off of the bed.

"No, wait!" You gasped, "Daddy, please, I'm sorry, it just slipped out, I-"

But then, his hand was clamped over your mouth, eyes staring down at you so intensely you thought you would burst into flames right then and there.

"Shut your mouth, you brat," he snapped. "You are going to lay here, completely silent, until I come back. Do you understand me?"

You nodded, and he lifted his hand from your mouth. Tears were still streaming down your face, due to frustration, anger (mostly at yourself), and desperation. You sniffled, coughing and sputtering as you watched Bob stop to pull his sweatpants on. He only turned back to you to speak once more. “What word do you say if you need me to come back and untie you?” His face had gone gentle.

“Palomino,” you breathlessly replied.

“Atta girl.” He left a sweet kiss to your sweaty forehead. When he straightened, he was back to that strict persona. "You're staying like this until I come back into the room." 

And then he was gone, leaving you stretched out and humiliated on the bed. It took you a long while to calm down, for the tears to stop and for your breathing to return to normal.

Meanwhile, Bob had made his way into the kitchen. Dinner time was approaching, and he wanted to have a meal prepared for when he was finished with you, because he knew your energy would be depleted, and that you would be starving.

He also knew this was torture for you, laying there, suspended and unable to do a single thing about it. He could only imagine how pliant you would be once he returned, willing to do absolutely anything he asked of you, just so you could get a release. And if he was being honest, that was what he wanted, because he, too, needed a release. He was still achingly hard within the confines of his pants, and he knew it wouldn't go away so easily.

To distract himself, he put on some music - classical, Tchaikovsky's 4th - and then proceeded to gather the ingredients he'd need. Pasta, of course. Something hearty and comforting, because he knew you'd need it after all the exertion he'd put you through.

He let himself slip into the process of preparing the meal. Cooking had always been therapeutic for him. Especially cooking for his lover. He put his whole heart into the meals he made, and you always swore you could taste the love in each bite.

In the bedroom, you could hear everything. The music, the clang of pots and pans. You could smell garlic cooking, and you knew he would take his sweet time preparing everything, just to further punish you. Damn him, the bastard.

Your shoulders were becoming quite sore from your predicament, and so were your legs. It was rather uncomfortable. It always was, but normally, Bob removed the ropes from you the moment he was finished. But not tonight, because he was far from finished with you.

It felt like hours had passed, even though it couldn’t have been more than twenty-five minutes. You were growing restless. So, in order to occupy yourself, you closed your eyes, attempting to create an elaborate story in your head. It did little to distract you fully, but it did help some. So you continued on. Eyes closed. Waiting, waiting, waiting. 

And there was Bob, entirely at ease and unbothered in the kitchen, draining the pasta and moving over to stir the sauce. He tasted it, deciding it needed a little more basil leaf before pausing to chop one and tossing it into the deep red liquid. He knew you’d love the sauce, he’d outdone himself this time with it.

But you were not thinking about food. You were thinking about him. And you were beginning to grow angry at that point. Your patience was wearing thin. You knew this was what you deserved for disobeying his one rule, no sounds, but you couldn't be bothered to care. You just wanted him to come back and untie you. You thought about shouting for him, maybe eve safewording, but decided against it. You were nowhere near needing to use that word just yet. Bob’s intention was never to push you to have to use it, either. The word was merely there as a safeguard, and you didn’t find it necessary to use at the moment.

So, you remained silent, just as you'd been doing for the past thirty minutes. And finally, after what felt like eternity, you could hear his footsteps coming down the hall. An odd mix of both relief and anxiety swirled through you at once. Relief because you knew he would soon release you, and anxiety because you had no idea what was coming after.

A glass of water was perched in his hand, and a smirk was spread across his handsome face. "Look at my pretty little angel," he murmured, strolling towards the bed. "Still spread out for me, just the way I left you."

The clink of the glass being set on the nightstand reached your ears, but you didn't dare take your eyes off him to look at it. Bob's hand came to rest against your cheek, before traveling downwards, skimming over your breasts, stomach, and finally landing between your legs. Those beautiful fingers slid along your wetness, and you shifted your hips, only to be shocked entirely by a light slap to your pussy.

Even so, Bob had mercy on you. He'd punished you long enough, it was time to reward you. So, he reached up, taking the liberty to untie the bonds on your wrists. When your arms fell, you let out an audible sigh of relief, slowly lengthening your arms beside you as Bob moved to untie your legs. His fingers massaged over the marks the rope had left indented on your skin, and he moved down to press a kiss to each one.

For a moment, his eyes softened as he gazed at you. "You okay?"

You mustered a weak, but genuine, smile, and nodded. “I’m fine.”

Satisfied with that, Bob set the jute rope aside, and climbed onto the bed. He hovered over you, seamlessly moving to leave a deep kiss against your lips. His warm hands cupped your face, and he broke the kiss to look at you. "You can make noise this time around," he granted, and yet another flood of relief washed over you.

Bob made quick work of removing his pants then, tossing them to the floor below before settling between your legs yet again. You let your eyes flutter shut as you felt his heavy cock pressing against your soft, wet center again. His voice, sweet and low, floated through your head then.

"Beg for it, m’love."

With what little energy you had left, you spoke, voice wavering. "P-please...I need to come so bad, it hurts. Please let me come, Daddy. I’ll do anything."

If he was feeling spiteful, he would have demanded more from you. But in that moment, he needed his release as much as you did. So he took your plea with satisfaction, kissing you yet again as he slipped into you for the second time that night. The feeling made you whine, and you grabbed at his shoulders for purchase.

His movements were slow at first, gradually building. He covered you with his entire body, engulfing you in the safety of his big arms as he fucked you. He soon had you trembling, gasping, moaning. The ability to let out sounds felt so wonderful, and you were sure to let out plenty.

You were so painfully close. A full hour of stimulation still had you sensitive, even thirty minutes later. When Bob brought his hand down to the place where your bodies met, fingers pressing into your nub of nerves, you were keening beneath him, tears springing to your eyes all over again.

"Oh," Bob breathlessly sighed, "I can feel you tightenin' around me. You gonna come for me, sweet baby?"

"Y-yes," you squeaked, pathetically so.

So, Bob went a little faster, a little harder. And soon, he was fucking you right into the mattress, hitting all those wonderful spots inside of you at a steady pace, sending shocks of delicious pleasure surging through you, like electricity through a live wire.

He grunted and growled above you, trying his hardest to stave off his own orgasm. You were going to come before him, he was determined to make it happen. You’d been so good for him and you deserved it.

He was slamming into you at that point, the sound of skin on skin growing almost deafening. You cried out, clutching him hard enough to leave bruises. With your mouth parted, he couldn’t help but lean down to capture your lips with his own again.

"Come on," he gritted out, "I know you want to come for Daddy. Do it, come all over my cock."

You could only moan and whimper, writhing and thrashing against the mattress. Bob had a look of determination twisted into his features, a curl of sandy hair falling against his sweaty forehead. He wasn't going to let up until you were completely overwhelmed.

He grasped your face in his hand then, staring you down. You were trembling something awful at that point, sweaty, exhausted, nearly there. He placed his mouth against yours, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth before releasing. "Open your mouth," he hissed.

Obediently, you did so, and as your lips parted, Bob didn't miss a single beat, spitting into your open mouth before pushing it shut promptly after. "Swallow." Yet again, you obediently did so, always willing to do what he asked. The whole eroticism of it all was what pushed you over the edge, and with a desperate howl, you plummeted over that precipice, shaking violently beneath your lover.

Bubbly warmth engulfed you from head to toe, rushing through you in a surge so powerful you swore you blacked out. All you felt was utter euphoria, blanketing you like an intensely warm hug.

Above you, he watched it all unfold. He leaned back so he could watch the way your pussy clamped tightly around him, pulsing and contracting, milking him. As your body began to flutter down from the mind-numbing high, he soon reached his own.

With a low, open-mouthed moan, he fell apart, hips sporadically jolting into you as his spend seeped into you, claiming you as his own. If you weren’t so out of it you might’ve been able to admire that gorgeous face contorted in painful pleasure.

Soon enough, he fell against you, sweaty, spent, a complete mess. You held onto him, trying to calm down, though you were still trembling. "So good for me,” Bob sighed, “such a sweet pussy.”

He slowly and reluctantly moved to pull out of you, shushing your whine of protest. He couldn’t help but let his eyes wander, glancing down to watch the pearly white essence that had begun to drip out of your pulsing cunt. Then he gazed back up at you, brushing away strands of hair that stuck to your forehead from the sweat. "How’s my baby?"

The initial intensity of it all had worn off, and you were now left feeling sore and utterly drained. "I'm...I'm tired," you whispered, unable to utilize your energy to say anything else.

“Yeah? Is it okay if I move you? I wanna clean you up a bit.”

“Y-yeah.”

Ever so gently, he helped you climb out of bed, and he guided you into the bathroom, letting you lean on him when your legs threatened to give out.

He had you sit on the counter and spread your legs, where he carefully used a soft, damp cloth to wipe your center clean. He soothed you when you whimpered from the sensitivity. “I know. I’ll be quick,” he assured you.

He used another cool rag to carefully wipe your sweaty face. “Think you can handle a bath right now? Or is that too much?”

You considered this for a moment, your eyes heavy with exhaustion. “Too tired. Jus’ want to be wiped down.”

That was all he needed. He lovingly kissed your lips before he helped you climb down from the counter. After a quick full body wipe down, he then led you back into the bedroom, where he helped you change into one of his shirts and a pair of shorts. He dressed in his own pair of sweatpants once he had you settled.

Then, as you sat on the edge of the bed, he reached over to the nightstand to grab a bottle of water. He cracked open the lid and held the bottle up to your mouth for you to drink. It was cool, and did wonders to soothe your parched throat.

“You feelin’ up to eating anything? I made your favorite pasta,” he calmly suggested. As if on cue, your stomach rumbled eagerly.

You shared a look, and you giggled at each other. “Guess I’m hungry,” you said.

Bob nuzzled his nose against yours before he helped you stand, wrapping a strong arm around you. He took you down to the kitchen and guided you into a chair. However, it didn’t last long, because as soon as he sat down, you were climbing into his lap, craving physical contact.

“Wan’ me to feed you too?” He teased.

“Actually…I wouldn’t mind that,” you whispered in reply.

He kissed your temple. “Anything for my baby.” 

Then your sweet Bobby began to feed you your dinner, purely out of love for you. It made your heart sing and tears of appreciation well in your eyes. You kissed his neck and thanked him. He told you he was happy to do it.

Once dinner was finished, Bob had an important question to ask you. "What do you want to do, sweet baby?" He asked. This was how it always was. After you allowed him the privilege of using your body, he always allowed you to choose how you wanted to be cared for.

"I wanna cuddle and watch something," you replied, to which he nodded.

"Coming right up," he said, yet again lifting you up. He left the dinner dishes, deciding he'd do them tomorrow. For now, his sole focus was taking care of you. You ended up in the bathroom again, where he placed you to stand on the floor. He kissed your forehead before pulling your toothbrush from the cup on the sink and squeezing toothpaste onto it.

Gently grabbing your face, he said, "Open."

You did so, and he placed the brush in your mouth, beginning the project of brushing your teeth for you. The gesture made you feel so deeply cared for. “There ya go. Go ahead and spit,” he finally instructed once he was certain he’d done a thorough job.

After the toothbrush and toothpaste were put away, it was time for bed. He helped you under the covers, and you curled up against the mattress as as you watched Bob search for a movie in your expansive DVD collection. Finally, he decided on something with Fred Astaire, one of his favorites, and popped it into the player before climbing into bed alongside you.

You curled up against his side, letting him engulf you in comfort and softness. Such a stark contrast to the rough, dominant man who'd just ruined you. You smiled to yourself, knowing just how much you loved him, and how much you always would.

"You were so good for me today," he praised, just as the opening credits of the movie began to roll, "how did I get so lucky?"

You shook your head, nuzzling against his neck. “I should be asking myself the same thing. I love you so much, Bobby. Take such good care of me"

"And I love you, sweet baby. Forever and always."

-

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[callsign-phoenix]

I wrote this for @ohtobeleah and her TGM Valentines Day Special.

It is a Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x female!reader imagine.

Happy Valentines Day! 💛✨

The song I chose is ‘Dandelions’ by Ruth B.

Warnings: this is racially and body type inclusive despite the moodpboard suggesting otherwise, your favorite flowers are now dandelions for the sake of this fic, this is only proofread by me :)

Bob Floyd had been your friend for years, best friend, really, and he was your favorite human being.

He was kind and gentle and oh so charming, which was one of the reasons why you couldn’t help but fall in love with him.

It had happened slowly and shortly after the first the first time you met, and the two of you became inseparable.

When Bob finished his bachelor’s degree he wanted to go on to Officer Candidate School in Pensacola and then train to become a pilot for the Navy.

You went to the same university because you didn’t want to be apart and you found a career that you could pursue while traveling a lot, should it be necessary.

It wasn’t that you planned to spend the rest of your life with Bob but if you were honest you couldn’t really think of your life without him.

While it might have been weird to others Bob and you always celebrated Valentines Day together, because you were the people who mattered most to you.

It had become a tradition that a nervous slightly pimple faced teenage Bob had brought to life, explaining that he wanted to celebrate your friendship.

Neither of you had ever really seriously dated someone else so you were always free to spend the day together.

Bob had graduated in December and planned to start OCS as soon as possible, which meant that he’d have to stay at Pensacola for at least twelve weeks.

That meant he’d be away from you for a while, and you already dreaded it.

When Bob picked you up for your annual Valentines Day date you did your best to look as pretty as possible, finding the perfect dress in Bob’s favorite color.

He brought you out in his truck that he had already loaded with everything necessary for the trip, not telling you where you were going.

Bob looked extraordinarily attractive, having put on a new shirt in your favorite color and having taking special care of his hair, combing it and trying to keep it from falling into messy locks over his forehead.

You were sure he had put on more cologne than usual when you hugged him and it immediately made you smile.

The drive to your unknown destination was short but despite listening to your favorite music Bob somehow seemed nervous, which also evoked the same feeling in you.

Bob had developed a habit of putting his hand on your thigh most of the drive, which always gave you comfort as well as a sense of happiness at his show of affection.

When Bob finally stopped the truck you were seemingly in the middle of the road, in a beautiful field that was blooming with your favorite flowers.

Bob sent you a giddy smile as he rushed outside to open your car door, another habit you had established throughout your friendship.

You were grateful for his kindness as he helped you climb down from your seat to stand next to him.

Bob gave you another grin before he turned to his truck bed, grabbing a basket as well as a backpack.

He held your hand as he pulled you through the field that was glowing with dandelions in different stages of bloom.

It was really beautiful, especially to be there with him.

When you stopped walking he put a blanket down for you to sit on, pulling you onto it to talk to you.

Until now you had shared a comfortable silence, because you knew he had something to share with you.

“I’m going to Pensacola in a few days. I just got the call from OCS,” he said softly and your heart fell, knowing that from then on he’d be busy beginning a new part of his life.

You weren’t entirely sure you were in it so you took a short breath, your entire body feeling as heavy as lead as you waited for him to continue.

His eyelids fluttered as he saw your reaction and he reached out to hold your hand.

“I don’t, I mean… I have never felt about anyone the way I do about you. I’ve heard of love that comes once in a lifetime. And I’m pretty sure that you’re that love of mine,” he went on to shock you to the core, and an amount of feelings you didn’t know you could feel rushed through your body.

