#bob floyd x female reader

[sometimesanalice]

Make Me Your Masterpiece

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

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female Reader

Length: 4.5K

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

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

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

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

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

“I think that’s-” you’d started.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d been a goner right then and there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where do you want me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The answer is easy, “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Bob”, you whine.

The camera clicks.

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

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

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

The sound of his camera reverberates in your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His fingers and tongue weren’t enough.

You needed more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can read my other stories here!

taglist:

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

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[withahappyrefrain]

Ruin the Friendship- Bob Floyd

Warnings: Best friends to lovers trope, it’s so obvious they love each other they’re stupid, language, filth, some angst (why not?), unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), Bob being pussy drunk.

Summary: The night before Bob leaves for Boot Camp, he's learned no one has gone down on his best friend. He's determined to fix that.

Words: 4.8K

This is for @attapullman's Bob Fucks celebration!

When you've been friends with someone since preschool, you get to know them like the back of your hand. Certain quirks and sayings that no longer surprise you. 

“God, I wish that were me.”

It wasn't the first time Bob heard you say that. Usually there was a cute dog around, or a sushi boat being delivered at a restaurant when you said it. 

But saying it during an oral sex scene in a movie was new. 

It also brought up many questions. 

Questions Bob shouldn't ask, considering he's known you since preschool. Questions Bob couldn't ask right now, because he was too preoccupied looking at you. 

Your eyes were fixated on the screen, focused on the actress withering. Occasionally, they would dart to the other actor who was between the actress’ thighs. Bob noticed the increased rise and fall of your chest, how your front teeth dug into your bottom lip, how when you lean forward, the v-line cut of your shirt showed off the tops of your breasts. The soft glow of the lamps highlighted the beautiful features on your face. 

All things he shouldn’t be noticing about his best friend. But then again, best friends shouldn’t be watching a French film together whose plot line focused on sexual liberation before he went off to Navy boot camp. 

Granted, you and Bob haven’t had a conventional best friend relationship in a while, if at all, considering both sets of parents claimed you two promised to marry each other at the age of four. 

Promises or not, best friends shouldn’t be one another’s first kiss. Or make out practice partners. Or each other’s New Year's kiss when y'all were single. Or spend Valentine's Day together at the local dinner. 

The line between friends and something more was blurry, saved by a comment that ensured the other to think that the feelings that had been brewing weren't reciprocated. 

“You’re a good kisser. Kelsey McCoy is going to think so too.”

“If Tommy Delaine doesn't like you, he's a dumbass.” 

“I’m sure next year you’ll have someone.”

“If I had to spend it with anyone, I want it to be with my best friend.”

“You’re an amazing friend, you know that?”

Why say that if you harbor romantic feelings? Surely, all those kisses and talk of marriage meant nothing to them. 

At least that's what the other thought. 

It's because of this blurry line that Bob doesn't bite his tongue, doesn't throw away the comment to be forgotten. Instead, he speaks up. 

“Been awhile?” 

And because it's Bob, the guy you've known your whole life, the guy you tell everything to, your response rolls off your tongue without a second thought. 

“Try never.” 

It takes Bob a moment to process your words as the way your lips wrap around the beer bottle is far too distracting. But just like processing a car accident, once it registers, your words bring his brain to a screeching halt. 

“Wait, never?” The shrug you give isn’t satisfactory. He grabs the remote to pause the movie, ignoring your cries of protest. 

“Real talk; are you saying that no one has ever gone down on you?” 

You sigh, regretting saying anything in the first place. One would think that after years of friendship, you’d know well enough that once Bob set his mind to something, he wouldn't relent until satisfied. 

You down the remnants of your beer, mentally preparing for this conversation. 

“No Robby. I've never had someone eat me out. Happy now?” Reaching for the remote was all in vain, as he just held it further away from you. 

Darn those long limbs. 

“But you've been with people…..so what did they do?” When you looked at him, there was no malice, just Bob looking genuinely baffled. His gentle blue eyes put you at ease, giving you the comfort to explain. 

“They would touch me,” you motioned to the lower half of your body, “And like finger me. Enough to get me ready, I guess.” 

Bob raised an eyebrow, “You guess?” 

College was supposed to be a time for you to explore, to figure yourself out, to interact with new people. 

And yet, when it came to the relationship aspect, everything had fizzled. You were now going into your junior year having yet to experience a meaningful romantic relationship. 

Did you just have shit luck? Or was it because your mind would wander back to a bespectacled best friend when you were in bed with someone else? 

“So instead of eating you out, which would actually be enjoyable on your end, you're telling me they just stuck their hand down there and hoped they were rubbing your clit? You didn't ever ask them to do something else?” 

Bob didn't have the pristine mouth that parents thought he possessed. You knew, and had known for a while. And yet, hearing him say the phrase your clit in his deep, slightly twangy voice felt different. 

You rubbed your thighs together. 

“Are you shaming the people I've been with or me?” 

Bob closed the difference between you and him on the couch, placing a hand on your bare knee. 

Have his hands always been so big and veiny? 

Fuck, did you have a thing for hands? 

“I'm not shaming you. I’m shaming the people you've been with because well,” he ran a hand up and down the back of his neck, “Well, I enjoy giving….I like doing it. So I guess I'm surprised other people don't?” 

His statement was shocking because everyone else you had been with viewed it as a chore, as something to use every excuse in the book to avoid doing. 

Too tired. Takes too long. Wet enough so what's the point? 

“You…like doing it?” 

The tops of his cheeks reddened, despite a smirk beginning to form, “Yeah. I like giving and I like making them feel good. It's also a confidence booster, being able to make someone fall apart with your mouth.” 

It shouldn't come as a surprise, it was Bob after all. The same Bob who always brought an extra pencil with him to algebra, in case you forgot yours. The same Bob who shared his Dunkaroos because your mom refused to buy them. The same Bob who made his dream of serving his country finally come true after years of hard work. 

He was selfless. But this didn't feel like selflessness. Hearing him talk about giving pleasure, making someone fall apart with his mouth, was different. Even his voice when he said it was different, raspier than usual. 

“Well,” you scooted closer to the edge of the couch, trying to widen the gap so he couldn't feel how hot your body was, “I can't wait ‘til I meet someone who feels the same way.” 

“You don't have to wait.” 

The grip on your beer bottle tightened, the alcohol getting caught in your throat. There's no way he could have just said that, no way he could be implying what you're thinking. 

But when you look at Bob, he was staring back with raised eyebrows and thin lips curled into a little smirk. The same look he’s given you countless times before when he mumbles a smartass comment only your ears were privy to hear. 

You heard me. 

“What-are you…” You stared at him, mouth agape. Bob appeared unphase by it, like he had just offered something totally normal and rational. 

Perhaps it was the three beers he had downed. Perhaps it was the rush of adrenaline kicking in after realizing this was his last chance at making a move before he left. 

“Wouldn't that be like crossing a line?” Your head was racing, alternating between flashbacks of when you kissed Bob and imagining what it would be like to have his mouth on your body. 

“Wouldn't be much different from what we’ve already done.” 

All the air was sucked out of the room by his comment. Because of course he wasn't doing this because he wanted to, because he wanted you. This would be meaningless, just like everything else. If you went through with this, you’d wake up the next day to Bob leaving with nothing changed, still in this seemingly endless limbo. 

Long, nimble fingers hooked themselves under your chin, gently forcing you to look up. 

The look he gave you was unfamiliar. His eyes remained focused on your face, though it seemed like they were searching. 

For what, you couldn't tell. 

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Do you want it to be different?” 

What good was telling him if he didn’t feel the same way, thus ruining a great friendship?

“Do you want it to be different Robby?” You countered back. 

He leaned in, his breath hot on your face, “I asked you first.”

He thought he had the upper hand. But you were like a lightning bug, faster.  

“I asked you second, Robby.”

Like a rubber band, the tension snapped as Bob was unable to hold back a snort of laughter. The tension left your shoulders, the sight of him laughing familiar and safe. 

“I’m going to really miss your resounding maturity,” Bob deadpanned after gaining the ability to compose himself, though a sweet crooked smile remained. 

It was now your turn to roll your eyes, though it didn’t stop the smile currently forming on your face. Seeing this side of Bob was always fun; most folks thought he was quiet and meek. The truth was that he liked to observe and didn’t find value in speaking when it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t hold back with you, didn’t feel the need to sit and observe. He truly conversed with you and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel special. 

He was never that way with the other girls he dated. 

“You love me,” you teased back. It was a comment you've said countless times, always with that sweet, albeit mischievous smile that made Bob's heart flutter. 

But this time instead of shaking his head or rolling his eyes, he leaned forward until your foreheads were touching. 

Seeing him up close took your breath away. You could see how his roots were beginning to darken, the blonde fading as he got older. The little scar on his chin from a BB Gun incident when he was ten. Eyes bluer than the ocean. The ends of his hair were beginning to curl, something you'd greatly miss when he'd get the military mandated buzz cut. 

“Yeah, I do.” There was no teasing in his voice. No mischief in his eyes. Instead of playfully shaking your shoulder, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, fingers cupping your warm skin. He was moving quickly, making you unable to truly process what he had just said. 

Despite it being new territory, he was handling it beautifully. You, on the other hand, were torn between wondering if your increased heart beat was medically concerning and how large Bob’s hands were. 

“You gotta….if you want to stop, tell me,” His breathing had increased, like it did when he had finished his part in the marching band. But this wasn’t marching band practice and y’all weren’t on the high school field. You were in your parents’ basement, with Bob’s lips quickly closing the gap between yours and his. 

It wasn’t your first time kissing Bob, but it might as well have been. Years of experience had given him more confidence. He knew where to put his hands now, one still on your neck to guide you, the other gripping the soft flesh of your hip. He didn’t hesitate to slide his tongue across your bottom lip, successfully driving you wild. 

When the rounded tip of his nose brushed against yours, a soft laugh escaped your lips. Bob didn’t mind, using the chance to let his tongue explore your mouth. Your body leaned towards him, hands gripping the soft fabric of his old Warped Tour T-shirt. 

“I thought you,” your words were slurred, a weak moan interrupting your speech due to his lips moving down to your neck, “Thought you were gonna eat me out.” 