While you were sad he was leaving a heat rushed through you at his confession, the relief of feeling the same but not feeling the strength to say it first as strong as the amount of oxytocin in your body.

You were speechless as you felt tears well up in your eyes and Bob smiled, reaching in his pocket to find a small box in it.

It was a beautiful light color and when he opened it you found a necklace with a delicate dandelion charm inside that made you actually shed one of the tears that were forming.

“I love you,” he said softly and you chuckled in disbelief, not quite knowing how to react.

“I…,” you choked on your own emotions but Bob chuckled, nodding lightly.

“I know you do,” he replied, his gentle smile all you needed in that moment.

Your fingers gripped his tighter and he mirrored your actions, giving you the security he knew you needed.

“I’d love to be with you, baby,” he added, and you couldn’t have nodded any faster.

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[arcane-vagabond]

"Swallow it. All of it." & “Suck on it” with Bobby maybe? 👀 unless…

You better be over 18 if you read below the cut, yeah?

From this list here

"Baby, please."

You smirked down at your boyfriend with an amused look. He was usually so calm and collected, shy maybe, but so unlike the needy mess you currently had him in. You hadn't even really touched him yet.

Bob's head was thrown back against the pillows, sweat forming on his brow as you slowly stroked him, avoiding the angry red tip with every swipe up his hard length. His hips thrust up with every pass, desperately seeking more friction from you as he let out a high pitched whine.

"What is it, baby boy?" You cooed down at him, running your other hand up his chest as you gave a gentle squeeze to his tip. He let out a strangled groan, tossing his head to the side as he gazed up at you through lidded eyes, mouth parted and swollen from your earlier kisses. "Use your words, Bobby. I can't give you what you want if you don't tell me."

Bob let out another wanton gasp as you stroked over his tip once more, hips raising off the bed to try and chase your hand. You frowned down at him, nails raking down his chest in a warning.

"Suck on it," he whimpered, eyes pleading with you as you began to stroke him a little harder. "Please, honey. Please."

You hummed, letting go of him. He whined out, reaching out a hand to you, but you smiled up at him softly as you eased your way down in between his thighs. You took his length back in your hand, continuing your slow torture of him as you gazed up at him through your lashes.

"I think you can do better than that, Bobby," you murmured. "You're so hard, baby, it must really hurt. Want you to beg for me, sweet boy. Tell me how much you want to cum."

"Wanna cum so fucking bad, baby," he gasped, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as he stared down at you. "I'm so hard baby, please. Don't wanna cum in your hand. Want you to make me feel so good with that sweet little mouth of yours, please."

"Well," you smirked. "Since you asked so nicely."

You placed a soft kiss to the tip of his cock before slowly taking it into your mouth. Bob let out a strangled moan above you, hands flying down to fist in your hair as you started bobbing up and down on his length. With each pass, you were able to take more of him down your throat, and soon your nose was brushing up against the curls that surrounded his base. You lifted one of your hands from his thigh to massage his balls, earning a broken cry from the man before you.

"I'm not gonna last long, sweetheart," he moaned breathlessly, hips starting to thrust up as you gagged on his length. You loved when Bob got like this. So debauched and needy that he lost control and the usual shyness that surrounded him was long forgotten. You gagged around him as he gave a particularly hard thrust into your mouth, earning another loud groan from him.

"Fuck, baby! I'm not gonna last long. Love how hot and wet you feel around me. Feels like you're sucking the soul right out of me."

You smirked around him, giving a particularly hard suck that had his thighs quivering beneath you.

"FUCK!" He shouted, throwing his head back against the pillows before leaning up to look down at where his cock disappeared down your throat. He could see the slight bulge where his length ended as you continued to gulp him down like he was the air you needed to breath.

"Bet you're so fucking wet, huh, honey?" He groaned, thrusts getting harder the closer he got. "Haven't even touched you and I bet you're already dripping, yeah? I know how needy you get when you're chokin' on my cock like this. Know you could come just from this. Fuck, it feels so good. You feel so fucking good with your lips wrapped around me, honey."

You could feel yourself growing wetter at his words. You knew you had to be dripping by this point, but you were so focused on his pleasure that you paid little mind to your own. Bob's breaths were coming out in a combination of heady groans and desperate gasps as he chased his high.

"Oh fuck, I'm close. I can feel it, baby. It's comin', and it's all gonna be for you. Can feel your throat gripping me so tight, so fucking tight - JESUS. Oh shit, yes. Keep sucking me just like that, baby. JUST. LIKE. THAT. SHIT."

You felt him twitch, and red hot spurts of cum shot down your throat. You eagerly swallowed them down, and Bob's hands stroked through your hair as he came down from his high.

"That's it, baby," he cooed breathlessly, stroking his thumb over your cheek to collect the tears that had escaped the corners of your eyes as you continued to work your mouth up and down his length. "Swallow it. All of it. That's my good girl."

You continued to suckle on him as the last remnants of his orgasm washed over him, his hips twitching from the slight overstimulation as you made sure to swallow every last drop.

Slowly, you pulled up off of him with a quiet pop. Bob's thumb reached down to brush the corner of your lip, wiping away some of the spend that had leaked from your mouth. He offered it to you, and you latched onto it obediently, twirling your tongue around the digit as you suckled. Bob let out a shuddering breath as he pulled his thumb back. He reached down to pull you up, pressing his lips to yours in a heated kiss. He licked languidly into your mouth, humming at the taste of himself on your tongue.

You pulled away, smiling hazily at him. He returned your smile, resting his forehead against yours as he chuckled.

"How's about you lay back and I return the favor. What do you say, pretty girl?"

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Got Ink? 💉 | Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd Imagine

Takes place before, during, and after the events of TGM

TGM masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x tattooed model!reader (romantic), dagger squad (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, mentions of pain as a result of tattoos. Slight suggestive content if you blink | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: 6k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: Art comes in many different forms. And when you technically think about it, your body is a canvas that can be become a mural if you find yourself drawn to the beauty that tattoos bring. For WSO Bob Floyd, he appreciated art in every form and loved how patterns and colors could create something beautiful. When his sister invites him to a party for her job shortly after returning from a special mission with the Navy, Bob meets a woman who was the perfect canvas he’d ever seen.

Note: I cannot tell you how much I loved doing this request. As soon as I got it I was like, ‘I’m gonna love this,’ especially as someone who has tattoos and wants to have a lot (I have at least twenty planned) this was feeding my love for tattoos. To the anon who sent this request I hope you like it, I really enjoyed writing this for you and I hope you’re okay with me choosing Bob since you said you wouldn’t mind if it was him or Jake—since I just did a Jake imagine I wanted to give Bob some love 🥹 Also I made it where reader was born in 1989 so if we were to go by Bob being born in 1993 like Lewis then she’d be about four years older since the events of TGM take place in 2019.

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They often say that when you get your first tattoo it will either be the one and only time you subject yourself to the temporary pain of permanent ink…or it becomes one of many.

“It’s an addiction”, people defend, though they should probably look up the term addiction before using it in such context.

For many it’s the appreciation of art. Whether expressing it by becoming a tattoo artist or wanting to capture the beauty by etching it onto their skin like they are its own personal canvas.

Tattoos come in many different forms. There’s the traditional/old school style that is very recognizable with its bold black lines outlining bright colors. People in their old age, having grown up in the 60s and 70s, are the ones usually seen with these types of tattoos. Neo-traditional is not that far off from traditional, just the lines are not as bold. Delicateness is seen with fine line tattoos. In recent years it’s become popular amongst the younger generation—not just because they are pretty to look at but if one has a job that’s strict on policy then they can hide them better.

The oldest style would be the tribal tattoos. Beautiful elaborate patterns in various sizes, they represent the culture one comes from. Like fine line, watercolor tattoos have become a popular style—taking away the traditional black ink used as an outline so the colors have the spotlight. No color in a piece is blackwork and then there’s realism where it’s pretty much a picture that was printed onto the skin. Go on Pinterest and you’ll find multiple images of patchwork style where a collection of pieces put together can be any style already mentioned.

Japanese style, patch, geometric, black & gray, anime, portrait, the list goes on and on. So many ways to put a design on one’s body where it will remain until they go to the next life. Some people stick to pieces that represent sentimental value, like family or childhood nostalgia, others will simply see something they like and go, “I think it looks cool.”

When looking at Y/n’s tattoos, both aspects were seen in the array of artwork coating her body. After getting all the pieces that represented a person, place, or thing that impacted her life, Y/n started to get whatever the hell she wanted—not having an explanation for anything other than, “it looked badass so I got it. No value behind it, I just wanted it.”

Like many newly turned teenagers itching to get their first tattoo, Y/n was bold and got an intricate design on one of the most painful spots. Her reasoning was if she did it, then any other place in the future wouldn’t be as bad. All through college whenever asked what she wanted for her birthday or holidays the answer was always money to get a tattoo. An artist herself, she majored in drawing while attending Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, New York, also taking on an apprenticeship for a local tattoo artist. There she would get to work on her skills and tattoo people, progressing to doing tattoos on her legs and non-dominant arm. Anytime she traveled to a different state or country during the semester she studied abroad, Y/n got a new tattoo, wanting to have an array of styles from different artists on her body.

By the time she was 26, she had accumulated over 50 tattoos and still had room for more. From her neck down, artwork ranging from fine line to bold and traditional decorated her skin. Both her arms were half sleeves, ending just above her elbows with patchwork along her forearms and hands. The only place free of ink on Y/n was her face, though she did have her inner lip tattooed. If you asked her, it’d be the only place she regretted getting ink because it faded so quickly. But then again, she could get it redone if she really wanted to.

There were looks from people anytime she went out. Y/n loved dressing up in little black dresses and two piece sets to unapologetically show off her tattoos. Older, conservative couples or people who thought tattoos looked trashy on women would look down upon her. Getting hit on was normal, though she never gave the time of day and sending one look that read, ‘get lost’ had men scurry. Sometimes she'd be approached by teenagers asking about certain pieces, saying they wanted to get tattoos once they were of age and were looking for advice. Biker bars were a place she felt comfortable in, Y/n even taking a part-time job as a bartender so make some extra cash. People from all ages—well at least 21–were covered in tattoos like her.

In 2014, shortly after her 25th birthday, Y/n noticed an inbox notification in her instagram. She was used to getting messages on occasion. Being featured on the bar’s and tattoo parlors business instagram pages and accumulating her own following of potential clients had Y/n reach up to 80 thousand followers. The tattoo artist she worked for was very popular, having done work for celebrities and being featured in Inked Magazine.

Speaking of Inked Magazine…..

When Y/n clicked on the icon to open the message, the first thing she spotted was the blue checkmark. Then beside it was in bold lettering inkedmag. Coffee nearly spilled onto the floor when her grip faltered, gasping lightly at the name. She didn’t even realize the page was following her, confirming this by searching herself under their following and found her username staring back at her.

Heart pumping, Y/n opened the message. “Hi, Y/n, my name is Manda Williams and I’m a representative at Inked Magazine. We’re a fan of your profile and would love to work with you on our upcoming campaign. Would you be interested? Please email me at mandawilliaminked@gmail.com, I look forward to talking with you soon.”

Never did she think she’d become a model, let alone a tattoo model. She was taller than the average woman, standing at about 5’10 and strikingly beautiful. On countless occasions family members would say, “if you didn't have all that on you maybe you’d been discovered. You’ve got the height, the style, and high fashion look. Plus you’ll never get a well paying job with all those tattoos.” All they were met with was a roll of the eyes from the woman, annoyed with the constant nagging.

“I’m an artist,” she would defend. “I got accepted into one of the most prestigious art schools in the country and I work for a very renowned tattoo artist who has had Snoop Dogg, Angelina Jolie, and Lady Gaga as clients. Not to mention I work at a biker bar where the people there love me. Want me to go further?” the look on their face would read they didn’t but Y/n would put the nail in the coffin with, “Let me point out the fact I get paid more with both those jobs combined than you working a nine to five in your little office job. Also you should educate yourself. Tattoo models do exist.”

If only those family members could see her now. Posing on a motorcycle in nothing but a bra and booty shorts as the camera flashed in front of her.

“You’re a natural, Y/n,” the photographer complimented, making her flustered.

She adjusted her position, running a hand through her hair, “If you think so I trust your judgment.” Being in a studio felt very different than when she would set up her phone on a tripod in her apartment. It took many tries for her to capture the perfect angle, often deleting fifteen out of sixteen photos. Here with this guy calling out movements, “a little to the left,” “bring your hand up—just under your chin, perfect,” “Now act like you’re suntanning on the beach—tilt your head back as though the sun is in your face,” Y/n felt what it was like to be a model.

Not many tattooed individuals got the chance to sign with top agencies like Ford and IMG. Very few were recruited so it came as a big surprise when an agent from IMG Models contacted her following the release of Inked Magazine’s issue. When she took the job she thought it would be a small section in the magazine itself. Instead, she was on the cover.

“You don’t have an agent?” Bonnie’s tone was confused, staring back at Y/n from behind her desk as they sat in her office at the IMG headquarters. Bonnie had seen her cover on Inked, immediately going to Y/n’s instagram where she contacted her though the email listed on the tattoo parlors page. From there she asked the artist to bring a portfolio, which she was shocked to find out wasn’t much. “That was your first model job?”

Y/n shrugged, making a face like it was obvious, “Unless you count the dozens of comments I get on instagram beggin for my next post, yeah it was. I’m a bartender and tattoo artist, modeling wasn’t something I thought was in the cards.” She refrained from adding, “also didn’t think IMG scouted people like me.”

It was safe to say Y/n was unlike the typical runway model. Every now and then a high fashion show would hire a man with tattoos to walk for them. Very rare would you see a woman on the runway. For Y/n, that seemed to be the case in the beginning of her career. She did walk in the Marco Marco show that year which was the highlight of her life. Inked Magazine got so much response on her first feature that they made her their staple girl. Y/n worked with them the most on campaigns and even got to do a cover shoot with celebrities like Travis Barker and Kehlani. Those features got her a lot of recognition to the point she hit one million followers on instagram.

It wasn’t until Y/n went viral on the internet for her Sports Illustrated cover and becoming the first inked model to be featured in a Victoria Secret campaign that the top designers were booking her. Before long she was auditioning for brands during fashion week, securing Tom Ford, Calvin Klein, and Oscar de la Renta. Due to her tattoos being the star of the show, there were hardly any clothes on her save for tiny tops and skirts or dresses with intricate cutouts. She didn’t mind of course. After all, her tattoos were a part of her and the reason she was getting the opportunities of a lifetime.

Milan, Paris, London, New York. Fashion week was gonna have to get used to a new face in town.

Vogue, GQ, Vanity Fair, Inked. Pick up an issue and you’d find Y/n on at least one page, if not the cover.

Every now and then she’d get asked to appear in music videos for bands. The Weekend once asked her to be the cover art for one of his singles, bringing her more attention as "The Inked Beauty from Blinding Lights cover art.”

She appeared on the Inked Magazine YouTube channel several times. The most popular video being when she did a Q&A released shortly after walking in the last ever Victoria Secret Fashion Show in 2018, becoming the first inked model to walk the VS runway. Though it had low ratings, Y/n’s bit was plastered on every social media site, many tweeting: “the best thing VS could’ve done for their final show was put Y/n L/n in it. She carried the damn thing.”

“Hello, I’m Y/n L/n,” she smiled shyly at the camera, her agent Bonnie and publicist giving a thumbs up. “I’m a tattoo and high fashion model from New York City. You may recognize me from the cover of Inked Magazine, or discovered me through some of my other projects over the last couple years—hell maybe I even tattooed you at one point,” chuckling as she feels her nerves slowly evaporate. “Today I’m here with Inked Magazine, the owners of my heart and career, and I'm gonna answer some questions sent in by you guys about my tattoos and career.”