Bob’s moan vibrated against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands traveled to your breasts, gripping them through your T-shirt. It wasn't a hard squeeze, which is what you were used to. 

It was pleasurable. Bob was pleasurable. 

“Did none of the guys you were with do foreplay?” He asked, his hands continuing their ministrations. 

“I-fuck- yes they did, it just never took this long,” you grunted against his lips. 

“God, you have terrible taste in men.”

You wanted to let Bob know that he was now included in that group. But then his fingers hooked themselves around the band of your shorts, pulling them down. Had you known what tonight would entail, you would have opted for underwear that wasn't so worn. The long hairs on his arms tickled your sensitive skin as he moved to kneel on the floor, the cool basement air making you realize just how wet you were. 

How could he do that so quickly? 

He pinned your hips against the soft couch cushions. With anyone else, you would complain with how hard he was gripping your soft skin. But with Bob, you’d love it. It meant hand-shaped bruises that would stay after he left, reminding you of tonight. 

When his sharp nose nudged your clothed slit, a loud gasp erupted from your mouth. 

Thank god your parents were on vacation. 

His tongue was so wide as it stroked the quickly dampening fabric. How was he able to find your clit so quickly? Most struggled to find it even after your panties had been taken off. 

Bob couldn’t help but chuckle upon hearing your strained whimpers. You were practically squirming, hips erratically jerking with every touch. 

“Wha-why did you stop?” You whined, looking down to find him staring up to you. 

“Are you-I just need to know, do you still want this?” God, he was so fucking considerate. In any other moment, you’d find it endearingly sweet. 

But if his tongue felt that good against your covered cunt, you were dying to feel it without the barrier. 

“Robby, I swear to god, if you don’t eat me out, I’m going upstairs and using my vibrator,” Your voice was strained, your knuckles turning white from gripping the couch cushions.  

He laughed.  Bob knew you were bluffing. He had just gotten started and you were already so wet. 

Slowly, he took his glasses off, placing them on the coffee table behind him, making a show of it. 

“Won’t need those. I’m nearsighted after all.”

“You little-” The insult remained unsaid, as Bob pushed your underwear to the side, his mouth instantly latching onto your swollen clit. 

His mouth was warm. The pressure wasn’t too much, just enough to make you wither in pleasure. It felt so good, so fucking good. When Bob looked up, he found your mouth open, despite no sounds coming out. 

Good. 

You deserved to know what it was like, to have someone care about your pleasure, to focus solely on making you feel incredible. 

God, he could feel his cock throbbed. You looked so pretty with your eyes glazed over, mouth agape as you watched him, completely enthralled. 

And he had just gotten started. 

He wanted to do more than make you come, he wanted to blow your mind. Call it selfish, but Bob wanted to ruin you for anyone else. He had always held back his tongue when it came to the people you dated, knowing sooner or later you'd realized they weren't worth your time. 

But now he had his chance and Bob sure as hell wasn't going to let it slip away. 

The loud sound of fabric ripping broke you out of the pleasure filled haze you were in. Before you could make a sound about your now ripped underwear, your knees were pinned to your chest, giving Bob complete access to your soaked core.

“So fucking sweet,” He groaned against your cunt, sending vibrations all through your body, “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” 

“Robby.” 

To say Bob dreamed of hearing you moan his name would be the understatement of the fucking century. 

Your whole body was on fire, unable to do anything else but take everything Bob was giving. 

A resounding moan fell from your lips as Bob thrusted two fingers inside you, your walls struggling to accommodate the unexpected stretch. 

Was he this thick elsewhere?

You wanted to find out. Wanted to feel it inside you, in your mouth. You shamelessly wanted it all. But you couldn’t even voice that because Bob was tracing figure eights on your clit, his fingers brushing against a spot you thought Cosmo had made up. 

Fuck, he was doing a number on you. His soft hair threaded through your fingers as you gripped the strands. Your hips involuntarily jerked upwards, desperate to get as much of Bob as possible. 

You kept expecting him to stop, considering you were wet enough for him to fuck you. That's what everyone else did. 

But Bob Floyd wasn't like everyone else. Far from it. 

He was fucking delighted to hear all the cute, strained noises coming from you as he continued.  Each time you tugged on his hair, a groan would fall from his lips. It was the prettiest sound you had ever heard. 

Why did either of you wait this long? 

You tried to communicate, to let him know you were close, tugging on his hair, trying to move away from his mouth. 

But Bob was deceivingly strong, using his free hand to pin your hip back to the couch, his mouth firmly on your pussy. 

When you looked down, you were in awe of how blissed Bob looked. His eyes were closed as his mouth remained latched to your clit. The sounds of your own wetness were obscene, but barely audible over the moans Bob was letting out. 

He really did enjoy it.

“Come. Wanna taste ya,” His voice was muffled as he added a third finger inside you. 

Worried thoughts of coming on his face left your brain as pleasure coursed through your veins. Without any warning, the band that had been tightening came undone.

Bob used both hands to hold your hips firmly in place, his tongue lapping up your release. 

You don't recall coming this hard or this long before. It wasn't a small wave, it felt like the whole damn ocean was taking you under. 

His fingers continued to stretch you open, prolonging your high. The Navy was the perfect fit for him, considering he could apparently hold his breath for an impressive amount of time. 

The soft fabric of the couch cushions brushed as the back of your head, your eyes half closed. You couldn't even voice an acknowledge when Bob’s mouth and fingers withdrew from your abused cunt. 

“You're so pretty when you come,” Bob murmured, his lips brushing against yours. 

Your hands tugged on the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. 

“M-my turn,” you whined, hips jerking up towards his. 

Bob shook his head, “Wanna be inside ya.” 

How was this the same guy who feared clowns as a kid? 

Before you could even question it, Bob had sat down on the couch, gripping your hips to help you straddle his lap. When had he taken off his jeans? How was he so quick- 

Jesus Christ, he was huge. 

“Fuck, she was right.” 

Bob looked up from where you two were about to connect, a very confused look on his face, “Excuse me?” 

“Betsey Thomas said you had a huge dick,” you confessed, wishing that you'd think before speaking for once. 

Bob’s brows knitted together in confusion, “Betsey Thomas has never seen my dick, the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Said she could tell you were packing because of the gym shorts you'd wear for PE class.” Bob signed, shaking his head as he muttered something about the required uniform. 

“I….we can unpack this later-” 

You snorted, “Why? Too busy packing here?” 

Your laughter was cut short by Bob rubbing his cock against your soaked cunt. Memories of high school escaped your brain, the only thing you could focus on now was Bob and his huge dick. 

Curious wasn't accurate. Frankly, you were desperate for him. Had been since middle school, if you were being truthful. 

“Woah, hey. Easy baby, easy,” his voice made your thighs clench, made you whine into his shoulder as you tried to line your aching hole with his cock. 

Finally, you felt him at your entrance. Slowly, he filled you up inch by inch. Every time you tried to urge him to go faster, Bob would simply shake his head before pressing a kiss against your cheek. 

“Don't want to hurt ya darlin’.” 

Darlin. You were his darlin. 

He made you feel so full, and you didn't even have it all inside of you yet. All you could do was cling to him as he whispered praises in your ears. 

Once you reached the base, it felt like you and Bob were the only ones in the world. At least, that’s what you pretended. It was better than thinking about how he would be gone for who knows how long after tonight. After boot camp was done, he would be off to train for the Navy. 

Even he didn't know when he would return home. 

It wasn't fair, finally expressing your feelings for one another just to be separated immediately after. You wanted him to stay, to go on dates with him, to visit him on the weekends when school started, just like everyone else in a long distance relationship. 

“Hey, what's wrong? Do you- we can stop if you want, it's okay.” Bob’s voice was soft, full of concern. 

His hand lifted your chin up from his shoulder, revealing your watery eyes. 

“I don't want you to go.” 

“I know,” his voice was barely a whisper, matching your volume. Long fingers gently traced over your face, as if he was trying to memorize them. 

“I know it's horrible timing, but we'll figure it out, okay? I want to figure it out with you, I promise,” He peppered your face with soft kisses, earning a small smile out of you. 

“But for now, can I make ya feel good? Because I'm willing to bet no guy has made you come while fucking ya.” 

Unlike in the past, where Bob’s smartass comments earned him a shove, you pressed your lips against his. 

“I'm gonna start moving now, okay?” Even though he warned you, nothing could have prepared you for how full Bob made you when his hips thrusted upwards. 

“You're-fuck- you feel so good, oh my God.” 

Your fingers tangled into Bob’s hair, trying to commit the feeling to memory. 

Bob was trying to do the same, his hands roaming over your body as he took in your scent. Maybe if he asked nicely, you'd let him take a bottle of your perfume with him. 

He was going to need it for the next few months. 

Your mouth clashed against his, tongue desperate to taste him. Wandering hands desperate to feel everything everywhere. 

“When-fuck- when I come back, wanna take you out. W-we can go to that Italian place by your school. The one where you have to wear a tie.” How Bob was able to talk coherently while fucking you was beyond comprehension. 

The Navy will be lucky to have his great ability to multitask. 

“Gonna bring ya flowers too. Sunflowers ‘cause they're-oh my god- you're favorite.” You didn't think you could recall your full name with the way Bob is thrusting into you, much less favorite things. 

Your walls clench around Bob’s thick cock, eliciting a desperate groan from him, rather than the instant ejaculation you were used to. 

“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna come,” Bob whined into the crook of your neck.

“That’s-shit- the point,” you grunted, your hips picking up speed. 

Bob shook his head, “Need you to come first.” 

Confusion caused you to still your hips, “Bob, I already-” 

“Don't finish that sentence, don't you dare,” Bob ended his command with a strong thrust that made you feel as if he was splitting you open on his cock. 

Your head dropped down to the crook of his neck. His skin was so warm and the smell of sage was nearly overwhelming. You knew exactly what body wash he had used, as it was the same one he wore ever since junior year, when you commented on how nice it was. 

In hindsight, it was painfully obvious. 

His lips found yours, capturing them in a desperate kiss. When you felt his fingers draw circles on your clit, you saw stars. 