The producer gives a nod, “Ready, Y/n.”

“Let me hear them, sonny boy.”

“What was your first tattoo and at what age did you get it?”

Thankfully she was wearing a tube top beneath her jacket, removing the clothing to reveal the many inked designs on her chest, and stomach. Pointing to the one just below her ribs, Y/n says, “So this was my first one—as you can tell by how faded it is compared to the others. I got it when I was eighteenth birthday, literally wasted no time and my family is actually who inspired it.”

“As of right now, how many tattoos do you have?” The question has Y/n think for a moment, tilting her head back slightly.

“I counted just the other week and I think it was close to…. seventy,” nodding she adds, “yeah I think that’s right. I know I had fifty when Inked contacted me four years ago for my first feature. So I’ve added twenty to the collection since.” She made a mental note to count again when she got home that night.

“Do you have any tattoo regrets?”

A nervous chuckle escaped, “Fuck, uh….yes,” she looks down shamefully, but gives a shrug like, ‘I can explain.’ Lifting her head back up, Y/n takes her two index fingers and gently pulls down her bottom lip to reveal the messy smudged ink that once read, ‘baby girl’. The camera zoomed in and once they got a good shot of it Y/n let her lip fall back into place, “I don’t know if you were able to read that but when it was freshly done eight years ago it said,” she pulled a face showing she was too embarrassed to say it. “It said ‘baby girl.’ I got it when I was twenty on a dare and frankly I thought it would be hot, but it faded so quick—which,” she raised a finger, “that’s the one place I would say don’t get a tattoo. Even though it’s technically temporary…you’ll end up with a blob of ink like mine and it’s not cute.”

“Where were the most painful spots you got tattooed?” Immediately she lifted her arms to show she had ink on her armpits.

“These basterds right here,” the producer and crew laughed, nodding along with her. “You feel me? Yeah, I thought the ones on my stomach and ribs were bad. Those were a tickle compared to my armpits—-oh and my elbows. I think I actually broke a sweat when I got those done. It’s why I have yet to conquer my knees,” patting the covered area, Y/n shakes her head, “I don’t know If i can do it. But funny enough, these tiny little hearts on my palms,” Y/n flashed her palms up, the camera focusing on the two red lined hearts in the middle of each hand. “These hurt so bad. Thankfully I’m not putting anything else here because I strictly wanted the hearts, so I’m sparing myself.”

“What do they mean?” The producer asked, taking a pause from reading out the next question. The little smile Y/n gave was shy.

“I was told a lot growing up that I keep my heart in the palm of my hand,” while she explained Y/n kept glancing at the hearts, “kinda like the saying, ‘wearing your heart on your sleeve,’ but with me it’s literally in the palm of my hand. So I got these little hearts on my palms—that way when I hold someone’s hand, they can feel the love and care I have for them,” sending a wink to the camera she finishes with, “because my heart is in my palm.”

“Have you ever dated anyone with more tattoos than you?”

“Noooo,” she snorts. “Not because I’m not open to it—I’m very attracted to people with tattoos. And I have dated people with a lot…it just seems that anytime I do get into a serious relationship, I’m the one who has more than the other. And if you’re thinking about who I think you are—,” Y/n points directly to the camera, like a mother scolding her child, “the answer is no, he did not have more than me. Louis has thirty-three, I believe, since the last time he and I talked—which was,” she pauses to think, “I think around New Year’s.”

“Do you find yourself enjoying campaign shoots or runway shows more?”

“That’s hard,” Y/n pouts, causing her agent to chuckle since she knew the answer first hand. “Both are fun in their own way. I love being able to come into a studio or go out on sight and do a photo shoot—except in the fucking winter because I’m usually half naked freezing my ass off.” She pauses to laugh with the crew before continuing. “And then there's this feeling of ‘wow, that just happened,’ when I step off the runway. Getting to work with designers I’ve idolized since childhood and being the face of Mugler is a dream come true. If I had to choose…..it would be campaigns and photo shoots. There I can express myself more freely.”

“Do you see yourself still modeling in ten to twenty years time?”

There was a question she had to think about, taking a moment before answering. “I sure hope so. I love my job and definitely see myself continuing in the future. As long as my agent Bonnie and Inked don't get tired of me,” she laughs, winking at the woman who blows her a kiss. “But honestly I have experience as a tattoo artist so I could see myself opening my own parlor. I’d love to start my own blog or get other tattoo models into the industry. There’s a lot to think about what the future holds, but for right now I’m gonna have fun in the present.”

While home in New York when not booked, Y/n continued to work part-time at the tattoo parlor. She left the bar shortly after signing with IMG, but still visited whenever she could. There was even a picture of one of her Inked shoots framed above the bar.

With her new found fame the parlor had little to no openings each month. Regulars and new clients had to call in to reserve an appointment the second the schedule was dropped, which was sometimes weeks in advance. Several of the friends Y/n made in the modeling industry would get tattoos from her, though they always tended to go for the fine line style. More celebrities booked with her boss, adding Cardi B, Rihanna, and Louis Tomlinson to the list. The latter whom, as mentioned, Y/n actually got romantically linked to in mid 2017. It only lasted a few months, but the photo of the two on the Inked instagram was the most liked on their page.

Louis wasn’t the only high profiled person Y/n was involved with. Unfortunately the downside to fame meant her personal life was to be blasted on every inch of the internet. From starting her modeling career in 2014 to spring of 2019, she’d been spotted with actors Michael B. Jordan, Tom Felton, and fellow model Vladimir Ivanov. Like Louis, they only lasted a couple weeks to months—save for Vladimir which lasted almost over a year—and ended on good terms where they remained friends.

Frankly when it came to settling down Y/n hoped to find someone who was sweet and down to earth. Who was a hard worker—passionate about what they did for a living and wanting to share that with her. Someone who could make her laugh and feel like she was the only girl in the world. It was hard finding someone like when the spotlight follows you around. Y/n had been in the public eye going on six years and due to her connections with big named people she never seemed to catch a break when it came to romance.

All those qualities she desired in a life partner came to her in the form of the adorable weapons system officer she met at a party in November of 2019. The poor guy felt so out of place. From behind the bar Y/n could see him at the corner glancing around like he was searching for someone. Only getting a glimpse at the side of his face, she didn’t recognize him. The party had many from the fashion industry to celebrate Anna Wintour’s 70th birthday. What was ironic was Y/n took up the task of working the bar, kicking into her skills from when she was a bartender at a popular biker club in Manhattan. With her view she was able to see the entire floor as people entered.

The man she’d been eyeing must’ve come in when she was busy making the Hadid sisters their drinks. He wore a white dress shirt with some slacks and a matching blazer. His glasses reminded her of the popular style from the 80s. Come to think of it, they were probably the aviator style. He was tall, roughly six foot so she’d be eye level with him considering she was wearing two inch kitten heels.

Seeing his flustered demeanor and the fact he looked like he didn’t know what the hell he was doing there—not to mention he was handsome from what she could see, Y/n waltzed over, “May I get you anything?”

When he spun around she was met with the most gorgeous pair of blue eyes staring back at her. They blinked rapidly, like they were trying to decipher if she was in fact real. Then they snapped straight to her neck, following the ink of the exposed skin on display from her red latex mini dress—which his face mirrored the color of since he was making it quite known he was checking her out. He had a baby face to him, which was kinda adorable, and Y/n assumed he was maybe a year or two younger than her.

Offering a smile Y/n said, “So what will it be?”

“Huh?” He said confused before remembering what she initially asked before he got distracted. “Oh uh, just water please.” Still smiling, Y/n took a clean empty glass and filled it with ice before adding the water. Finishing it with a straw she placed it on a napkin in front of him.

“Will that be all?”

“Yes. Thank you,” he took the glass, glancing around briefly before letting his shoulders drop.

“You seem a bit out of place,” Y/n wiped down the countertop, catching his attention again. The man nervously laughed, adjusting his glasses.

“Is it that obvious?”

“A bit,” she teased, nodding her head to the crowd in front of them. “All these people walk around like they own the place. You’re the first person I’ve seen tonight who doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing. Are you here with someone?” Part of her was hoping he’d say a friend invited him, feeling a sudden rush of butterflies at the way he looked at her—like he couldn’t believe she was real.

“My sister dragged me along,” he confirms, the model mentally sighing in relief. But she couldn’t get her hopes too high. For all she knew he may have a partner back home. “I was visiting her this past week and she begged me to come. I told her it was a bad idea since I’m not….part of this crowd.”

“Ah,” she hums, biting back a grin at the way he described the industry. “Not a model or influencer, I take it?”

“Nooooo,” his laugh filled her stomach with butterflies. “Not at all. I don’t know how to work social media. Are you?”

Y/n refilled a guest's drink and handed over a beer to another, “I dabble here and there,” it was refreshing to meet someone who wasn’t familiar with her work. Usually at events like the one they were at she had people coming up to her already knowing who she was. “You’re probably like, ‘thought she was just a bartender,’” she giggled at the flustered look taking over him. “I was one before being discovered. I’m doing this for fun honestly—-and because Anna likes what I make her.”

His eyes went to her neck and collarbones, lingering on the ink. She assumed he’d never seen a model with so many tattoos before. “You can look,” she smirked, when he glanced away from being caught staring. “You’re only seeing a small portion of the canvas,” his eyes went wide at her words, making her giggle, “these babies are the reason I’m in this business.”

“You're a tattoo model?”

Y/n raises a brow at the surprise in his tone, “Didn’t know they existed, handsome?”

“No-no,” he quickly apologizes, “sorry I meant no offense. I knew there were models with a lot of tattoos. My sister told me that the industry was starting to expand by signing more people with them.” His words have Y/n intrigued. Obviously his sister was someone in the business, she wondered if she knew her.

“Is your sister one?”

“No, she’s an agent,” Y/n stops what she’s doing, towel long forgotten.

“For a modeling agency?”

“Yeah.”

“Which one?” Just as the question left her lips, Bonnie’s voice interrupted the two, “Bob, there you are! Oh good—,” she grins wide when she sees who he’s talking to, “You guys met!”

Snapping their heads toward each other, the two have the same expressions of, “wait what?”

Bonnie claps her hands, coming beside Bob at the bar and motioning between the two, “Y/n, this is my brother, Robert—the one I was telling you about last week,” mouth slightly agape, remembering the conversations the two had about Bonnie’s brother—in which the agent suggested setting up a date between the two—Y/n watches Bob react the same when Bonnie then says, “Bob, this is Y/n L/n. One of my clients at IMG—I know I’ve mentioned her before to you.”

Not knowing what to do at first, Y/n extends her hand to formally introduce herself, “So you must be the famous, Bob,” butterflies swarm her stomach again by the warmth of Bob’s hand when he goes to shake it. “I’m Y/n. So nice to finally meet you—Bonnie’s told me a lot about you.”

“W-wow,” Bob stutters, mentally hating himself when he does. “It’s really nice to meet you too, ma’am. I wasn’t expecting to meet you tonight, but now I see why Bonnie was so adamant I come.” A pointed look is thrown at Bonnie, who shrugs with a smile like she did no wrong.

“Well seeing as you two found each other without me, I’ll leave you both to it. Bob, let me know if you plan on riding with me back to the house or if you catch a ride. And Y/n I’ll see you bright and early Monday morning.” Winking, Bonnie takes the Cosmopolitan Y/n made for her and scurries off, leaving the two alone.

“I should’ve known,” Y/n laughs lightly, topping off Bob’s water. “Your sister has brought you up the past couple times she and I have gotten together,” lips curl into a smirk, “she wasn’t lying when she said you were a cutie.”

Bob turns red, smiling shyly, “when she told me about the inked beauty she worked with, she left out the fact you’re a walking piece of art.” His boldness impressed her, Y/n leaning closer to him against the bar top, resting her elbow on to so she could lean her head on her hand.

“How long are you gonna be in New York?”

“Till Wednesday,” part of her was disappointed that it was only four days away considering it was currently Saturday. But it was enough time for something to blossom.

“Tell me about yourself, Bob. The night’s early and I could listen to you talk for hours. Let’s see if Bonnie was psychic when she said we’d be quite the puzzle when put together.”

Ever heard of the type of couples where the girl radiates black cat energy and the guy is a literal golden retriever?

That was Y/n and Bob to a tee.

Out in public they stood out—even in a city like New York. Then when Y/n went to San Diego to meet his friends for the first time after four months together—which also resulted in her being stuck in California due to lockdown from the covid pandemic—it was like everyone couldn’t believe someone like Bob was with someone like Y/n.

He was a quiet, reserved naval officer and she was a sharp-tongued, world renowned tattoo model. They were the definition of the couple in high school you’d never expect would hit it off.

When Bob introduced Y/n to the squad, they instantly knew who she was, but had different ways of discovering her. Nat saw her walk in the VS Fashion show, Mickey and Reuben recognized her from The Weekend’s cover art, Javy remembered her from an episode of Ink Master she appeared on, Jake saw her on the cover of Sports Illustrated, and Bradley actually got a tattoo from Y/n when he was in NYC.

The entire period Y/n was in San Diego she grew close to the squad, even Maverick who had a lot of questions about her work and tattoos. “You think I’d look good with them at my age?” Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at the question, ensuring the Captain with a pat on the back.

“Some of the sexiest men I’ve met have been your age with ink more in than me,” she giggles when he goes red. “I worked at a biker bar in New York City. Believe me, Pete. Anyone can look good with some ink.”

Needless to say when it came time for Mav to get a tattoo, Y/n was the one doing it.

A lot of the squad ended up getting work done by her. Jake, Mickey and Rooster had a few already so they were familiar with the process. Nat only had one from a drunk night in college, which Y/n redid on her behalf since it had faded. Payback was a man who liked bold, meaningful tattoos so sometimes Y/n had her work cut out for her but she always came through.

“Yo is this gonna hurt bad,” Javy was practically sweating as Y/n removed the stencil from his shoulder. The design was a geometric sun about the size of an airpod case.

“It’ll sting, but this area generally isn’t too painful. If this was your bicep then it’d be a different story.”

Javy didn’t look convinced, turning to look at the guys while the stencil dried, “How was it for you guys?”

“Didn’t hurt at all for me,” Rooster shrugged, “my bicep was worse—like she said.”

“Yeah, you’ll be fine,” Payback waved a hand. “You see how tiny it is? It’ll be over before you know it.”

Going over the details once more to confirm the colors and shading, Y/n moved her chair closer after turning on the tv to an episode of Chopped. “You ready, Jav?”

“Ready,” he didn’t really sound like it but it was too late to back out. The buzz of the needle filled his ears and soon the stinging sensation they all said had him clutching his first.

“Try to relax, man” Bob sat on the chair next to Y/n, “being tense won’t help.”

After over a year of dating Bob had his fair share of tattoos. His were mostly small and easily hidden by his uniform. When they first got together, Bob loved learning about her tattoos. When she got them, why she did. If there were any meaning behind certain ones and if she planned to get more.

She was like a walking art gallery. So many colors and styles. Large and small. Y/n told him stories about almost every one—even if they were embarrassing like the inner lip tattoo.

“Biggest mistake,” she wiped a tear after she was done, the two laughing so hard. “Not only did it hurt but it faded not even a year after I got it. Now it looks so bad—I should get it redone but what’s the point when it will just end up looking the same.”