You didn't know it could feel this good with someone. This was more than a quick fuck, as you actually felt cared for. It was intense, the sensitivity of your first orgasm still echoing every time the thick head of his cock brushed against your walls. 

It's audible how wet you are for Bob. He can feel it at the base of his cock, which makes him wonder what it would be like to have you on your knees, or better, your back, all spread out for him. 

“C’mon sweet girl,” he’s panting, voice desperate and raspy, “Wanna-fuck! Wanna feel you come s’bad, please, please baby.” 

Each circle drawn on your clit causes the band in your stomach to tighten. Combined with Bob’s words, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. 

“You're incredible, shit, I-fuck. All yours. Wanna be all yours. Fuck fuck fuck, clenching me so hard, fuck, don't stop.” Obscene was not a word many, if any, would use to describe Bob Floyd. 

Up until thirty minutes ago, you would have considered yourself part of that group. 

But now? Now you were falling apart on his cock. The rush of pleasure had hit like a brick, coursing through your veins. It hit harder than anything else, harder than the now banned alcohol caffeine combo drink, or any controlled substance doctors had prescribed to help you focus. 

His finger-fuck, usually you had to use two of your own- didn’t stop rubbing your clit, nor does he stop thrusting in and out of your pulsing cunt. It's almost as if-no, you know Bob’s enjoying making you feel euphoria. 

That's what blows your mind. His laser focus on your pleasure, rather than his own. Truthfully, he could have come already and you wouldn't have thought twice about it. 

But now it was all you could think about. How much he cared, how good he felt. How incredible it was for him to pull your hips flushed against his, filling you to the brim with his cock. 

“Holy shit you're so tight-I, sh-should I pull out?” 

Instead of answering, you used all your strength to rock your hips against him. Considering he made you come twice, the least you could do was help him find his release. 

Your fingers gripped his hair, tugging on the strands as your mouth clashed against his. 

The downright guttural groan he releases against your mouth has you clamping down on his cock. The motion finally leads to Bob’s undoing, causing him to come deep inside you, warmth flooding your body. 

His arms are wrapped around your body, clinging onto you as if he thinks you'll disappear if he lets go. 

You’d be a damn fool to. 

The basement is now quiet, apart from the heavy breathing coming from both you and Bob. 

After several minutes pass by, you gather the courage to break the silence, “Did you mean all that? Taking me out on a date and being mine?” 

Bob’s cheek burned a bright red as he timidly nodded his head, “I….yeah. I didn't mean to say it when we were, you know. I'm sorry.” 

You pressed a reassuring kiss to his warm cheek, “Robby, what do you feel the need to apologize for?” 

He looked up to you, those earnest blue eyes sparkling, “Shit timing?” 

“You're not wrong about that, but like you said earlier, I want to work it out with you.” Your words brought comfort, giving Bob the confidence to place a sweet kiss right on your lips. His smile was burning into yours, causing your stomach to flutter. 

“I know it's not that Italian restaurant, but can I take you out to breakfast tomorrow?” 

The local diner had been a go-to since y'all were thirteen. But this time would be different. This time you wouldn't feel the urge to look away when he caught you staring. This time neither one would correct the waitress when she'd make a comment about y'all being a cute couple. 

The soft call of your name pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“Uh can I….eat you out again? Tomorrow obviously! Like before we go to the diner?” 

Good Lord this man was going to be the death of you.

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

@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @attapullman @ryebecca @sio-ina-bottle @rhettabbotts @callsignspark @roosterforme @lewmagoo @hangmanapologist @justabovewater20 @theharddeck @cumholland @bobfloydsbabe @sometimesanalice @heartfairy @auroralightsthesky

#my writing #Bob Floyd #Robert Floyd #Robert Bob Floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #Bob fucks #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #Bob Floyd smut #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x female reader #top gun smut #top gun fanfiction

[roosterforme]

Some Things Take Time | Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: Bob is a man well known for his patience. He never rushes things in the air, and he tries to live by a similar philosophy on the ground. You and he are both on the same page about welcoming a child into your home through foster care, but it's hard for him to watch you try to bond with her unsuccessfully. He soon realizes that Avery is a lot like him, and that some things are worth the extra time.

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of infertility, mentions of foster care and adoption, Bob making all other men look like trash

Length: 5800 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x wife!reader

Happy birthday @wkndwlff! Check my masterlist for more!

You were laying on the couch with your head resting on your husband's lap, spinning his wedding band around on his finger while you tried to put your thoughts into words. You could tell he knew you were on the verge of speaking, sending you several expectant glances as you and he both pretended to watch the movie he started an hour ago. But Bob would never rush you, and you were thankful for that, because you wanted to make sure you got this right. 

"We've been trying for a long time," you whispered, and Bob's blue eyes met yours as you looked up at him. "Almost two years."

He nodded once and smiled softly. "We have," he murmured, squeezing your hand in his larger one. You pressed your lips together as tears stung your eyes. Bob never seemed upset that he was pushing forty years old and in spite of trying and trying, you'd never gotten pregnant. He never put pressure on you to keep trying or to stop. You were convinced he never would, but you wanted to know what he was really thinking.

"What if we... stopped. Stopped trying. And just went with an alternative?"

"Honey, I already told you I'm happy with things how they are. We can stop trying if you want to, or we can talk about alternatives if you want to do that. But there's nothing wrong with just you and me. In fact, I'm really quite enjoying myself."

You closed your eyes as his fingers drifted along the curves of your side. It would be delicious to get back into the habit of having sex when you wanted to instead of when your cycle demanded it. You and Bob sharing your undivided attention with each other was something you were craving, but you still wanted something else, too.

"What if I said I wanted to look into fostering and adoption again?" you asked softly as you started to sit up.

He pulled you closer so you were straddling his thigh. "Then I would say we can call our lawyer on Monday and get some answers."

You smiled as you nudged his glasses with your nose and kissed his cheek. "And what if I said I'm not fertile today, but I want you anyway?"

Bob reached for the remote and turned the movie off as a soft blush rose in his cheeks. "Then I would say it's time we got in bed, Honey."

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

Bob was a man who was well known for his patience. He never rushed things in the air, and he tried to live by a similar philosophy on the ground. He knew he wanted to marry you about halfway through the first date. He also knew you would have looked at him like he was insane if he admitted that to you halfway through the first date. So instead of rushing things, he took the time to make sure you were on the same page he was and that you were comfortable. He always tried to do that.

When a baby just didn't seem to be happening, he was more than willing to keep trying, but he was also completely content with the idea of no kids at all. It wasn't worth rushing anything as long as he had you in his life. But you had recently convinced him of a third option, and his lawyer helped the two of you smooth out the details. 

And this is how Avery ended up at Bob's house on a random Monday evening. She was eight years old and in need of a foster family, and you were adamant when you answered the phone call that you and Bob were more than ready for her to be dropped off even on such short notice. 

"I'm so nervous," you whispered as you held Bob's hand and watched through the front window as a van pulled up. 

"I'm excited," he told you with a soft laugh. When he thought about having kids, he always pictured a little girl. For some reason, the idea of reading princess stories and painting a bedroom a putrid shade of purple really appealed to him. As he watched Avery being led up the walkway, he realized she didn't look one bit like you or him. He also realized that having a child who resembled him was actually never part of his dreams. 

As the doorbell rang, you bounced in place and whispered, "She's here. She's really here." 

Bob pulled you in for a kiss as his heart thudded. He realized he needed to tamp down his excitement a little bit. The two of you were merely fostering Avery. Nothing was set in stone even though you told the lawyer you wanted to eventually adopt a child. But right now your eyes were glittering with hope and anticipation, and Bob couldn't take that away from you. 

"Let's make her feel welcome," he said as you both headed for the door. 

Avery stood there with an unreadable expression on her adorable face, and Bob noticed right away how the case worker seemed to rush through everything. There were papers to sign and a schedule to keep, and even though all of it pertained to Avery, she ended up sitting quietly at the kitchen table while everyone else talked about her.

It was late by the time you and Bob were alone with her, and now her unreadable expression looked something like sadness. "Avery," Bob said softly. "Do you want to see your bedroom?"

She looked up at him and nodded without saying a word, and then you helped her down from the chair. You had taken the time to freshen up the extra bedroom and buy a pink glitter toothbrush and a pair of pajamas in her size. But Avery just sat down on the edge of the bed with her bag and asked, "Do I have to go to school tomorrow?"

"Yes," Bob replied with a smile. "I'll drop you off on my way to work, and then I'll pick you up in the afternoon."

When she didn't respond, you asked, "Is there anything you want? A bedtime snack or something to drink? I could make you some hot chocolate or get you a cookie. Bob makes the best oatmeal cookies, and there are a few left from the weekend. Maybe you can help Bob make the next batch." You were rambling now, and Bob reached out to squeeze your hand as you said, "We're just excited that you're here."

But Avery shook her head and told you, "I'll just read my book. Thanks." Then she untied her shoes and took a well worn copy of The Secret Garden from her bag, but she sat on the bed with rigid posture, not looking at either of you.

Bob wasn't quite sure what to do. You'd already shown the child where the bathroom was, and she seemed to have all of her essentials. He swallowed hard, deciding not to rush Avery even though he could feel your disappointment radiating off of you. He cleared his throat and said, "We'll leave our bedroom door open in case you need anything. And we'll get you up around seven for school. Good night, Avery."

She just nodded and squinted down at the tattered book cover like she was going to cry. Bob led you down the hallway, through your room and into the en suite bathroom where he gathered you in his arms as tears filled your eyes. "I don't think she likes us," you gasped before you buried your face against his neck.

Bob kissed the top of your head and whispered, "I just think she needs some time. Let's not rush anything." 

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

You cried yourself to sleep the first night. You knew that your response wasn't fair to Bob or Avery or even to yourself, but you'd imagined meeting a little girl who was at least a little bit more talkative if not upbeat. You had your hopes set on fostering a child who at least gave the impression that your home was better than another alternative. You'd been given a vague picture of where Avery had come from, and you wanted her to be comfortable here, but now you felt stupid for buying the glitter toothbrush and the Minnie Mouse pajamas. 

Bob's hand drew lazy circles on your back as you turned away from him and cried softly. "It's just the first night," he reminded you in that sweet, even tone that you loved so much.

"I know. I just wanted this so desperately," you admitted between shaky breaths. His hand on your body helped you eventually fall asleep, and the next morning, Bob was up before you, making breakfast. When you tapped on Avery's door which was ajar, you poked your head in to find her once again sitting on the bed reading.

"Did you sleep okay?" you asked, and she nodded in response. "That's great!" you said in a tone of forced excitement. "Do you need help getting ready for school?"

"No," she said softly, setting the book aside.

You took a deep breath and said, "Bob's making breakfast. Do you want to come downstairs and eat?"

"Yes."

That was the last word you heard her speak before Bob led her out to his car in his uniform. He smiled at you over his shoulder as he told you to have a good day working on your true crime novel, but you knew you weren't going to. You spend two hours trying to write, but you ended up with three and a half new sentences. Instead, you spent most of the day thinking you'd made a huge mistake and hating your own body. Avery would probably last two weeks tops with you and Bob before she was begging to go somewhere else. You didn't even know if you could stand to see her melancholy little expression when your husband brought her home from school today, but you didn't want to call her case worker for help yet.

In the afternoon, you bought everything you needed to make oatmeal cookies along with the rest of your usual groceries. You paused next to the checkout line where there was a display of children's books and grabbed a few of them. Avery appeared to like her book more than anything else, so maybe she would appreciate these ones, too.

But when Bob brought Avery home with him after school, she barely spoke. She didn't want to help make any cookies, and after dinner, she went back to her bedroom. Bob tried to help her with her homework, but she told him it was easy and she already finished it. When you dropped off the new books, she told you she already had a favorite. 

"Oh," you said, standing in the doorway with your hands full of the unwanted books. "That's good... that you have a favorite. I have a favorite book, too."

She looked up at you and nodded, but soon you were backing out of the room and trying to hide your tears from Bob. "It takes time," he reassured you as you balled your hands into fists and cried on him again.

You knew you needed to be as patient as he always was, but you just weren't like him. And you started talking before you could stop yourself. "If we could have gotten pregnant, we'd have our own child," you sobbed. "One that we raised from day one who would love us and bake cookies and read new books."

Bob kissed your ear and whispered, "Nothing is easy, Honey. But sometimes the harder something is at first, the more rewarding it is later on."

You cried yourself to sleep again.

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

Bob tried his best for that first week. He watched you start to pull away and retreat into yourself the more Avery kept to her bedroom. Every day when he dropped her off and picked her up, she thanked him for the ride. When he asked if she would rather start taking the bus, she told him it didn't matter. When he asked if there was something special she wanted to eat for dinner, she said she wasn't picky. 

And all the while she just squinted down at her book. Just The Secret Garden even though you brought home some others. When he pulled up to the curb in front of her school one morning, he said, "Avery, would you like me to take you to the library one day? Or maybe a bookstore where you can pick out what you want?"

She looked at him as she grabbed her backpack in one hand and her book in the other. "Maybe." Then she climbed out of the car, and he waited to pull away until she was inside the school building. That was the most promising answer he'd received yet. He drove to work thinking about signing her up for a library card, and when he got there, he was in a much better mood.

Natasha was the only one who knew that Avery was under his care. He didn't want to give anyone too many details, but she sweetly asked him the same question every morning after they got to work. "How are you and the Mrs. making out with your houseguest?"

And this morning, he said, "Maybe a little better today, Nat. I'm just trying not to rush it."

She patted him on the chest and smiled. "You never do, Bob. You're a man of details."

She was right. He spent the day thinking about all of the details that he knew about Avery. She was eight years old and very quiet. She only wanted to read one book even though you offered her more. She seemed to find the most comfort when she was alone. She was honestly a lot like Bob.

When he picked Avery up from school, he watched as one of the teachers patted the top of her backpack and sent her on her way. She squinted toward his car before trudging over in his direction with a frown on her face. Bob sighed as she climbed into the backseat and buckled herself in. "How was your day, Avery?" he asked as he shifted into drive. But today he got no verbal response at all. Instead he heard her crying.

Without another word, Bob pulled his car around and into an empty parking spot before killing the engine. He opened his door and closed it before taking a few deep breaths, and then he climbed in the back door and settled in next to the crying child. He let one hand gently rest on her shoulder, giving her a small squeeze before asking, "Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?"

She just shook her head as tears flowed down her cheeks, and she stared at her feet. "It's stupid."

Bob smiled slightly. "You might think so, but I'd probably find what you have to say fascinating."

She turned her head to look at him, examining his face to see if he was being honest. But of course he was. He just wanted her to tell him what was on her mind. It took a few minutes before she started to settle down, but eventually she said, "I failed my eye exam with the nurse today." She unzipped her bag and pulled out a yellow sheet of paper and handed it to him. "She told me my eyesight is terrible and that I need to get glasses."

Bob looked at the page and had to hide his alarm from her. Avery failed her eye exam spectacularly. It was a wonder to Bob that she was even able to see in her classroom. But now her squinting and her preference for one, well worn book were starting to make sense. As he filled in the blanks in his mind, he said, "Glasses aren't so bad," while he tapped his own silver frames. "They certainly make my day a lot easier."

She kind of rolled her eyes and said, "But you're an adult. People aren't going to make fun of you for wearing glasses."

"You think you'll get made fun of?" Bob asked softly, folding the yellow paper in half.

"Yes," she replied immediately as she wiped at her tears. "I already do. Glasses will make it so much worse."

Bob wanted to press her for more details, but he didn't think this was the right moment. Instead he asked, "Is that why you only like to read The Secret Garden? Because you already know most of the words by heart?"

Avery looked at him like she couldn't believe he solved a very complex riddle. "Yes."

He nodded and asked, "Would you like to be able to read other books, too? Because glasses would definitely help with that."

She shrugged and sniffed as she said, "I like books about gardens and flowers and fairies. I don't know of any other ones I would like anyway."

Bob patted her on the shoulder one more time and said, "I like those kinds of books, too. And I think I can help you get glasses that look cool and help you pick out more books. If you'll let me."

Another partial shrug was his only answer, but at least she wasn't telling him no. As he climbed back into the driver's seat, he sent you a quick text telling you that he and Avery were fine and to go ahead and have dinner on your own. Then he drove along to his optometrist's office, hoping they would squeeze an extra appointment into their schedule.

"You're in luck," the receptionist told him when they arrived. "There was a last minute cancellation. Have a seat, and we can take you back shortly."

The rack hanging on the wall was filled with books and magazines for people of all ages, but Bob watched Avery squint as she took a seat empty handed. He skimmed a magazine and offered to read an article to her, but she said no. When ten minutes had passed, Bob asked her, "Are the kids at school mean to you?" 

He was already considering other options that might make her feel more comfortable when she said, "I just don't fit in. Everyone else has parents or grandparents. Everyone else is loud, and I like it better when it's quiet. Everyone else already made friends."

Bob nodded his head. It was like she was living his own childhood in many ways. "I like it better when it's quiet, too. So does my wife. And making friends can be hard at any age. I still struggle with it."

"You do?" she asked him, eyes wide and interested.

"Absolutely. Sometimes I still get nervous and stumble over what I want to say, and I'm thirty-nine. And you know what?"

"What?"

"There's nothing wrong with that."

He watched Avery take a deep breath and look down at her hands before both of their names were called. Once they were in the exam room, Bob got to witness her fail the test for the second time in one day, and then her tears started up again. The crying was only made worse when the receptionist popped in and tried to quietly tell Bob that Avery wasn't approved for any vision insurance. 

The child was clearly smart as a whip, and if she was having a hard time fitting in at school, he didn't want to make it worse by making her feel like she didn't fit in with you and him either. "I was planning on paying out of pocket today," he told the receptionist who just nodded in response. Then he turned to Avery and said, "Looks like the nurse was right. How about we pick out some glasses?"

She looked at the displays while she wiped at her eyes with a tissue, but she wouldn't tell Bob which ones she wanted to try on. "Which ones are the cheapest?" she asked softly.

"I have no idea," Bob replied easily. "What's your favorite color?"

"Purple," she whispered, and Bob followed her squinting gaze to a purple frame sitting on a shelf above her head. 

"I like purple, too," he said as he reached them down and handed them to her. She held them for a couple minutes, and Bob decided not to rush her. She finally slipped them on and looked in the mirror, and he told her, "I think they look cool."

She nodded a little bit. "They're pretty good. But nobody else at school has purple glasses." 

As she removed them and tried to hand them back to him, Bob quickly looked at the adult sized frames. There was one pair that came in a deep purple, and he kind of liked them. "Just hang onto those for a minute. I need help picking out new glasses for myself, okay? What do you think about these?" 

When he removed his wire frames and replaced them with the purple plastic, it seemed like Avery couldn't help but smile. "I like them."

He nodded once. "Then I'll get them. That way we can match since we both like purple. Thanks for your help."

"You're welcome," she replied quietly, looking at the glasses she was still holding before handing them to Bob.

He took both pairs in his hand before nodding toward the door. "I'm feeling like it's a good day to get ice cream for dinner and look around the bookstore. I can think of at least two more books that you might like to read once your glasses are ready for you to wear. Sound good?"

"Yes."

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

You didn't know what to expect when Bob brought Avery home after seven o'clock on a school night, but you definitely weren't prepared to hear her laughter for the first time. You'd barely made any progress on your novel since Avery arrived a few weeks ago, merely existing in your own funk all day long. But the sound of Bob's voice followed by her light giggle as they walked inside left you feeling better than you had in ages.

"Hi," you said, your voice dripping with optimism as Bob headed your way with a shopping bag in his hand. 

"Hi, Honey," he replied, kissing your cheek while Avery took her shoes off.

"How was school?" you asked her. 

"Terrible," she told you with a smile aimed up at Bob. "I failed my eye exam."

"Oh," you gasped, already making a mental note to call the eye doctor first thing in the morning so she could get some glasses. "We can take care of it for you."

"Already did," Bob said as he squeezed your hand. "Stopped on the way home and picked them out. Should be ready next week."

"Really?" you asked in surprise as he pulled two books out of the bag. Both were covered in vines and flowers, but one was clearly a novel for an adult while the other was much slimmer and looked like it was for Avery's reading level.