Bob hated when people would give her looks of disproval when they’d go out, usually from those who were unfamiliar with Y/n’s work. One time he nearly got into a bar fight with a older gentleman who thought it was okay to call Y/n a Jezebel. Rooster and Mickey had to hold him back, but Y/n simply looked at the guy and said, “Baby, I’m a fucking millionaire because of these bad boys. While you’re about to kick it the dust I’m gonna be on the cover of Vogue magazine next month. So eat shit and die already.” The man was left speechless, making her and the squad smirk in victory. The equally tatted bartender who knew of Y/n whistling and even given her a free round.

“That was so fucking hot,” Bob pulled her into a searing kiss when they left the bar moments later, Y/n smirking against his lips, “You think that was hot? I’m a mess under these pants from seeing you so worked up, baby. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Whenever he and Y/n would cuddle she’d trace the raised ink with a finger, Bob doing the same to hers and committing them to memory. He loved to kiss the ones on her neck and collarbones, but his favorite were the tiny hearts on the palms of her hands.

“What do these mean,” he asked one day during the early days of their relationship. They were laying out on the hammock, taking her hands to admire the collection of small tattoos along her fingers and wrists. He hadn't even realized she had any on the palms until he flipped them over. There his thumbs traced over the red outline of each heart.

“If you ask any person I’ve ever loved or cared for they’d tell you I carry my heart in the palm of my hand,” she flips her hands so they are holding Bob’s, the tattoos against his skin. “So when I hold people’s hands, they know a piece of my heart lies with them.” Letting her head fall back against his shoulder, Y/n shifts so her lips are against his jaw. “And I’m kinda hoping you’re the only one who gets to hold them from here on out.”

Anytime after that Bob would press a kiss to the hearts whenever he held her hands. Then when asked about what tattoo of Y/n’s was his favorite his answer was always, “the hearts.”

His family adored her. At first they were put off by her striking image but learned quickly Y/n was perfect for Bob. The children of his siblings loved taking washable markers to color in the tattoos Y/n had that were black and white. “Can I draw you a tattoo someday?” Little Emma asked shortly after the couple celebrated one year. She was a little artist who loved asking questions about the pretty pictures on Y/n.

“Of course, my love,” she promised. “Draw me whatever you desire and I shall get it done.”

The first fashion show Y/n booked after the pandemic Bob had front row seats. With his phone out he was the ultimate cheerleader, though he refrained from whistling or making noise so as to not embarrass the model, but would be in absolute awe when she strutted past him. It was the Tom Ford show, Y/n had walked out in a long black trench coat, coming to the end of the runway first before removing the item to reveal a silk dress underneath. It was spaghetti strapped with an open back, thigh slit to compliment her legs and the cameras loved it. She walked a few steps back up and turned to strike one last pose before making her exit.

Bob was mesmerized. It was the first time he’d seen her walk the runway and my God if he wasn’t already a simp he sure was then. A photographer captured his reaction to her discarding the coat and it went viral on Twitter.

@ inmyreputationera: if my man doesn’t look at me like @inkedbyY/n bf at NYFW then I don’t want it.

@ Inked✔️: We’re all Bob Floyd when @inkedbyY/n steps onto the runway.

When it came time to pick out her wedding dress Y/n was unsure of the route to go. It’d been five years the two were coming up on, one year of being engaged with the wedding to take place in North Island. A beach wedding in the late fall, Y/n wanted to look elegant and classy.

“Whatever you choose you’ll gonna look amazing, darling,” Bob kissed her head after she sighed when shuffling through bridal magazine pictures of dresses she’d cut out. “You know I love your tattoos—they are a part of you and I don’t want you feeling like you have to cover up for the sake of pictures. Baby, you’re one of the top models in the world. Like you told me when we first met, those babies are what got you discovered. Show them off.” Rubbing her shoulder exposed from her tank top, his lips pressed to the ink covering the skin. “But if you like this,” he pointed to the dress she kept going back to in her pile, it was elegant and pretty with neckline that fell just below her collarbones. “Then you should get it because you love it.”

The ceremony dress ended up being the one with a high neckline. It had open back with Y/n deciding on a her veil cascading down to the floor to become a small train rather than having the dress itself have it. Lace covered her arms, the ink peeking out from beneath to make the material stand out more due to the contrast.

She was stunning. An actual goddess that had Bob’s jaw drop the second his eyes landed on her. For the reception Y/n changed into a white two piece set that showed off her legs.

And you best believe she hired local tattoo artists to do a ‘spur of the moment’ tattoo booth at the party.

It didn’t take long for Inked Magazine to want to do a bridal shoot with Y/n. And if you look at it one way, it was a full circle moment. The issue marked ten years since they discovered Y/n and blessed her with the career of a lifetime that led her to meeting the love of her life.

All because she had a knack for getting ink.

……………..

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black @wildellaa

[crazyk-imagine]

Veils, Weddings, and Best Friends Weddings

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Plus size!reader

Characters: Robert "Bob" Floyd, Plus size!reader, Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Penny Benjamin, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Warnings: Fluff, angst, friends to lovers, secret rendezvous, everyone rooting for Bob and reader to get together, small age gap between friends, age gap between lovers, plans gone wrong, reader talking about Bob being a kid, unnecessary drama but it's for the plot, Bob and Natasha make a rough comment to the other, Jake's only a vegetarian because of Ian in the movies, Bob's kinda a hoe for the reader, he's also an ass man in one scene 0-0

Word Count: 5,738

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You shake your head, watching your best friend stare at a happy couple, already knowing she wishes she could have that kind of love… which hurts you in more ways than one. You sigh to yourself knowing that you’re going to have to break her out of her gaze.

You reach behind you, untying your apron and lean onto her nudging her arm. "Don't do that sad puppy dog look, Tash. You’ll find your special someone. I know it."

She scoffs, removing her gaze from the couple to take your apron. "Yeah, where?"

"He's just around the corner."

"You go out on more dates than I do how do you not have a boyfriend."

You know what she’s doing, it’s her defense mechanism, one she’s been doing since you two were kids.

You shrug, going around her to grab your purse and coat. "All the ones I find are jerks."

"Bob isn’t."

"Please don't start this again," you plead.

"I'm just saying. If it was between the two of us, you would have a better chance at finding love than I would." She opens the register to make change before sending the couple off so she can talk to you.

You sigh, "Natasha, I love you. I do, but you have to realize that I am older. I would look like a cougar."

"You’re barely four years younger than me."

"And I'm still seven years older than him. I've seen him take baths. I even helped."

She furrows her brows. "Now?"

"No! When we were kids. He was the sweetest little boy ever."

"To you," she mutters.

"No, he-" ‘Huh.’ As you think about it, maybe you did have to resolve more than one of his tantrums when no one else could. "Maybe he wasn't but-"

"Don't you even try to argue and say he was an angel. He wasn't. He was absolutely terrible except for you and only you but you don’t want to admit it."

You roll your eyes. "I have to go to work, Natasha."

She sighs, "please don't leave mad."

"I'm not, I'm not… I promise… pain in my ass."

She chuckles, even though she knows you don’t want to admit any of it, but her baby brother was a menace as a kid, and he’d only ever be the most well behaved and calm down faster when you helped him.

Penny walks through the door, "oh is it time for you to leave already? I feel like I've barely gotten to see you."

You chuckle, grabbing your coat off the counter. "It is."

"Come for dinner."

"Oh. I couldn't." You always like having dinner with Natasha and Bob’s family but it gets awkward whenever they try to discuss your guy’s future wedding, last time you went to dinner that was all they talked about.

"I'll make you a special plate,” she adds to persuade you.

You pretend to think about it. "Leftovers?"

"Only small container."

Which means, take as much as you want. "Deal?" You’re scared about tonight’s dinner topic.

She pulls you in for a hug and kisses your cheeks. "Have a good day, darling."

"You too, Mrs. P."

"How many times do I have to tell you, call me Penny."

You can’t bring yourself to that… not when you need to break it off. "Bye ladies."

-

You walk out of the restaurant, reaching into your purse only to find it not clutched underneath your armpit. You could have sworn you brought it with you. You turn around, staring at the ground not wanting to fall on the slippery, wet concrete (today, your butt is still a little sore from two days ago).

"Woah! Woah!" A set of hands grips your waist tightly, keeping you upright.

You lift your head and find the reason why these hands feel familiar. "Oh, gosh. Sorry, Bob. Even as careful as I was, I still managed to slip."

He smiles at the joke, knowing you’re being this nice to him because his family is watching you from inside the restaurant (and he’s late for his shift, again but for a good reason). “It’s a good thing I was here to catch you." His hands haven’t moved from your waist.

"Bob," you lower your head, making sure he understands how he can’t make jokes like that, even if you did leave his room early before anyone was awake.

"What?” He shrugs, ignoring your look. “It was a harmless comment."

You scoff, "nothing with you is harmless."

"Ouch.” He places his right hand over his heart, “that hurts. No, it really does."

"Why are you here?"

"Your purse." He holds it out for you.

"Oh," you blink owlishly, taking the item from him. "Thank you!” You glance back at him with a raised brow. “You know if I didn't know any better, I would think you took it just talk to me like this in front of your family."

"You're over at the house all the time, I could just steal you away from Nat."

"How sneaky."

His lips tug upwards into a smirk. "Only for you."

A sigh escapes through your nose. "You cannot say things like that to me."

"Why not?" He asks, you always tell him this, but it doesn’t change anything that’s been going on between you two. “Tell me why I can’t say things like that to you and I’ll stop.”

“I have to go to work.”

His joking attitude falls, “hey, wait. I didn’t mean to overstep-”

“Bob, you are their prized baby boy. You’re the one who’s going to do greater and better things than they could have ever imagined. We wouldn’t-”

“Don’t finish that sentence because you’re wrong, you don’t know how my family talks about you when you’re not around.”

“I’ll see you at dinner, Bobby.”

He turns around watching you walk away as soon as your figure disappears his head falls back, staring up at the gray clouds, wondering how things can change for you to realize how much his family sees you as one of their own.

If they could have, they would have adopted you, so they don’t have to call you the “adopted daughter”. But then again, they do keep dropping hints about him asking you a certain question so they can officially call you their favorite daughter-in-law (including the in-laws themselves).

He turns around and heads into the restaurant, ready to start his shift.

Natasha doesn’t say anything but feels she should do something to help you realize how much in love her brother is with you… maybe after she helps the incredibly handsome blond man, she sees in the window who then enters the restaurant and sits down with his friend.

There are a few complaints about how the food doesn’t taste the same as it normally does, which makes sense since this morning’s talk brought down his happy mood.

He thought maybe you left your purse because you wanted to have something more with him.

-

Your day didn’t go any better, the only new thing that happened involves your coworker and her setting you up on a blind date knowing today is one of the three days you show up with a side for dinner at Natasha’s family home. You tried to tell her to cancel it, but she didn’t want to listen.

“Why do you want me to cancel it so badly? Is it because that guy who drops you off lunch finally wised up and confessed?” Lucy asks, with a wide smile.

You tilt your head, “who- do you mean Bob?”

She nods, “yes, yes! The cutie with the glasses. He’s always so sweet when he asks where you are? I wish my boyfriend would describe me the way he does about you.”

“How does he-” Your guy’s shared boss, Ed (short for Edward) interrupts, informing you two to get back to work.

Lucy grabs your arm as you two rush back to your workstations. “So, what I’m hearing is, he can’t man up and ask you out and you’re, in fact, single.”

You sigh, knowing she’s won.

“Perfect,” she pauses.

“What? Why did you go quiet all of a sudden?”

“Now, I don’t know if you should go on this date. The guy I chose for you has been known to be a… player but- but I see the look on your face, please let me finish. But he's changed. Or maybe if you want, he can help you. Oh, yes. I’m brilliant. I’ll text him and tell him we have a plan to get two lovebirds together.”

“You forget Bob and I aren’t lovebirds.” You feel dirty saying that, almost like you’re lying.

“Not yet.”

You regret talking to her about these kinds of things now.

-

As you walk to Lucy’s car, you text Natasha.

Brat Tamer

‘Hey, can’t stay for dinner but I have a side ready. I’ll drop it off, make sure someone cab grab it' 6:02pm Sent Read

“Okay, where to?”

“Your house first. I always have a spare party outfit in my car.”

“How often do you go out?”

“When was the office new year’s party?”

“Same day as the Christmas party?”

“And that was?”

“First Saturday of December.”

“That’s how long I’ve had them in my car.”

“Lucy,” you chuckle.

“What?”

“You cannot tell me that you’ve left dirty clothes in your car for the last six and a half months?!”

“Don’t worry. I got them dry cleaned a few days after. I just never brought them upstairs to put in my closet. The elevator at my apartment complex is always broken and I have to walk up four flights of stairs.”

You giggle, “okay, Luc. Whatever you say.”

“Peter will be at the restaurant in a booth at seven which gives me enough time to throw something together while you do your makeup.”

“I mean, I guess.”

“This is going to be fun.”

Nat the Brat

‘Got it… what color lipstick goes with the black dress I found at the mall a few years ago?’ 6:13pm Sent Read

You reread the text and find yourself smiling.

Brat Tamer

‘Your date better be with the one you were drooling over during your story. I can’t wait to meet him. One of your two pink lipsticks, don’t want to scare him away with a dark color ;)’ 6:15pm Sent Read

“Okay, it’s time to doll you up.”

“What Era are we obsessed with today that were throwing in words people don’t use often?”

She shrugs, “I don’t know. “Doll you up” just felt right.”

Neither of you say anything as she picks out your outfit and you’re left to wander into the bathroom and finish your makeup.

Her quietness does concern you seeing as she’s normally so talkative, but you don’t put too much thought into it as you search for your favorite lipstick.

You hadn’t realized she was texting Natasha to figure out what would make Bob tick and push himself into asking you out- officially.

If only you hadn’t introduced the two of them when you invited Natasha as your plus one to your work barbecue a couple of years ago.

“I found it. Come out here.”

“But you’re there.”

“Oh.” She sighs, “I’ll turn around.”

You give her the okay to turn around and her jaw drops. “Oh, I am a miracle worker.”

“You’re too cocky for your own good.”

“That’s why I’m using my good on you,” she adds a wide smile.

You roll your eyes, “I don’t buy it.”

-

“Can you take it to their door?”

“I’m a stranger. Why would they accept a meal from me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why can’t you cooperate with me?”

“I am,” Lucy argues.

“No, you’re not.”

“Well then you should have thought about this beforehand.”

“I did. You’re the one who wouldn’t stop here first.”

She shrugs. “Either you drop it off or they don’t get their special “adopted daughter” side dish.”

You groan, unbuckling your seatbelt. “I hate you.”

“Not after tonight you won’t.”

As soon as you stepped out of the car, she texted Natasha.

You knock on the door, waiting for her to answer. Your eyes slightly widen seeing- “Bob. Hey.”

“I thought you couldn’t make it tonight?”

“That’s true.”

“But you’re here.”

“I just came to drop off this,” you hold the dish pan in front of him.

He leans down to smell it. “Smells like my favorite.”

You roll your eyes, “you say that about everything I make.”

“And it’s true. But-uh- why are you dressed up?”

“My coworker is setting me up on a blind date.”

“Really?” His eye glaze over with annoyance, you think.

“I tried to-”

“Have fun on your date.” And he slams the door in your face.

You scoff and walk back to the car.

“So, what happened?”

You yank the seatbelt out of its place and click it into place with a huff. “How do you think?”

She says nothing and starts the car. “What if I told you that Peter is actually engaged, and I lied so that Bob would ask you out?”