"Yes," he replied softly. "Now, on the drive home, I told Avery that you're a writer, but that you're also really good at reading books out loud." When you nodded and looked at her, she was squinting up at you. Bob handed you the smaller book and said, "I didn't get to take a shower before I left work, so I need to go do that now. But I promised Avery that you'd read a chapter to her after she gets ready for bed." He patted her on the shoulder and then made his way upstairs.

Your head was swimming with information. New glasses and new books and a child who was looking up at you with hope in her eyes. A husband who set up some time for you to spend alone with her. Tears stung your eyes as you said, "I love reading books out loud. Do you want to change for bed and brush your teeth now?"

Ten minutes later, you were sitting next to Avery on the spare bed, reading to her about a magical garden filled with flowers that turned the characters into superheroes. You read all sixteen pages of the first chapter, and then she asked you to read more. 

It was a little bit past bedtime when you finished the third chapter, and she was yawning. "How about I go get you one of my bookmarks from my office? And we can read more tomorrow night?"

"Okay," she replied easily, and when you returned a minute later with a bookmark that had a purple tassel, she smiled. "I like this book so far, but I think I'd like it a lot better if there were fairies, too. Thank you for reading to me."

"You're very welcome," you told her, barely shutting off the light in time for a tear to slide down your cheek. "Goodnight, Avery."

When you rushed into your own bedroom, Bob was in bed reading the other new book. "How did you do it?" you asked him, quickly climbing under the covers with him. "How did you get her to open up a little bit?"

He set the book down with a soft smile. "She just needed some time, Honey. She's a lot like me. She can't be rushed."

"No," you said, pushing your fingers through his hair as you cried a little bit. "That's not it. I think you're actually magical."

"Maybe," he agreed. "But her vision is so bad. That's why I think she kept reading The Secret Garden. She probably has it memorized and didn't want to tell anyone she couldn't see."

"Poor thing," you whispered, realizing that most of Bob's magic came from his patience as you fell asleep in his arms.

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

A week later, Bob noticed you were exhausted, but you seemed a lot happier, because Avery seemed a lot happier. You had successfully read two books to her, and she was starting to become more vocal around the house. He was hoping she was having an easier time making friends at school now, too. But he was a little bit concerned with how late into the night you'd been working.

When he got a message around lunchtime letting him know both pairs of glasses were ready, he smiled. Pretty soon Avery would be able to attempt reading a new book on her own. He sent you a text letting you know that he'd be home with Avery after a quick stop back at the optometrist's office. And when he picked her up from school, she squinted at his car before climbing in the backseat. 

"Ready to go get our new glasses?" he asked before pulling out onto the road.

"Yes," she replied softly. "I've decided that wearing glasses is a better alternative than not being able to read new books. At least until I can get contacts."

Bob chuckled. "A wise choice."

A few seconds later, she asked, "Will you take me to the library this weekend? There have to be more books there that I'd like."

"Of course I'll take you to the library. We can ask the librarian to help you find you as many books as you want to read."

He hoped that would make the new glasses an even easier decision for her. He parked and led her inside where the eye doctor got them both fitted correctly before handing them a mirror. "What do you think?" Bob asked as he smiled at Avery. "I think they look cool on you."

She shrugged. "They're okay."

"Can you see better?"

"Yes," she whispered. On the way outside, she said, "Thanks for getting new glasses with me. I like yours, too."

Bob checked himself in the mirror before he backed out of the parking spot. "I think it's kind of my color."

You were waiting in the living room for them when Bob opened the front door. The house smelled like dinner cooking, and you had a stack of bound pages on the couch next to you. When you jumped to your feet, you said, "You both look great!" as you bounced in place a little bit.

"Purple is kind of our color," Avery said, making Bob laugh as you covered your massive smile with your fingertips. 

"It really is," you replied, wrapping Bob in a quick hug before cautiously placing your hand on Avery's shoulder for a beat. "I have something I wanted to show you. I was hoping to get your opinion."

"Me?" she asked, looking up at you, eyes wide behind her purple frames.

"Yes," you told her softly. "I've been working on a new story for the past week, and I really think you'll be able to help me with the ending."

"What kind of story?" she asked you, and Bob slowly made his way into the kitchen where he could still hear the two of you talking. 

"Well," you told her as she joined you on the couch, "it's about a fairy who gets invited to live in a magic garden. And she starts to learn how to use magic herself while a friendly witch and a kind wizard supervise her. And the garden is really pretty, and she loves it there and starts to make friends with the other creatures. Do you want to take a look at it?"

"Okay."

Bob hovered in the doorway and watched you hand the bound manuscript to the little girl next to you while you chewed nervously on your lip. He knew you wanted this to work out; he did too. He was also very surprised that you'd been working on this for the past week without sharing your secret even with him. But it truthfully wasn't really for him. It was for her. And you.

The child looked up at you and whispered, "You named the fairy Avery."

You just nodded and smiled. "Your name is so pretty, and you remind me of the kind of little girl who would have magic inside her."

Avery turned back to the page in front of her and snuggled in a little bit closer to you. She started reading out loud, and after a few pages, handed it over to you for a little bit. The two of you went back and forth like this for an hour before Bob carried in two plates of dinner and set them on the coffee table. 

"Even magic fairies get hungry," he said softly before leaving both of you to the story.

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

When you woke up a few weeks later on Avery's ninth birthday, you were beyond exhausted. The past few nights had been late ones for you as you tried to finish up and edit the story you'd been working on. The title that the two of you came up with was The Littlest Fairy in the Garden, and you were just as proud of this as your true crime releases. 

Then you realized that there was actually a reason why you woke up. You could hear Bob talking. It sounded like he was on the phone even though it was barely eight o'clock. You climbed out of bed and stretched before finding him sitting on the floor in the walk-in closet talking softly on the phone in his pajama pants, undershirt and purple glasses.

"I'm sure she's going to agree with me. We want to move forward if that's what Avery wants, but I'll call you back in an hour or two. Thank you so much."

He ended the call right when you asked, "Who was that?"

Bob jumped a bit as he looked up at you with a tentative smile. "Our lawyer," he whispered. 

"What did they say?" you whispered back as he got to his feet and wrapped his arms around you. 

When Bob's lips found your ear, you shivered at his words. "It was just a preliminary conversation, but they asked if we would be interested in pursuing adoption."

"With Avery?" you gasped, and he nodded against you. 

"Yes. With Avery."

Tears filled your eyes as you clung to him. You thought about all the books she'd been reading with you and the birthday cake waiting in the kitchen. You could practically still smell the oatmeal cookies she and Bob made a few days ago. You could picture her smile and imagine her laughter, both of which were coming more easily with each passing day. "I want to adopt her. She belongs here. With us."

"I think so, too," he replied immediately, and you could hear the unshed tears in her voice. "I think we should have a conversation with her about it today. The process could take a little time, but I want to be sure it's what she wants as well."

You nodded, a jerky motion against him as your heart pounded faster and faster. "Let's talk about it when she wakes up."

Bob led you downstairs to the kitchen, his fingers laced with yours, and he started to crack some eggs while you made coffee and fresh orange juice. Avery had picked the menu for each meal today for her birthday, and the plan was to take her to the zoo after lunch. There was currently a purple banner with flowers and fairies on it stretched across the kitchen along with a large assortment of balloons. You couldn't remember being this excited about something in such a long time.

"Good morning," came a soft voice from the bottom of the stairs, and you nearly dropped a mug on the floor as you turned to look at her.

"Happy birthday!" you and Bob replied in unison, and then all three of you started laughing. 

Without another word, Avery made her way into the kitchen in her Minnie Mouse pajamas and gave you a hug around the waist. You gasped softly as you hugged her back, her purple glasses pressing against you. Then she tucked herself against Bob's side and hugged him right after that. "Thanks for all the birthday stuff. And thanks for being so nice to me and getting me glasses and everything."

You and Bob shared a look over her head as he rubbed his hand along her shoulder. "It makes us happy that you're here, Avery," he said softly, and you had to swipe at your tears. "Let's have your breakfast, and maybe we can talk about making this permanent."

"Permanent? Like me staying here for a while?" she asked softly as she looked up at him.

"Like you staying here forever."

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

This is a little birthday treat for @wkndwlff! I hope you have a great day, Taylor! I set out to write a nice little story based on this mood board, but somehow it turned into this angsty thing instead. Thanks to @sylviebell @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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#bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #robert floyd #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd fic #bob floyd #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #some things take time #tw infertility

[ohtobeleah]

Vice //

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

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

Word Count: 5.4k

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

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

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

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

You were Jake Seresins little sister. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ahhh fuck oh my god—!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd smut #bob floyd smut #top gun bob #bob top gun #hangman top gun #bob floyd x female reader #robert bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd fanfiction

[ereardon]

Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter One

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader 

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, alcohol

Chapter summary: Y/N meets Bob's squadron, and encounters someone she thought she'd never see again; the Daggers celebrate Jake's birthday where he and Y/N have their first conversation after the one night stand

Masterlist here

You were late. Bob was going to kill you. Your brother was a stickler when it came to being on time. It came as no surprise to anyone in your family that he had gone into the military.

You rushed through the door, purse strap getting caught on the handle and you tugged it free, chest rising as you spun around, searching for Bob. He stood in the corner of the coffee shop, pristine in a khaki uniform, eyes wide behind his wire glasses. 

“Hi Ducky,” he said as you tossed yourself into his arms, breathing in his familiar scent. He felt like home, even though it had been years since you and Bob had lived under the same roof. You had been barely a teen when Bob left for the Naval Academy, and his stints on land were far and few between after. His assignment to Top Gun was the first time he had settled somewhere on a more permanent basis. It’s why you decided to move to San Diego after college. All of your friends had scattered around the country – grad school in New York, policy analysts in Washington, even one friend had taken an internship with an art dealer in Miami. But you had packed up and left Tennessee with one goal. Be closer to your brother. 

“Bobby,” you grinned, stepping back to admire him. Every time you saw him it was months apart and so much had changed, but also so little. He was the same Bob who had thrown you over his shoulder to win the family flag football game on Thanksgiving. The same Bob who had carried your book bag for you when you were in elementary school and he was a middle schooler and went a mile out of his way every morning to make sure you got to your homeroom class safe and sound. The Bob who always picked up, day or night, when you called. The Bob who listened to you weep about your college boyfriend who broke your heart. The Bob who took care of you when you were seven and had the flu and your mom was working a double shift at the hospital and couldn’t stay home with you. 

“Ducky,” he said, dropping your hands. The familiar nickname on his tongue brought forward a flood of memories: spring weekends flying kites in the nearby park, sitting on the back of a tandem bike with Bob on a trip to Florida to visit your grandparents, the fort the two of you made the one time it snowed two feet in Tennessee in under a day in March. “This is my squad. Guys, meet my sister, Y/N.” 

You tore your gaze from Bob, looking over at the table he was gesturing to, a smile plastered on your face. A beautiful brunette with pearly white teeth and a tight bun was on the far left. That was Phoenix. You had received a handful of letters from Bob talking about her. Next to Phoenix was a handsome, bulky man with a mustache in a plain blue t-shirt. Wow, he was gorgeous. 

Your eyes shifted over one more, breath halting in your throat as your gaze slowly crept up. First you spotted the dog tags. Eerily familiar, but then again, a lot of military guys wore dog tags, right? 

Then the chin. Ridiculously cut jaw, slight bifurcated butt chin that you had found weirdly adorable two nights before. Plump, pink lips, puckered up in a grin. You felt your heart sink. There was only one thing left. You raised your eyes to his. Clear, seafoam green. An ocean in two small orbs. He smiled as you screamed internally. 

Bob’s voice drew you out of your coma. “That’s Bradley.” The mustache man waved a hand. “And Jake Seresin. Hangman.” 

Jake. Your stomach did a somersault. 

Last time you had seen him, you had been teetering on the edge of drunk, standing outside of the bar with one hand on the railing, the salty ocean wind licking at the sweat on your collarbone, flicking the ends of your hair up against your chin.

The next moment, his tongue was on your throat, in your mouth, fingers in your hair, pressing your body against the railing of the deck as you whimpered into his lips. 

You had crept out of bed before he woke up. Just a gorgeous, tan, muscular back sticking out beneath crisp white sheets as you tugged on your short dress and called an Uber. You had expected to never see him again. 

And here he was, smirking at you as your brother’s gaze narrowed. 

You had fucked up. Correction. You had fucked Jake Seresin. And that was a major fuck up. 

***

Bob had never been the type to have a huge friend group, or any close friends really. So the first time he called from Top Gun, giddy with excitement, you had been elated for him. Your brother deserved a tightly knit friend group.

Before you had moved to San Diego, Bob had filled you in on the group’s antics. Their flights, their wild nights out, the dynamics. But he had centered mostly on Phoenix and Rooster. 

Jake had conveniently been left out of the majority of the conversation. 

“Well?” Bob asked as the two of you headed back to his house in your rental car. “What do you think of the group?” 

“They’re nice,” you said. 

“That’s it? Nice?” 

You sighed. “I’m really happy for you, Bobby. You have a good group of friends. I know that’s what you always wanted.” 

Bob leaned back against the seat. You were the one person that Bob confided in. He was an open book and you could read him with one glance. Looking over, you spotted his furrowed brow, the tense way he was squeezing his knuckles together. 

“Are you OK?” you asked, turning your eyes back toward the road, slowing down to take a right turn. 

“Tell me you didn’t move here for me.” 

“Then I’d be lying.” 

“Y/N,” Bob said. His voice had taken on Big Brother™ mode. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t you want me around?” you whispered. 

“Of course I do,” Bob replied. “I just don’t want you to waste your life following me.” 

“Living in California a waste?” you asked. “No way.” 

“What’s the plan, Duck?” 

“Not everyone was born potty trained and with a plan, Bobby.” 

“You’re twenty-three,” he countered. “It’s time to be an adult and figure out what you’re doing with your life.” 

“You sound like mom.” 

“And we both know she’s never wrong.” 

You sighed. “Just because you got your life together at seven doesn’t mean I have to.” 

“Duck—” 

You cut him off. “Bobby, please. It’s been a week. Give me a little time and I promise, I'll figure out what I’m doing. Just be my brother, OK, instead of acting like my dad.” 

That silenced him. Bob had taken your father’s disappearance harder than you had. He put on a brave face. He stepped up. He became the man of the house. But that meant that he had taken it upon himself to be your brother and your dad. So even at twenty three he still saw you as a child. 

The two of you drove the rest of the way back to Bob’s house in silence. Inside, you were just about to close the door to your guest bedroom when Bob’s voice floated down the hall. 

“By the way,” he said, “I told the squad we’d go out for drinks with them tonight. It’s Jake’s birthday.” 

You grimaced. “Sounds good.” 

“Leave at nine?” 

“Sure.” You closed the door, plopping down on the bed face first. You had moved to San Diego to figure your life out. And of course the first thing you had done was have a one night stand with one of Bob’s teammates. If he had been anyone else in the world you would have been able to avoid him. 

What do you get someone for their birthday when you hoped you’d never see them again? 

***

“Floyd!” 

You turned at the same time as Bob. Bradley grinned. “Oh this is going to get confusing.” 

“Here.” Natasha pointed to the bar stool next to her. “Have a seat. Boys will get you a drink. Bradshaw?” 

Bradley tipped his head. “On it, ma’am.” 

She rolled her eyes as you settled into the seat, crossing your legs beneath the short skirt. “So, Y/N. Bob’s told me all about his little sister. But he left out that you were coming to live here.” 

“I’m not much of a planner.” 

Phoenix laughed. “The anti-Bob. I like you already.” 

“He’s told me a lot about you,” you replied. “And Bradley.” 

“And nothing about Jake I’m guessing?” You nodded and Phoenix took a sip of her beer. “Trust me when I say, you don’t want to even go there.” 

“Are you speaking from experience?” 

Phoenix craned her neck around, making sure the two of you were out of earshot before nodding. “Just steer clear of him. That’s my suggestion. Hangman is fun for a night. But things get messy quick. And he and Bob have a little bit of a history.” 

You frowned. “What kind of history?” 

Just as Phoenix opened her mouth to respond, Bradley pressed a beer into your open hand. “Ducky.” 

You grimaced. “Bobby, you didn’t!” 

He shrugged. “Sorry.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I’m so going to eat your last Pop-Tart tomorrow just to get you back for that.” 

“Fill us in, will you?” Phoenix asked. 

“When she was four, Y/N became obsessed with those little yellow rubber ducks that you put in your bath.” You groaned as your brother recounted the full story. How you had thrown a fit when your mother had tried to take you out of the bath and the only thing to calm you had been to fill your bed with the rubber ducks. And how the next morning that continued, one rubber duck gripped firmly in your chubby hand as you ate breakfast, went to the park, tagged along to the grocery store, went to daycare. This continued for weeks. 

You didn’t want to admit to the team that you still had a rubber duck stuffed inside your suitcase back at Bob’s house. It was a safety net of sorts. 

“Sorry, Duck,” Bob said, squeezing your shoulders and placing a small peck on the top of your head. 

You looked up at him. His cheeks were flushed, he had a massive grin on his face. He was happy. All you had wanted in as long as you could remember was for Bob to be happy. He took your happiness more seriously than his own. It was time you returned the favor. 

“Am I interrupting?” All eyes turned to Jake. He had on a tight black t-shirt and a pair of jeans with cowboy boots peeking out the bottom. He shot a grin your way and you did your best to avoid his eye contact. 

“Happy birthday, Hangman.” There was a chill in Bob’s voice, or perhaps you were reading into it because of what Phoenix had said earlier. 

Jake nodded. “Thanks, man. Anyone up for a game of darts?” 

Bob dropped his hand from your shoulder, following Phoenix and Jake back toward the darts board on one end of the bar. You sat back in your seat, tipping the beer down your throat, watching as they played. There was an easy banter with all of them. 

You finished your beer, the darts game still ongoing. Quietly, you slipped around the edge of the room, out the door that led to the back deck. 

It was quiet outside, just the sound of the waves crashing against the hard sand and the soft hum of the music as it seeped through under the door and from behind the old windows. You laid your fingertips on the wooden railing, tipping your head back toward the moon that was slung low in the sky, feeling the cool breeze dry the sweat that had started to form on the base of your neck. 

“Mind if I join?” 

You turned. Jake stepped out onto the deck, a beer in one hand. He approached the railing, putting the green bottle down and smirking over at you. This time you were far less drunk. You shrugged. “It’s your birthday. Who am I to say what you can or can’t do?” 

He frowned. “Don’t be like that.” 

“Just because you’ve seen me naked doesn’t mean you know me.” 

He looked bristled. “Y/N. I had no idea you were Bob’s sister when we met the other night. If I had known, I—”

“Wouldn’t have fucked me?” 

He grimaced. “You’re the one that left without saying anything.” 

You folded your arms over your chest. “It’s not like you were falling over yourself to drive me home. It was better that way and we both know it.” You allowed yourself to look up. God, he was stunning. Green, wide eyes. Tanned skin, the way his forearm flexed as he gripped the railing. You could remember the way his touch felt as he dragged his fingertips over your skin. You tried to shake the memory from your mind. “Just do me one favor.” 

“Sure.” 

“Don’t tell Bob,” you whispered. “Let’s just forget the other night ever happened.” 

Jake’s gaze lingered. “If that’s what you want.” 

You pushed up off of the railing. “It’ll be better, trust me.” You headed for the door, turning around at the last moment. Jake was still leaning against the railing, watching the waves in the dark. “Jake?” 

He turned, green eyes wide. There was something almost sad about him, you thought. It was a fleeting glimpse, but you saw it. 

“Happy birthday.” 

He smiled. You turned, peering through the glass on the wood door. Bob had his head thrown back in a laugh as Bradley pounded against the piano keys and Phoenix danced. You smiled. Your brother was happy. 

You weren’t going to ruin his perfectly crafted life by saying you had slept with one of his friends. It would be easier for everyone if you and Jake Seresin pretended you had never met before. 

How would they ever catch you in your lie? 