“What?” You turn to her, “what the hell do you mean?”

“Well- we just-”

“You and Natasha planned this? Is she even home right now?”

“She's on a date, I swear she is. But we just- we’re so tired of you being sad and not admitting your feelings-”

“I’m getting out.”

“What? No.” She tries to grab you but you’re already out. “Come on, get back in the car.”

“No.”

“I’m sorry, please just get inside the car.”

“Why?”

“We’re gonna go hangout.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

“Because I’m a nice person.”

You roll your eyes and get back in the car. “It’s going to be a calm night. We’re going out to dinner and then maybe somewhere for dessert.”

You two wind up having a really good time and she helped get your mind off the fact that Bob was so annoyed, for no reason.

-

You wake up to find two missed calls from Natasha along with a few texts. You roll over, not responding; still upset over what she and Lucy planned.

You didn’t talk to her or Bob for a week and it was miserable, for everyone.

No one in the family knew what had happened and didn’t know how to help, all they knew was that their children were depressed, and you were the obvious solution.

Penny knocks on your door when you have barely started to wind down after your long day.

You open the door, expecting it to potentially be your best friend or Lucy and are surprised. “Mrs. P?”

“Can I come in?”

You nod and open the door wider, “what are you- shouldn’t you be at home getting dinner ready? I mean, I’m not- why- uh-” You scratch your head. “Why are you here?”

“My children are depressed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that-”

“You haven’t been around the house in a week, and I know what something’s wrong. What did they do? Maybe I can talk to them and make it better.”

You sigh and sit beside her on the couch. “It’s nothing that can’t be resolved, I just needed Nat to learn her lesson and she’s got her own life to live anyway. I mean, she’s started college and is doing something with her life, something that’s not what’s expected of her… no offense.”

She shrugs, “I understand but you should know she’s lonely because she has no one to talk to. She wants to be able to talk to you again.”

You take a deep breath, “I’ll stop by tonight.”

She claps her hands before pulling you in for a hug.

“Good, good. Everyone will be happy.”

“I don’t think it’s going to change much.”

“My little Bobby will be especially happy.”

You lean against the door, holding onto the doorknob. “What makes you say that?”

“A mother knows these things.” And with that, she left you with your thoughts.

-

You walk down the familiar walkway, listening to the bustle of the family moving about the house. You smile and knock on the door, not knowing if it’s unlocked or not.

One of the cousins, Bradley, opens the door.

“Well, look who came crawling back. Finally decided to drop the schmuck and find someone better. Maybe someone with a mustache,” he wipes his hand down his face, making sure to pay extra attention to his facial hair.

You roll your eyes, “move over, weirdo.”

“Hey,” he closes the door. Don’t make me tell the family about the one time-”

You jam your elbow into his side when you see your best friend making her way over to you.

She wraps her arms around you, ignoring her cousin as he pleads for someone to get help and that he’s dying. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, “don’t be. I’m just sorry it took me so long to come back.”

“No, I get it. It’s the same reason why I’m so scared to tell everyone about Jake.”

“You know once they meet him, they’ll adopt him, right?”

“What makes you say that?”

“I just know.” You pull her off to the side, “tell me about him.”

Your friend lowers her head, trying to hide her smile.

-

Neither of you notice when Bob manages to pull away from the aunts, he watches you two enjoying your conversation and realizes how much he screwed up and misses you.

Bradley pats his shoulder, “you gonna ask her?”

“I’m not asking anyone anything. Go brush your mustache somewhere else.”

“Hey, don’t hate on the ‘stache.”

-

Penny shouts for everyone and dinner starts with a slight twist; usually you and Natasha are seated by one another, but it seems that the family has other plans because now you and Bob are seated next to each other.

Everyone talks as if your absence didn’t happen, which was a relief on your part; you were scared they were going to bring it up.

After dinner everyone scattered and went to do whatever they wanted to.

You search for Natasha only to get a text from her saying she’s gone to hang out with Jake.

You scoff and shake your head as you lean against her doorway only to be frightened when you’re pulled back into another, yet familiar room. You turn around and stare at him.

“I wanted to say… sorry, you know about the other night.”

"You pulled me in here to apologize?"

He nods.

"What have you done with the real Bob?"

He rolls his eyes and sits down at his desk. "Shut up."

You stare at him with a soft smile. "Why did you really pull me in here?"

"I already told you."

You cross your arms, "you forget that I've known since you were a kid. I know when you're lying."

"I hate it when you do that," he huffs.

You furrow your brows, "do what?"

"Talk about me like I'm still a kid. I'm an adult, I have been. You know it. I mean," his chest bounces as he quickly chuckles to himself. "We've done things only adults would do."

Your eyes widen.

"Don't look at me like that."

"I'm giving you the most appropriate look after that comment, like you've gone insane." You glance back at the door.

"Don't worry. No one's going to come in. You're the only afterhours guest I've had."

"Somehow that doesn't comfort me."

He shrugs, "I don't know what to tell you then."

A piece of paper catches your eye. "What's that?"

"Nothing," he mumbles, moving it off the side.

"Is that-"

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," you tell him with a smile. "Is it the flyer you were talking about?"

He avoids making eye contact. "No."

You chuckle and shake his shoulders, "don't lie. It is." You reach for it, only for him to stop you. "Am I not allowed to see it?"

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"I- it's not ready."

"You think I'm going to care if it's done or not."

He doesn't say anything.

"Fine, don't let me see it."

He rolls his eyes, knowing exactly what you're doing. He pulls it out from under his pile of miscellaneous items.

You stare at it for a while, scaring him because he thinks you don’t like it. You shake your head and throw your arms around him.

He’s thrown off, unsure of what to do.

You adjust yourself and keep an arm wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him close. “This is so good. I can’t believe you did this. Have you shown anyone else?”

He shakes his head, “why would I do that?”

“Because this is amazing, and your family needs to know.”

“You’re bad for me,” he mumbles, turning his head further into your chest, enjoying the warmth coming from you.

“How can you say that?”

He lifts his head, the corner of his lips quirked upwards, he narrows his gaze on you.

You know you should get up and leave, most of his family are still downstairs and soon Natasha will be coming home (if she doesn’t spend the night with her boyfriend). “I should go,” you whisper.

He nods, leaning in. “Then go.”

You don’t make a move to leave until he’s less than an inch away from you.

His breath is warm against your lips as he whispers to you. “I won’t do anything unless you want me to.”

You lean in and kiss him as if he’s the cure, drinking all that he has to offer and he’s not going to stop you.

The chair creaks as you try to change your position.

“I don’t the chair can handle our weight,” you mumble against his lips.

“You’re right.”

You squeal as he lifts you, holding onto his neck for dear life as you push your chest against his. “What are you doing?”

“We’re moving this to a different space that can handle what I’m going to do to you.”

You don’t comment on that, suddenly feeling hotter. You land face first on the bed, giving Bob a beautiful view of your backside.

He takes a step closer, “god, I love this ass,” he mumbles against the side of your neck as he smacks it.

You open your mouth, but no sounds come out of you.

He flips you over and stares down at you causing you to feel self-conscious, something he notices right away.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Are you okay? We don’t need to do anything else if you don’t want to.”

You shake your head, “I’m fine.”

“You know I don’t like when you tell me “you’re fine”. It doesn’t make me think you’re really fine.”

You grab his cheeks and pull him close, “I’m good. I want this. I want you, Robert.”

He nearly shudders. “Oh, you’re in for it now. You know exactly what that does to me.”

You nod your head, giggling to yourself. “Why do you think I said it?”

After you saw him slowly making his way down your body, all you’ve felt is pure bliss.

-

And then it wasn’t, you don’t remember how it happened.

But suddenly you’re running around the room looking for your clothes. “You’re such an idiot,” you hiss in his direction while pulling up your pants.

“What?”

“Where the hell do you get off asking about some guy I don’t even remember. You’re not my boyfriend.”

Silence fills the room as you put on your shirt. You feel bad, you do; you shouldn’t have said that… even if it is true.

“You’re right I’m not.”

“I’m s-”

“I think it’s time I take up my parents offer on finding me a wife.”

Why does that comment feel like such a stab to your heart? “I hope you have fun with that then.” You grab your jacket and purse, shoes in one hand, the other opening his door. You lean against the door, covering your mouth so no one hears your cries.

-

You walk down the stairs and tiptoe out the door, just in time to see your best friend and her boyfriend. You walk ahead to your car, hoping she doesn't notice you're there.

As soon as you get yourself settled, the front door opens and he runs out, searching for you.

She gets out of the Jake's Tahoe, just in time to see her brother searching around like a mad man for God knows what. She can't tell because Jake just pulled away from the sidewalk and is blocking your car. "What is it?"

"I really messed up."

"What did you do?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not? It can't be that bad." She squints, letting her eyes adjust to the dark and faint light outlining his figure. "Right?"

His head drops.

"What happened?"

"I," he quiets down, unsure of how to tell her that he's more of an idiot than they realized. "I messed up and I don't think I can fix it."

"Does it involve a person?"

He nods. "This is not how I wanted it to go."

"Let's go inside so you can explain to me what happened."

The two sneak back inside, not wanting anyone to know where they were or ask questions.

-

"You what?" She paces around his room. "No wonder it smells like sex in here. Oh, wait a minute. Is that why she sneaks out of my room so much?"

He removes his glasses, wiping them off and doesn't do much to hide his smirk.

“You’re a pig.”

“At least I’m not a whore who hides.”

She punches his arm, “stop deflecting the question.”

He flops back onto his bed. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“I was doing the one thing no brother should.”

“Yeah, canoodling my best friend, we’re past that. Honestly,” she lays down beside him. “I’m conflicted. On one hand, I’m happy you two finally got together but I’m also grossed out because you’re my brother.”

He chuckles, “yeah, I know. Thing is…”

“What?”

“We’re not actually… together.”

She pushes herself up. “You mean to tell me that you two were just,” she grimaces at the thought. “Gross.”

“I was trying to tell her but then I messed up.”

“What’d you do?”

“I brought up the guy she went on a date with and how I’d take up mom and dad’s help on finding a wife- Ow! Ow!” He raises his hands to defend himself. “What are you doing?”

“Smacking the stupid out of you.” She groans, rubbing a hand across her face. “You do realize that she never went on a date with that guy.”

He turns his head, staring at her with furrowed brows. “What are you saying?”

“Lucy and I made that up, so you’d get jealous and confess.”

“She never-”

“No,” she shakes her head.

-

The next few days are a little awkward for Bob; you ignore him and mainly stick to Natasha.

“I think you should talk to him,” she tells you as you look up something on your computer.

“No.”

“I think it’d be good for you.”

“And I think it’d be good if I never talk to him again.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” you nod. “He was such a jerk, and I don’t want to deal with anymore jerks in my life.”

“Look, I get it. I do but,” she wraps her arms around your shoulders. “I need you two be okay when Jake comes over.”

You gasp, “he’s finally coming to dinner.”

She nods, “tonight, which is why you and Bob are going to talk.”

“No.”

She shrugs and opens the door, forcing him into the room. “Talk.” She slams the door shut, holding the handle tightly.

You scoff, slamming your computer shut. “Go away.”

He shakes his head, “not until you hear what I have to say.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“Please.”

You push yourself off the bed and point your finger at him as you talk. “You acted like a jealous boyfriend over a date I did not go on. And when I pointed out that you’re not, you told me that you’ll take your parents’ advice on finding a wife. What was I supposed to do? Lay back down so we could go for another round. No! You acted like a jerk, and I wasn’t going to stick around to see what else you’d say.”

He nods, slowly reaching for you; his warm hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you closer. “I know and I’m sorry. I overstepped and I- it’s- I don’t want you to… date anyone else.”

Your eyes glance between him and his hand.

“I don’t want to find someone else to be my wife because,” he groans, not knowing how you’ll react. “I want you.” He takes a step closer, leaving a mere few inches between you two. “I don’t think I could date or marry anyone else and not think of you.”

You gulp, “what about-”

He shakes his head and cups your cheek, resting his forehead on yours. “I broke up with her because she wasn’t the one person I dream about, you know. The only one who could stop me from having a tantrum and read to me when everyone else was too busy.”

You chuckle and hiccup, unable to stop the tears from flowing. “How do I know you’re not just saying this to make things right between us?”

“Have you ever seen me be this sweet to anyone else?”

You shake your head.

“Exactly. You’re the only one that I want, and I will fight anyone who tries to take you from me.”

You shake your head, smiling at his words and take a step forward, leaning into him, resting your forehead on his chest.

The door creaks open, “have you two made up?”

Neither of you respond.

“Good, now I don’t have to worry about it being awkward anymore. Thank God.” She groans.

“What?” Bob asks.

“Now, I have to pray neither of you are doing it.”

“Shut up,” you tell her, it comes out mumbled since you didn’t raise your head.

Penny calls you two down for dinner.

You take a couple extra minutes to pull yourself together. “Do I look okay?”

They assure you that you do and the three of you walk downstairs.

-

“Well, don’t you three look happy. Now, where’s your boyfriend?” Pete stares his daughter down.

All eyes land on Natasha, who shrinks under their gaze.

“He’s-” The doorbell rings. “Here,” she runs to the door.

You and Bob take a seat, waiting for everyone else to join.

The aunts ask him many questions about himself, what he does, how they met, etc.

But it got interesting when he told them he’s a vegetarian.

You snort and cover your face when everyone turns to you. “Sorry, sorry. I just- I thought of a really funny joke earlier… about- it doesn’t matter.”

Dinner officially begins, everyone reaches to grab a dish or a utensil, but you can’t get the one thing you want because it’s being passed around.

Bob notices and knows it’s hard to say something when everyone else is being so loud. “Hey!” He shouts.

The whole family stops and turns to him.

“Pass me that dish.”

You want to squirm in your seat but find yourself unable to when he starts scooping some of your favorite onto your plate.

He passes the dish back to his father.

You stare at your plate, unsure if that was a good thing for him to do, you two barely started talking again.

The family has barely begun to return to their previous conversations when you glance at him from the corner of your eye. “Thank you.”

He shrugs, “it was nothing.”

Natasha shakes her head.

Jake leans down and whispers into her ear, “is there something going there?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

-

Penny and Pete noticed how close you two were tonight, but don’t comment on it, knowing two kids in love won’t want to talk to- “two old people? Really, Pete?”

“What? You make it seem like I said a bad thing.”

“You’re an idiot.”

-

“I won’t tell, if you don’t,” you tell Jake.

He nods, “got it.”

You sneak into Bob’s room as he sneaks into Natasha’s room. “I wasn’t expecting you here.”

You shrug, “yeah, well, when an adorable idiot confesses his feelings, you tend to want to talk spend time with him.”

He huffs, “I’m an idiot, huh.”

“Did you miss the part where I said you were adorable?”

“No,” he places his hands against your waist and pulls you closer. “I just wanted to hear you say it again.”

You stare at him through your lashes, leaving no visible emotion on your face. “Really?”

“Don’t give me that look.”

“I’m going to-”

He cuts you off with a kiss. “Is there anything I can do to get you to stop?”

You smile as your curl your arms around his shoulders, “maybe.”

-

After Natasha and Jake’s wedding, everything seemed to calm down for them until someone (“never make fun of the ‘stache”) ratted you two out and it was your guys’ turn.

A few months after you two had been married it was time to announce your news.

“I’m pregnant!” You’ve never been given as many hugs as you did that afternoon.

“Wow, wow,” Jake says, holding you at arm’s length, looking as if he’s scared to hug you.