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:

@bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @wkndwlff @mamachasesmayhem @mandylove1000 @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @rosiahills22 @buckysteveloki-me  @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @eloquentdreamer @mjisbby @shanimallina87 @seresinslady @seresinhangmanjake @blackwidownat2814 @yanna-banana @bbyvanessaa  @mrsjobarnes @midnightmagpiemama @ingoaliesitrust @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @iangiemae @joaquinwhorres @boiolay @sometimesanalice @spinning-away

#jake hangman fic #top gun fanfiction #jake seresin #top gun imagine #bob floyd fanfiction #jake hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #jake hangman imagine #bob floyd x female reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #pregnancy #pregnancy fic #unexpected pregnancy #sister reader #natasha phoenix trace #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #glen powell

[floydsmuse]

I will ease your mind.

Warnings: none! it’s just fluff and some slight angst?

Description: Bob soothes you to sleep by singing you, yours and his wedding song. (wc: 800+)

Tagging: @auroralightsthesky. Mary I couldn’t have written this without your constant encouragement & kind words :,) this one’s for you my friend <3

Song: “Bridge Over Troubled Water” by Simon & Garfunkel. I’d recommend giving it a listen before or during reading.

A/N: hi! so this is the first oneshot i’ve written in a minute. i love this song & have been listening to it on repeat lately picturing Bob singing it to me, which gave me the idea to write this haha :) i hope you all enjoy it <3

————————————————————————

Bob could tell something was off, from the very moment you two settled in for the night. Your lips barely grazed against his when bidding him his usual goodnight kiss, you avoided all eye contact, and were quick to flip over onto your side that faced away from your lover’s longing gaze.

Bob didn’t want to push or pry, but he knew he needed to get to the bottom of this. He didn’t want to have to witness you falling asleep feeling on edge. He wanted to comfort you and ease you the best way he knew he could.

He was gentle, making subtle movements and turning just enough to notice you starting to stir a bit. Bob could tell just how tense you were. You were practically balled up like a kitten and were moved towards the edge of your side of the bed. Your knees were scrunched up towards your chest and your shoulders were squeezed together. Bob was afraid that if you wound yourself up any tighter, then you would somehow end up stuck that way, in this very position.

Bob slowly moved an inch, not wanting to startle you. He oh so carefully reached out and placed a large palm onto your back and began to move his hand in soothing circles starting from the middle of your back and slowly traveling upwards towards your shoulder blades. he curled his fingers, which allowed for his nails to run along your clothed skin & he gently kneaded his thumb to soften up your tight muscles, which elicited a light purr from of you.

Bob’s movements didn’t let up, as he leaned down to press a light kiss onto your head. You were still tense and wound up, only letting out the littlest of sighs and hums from the soothing touches of your husband. Bob knew what could possibly fix this.

He began to lightly hum the sounds of a song, that he knew would pique your interest. You didn’t move initially, just soaking in the light grazes of Bob’s magical palm.

You suddenly perked up when you heard Bob reciting the words out loud, singing in his calm and quiet voice, as he began simultaneously running his fingers through your hair,

When you’re weary, feeling small. When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them off.

Oh this man, you thought to yourself. Bridge Over Troubled Water was the first song you both danced to at your wedding and it was just destined to make you crumble into a million and one pieces.

You reached back to gather your husband’s hand into your much smaller one and ran your fingers along the back of his palm, making sure to gently rub at the wedding band on his finger to further relax yourself. Bob continued to sooth you, his voice sounding like an angel’s sent from the Heaven’s above,

I’m on your side. Oh when times get rough, and friends just can’t be found.

You closed your eyes, soaking in the song that meant so much to you and your relationship. Flashes of your wedding day and marrying the love of your life were running through your mind. Bob had told you during your vows that the very first moment he saw you that day at the Hard Deck, he knew there was something so special about you. He knew you were going to be his person, til the end of your days. He made a promise very much like the lyrics of this song, that he would be by your side during all the ups and down. That he would dry your tears, ease your troubles and mind, and would most importantly be a friend to you if no one else could be found.

Bob persisted on. Singing out the words,

Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down. Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down…

And that was it. Those last lines of lyrics made all the stress and uneasiness that built up from the day be completely released from you. Tears fell from your tired eyes and rolled down your cheeks, as you let out a distinct sob into your pillow. It felt good to finally break away from anxiety’s clutches and allow yourself to feel freely.

Bob had paused for a moment, wanting to coax you to further let it all out and breathe for him. He knew how much you needed this and was glad he could be there beside you, to help you get past these intense built up feelings. Your husband continued to serenade you into the night, until your breathing finally settled and the only sounds heard were the bustling winds outside your window and the lightest of snores falling from your lips.

-

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x y/n #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x female reader #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd x you #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #tgm #tgm fic #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd fic #lewis pullman #floydsmuse

[senawashere]

Let me come home,cause home is wherever when i am with you..

A/n: i am soo in love with this one. It is inspired from the song "Home" by Edith Whiskers.

Bob floyd × fem!reader

Summary: Bringing the newest member of your family home.

Everything felt so unreal. Like a dream.

It was so quiet.

And it was so peaceful.

After everything that happened that morning.

Screamings,cryings,yellings,and tears of joy.

The room was as silent as the color white.

The soft beeping sounds of machines could be heard every few minutes, but other than that, it was a void.

Compared to a few hours ago, it was peaceful now. The sounds of a crying newborn and a suffering mother were gone. Both of them were in a deep sleep, immersed in the world of dreams.

The only things visible when tiredness took over was happiness

However, sleep would have to wait since someone gently started poking your shoulder. You could tell it was Bob from the softness of the hands. His hands felt bare, except for one, due to the rings, and it was a rare and strange sight. Normally, he would even sleep with his rings on, but covering them with placenta and blood was not exactly what he wanted so he took off it and put it on his wallet,right next to your wedding polaroid.

"Baby? Sweetheart? Wake up." There was no softness in his words; he didn't want to alarm you.

As you opened your eyes, you had to squint a few times to sharpen the image. The light was quite dazzling, but it was only because you had just woken up. As always, you first focused on Bob and couldn't help but smile at his sleepy face. You knew that the smile was filled with pride and love.

"Where is he?" Even though Bob was the first thing you saw, this was the first thing on your mind.

Newest member to your little family.

All you could think of was the little bundle of love. Your greatest achievement and your greatest love. Your little birdie - as Bob called him.

Harrison Grant Floyd was born at 2:07 in the morning, weighing 3.48 kilograms. Although the pain from severe blood loss was almost as excruciating as coming out of an armed conflict, if you had to hold Harrison in your arms, you would do it all over again.

Your little birdie was born prematurely,around 4 weeks earlier, so he was smaller than most babies. He was, as both you and Bob accepted, the most delicate and delightful creature you had ever laid eyes on.

He was your creation, the most perfect thing created by both of you.

The moment he was brought to your arms, he immediately calmed down as if by magic and softened his body in your embrace. Bob watched both of you in awe, shedding tears at how strong you both were.

He was in love with both of you.

He never thought he would fall in love with you again but at that moment,he did.

And he didn't thought he would fall in love with someone else rather than you but at that moment,he did.

He was indeed a father.

The little birdie was here, and he was completely in love with him.

He was made for him.

He would give him everything he wanted.

Whenever he needed him, he would be there.

For any broken heart he suffered, he would be there to fix it.

He would always be by his side.

He would always support him.

He was in love with him…

"Sleeping over there." Bob pointed to the warm and cozy incubator that kept the newborn birdie asleep.

"Are you okay?" Wondering why he woke you up, you took his hand in yours.

With a protective stance, he stood over you, and as his forehead began to stick to your forehead, he parted your hair. His other hand was in yours, and you had never felt so safe.

When you caught the tears streaming down your cheeks, you saw the bouquet of happiness fly away as soon as you saw him running away. But he couldn't run away.

He was bound to both of you forever, and it was more than gratitude.

He couldn't leave you and your birdie; he didn't have the strength to do that because he had fallen in love with both of you again.

"Yes, my love. The doctors said we could take him home after tomorrow if we want to, but they recommend keeping him here a little longer. It's up to us." Bob looked at you with love. You couldn't help but gaze into those blue eyes that melted your heart years ago.

"I don't want to risk anything. If it's okay for you, can we keep him here a little longer?" You asked gently.

"Of course, honey. No problem. I just want what's best for him and you, okay?" He bent down to kiss your forehead and answered with a soft murmur before returning to his seat besides your bed.

...

Your dad was a complete mess.

A few hours after you woke up, your parents and Bob's parents came to the hospital to see your newborn birdie, and your mother had taken you into a relentless frenzy—she managed to do so when Bob's mother came and succeeded in getting her away from you.

Your dad had gone straight to the sleeping Harrison and stood at the head of the incubator.

He would sacrifice his life for him.

Probably everyone would.

It didn't take long for him to realize that he had the world in his hands. Harrison cried so loudly that you could swear Bob’s heart split in two—he hated that. Still, Bob came to save him and picked him up from the crib, calming him down with his lullabies.

"That's enough, my birdie. I'm here." He whispered softly, feeling his fatherly instincts kick in.

Then, Harrison was in your dad's arms, gazing at him with innocent eyes, his cries turning into quiet whimpers.

And at that moment, your father was a goner.

"Hey,man. What do you think about being a grandfather?" Bob's father, Bill, patted your father's back, trying to bring him back to reality.

"Wow. We have a birdie in the family now." Your mother commented with tears in her eyes.

"I can't believe I'm a grandmother." Bill’s wife, Tamara, was smiling from ear to ear.

Bob’s mother, Tamara, approached you and Bob with a big happy smile.

"He's beautiful, isn't he?" Sarah said, looking at Harrison in Bob's arms.

"He's perfect, just like her mother." Bob replied, exchanging a loving glance with you.

"Don't flatter me Ms.Floyd" you laughed.

....

The next few days were like a dream.

You, Bob, and Harrison spent few days in the hospital room, surrounded by the love and joy of your families. The room was filled with laughter, stories, and the occasional baby talk.

Even the whole squad came for a visit.

Bob’s parents and your parents took turns visiting, bringing gifts and expressing their excitement about the new addition to the family. They all took turns holding Harrsion, marveling at his tiny features and cooing at his cuteness.

As the days passed, Harrison’s health improved, and the doctors were pleased with his progress. The time finally came when they said you could take him home.