You narrow your eyes to him. “What’d you do?”

“Me? Nothing.”

“I’m pregnant!”

Penny embraces her daughter faster than you’ve ever seen.

“This feels like a Spartacus moment,” you comment.

Bob shakes his head. “You’ve gotten weirder since becoming pregnant.”

“Yeah, because your genes are inside me creating a life.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t think that’s it.”

“Whatever.”

“I hope they become as close as you two are.”

You wipe your cheeks, sniffling, “I knew I liked you for a reason, Jake.”

-

Sometime after that, you two go into labor and within a few hours your baby boy is born before your niece.

“He’s so cute,” you whisper, staring at your other favorite person.

Your husband nods, “he is.”

“I can’t believe we made him.”

“I know.”

“I’m telling Nat you cried.”

“Don’t you dare.”

You chuckle and lean your head against his shoulder, enjoying (the fact that you didn’t feel a thing) the newfound warmth knowing what the future is going to consist of.

-

Taglist

@blueoorchid

[sebsxphia]

ebb and flow.

robert ‘bob’ floyd x reader.

￫ description: sex is sometimes confusing for you to navigate, but bob floyd makes it easy.

￫ word count: 3.1K.

￫ c/w: mentions of shit sex, brief smut, p in v, f!oral receiving, f!masturbation, sex toys, daddy kink, swearing, kissing and fluff, fluff, fluff.

￫ a/n: this is a love note from me, to bob, to myself, and is a very real experience of me and my sexuality. i hope you enjoy! my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

It’s not that you didn’t enjoy sex, you loved sex. You loved the feeling of having your most intimate places and private thoughts brought to life, in a sheltered and cocooned environment. You longed for the closeness and the touch of bodies, slick with sweat. You craved desperately, that feeling of letting go as you were connected to another person, but that was the catch. You craved it, you longed for it, you loved it, but it didn’t always mean that it happened.

If someone was to ask you if you had a high sex drive, you would say, “oh, yeah! I love sex.” And it’s true. You loved sexuality and you would have sex when you could, but it wouldn’t answer the question. Because truthfully, you didn’t know if you had a high sex drive. There was always something or someone, confusing you and making you doubt your own drive.

You masturbated frequently, but it was always with the help of pornography. At least then you could skip to the good bits that would make you orgasm. You couldn’t really do that in real life.

There was a previous partner who, once they finished, panted down at you, “did you come?”

When you sheepishly admitted that you hadn’t, they would scoff as they rolled off you.

“Sorry, I guess. My last girlfriend always used to come so quick. Just not used to going as long as you.”

On a separate occasion, a girl lifted her face up from between your legs with an irritated frown pinched between her brows.

“Are you close to coming?”

Sure, she was hitting the right spots and yes, it might’ve taken you a little longer than most to orgasm, but you felt that hoping and longing feeling of coming fizzle out entirely.

You gave her a sore smile. “It’s alright, let’s stop.”

Your last partner you were with for nearly a year and he was the first person to make you come relativity easily. He knew the sweet spots that were dotted around your body and he listened to what you were asking for, but still came the little complaints. The little comments that made your ribs restrict around your lungs and call it off.

You had both reached your highs and your cunt was still twitching for more. You meekly asked him, “do you think you could make me come again?” And his response made you call it off entirely.

“Again? But you take so long.”

The ache dulled painfully between your thighs.

After that partner, you lost any sort of sex drive for almost a year. But life continued to have an ebb and flow, and it bought you to Bob Floyd.

Bob had you bent over the back of your sofa with your sundress hitched around your waist and his flight suit barely off. He allowed a gap just big enough in between his zipper to free his aching cock and piston his hips against your ass.

He came home later than he had planned, due to running drills for what seemed to go on forever, because someone (Jake), had decided it would be funny to make a passing joke at Cyclone. He was far too exhausted to shower and change on the base, and he was already running late coming home to you. He didn’t want to waste another second. He drove home with his bruised and battered body, covered in a thick and musky scent of sweat underneath his flight suit. He had his hands on your hips and his mouth on your lips the moment you greeted him. Bob’s rough grunts and forceful movements of his body against yours, let you know he needed you, and he needed you now.

With not a second to spare, he was already shuddering behind you and letting out an elongated groan of your name, dowsed in relief. You could feel his heavy cock twitch inside your cunt and you moved with him, aching for your own relief. Your stomach was doing somersaults every time he nudged against the sweet spot inside of you. Bob smoothed his hands along your spine and drew down the hem of your sundress. He gently lifted you up and turned you around to face him, tucking his softening cock back inside of his flight suit. He wore a lopsided smile as he cradled your jaw, pressing his lips to yours and thanking you.

“I needed that. Comin’ home to you dressed like this? Oh, I’m the luckiest, God damn pilot.”

You offered him a reassuring smile and fiddled with the collar of his flight suit, running your fingertips over the stitches and inseams. “Do you think, you could—”

“Oh my darlin’ wife,” you felt Bob’s cool engagement ring press on your hot cheek as he drew you to look up at him. You were yet to be married, but he wasted no time in calling you his wife already. “You don’t even have to ask. It would be my pleasure.”

His pleasure. His pleasure.

It made butterflies swarm in your stomach and your cheeks turn an even rosier shade of pink. Bob always reminded you that it was never an inconvenience to him. He wanted to make you feel good, he wanted to make you come and he would happily stay in between your thighs for as long as you (or he), needed.

“C’ere, sweetheart.” You yelped out a squeal as Bob ran his forearms around your stomach and lifted you up to throw you over his shoulder with such little effort. You were a string of bubbling giggles as he carried you upstairs to your shared bedroom. He could’ve had you right here on the sofa, but he wanted to take you to your bedroom. He knew it was somewhere where you could feel safe being so exposed, feel vulnerable, let out your intimate thoughts.

Between hiccups of laughter, you would cry out, “Robert! Put me down!”

To which he would reply with a firm swat to your ass, and a defiant, “nope! My pretty lil’ bunny deserves princess treatment, do they not?”

He didn’t see how you bit down on your bottom lip, biting back your lovesick smile.

Your hips were hanging off the edge of your mattress, your frame bare and Bob’s hands holding your thighs open as his mouth was planted firmly on your pussy. He was devouring you like a four course meal. His tongue wouldn’t allow a single crease, or fold, to go amiss and he paid intricate detail to your clit. He would wrap his lips firmly around it and let his teeth sink gently in. The harsh suck of his mouth created shock waves, jolting through your abdomen and up your spine.

The pleasure he was providing you felt Heavenly, and you knew your sweet Bobby would never miss how your body reacted to his touch and register what he needed to do next. He was a WSO. Planning, co-ordination and pin point accuracy was his job. Yet, inside your mind, it was as though you were flicking through three hundred television channels at an alarming rate. You couldn’t find that one television show you wanted to watch. You couldn’t find Bob’s touch. And so, as your mind flicked through the channels, your thoughts tailed off with them.

“Fuck, should I of put the vegetables in the fridge? By the time we eat they might’ve gone funny. I must change the bedsheets tomorrow, it’s been… one, two… three weeks. God. I keep loosing track of these things. Maybe I should buy a planner. There was that really nice one you saw the other day. I wonder if Bob would like one too? We could have matching ones. Oh, don’t forget, message—”

“My love?”

The incessant channel flicking came to a stop and you were back to your Bobby in your bedroom. His face was dipped up from between your thighs and a glimmering sheen, mixed with his spit and your arousal, was coating his chin. His eyebrows were turned upwards in loving concern as he repeated his question.

“Are you okay?”

Your chest rose and fell with an exhausted groan. Your hands removed themselves from Bob’s now mused hair, and you ran them down your face. “I’m sorry, honey.” You muttered pathetically against your palms.

Bob now rose completely up from the floor of your bedroom and leant over your frame spread vulnerably on the bedsheets (that you urgently needed to change). He rested one toned forearm onto the mattress to consume your body against his. His other hand let his slender fingers intertwine with the loose strands of your hair that fell against your forehead.

“No, no, my darlin’,” Bob was pleading with you. His tone sounded desperate as he tried to reassure you, but his words were firm. After your multiple confessions of previous partners and their, choice of words, he took the weight of you finding pleasure with him high and mighty on his shoulders. He would never let you fall without him there to catch you gently in his undying arms.

“Please, don’t ever apologise. I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’m stayin’ right here with you ‘till I hear those pretty noises you make.” His lips curved into a troublesome smirk at the end. He slid his resting forearm under your back to lift you up off the mattress, and steadily sat you upright incase the blood had all but flowed from your head.

“Shall we move ourselves?” He suggested and you agreed, but before you could speak your agreement, he was already way ahead of you and pulling out the wicker chair from the corner of your room and situating it in-front of your long standing mirror.

“I’ve got an idea, one that I know, you’ll like.” The same troublesome smirk was etched onto his face as he guided you over to the chair. “Do you want me to get you one of your toys?”

You hummed in delightful agreement. “Please, get the black one.”

Bob retrieved the slick black vibrator from the bottom drawer of your dresser and sat himself on the chair. He held onto your waist as he maneuvered you to sit on his lap. His broad hands ran along the underside of your thighs to pick them up gingerly, and rest them over the arms of the chair. His forearm, with his muscles bulging and veins protruding, was locked tightly around your torso to keep you firmly pressed up against his bare chest. His other hand that was holding the sleek vibrator, came down to rest haphazardly on your thigh.

You were fully exposed to yourself, Bob and your mirror. With his firm, but gentle hold on your body, you had no real wriggle room and you were to take whatever sensation he was about to provide you. That made your cunt twitch. Perhaps the flicking through the television channels was about to come to a stop. You’d found your Bobby and his pleasurable touch.

Your head was resting on his shoulder and you felt his plush cheek rub against your temple, feeling his baby hairs catch on yours. And then his lips were warm against your ear. A tickling sensation prickling down your earlobe and along your neck as he spoke.

“You comfortable, sweetheart?”

“Mhm.”

“Good girl.”

There was a quiet snicker from Bob in your ear as your breath hitched at his words. With his arm wrapped around you, he could feel every intricate detail and twitch of your frame against his. He pressed his thumb down on the top of the vibrator and it whirred to life. A steady and low buzz hummed throughout your bedroom. He placed the tip to your thigh and you involuntarily twitched.

“‘member, I’m stayin’ here with you. I ain’t leavin’ you, my darling.” You locked eyes with him through the reflection of your mirror and you nodded against his shoulder, his movements along your thigh continuing.

“Keep your eyes focused, right here, baby.” His own gaze returned to where his hand was trialing with the vibrations further down your thigh and into the apex of your cunt. With the lightest of touches he pressed the tip to your swollen clit and a sudden gasp escaped your throat without even registering it. He pressed the tip down for five seconds or so, before removing it and letting your pussy become a customized to the feeling.

He repeated this motion several times, as he listened intently to how your little moans and gasps became more frequent. Alongside that, his gaze never left your reflection. He let your own eyes flutter open and shut as your body reeled with the sensations, but he was there to intimately gage what you needed next. He dragged the vibrating tip down through your folds and glided along the other, not so sensitive, but still incredibly important, areas of pleasure. He would draw the vibrator back upwards and let it catch on your clit before pinpointing it firmly on the swollen bundle. Each time he repeated this motion, your body withered continuously under his grasp. You let your skull lull back completely onto his shoulder and you weren’t holding back any longer on your moans.

“Feels s’ good, Bobby.” You croaked out with a moan.

He parted his fixated gaze from your squirming frame for only a moment, to allow his lips to fall underneath your earlobe. He nimbly let his teeth graze over your tender flesh and tug at it, before his tongue would soothe over the spot.

“I know, pretty darlin’, I know.” Bob cooed quietly into your ear. A shudder was jolted down your spine and tickled at your nerve endings. His drawl was getting huskier in your ear and your fingertips were digging so hard into his forearm, you were sure they would leave little crescent marks from your nails.

“You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, Bunny. Do you wanna take a look? Do you wanna see how Daddy is making my pretty little clit jump?”

Your eyes fluttered open to peer at the sight before you. Your hips jolted forward as he pressed the vibrator with pin point accuracy on where you needed it most.

“Robert!” You whined out. “Fuckfuckfuck…”

“Is that it, m’love? Is that the spot?” You pursed your lips together and nodded feverishly. You found his gaze again in the mirror and his cock twitched beneath you at the sight of your pleading eyes, with a glaze of tears brimming in your eyes. He gently pushed his cheek against your temple again to motion at you.

“C’mon, Bunny. Don’t hold back. Let those pretty little sounds out. Be a good girl for Daddy.”

He pressed the vibrator on the same sweet spot and let your hips buck upwards to chase the feeling. Your lips parted and a desperate cry tore from your throat. Your voice wobbled as you begged him.

“Please, please, please. Oh God, Daddy! Don’t fuckin’ stop, right there, ‘lease…” You trailed off with pleas as your mind zoned in on the one television channel that was about to bring you crashing off the edge.

Bob watched you with intent through the reflection of the mirror. His cock was shamelessly getting harder underneath you. Right now, in this very moment, in this captured time within the universe, he wanted nothing more than to watch you fall apart in his lap. It was his pleasure as much as it was yours.

“Oh that’s it,” His voice was guiding you through it, coaxing you closer to the edge that you would inevitably fall off. “Good girl. Daddy’s gon’ stay right here, keep toyin’ with my clit.”

“I’m gon’ come, Bobby! Oh God, I’m gonna—” Your jaw went slack and a silent, wordless cry was all that tore from your throat. You were unable to form anything. Not a single thought or word as pleasure tore through you.

“Go on, my baby. Come for me.” Bob was there to take control of your mercy towards him. As you felt the warm burst of your orgasm strike through your clit and up your abdomen, you followed with a broken whine. Your hips were uncontrollably bucking and squirming against Bob’s grip and against the vibrator, that he kept nestled deep within your soaked folds. Your hands reached upwards and behind to grip tightly onto his neck, finding anything to keep yourself stable against the powerful release that was currently coursing through your veins.

“That’s it, Bunny. Keep goin’ for me, you’re doin’ so, so good. Such a good girl f’ me.”

Your thighs were now thrashing against the wicker and Bob made a mental note to soothe them later with cream. He let you move against him with free will as broken sobs left your lips. He continually moved the vibrator as you flowed through your orgasm, letting you soak up every inch of pleasure that he was providing you. He knew how badly you needed this release, and how his patience towards you was something that you treasured with every squirm of your body against his.

He could feel the tensing of your muscles soothe and slow down with each second that passed. Eventually, he gently trailed the vibrator off your twitching clit and back along your thigh, to continue the dying sensation for just that little bit longer. He pressed down the button on top of the vibrator and the humming sound came to a stop. All that could be heard was your pants of hot air bouncing off the bedroom walls. He let the vibrator fall to the floor so he could bring his hand up to smooth over your flesh. He gently ran his fingertips through your folds and let you twitch a little more in his lap, as he collected your arousal. It was like nectar to Bob. There was no sweeter sensation to him than feeling you pool on his fingers.

“Such a good girl for me, aren’t you, Bunny?” He splayed out his hand to cup your pussy and gently squeeze it. It was a comforting warmth under his touch and it pulsated against his calloused palm on its own accord.

You let your hands drop from his neck and rest on his forearms, feeling out the familiar shape of your lover. “Y— yes. I’m your good girl, Daddy.” Your voice was weak, but Bob hummed quietly in your ear as he heard you.

“T— thank you, Bobby.” When you spoke again, he shushed you as to reassure and console you. His fingers were tracing repeated patterns over your thighs.

“You don’t need to thank me, sweetheart. I do this all for you, ‘cause I love you s’ deeply.” He nuzzled his nose against your frightfully warm cheek and let you contentedly bathe in the swirling feeling of the afterglow.

It was a feeling that you had so rarely experienced before, but Bob was there to always make it feel as though you were swimming in a lake made out of the moon and stars.

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @luckyladycreator2 @unmistakablyunknown @wkndwlff @flames-thebitch @birdy-bat-writes @thedroneranger @randomfandomgirl97

tagging those who may be interested: @sunblchdfly @rhettabbotts @bobfloydsbabe @bobfloyds @bradshawsbitch @peachystenbrough @lewmagoo @sugarcoated-lame @sushiwriterhere

[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

[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!

[topgun-imagines]

congrats on 1 year!!! can I do strawberry and Bob Floyd?

Thank you!! And of course you can! :)

Need To Know an accidental call to your boyfriend on girls night leaves everyone shocked at a revelation they never thought they would have; bob fucks. Warnings: allusions to smut throughout but none actually, mentions of alcohol, mentions of a daddy kink, one mention of 50 shades of grey as a joke @bussyslayer333

The Capitan's Daughter an unlikely candidate has you breaking your dad (and brother’s) “no pilots” policy @callsignhoney

I Touch Myself being away from bob is hard, even if it is just for a couple of weeks. Warnings: 18+ only. smut. afab reader. phone sex. dirty talk. masturbation. a little dash of subby bob. @rhettabbotts

Who Hurt You you disclose to bob about a previous relationship and bob makes it his mission for you to feel safe and loved again. Warnings: mentions of past abusive relationships, mentions of traumatic memories, mentions of sexual assault, vomiting, angst, swearing, kissing, beginnings of smut with bob, nipple touching and kissing, praise, fluffy and soft ending. bob is a big softie who wants to protect you. @sebsxphia

Ebb And Flow sex is sometimes confusing for you to navigate, but bob floyd makes it easy. Warnings: mentions of shit sex, brief smut, p in v, f!oral receiving, f!masturbation, sex toys, daddy kink, swearing, kissing and fluff, fluff, fluff. @sebsxphia

Wedding Day the moments before bob realizes he’s going to call you his wife, forever. Warnings: swearing and fluff. @sebsxphia

The Ties That Bind in which your lover unravels you completely warnings: 18+ only, bondage, orgasm denial, vibrators, daddy kink, light pussy slapping, some begging, spitting, aftercare @lewmagoo

Shibari Bob finds himself in an interesting place between you and Jake. warnings: SMUT, edging, rope, Bob is a brat @topguncortez

Missions Accomplished Bob Floyd x Female!Reader | It's Bob's 30th birthday and the boys set up a mission for him to conquer. warnings: it's porn with a dash of plot. Virginity, Oral sex (f&M receiving), unprotected sex, PIV, pet names, hair pulling, cockwarming, cursing. @topguncortez

Fundamental Right Bob Floyd x Jake Seresin | Bob isn't sure what they are doing, but he's pretty sure him and Jake are dating | warnings: mentions of gay sex, jacking off, unprotected sex @topguncortez

He Sees All My Colors warnings: mentions of safe-wording (NO graphic details or violence during the scene, just partner not in the mood to participate), implications of mental health and dissociating. @peachystenbrough

Join In!

[t-nd-rfoot]

SUNFLOWER aka The Secret Valentine

There's something special about the happiness that comes from flowers.

Pairing Bob Floyd x female!aviator!OC/reader (callsign: Honey, but he calls you Bee)

Theme fluff

Warnings Valentine's clichés (ish); love triangle (ish); mentions of drinking; Hangman does something OOC (but roll with it please); edited a million times but I'm sure there's still a typo or two

Word Count 5.9k

Note Oh my goodness. This was....a headspinner to write, to say the least. First of all, so many thanks to @avaleineandafryingpan for requesting this and being so patient and kind!!! This was supposed to be a quick Valentine's drabble and lol. Look at the word count. And I'm about a week late from Valentine's Day. Secondly, a quick thanks to bestie @hangmanbrainrot for giving me advice on writing OCs! I'm not sure if Honey ended up being an OC since I wrote it in reader's POV but hey, I'm learning 😅 anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this!

If you enjoyed this, please reblog! Reblogs are the best way to support creators (writers, artists, gif makers, everyone!) on this platform. Share the content, share the love!

It started with a sunflower.

One lonely sunflower sitting on the railing of your porch, its bright and yellow petals made it hard to miss on your out of your house on your way to the hangar.

How did this get here? you wondered aloud as you picked it up.

You looked up and down the street, hoping to see its owner, but it was still too early for anyone to be up. A few officers here and there were on their way to work just like you, but there was no other sunflower in sight. None on their porches, none on the ends of their walkways, none in their hands.

Shrugging it off, you took it as a sign for a good day. You figured it might make you late if you looked for a vase to put it in, so you placed it on the passenger seat of your car along with your work things and headed off.

“Happy love day, ladies!”

Hangman’s voice boomed as you, Phoenix, and Halo walked in the tactical auditorium. The guys were all scattered around the room and talked in groups, seeing as Maverick was running late to brief all of you on today’s drills.

‘Happy Valentine’s Day!’s and ‘thank you’s echoed around as all of you greeted each other.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Bee,” Bob greeted as he walked up to you. You smiled as his special callsign—he refused to call you by your real callsign, Honey—rolled off his tongue, always teasing him about the adorable blush he sported whenever he said it.

“Thank you, Bobby, and Happy Valentine’s Day to you!”

He looked at you, a small grin forming on his face, though he never said a word.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” you laughed.

He shrugged. “Nothing. You just seem extra happy today,” he pointed out.

Smiling even wider at the memory of this morning, you replied, “Well, it’s a happy day today, I guess. I found a sunflower on my porch this morning.”

“You mean you actually found it? Or do you mean ‘you found one in a flower shop and bought it for yourself’ kind of ‘found it’?” he teased.

You shouldered him playfully as he apologized. “I found it-found it. I have no idea how it got there or who placed it there, but I’m not going to question it. I got a free flower this morning and that’s all that matters,” you laughed.

Bob was one of your closest friends in and out of the Navy, graduating from the same TOPGUN class and working in Lemoore together before he got reassigned to North Island for the uranium plant mission. No matter where the two of you ended up, though, you somehow always found your way to each other as it wasn’t long till you were called back to TOPGUN as well. Though you missed being in the plane with him, the two of you were just happy to be working together again. Things between you picked up right where they left off, though the two of you had gotten closer—always sitting together at The Hard Deck or in the ready room, having lunches with Phoenix, and even going on morning jogs together down the beach. He even ditched Mickey as a teammate at pool, always calling first dibs to join you instead.

You turned to your seat when you saw that it had been decorated, and you noticed that Phoenix’s and Halo’s were as well. They were laughing with the others over the appropriately hand-drawn cards that were placed on the seats, along with a few small cut-out hearts. Clouds and wings were drawn around Halo’s cursive card, and Phoenix’s was drawn with fiery lettering.

The most detailed one, however, was yours—it was a full scene with a garden with flowers and bees in the background, and honey dripping down the block letters.

“Oh my gosh,” you cried out, “this is adorable!”

“You’ll never guess who made them,” Bob whispered.

Your eyes scanned the room and pointed to all your suspects. “Fritz? Coyote? Fanboy?” and all were denied with the shake of his head. Just as you let out a sigh of defeat, Bob pointed to the blond aviator who was talking to Phoenix.

“Hangman?!”

Bob nodded as you continued staring at Hangman. “He was one of the first ones here,” he informed you, “Just barged in with the cards and markers told us to help set it up.”

Overhearing your conversation, Harvard chimed in, “it felt like a pre-school in the locker room, or some weird Santa’s Valentine’s workshop.”

“First of all,” Hangman walked up to you, “my niece actually deserves fifty percent of the credit for pretty much bossing me around to do something nice for the ‘pretty ladies who always give her chocolate,’” he quoted as he slung his arm around you, “and naturally, I get forty-five percent for listening to her. The guys can split the other five for helping.”

Just the image of Hangman sitting down and cutting out paper hearts with his eight-year old niece had you giggling. “Aww, who knew Bagman had such a soft spot?” you pinched his cheek.

Hangman flashed his million dollar smile at you, “Honey, you know I always have a soft spot for pretty ladies.” He threw a quick wink at you before walking back to Phoenix and Fritz.

Could he have left the sunflower? you thought. This definitely was not the first time Hangman’s flirted with you. Knowing him, you always thought it was just light banter, but now, you were second guessing.

“Actually, his original plan was to decorate your lockers, but you can probably see how that might look like a problem,” Bob told you once Hangman was out of earshot.

“Probably,” you hummed sarcastically.

He was about to say something else when Maverick burst through the auditorium doors and rushed to the front of the room. You and the rest of the squad rushed to your seats before Maverick allowed you all to sit.

“Morning, guys. Sorry, I’m late. Had some…motorcycle problems.”

Rooster cleared his throat. He gestured tiny circles at the side of his own neck. The older pilot looked confused until the young Bradshaw mouthed ‘Penny,’ and his eyes shot wide before he cleared his throat and tugged up the collars of his flight suit.

“Let’s get to work!”

The squad rushed out of the locker rooms as soon as they could so they could get ready for their dates. Yale had just finished talking about his plans with his date when the others started talking about their plans.

“How about you, Honey? Got a big date for tonight?” Coyote asked as all of you walked out the building.

“Mhm, I got McDreamy and McSteamy waiting for me at home right now,” you joked.

Halo laughed from beside you. “Now that’s a threesome I can get behind,” she joked.

“Ouch, a Grey’s Anatomy marathon on Valentine’s Day?” He whistled lowly.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, okay?” you defended yourself, “At least there’s a Valentine’s Day episode! And besides, I didn’t hear you say anything about a ‘hot date’.”

He held his hand, feigning offense. “You wound me, Honey. And I just so happen to have one waiting for me as we speak!” And he rushed off to his car.

“You know, the more you try to hide her from us, the more we think she’s not even real!” Payback called out. Coyote didn’t even look back at the squad as he flipped the bird and drove off.

“Coyote has a girlfriend?” you asked.

Rooster snickered, “an imaginary one.”

“He says he met someone months ago, but he’s not giving us anything else,” Fanboy added, “no name, no story, nothing. Just that every other week or so, he meets up with her.”

“Or so he says,” his best friend quipped. “The fact that even I don’t know about her is something, and he usually never shuts up about someone he’s interested in.”

The group decided then to go their separate ways to get their Valentine’s Day started, but Bob walked all the way with you to your car.

“So, you really have no date for tonight?” he asked.

You shook your head in reply as you loaded your things in the backseat of your car. “It’s not that I don’t like Valentine’s,” you suddenly found your self ranting, “it’s just that no one’s asked me this year, and I’m fine with that. I’m not gonna sit around and wallow—well, I’m going to sit around and have my Grey’s marathon, yeah—but I’m not going to wallow! And it’s not like it’s the end of the world that nobody’s asked me to be their Valentine…right?”

You looked up at Bob to find his big blue eyes staring back at you, clearly at a loss for words from your little spout.

“Oh my gosh, I sound so pathetic,” you muttered. “Please, please forget I said anything, I—”

Bob burst into laughter and hugged you tight to try and calm you down.

“This isn’t funny, Bobby!” you said, though you couldn’t hold back your own laughter.

Looking up at him once again, you found his blue eyes already on you, though there was more sincerity in his gaze this time. And something else, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. You and Bob have both looked at and hugged each other a million times before, but the way he looked at and hugged you now felt different. Suddenly, you were both aware of the position you were in and pulled back. He ran his finger through his hair nervously while you crossed your arms, unconsciously missing the warmth of his embrace.

You stole glances at him as you cleared your throat. “So, um…how about you? Do you have a date tonight?”

It took a few seconds for him to answer. “Yeah,” he mumbled, suddenly finding the stray gravel on the pavement more interesting than you.

A small ‘oh,’ escaping your lips, you put on a poker face. “Wow, um, since when?” you asked.

“Oh, um, it’s been…awhile, I guess.” he trailed off.

Relationships weren’t a strange topic for either of you, but looking back, you were more open about your love life than he was. Maybe he met someone before you arrived. Maybe he didn’t want to let anyone know, especially if he thought the others were going to tease him about it. Maybe he didn’t say anything because you never asked…until now. Knowing Bob, he never dated casually, so this must have been serious. But he never kept things from you. Not in his emails, not in his texts, and certainly not in person. But you weren’t insulted, just confused, if you could ever admit.

“Well, whoever she is, she’s a lucky girl,” you assured, “I’m really happy for you, Bobby!”

You climbed into your car before your emotions started to show, but just before you stepped on the gas, Bob knocked on your window and you let it roll down.

“You’re not pathetic, Bee. In fact, you’re far from it, not even close to it. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Your lips turned up graciously at your best friend’s words of encouragement.

“Thanks, Bobby.”

“And if you ever start to feel that way again, just think about your sunflower,” he gestured to the plant in your passenger seat.

“It’s wilting,” you pointed out disappointedly.

“So?” he shrugged, “it’s still pretty. It’s still a sunflower.”

With a small grin, he pushed himself off your car to let you get home and waved goodbye.

You were about to pull up to your driveway a few minutes later when a delivery driver showed up and asked for your name.

“Yeah, that’s me?” you said before they handed you a bag. “Um, I don’t remember ordering anything…”

“Don’t worry, it’s all taken care of,” they informed you with a kind smile.

“By who, if I can ask?”

They shook their head, “Sorry, I was given specific instructions to not say anything. Though from what’s in the box, I’d say you have a secret admirer!”

After they left, you walked in your kitchen to open the bag. Inside was a stark white box with neon squiggles.

“Sugarlust,” you read aloud the sticker that sealed it. The bakery Coyote always goes to, you recognized.

A small card with a printed message was also stuck to the box ‘I’m no TV surgeon but I hope you find these just as good!’ No name.

Sure enough, it was a box of the salted caramel cookies you loved from the last time he bought a box for everyone. A quick flashback of Coyote’s proud smile popped in your head, of when you couldn’t stop raving about it and his promise to buy more next time.

You picked up the sunflower from the table and twirled it in your hand. The hours it lay in the heat showed in the paling yellow petals, and though you had no idea how to care for it, you placed it in a watered vase anyway.

Maybe it was Coyote, you thought. It certainly checked: he had your address, he knew you liked sunflowers, and he remembered the cookies you loved. But he said he’s on a date…unless he was pretending? The other guys definitely thought he was.

Refusing to confuse yourself any longer, you gave one last glance at the sunflower, took a bite from your cookie, and hoped that Derek Shepherd and Mark Sloan could distract you…for now.

“I'm in love with Teddy. I love her.”

“You're like Lexie with the inappropriate feelings for inappropriate people.”

“What can I say? My heart lives in my scalpel.”

The Seattle Grace Mercy West surgeons were trying to play baseball when your phone chimed. Phoenix and Halo were currently messaging the squad group chat.

Bassett Hound 🐾💗 date was a bust. reservation got screwed and they refuse to go anywhere else told them i refuse to waste this outfit hard deck anybody?

Pixie Nix 🧚✨ aw hales 😞 sorry to hear that if it helps, my date spoke more words to the waiter than to me don’t have to ask me twice

Bassett Hound 🐾 hbu @Mamma Mia 🍯🍯 ? we’ll be your valentines ❤️

Glancing between the half-eaten box of cookies and the Grey’s Anatomy theme running on your screen for the fourth time in a row, you decided that maybe it isn’t too late to salvage the holiday.

You showed up feeling a bit more refreshed from earlier. You opted to dress up just the slightest bit more than usual since you figured Phoenix and Halo would be too, coming from their dates.

The bar wasn’t crowded—a lot of the regulars you recognized were probably out on dates—but it looked like a haven for lonely hearts, single people dotting the bar or nursing their drinks at their small tables. You spotted some introducing themselves to others, and one lucky couple just escaped through the side door. The pool table, however, was as lively as ever with some of its usual suspects. Halo and Phoenix had already started a game, but you were surprised to see a few of the others there as well—Rooster and his girlfriend, Omaha and his wife, and Bob—who all cheered as you approached the table.

“Come here often?” Phoenix fake flirted.

“Only when I’m summoned with magic,” you came back and hugged her. “What brings the rest of you here?”

“We didn’t feel like going home just yet, then I saw Halo’s text in the group chat and she wanted to say hi,” Omaha explained and gestured to his wife as you went around greeting the others. “Rooster’s car broke down about a half mile up the road.”

“Excuse you, the Bronco doesn’t break,” Rooster interrupted, “It just…swerved off the road a little. But it’s fine. Just needed to stretch our legs a little.” His girlfriend giggled silently as he pulled her close to his torso and started whispering in her ear.

You took your usual seat on the stool next to Bob’s. “So I’m guessing Coyote’s date was real? Since he’s not here, I mean.”

“Looks like it,” he agreed as he sipped on his water. Noticing your lack of banter, he studied the pensive look on your face. “Why’d you ask?”

Your train of thought broke as he spoke. “What? Oh, um, it’s nothing,” you said nervously, “Forget I asked.”

“If you’re thinking about it this hard, it’s probably not nothing,” he egged on. “What is it?”

You could never say no to Bob. He was your best friend and you trusted him. Even though you were a little hurt that he kept his girlfriend a secret from you, you just couldn’t bring yourself to make it even. “Okay, so you know how I found a sunflower this morning?” you said in a low voice.

He nodded silently, letting you continue without being interrupted.

“I didn’t want to think anything of it at first. I just figured that someone—I don’t know, ‘neighborly person’ in a Valentine’s-y mood, I guess—left flowers up and down the street. But no one else had one so I just brushed it off. But then there was Hangman this morning with the cards and the flirting, and I thought it felt different. But it’s Hangman. You can never really tell with him, right? So I brushed that off. Then when I got home, get this: I get a delivery of cookies from Sugarlust. Coyote’s bakery. And it wasn’t just any cookie, it was the salted caramel cookies that he brought to that one dinner, the ones that I loved. What really did it for me, though, was the card. Something about him not being McDreamy but he hopes I love the cookies just as much. He was the one who commented about my Grey’s Anatomy marathon. And now I’m thinking if he was the one who gave me the flower, and…I don’t know,” you sighed, “I guess I was just hoping to see him here tonight to ask if it was him.”

And like this morning, he was dumbstruck again at your rant. You grew conscious of yourself at his reaction so you changed the subject.

“But enough about me, though. How about you? Where’s your date?” you asked as normally as you could.

Halo stood up after her turn. “Bob had a date?”

All eyes landed on the spectacled wizzo in his usual corner. “Oh. Right. My date.”

“Since when? And how come I don’t know about her?!” Phoenix asked, echoing your conversation and thoughts from earlier.

“Uh, awhile,” he said again, though he sounded more nervous this time, “but it’s okay, um, I don’t think it’s gonna work out…”

Your heart dropped after seeing how dejected Bob looked. “I’m so sorry, Bobby.” You put an arm around him, and he returned your small smile with one of his own.

Phoenix pushed herself off the pool table and handed him her cue stick. “Welcome to the club, Bob.”

Customers came and went in the two hours you have been there, but the eight of you had stayed. Rooster took over the piano, crooning blues covers with Halo, while his girlfriend and Omaha’s wife were talking with Phoenix. You were back on your stool after winning the last round of pool against Omaha, who was now playing darts against Bob.

The lack of a crowd allowed for cool night air to linger inside, that you had borrowed Bob’s jacket to keep you warm.

“What the fuck, bro?!” Omaha groaned in disbelief after Bob hit his fifth bullseye of the night.

“Target locked, and direct hit,” Bob retorted while he picked off his darts from the board.

Omaha took his place as he got ready for another game. “Best of nine,” he challenged and threw his darts immediately.

“Roos baby, I love you, but you’re kinda killing the mood here,” his girlfriend laughed from across the room while he and Halo were in the middle of singing November Rain by Guns N’ Roses. And without missing a beat, he started playing Little Richard’s Tutti Frutti. The lively melody brought the empty bar to life and the four girls started to dance with each other.

Halo called out to you, “Honey! Join us!”

“In a minute, Hales! I’m on dart watch from Omaha,” you pointed your thumb to the brunette who had just lost another game to Bob. He was practicing his aim when Bob took his seat beside you.

“Let me know when you’re done warming up, Vikander,” he taunted, his competitive side coming out now that he was more relaxed.

“Gonna make you eat your words, Floyd,” Omaha came back.

You and Bob entered your little world again from your seats. You watched as he chugged his water, his glasses slipping from the bridge of his nose.

“How’re you holding up there, Bobby?” you asked.

He let out an exhausted laugh. “You’d think darts wasn’t exhausting, but I think Omaha might as well have me running a marathon if he’s making me play this much.

“We’re aviators,” you snorted, “everything’s a competition.”

“I woke up the beast,” he sighed.

Taking a sip of your own water, you repeated his sentiments back, “You woke up the beast.”

A few beats passed in comfortable silence when he turned to you. “How about you? You don’t wanna join the others?”

“You might be surprised at how much five straight games of pool can do to your legs and back.”

He chuckled, “Well, you better hope you don’t get any push-ups tomorrow.”

It wasn’t even midnight yet when the bar was nearly empty. The jukebox played in the background seeing as Rooster and Omaha joined in on the dancing on the other side of the bar, but you and Bob remained in your seats. Usually, the two of you would be conversing non-stop—talking about the latest podcast he was listening to or your vivid dream from the night before, people watching the tourists, betting on who fellow aviator was going to do what predictable act for the night, or singing along to the music.

But you could sense some slight tension between you two tonight, thinking it might have been from the whole Valentine’s date conversation from earlier. Bob never brought it up afterwards so you didn’t think anything of it too, but now that the two of you were alone, you could see the somber expression return to his face as he stared at the floorboards.

You placed a comforting hand on his shoulder closest to you. “It’s gonna be okay, Bobby,” you said.

He looked up to your encouraging smile, and his empty hand crossed his body, his fingers brushing yours in a silent ‘thank you’.

“Who was she? If I can ask,” you said, “but you don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to, I don’t wanna pressure you—”

“It’s alright, Bee,” he said softly. He took a deep breath as he turned his eyes back to the floor. “She’s just someone I liked for awhile now.”

“How’d you meet?”

“The usual, you know. Work,” he shrugged.

“So she’s a local?” you inquired.

“Nah, she moved here from upstate.”

After placing his now empty water cup on the ledge behind him, he sat up straighter in his seat. “Guess that makes two of us now.”

Your eyebrows raised in confusion when he let out a low laugh. “Valentines-less,” he referred to your little blather from this afternoon.

You let out your own laugh as you jogged up the memory. “We can be pathetic together,” you jested. “Well, not entirely true, I guess. Halo and Phoenix decided to be my Valentine’s to get me to come here, but I think they’ve got each other covered.”

Bob looked back to see what you were talking about, to find Halo and Phoenix drunkenly belting out Love is a Battlefield a cappella with Rooster’s girlfriend while the aviator just watched their performance. The two of caught a glimpse of Omaha and his wife waving at the two of you just before they exited.

“Besides, it doesn’t seem fair that I have two Valentine’s and you have none,” you continued.

“So what are you suggesting? You give me one of your Valentine’s?” he played along.

You looked up, pretending to think, “Hm, I don’t know if they’d appreciate being someone else’s Valentine without them knowing, so what do you say, Bobby? Will you be my Valentine?” you proposed playfully, even looking up at him through your lashes for added effect.

He smiled tightly. “I don’t think you’re gonna give me a choice, anyway,” he mumbled playfully and you elbowed him, “but sure, Bee. I’ll be your Valentine.” You spotted just the slightest bit of a blush creeping up his neck.

Finally regaining some strength in your legs, you were ready to go home. “Well, I hate to cut our date short, my Valentine, but I think I need to call it a night,” you said, “I hate that you reminded me about the push-ups.”

Bob got up with you. “No worries, Valentine. And trust me, I think the three of them might have it worse than you tomorrow,” he said about your co-workers still in the middle of their impromptu karaoke.

You dug out your phone, wallet, and keys that you kept in his jacket pocket when something else fell out. You picked up a small velvet box tied with a white satin ribbon. What caught your eye was the tag—instead of a name written on it, there was a doodle of a tiny, squiggly, buzzing bee.

Like how the bees looked on Hangman’s card.

You looked up already finding Bob staring at you nervously. His mouth had been drawn in a thin line and the tension that you felt earlier increased tenfold.

Though he never outright said the gift was for you, he watched as you tested him, slowly untying the ribbon. Even as you pried the cover off the box, he never stopped you.

“Bob…?” you whispered in disbelief as you stared at the gift. It was a golden bracelet—two delicately thin chains connected by a shining sunflower charm.

“Hey, you guys okay?” Phoenix called out from the piano.

Neither of you spoke as you continued to stare at him. Seeing as you didn’t respond, Bob replied for the two of you. “Yeah, we’re all good.”

“We’re gonna get going, if it’s okay,” she notified you. All of them had their things gathered, and the bartender on shift was already wiping down the counters.

The two of you waved your goodbyes at them as they headed out. Halo blew flying kisses in your direction as the door shut.

“Take care!”

“Happy Valentine’s!”

“See you tomorrow!”

And then there were two.

Still in shock, you held the box as securely as you could while your mind was still reeling. Bob? The sunflower this morning. The sunflower on the bracelet. The bee on the card. This has to be a coincidence, right? Maybe this was meant for his date? Maybe he’s holding on to it for someone? Maybe he’s—

“Can we talk about this?” You didn’t even realize you had asked it out loud until Bob turned back to you. His eyes grew big, the same way they always did when he started to panic during a drill or a mission.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

He led you out to the parking lot where it was still a bit bright from the street lights. The cool breeze bit at your skin when you remembered you were still wearing Bob’s jacket. You had barely taken it off when Bob tugged it securely back on your shoulders.

“It’s freezing,” you insisted, but Bob just shook his head.

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

It was hard to ignore the elephant in the room. Your thumb ran over the bracelet still in its box and the thoughts you had previously came flooding back.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you mumbled.

Bob wiped his face with his hands. “I don’t think there’s any other way of saying it except that it was me. I never had a date, and I was the one who left the sunflower at your door.”

Happiness. Relief. Frustration. Love. You could have been feeling all of those things right now, but no. You were just as confused as ever. “So when I was talking about all those other things, about Hangman and Coyote…”

“That was me too.”

The two of you took a seat on the bottom step of the bar’s front deck. “Hangman and the other guys were cutting out the paper hearts when he told me to bring out the cards from his bag. I didn’t have anything to do, so I just started drawing the garden on your card.”

You toyed with the hand-drawn bee on the card still hanging from the ribbon. “I guess I should’ve known from the card that it was you,” you said, mostly to yourself but loud enough for him to hear. “You’re the only one who calls me ‘Bee.’ Who was the guy from TOPGUN again? The one that you nearly decked—” you smiled trying to stir the memory.

“—But I didn’t—and it was that asshole, Shadow,” he groaned. “Ugh, I’m never gonna forget the way he called you that day.”

“But I still don’t get why you don’t call me ‘Honey.’ Everybody else does. I don’t mind it, you know.”

“I know, I know,” he nodded. “But if I’m one less person to remind you of that day, then I’ll call you ‘Bee’ until you truly forget about it.”

You couldn’t ignore the fluttering in your heart at his confession. You actually haven’t remembered that incident until now, but it was sweet that Bob always tried to make you feel better about it, even if you didn’t realize it.

“That’s real sweet of you, Bobby,” you said warmly. “But speaking of sweets…”

Bob winced jokingly, “Ah, thought I was in the clear.” He had a distant look in his eyes as he recalled, “I still remember the look on your face when you tried the cookies. The two of us alone wiped out half the box before dinner even started. You even begged Coyote to go back for another box after Fanboy ate the last one.” The grin on his face only grew bigger the more he looked back at the memory.

You barely even notice yours did too.

It all made sense now. Bob had been a constant presence in your life ever since the two of you met, even moreso now that you were together back where your friendship started. How you even thought of Hangman or Coyote before you suspected him was beyond you.

There was still one question you needed answered, and it had you on the edge of exasperation. Your voice was small as you spoke, “We were with each other the whole day, Bob. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Just as frustrated as you were, he let out a big breath. “I don’t know. I’m a coward, I guess. I was right there on the sidewalk outside your place, fully prepared to ask you out. Even had a whole speech prepared and everything,” he confessed. He spoke slower and softer, his eyes never leaving yours, “about how I saw the bracelet in a window the other day, and how it reminded me of the sunflowers you painted on my arm that one time I visited you in your hometown. And how I wanted you to have a sunflower on your own hand, then I’d ask you to be my Valentine.”

He looked down at the ground in shame as he continued, “But I got scared. I didn’t want to ruin the friendship, especially since you’ve only been here a month. So I figured after I left your house that it might be easier if you didn’t know it was me, and that’s why I lied about the date. Just in case you were, I don’t know, expecting something…more. Than just me, I mean.”

Taking the box in his own hands, he twiddled with it. “I thought I lost my chance this morning, but then Halo messaged asking you to come. So I came here thinking this could be my second chance until you started asking about Coyote…thought I was done for. You wanted him while I’d stay the idiot that lost you forever.”

Your heart no longer fluttered but burst at his words. A love you had for him that didn’t know was already there had finally surfaced as you shut him up with a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“You’re so much more than what I could ever want, Bobby,” you whispered, scooting closer to him on the step.

A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and you swore you’ve never seen him smile so widely. Gently lifting the bracelet from its box, he undid the clasp. “May I?” he asked.

You rested your outstretched arm on his knee, allowing him to put it on you. Your nerves awakened at the soft touch of his fingers against your wrist, sending even more shockwaves throughout your body as he clasped his hand around yours afterwards. The bracelet was cool against your skin, but you felt nothing but warmth allover—from his jacket, from his touch, and from the loving feeling dancing inside you.

The moon shone high above you as midnight quickly approached, and you decided to make the most of the last minutes of the day.

“Hey, Bobby. I believe you have one last thing to ask me.”

“Is it the something you actually asked me first?” he teased, but quickly surrendered at the funny look you gave him. Hee gazed sincerely at you, “Bee?”

“Yes, Bobby?” you pretended.

He leaned in close to you till your noses were touching, and whispered slowly, “Will you be my Valentine?”

“I don’t think I have a choice anyway,” you mocked his earlier response as you both laughed, “but yes, Bobby. I’d love to be your Valentine.”

His lips found yours not a second later, fireworks exploding with every kiss that landed on your lips.

The moon stood brightly above, indicating the beginning of another day. Though your days from this point would never be the same, now that you had Bob and Bob had you.

All thanks to a flower given on a front step.

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Disclaimer I do not own Top Gun: Maverick or any of its characters. Please do not copy my work or translate without my permission.