Bob swore he couldn't be more happy. You and Harrison being by his side and being happy.

...

Four days later, you could swear that Harrison was almost the size of a watermelon.

Okay, maybe he wasn't that big, but he was growing faster than you'd ever want to admit. He wasn't a chubby baby like both you and Bob were. He was a bundle of sweet little joy.

Last night, you fully realized that your life was about to change indefinitely, and you couldn't be more excited to take your new family home.

Both your families and Bob's had returned to your home to take care of small things for you. For example, your mom had cooked enough lasagna, pies, and curry to last you two weeks, so you and Bob didn't have to worry about cooking dinner yet. His mom had baked plenty of cakes and cleaned the house. Your dad had watered the garden and planted new flowers in pots. They were the greatest support team you could ever ask for.

Bob was currently talking about the adventures he would have with Harrison while dressing him in a blue onesie. First, he would take him home and show him his beautiful blue room and then he was already planning to take him to the base.

He would teach him how to crawl, walk, talk, swim, and run. He even added, "And no breaking hearts" looking at him with a serious face, but Harrison seemed unfazed.

"Bob!" You raised your eyebrows, he was overly protective, but oh, you loved him.

"Don't say that," you laughed to yourself while putting on the hoodie he brought for you. Getting out of that ugly hospital gown and back into your own clothes felt good. Your pregnant leggings fit you perfectly and made you feel strong. Bob couldn't keep his hands off you, so you handed him the task of dressing your son to keep him out of trouble. You were busy preparing the baby travel bag to leave.

"Stop waving your arms like that, sweetheart! Your dad is doing his best, but you're not helping, my love." Bob chattered to your son, who was attempting to put his hands in his mouth. You could already tell he would be curious about everything and anything. Whether alone or as a family, he would love life - you were sure of it.

You smiled as you watched their interaction. The perfect family. Your perfect family.

Collecting the bags, you went over to Bob, who attacked you when he saw you.

"For God's sake, drop these damn bags on the floor right now! Oh, woman, stop doing something and just rest." Bob made you put the bags next to the door, and you chose to join him in his stress.

"First, shut up," you said sternly to him, not liking the idea of him thinking you were helpless just because you gave birth. "And second, would you calm down?" You finally chuckled as you finished dressing your son. How adorable they looked, indescribable. So cute and soft. Just too innocent.

You looked at him with so much love as he looked at your son. You hoped the universe could contain all the love for him,as it wasn't big enough, it was infinite.

"Okay, I'm sorry." Bob sighed, slumping his shoulders slightly.

"Hey, talk to me. What's up?" You asked him, going to him and leaning your head against his chest. Often, near his chest, buried in his neck, even within you, was where she found the most comfort, he would say.

"He's just perfect. I don't want to mess things up," he admitted, holding you closer.

"You can't ruin anything. There's no rule for parenting. As long as you love him, keep him safe, and let him be happy, he'll know you're the best dad. You were born for this. Still, I know you are," you reassured him. You told him that your birdie was watching him. You knew Bob was watching him - how could he not? He was everything to him.

"I'm so glad I found you," Bob thanked you by kissing the top of your head. Whatever the situation, he always knew how to handle it.

Muttering in response, you pulled him a little closer. Both of you, unexpectedly, witnessed your baby boy-wrapped sneeze the quietest sneeze.

The first time.

Many firsts.

Even if he had a wet nose and hands now, this sight made your eyes watery. Harrison looked at both of you, confused about what just happened.

"Bless you!" You laughed at him, wiping him nose and hands on your sweater sleeve.

"Did you just sneeze, sweetheart? Did you do that?" Bob asked rhetorically, with a tired expression on his face. You saw him wipe his arm on his face, clearly being as teary as you were. He saw you looking at him and blushed.

"Shut your mouth." He told you what he had said to himself.

Every moment was so beautiful...

Car ride to home was quite but peaceful.

Fresh flowers filled the air.

A few days ago, when you rushed to the hospital, the house didn't look the same as you left it. Now, it was covered in flowers, cards,ballons and gifts. Notes from everyone,your friends,whole squad,some relatives,bob's frienfs collegues and some other people.

Roses bloomed on the bushes in the garden. Tulips in various colors wrapped in brown paper adorned every inch of your kitchen counter. Lavish vases that looked extravagantly expensive stood in your living and dining rooms. Yet, the only flowers in your bedroom were the ones Bob brought for you. He had taken them this morning before you came home, claiming that he was proud of you and proud to call you his.

The whole house smelled like a botanical garden. This morning, in addition to that, there were the scents of freshly baked pastries your mom had made for you before you came home. Croissants and cakes waited proudly on the kitchen side.

Passing through the front door of your house, you hadn't felt this grateful for being home. Everyone had left; it was just you, Bob, and your baby boy heading home together.

Before leaving, they insisted on all of you spending a few days and nights together. It was crucial for all of you to bond comfortably in the comfort of your own home. The next few days would be tough, but you hoped that being together would help you get through it.

Getting out of the car with Bob carrying the bags, you went to the front door and opened it carefully. After entering, he turned to close the door tightly behind him, but before he could go too far down the hallway, you had to cough to get his attention.

"Did we forget something?" You looked at him as if he were a madman.

"What?" Ethan stared at you in confusion, furrowing his brows until lines appeared on his forehead.

"Maybe our 4-day-old son is behind our car?" You asked him rhetorically, wondering how he could forget so quickly - dad brain.

"Right. Yes. Our son." Bob muttered to himself as he turned to open the front door and went outside to fetch your precious birdie.

"My baby,my baby!" You burst into laughter at his shoutsas he went. He returned with a beaming smile, holding Harrison who was hiding in his car seat, sleeping as peacefully as a bug in a rug.

"Thanks, Mr. Floyd." You teased, thinking how if you had married Joe from high school instead of Bob, you would never have so many gifts and flowers. Or this much love.

Still, you wouldn't want anyone else but him. He was perfect. He was more than enough. In fact, he was more.

"Yeah, what can I say? I'm a damn good dad now!" He inflated his ego, but a swift hit to his upper arm quickly deflated it.

"I'll do more than hit your arm if you curse in front of our son again," you warned, not wanting your son's first word to be a bad one - even if it meant months of silence from him.

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded sternly, grinning at the turn of events, acknowledging your newfound authority. He left the room before getting into more trouble, announcing that he was heading to Harrison's crib in the living room.

You sighed as you looked around the room. Tonight, you didn't want to deal with it, so you turned around, left the room, and followed Bob's footsteps. He had already knelt beside the crib, tucking your precious little birdie under a blanket carefully knitted by Penny.

Bob's mom had knitted a hat and gloves for him to wear outside in the winter. For now, he would sleep safely under your roof until he was ready for the world to see him.

"I want him to be ours forever," you whispered to bob, kneeling beside him and leaning over, bending your knees towards the floor.

"Me too, love." He pulled you closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. The two of you watched him, as quiet as he slept.

He was an angel in its truest form.

He was your blessing.

"I love him so much." You told Bob and in return, you received a sigh of contentment.

He was trying so hard to hold back tears, but seeing your little boy sleeping so peacefully, he couldn't be strong enough to withhold the tears.

Then silence enveloped you again.

There was no need for words between you two; both of you knew what you were thinking:

How lucky you both were.

Having each other was a miracle, but having him was another thing entirely. He was everything. All soft and delicate, but even at a few days old, heartbreakingly beautiful. He was everything you and Bob had ever wanted. All the tears, morning sickness, and pains were worth it for this moment - and all the moments after.

"Do you still think he's breathing?" Bob broke the silence, and as you followed him, he did seem to be not breathing.

Though as still as a statue, you could see his tiny chest rising and falling, up and down. His little hands were by hishead, as if he were trying to cheer himself up, and his face was tilted to the side, looking at both of you. Even though he looked lifeless, you could see her efforts.

"Shut your mouth, you're scaring me!" You laughed at his ridiculous comment. Tears of happiness. Tears of relief and joy.

Family life had just begun, and you were so ready for it…

Thank you for reading💙💙

I'm tagging people who might be interested:@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @callsigns-haze @sailor-aviator @sorchathered @greenorangevioletgrass @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @floydsglasses @lyn-js @seresinsbrat @torchflies @its-dee-lovely @its-the-pilot @friedchips94 @bradshawsbaby @hardballoonlove @perfectprettypisces @topguncortez @hangmanapologist @bradshawsbaddie @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @themusingofagothicsoul @the-romanian-is-bae @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @iefitzgerald-blog @charcole-grey @waterriseslew @desert-fern

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #top gun fan fiction #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x female reader #dad!bob floyd #sena writes

[bippot]

Summary: Of course Bob has a family. It was obvious. Phoenix knew that that and did everything in her power to ensure he got back to them. So, she had to meet his wife and son.

A trip to the Hard Deck gives his son a new fascination and his wife a chance to reconnect with an old college...friend? Boyfriend? Whatever, it doesn't annoy Bob at all.

Tags: Family Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Parenthood, Established Relationship, Past Relationship(s), Hint of Jealousy, Spanking

Song Recommendation: Need You Here by I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Top Gun: Maverick, Robert "Bob" Floyd Masterlist - here

└─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────┘

Phoenix knew Bob had a family. He hadn't said anything but she knew. His lockscreen was of a pretty girl with a little blond boy who had to be around six months old in her arms, the pair smiling at the cameraman in the way her mother and her would look at her father.

And up in the sky, he kept two photos in his station. That same pretty girl in a white dress resting her head on the suited shoulder of a very dapper looking Bob. Next to that was a sonogram.

It was clear. Clear as day. He didn't need to say anything.

Part of Nat wanted to somehow convince her backseater to go home, to not put his life on the line and ensure that he lived to see his son grow up. Especially after the bird strike. She wanted to grab him by the shoulders and yell, "Go back to your wife, you fucking idiot."

But she couldn't do that. One, that's overstepping boundaries. And two, it was Bob's choice. He could've walked away when he heard how dangerous it was. He didn't. Bob knew the risks so this must've been his decision.

Therefore, Lieutenant Trace made it her personal mission to get Lieutenant Floyd back to his family. And she did. After Nat sets her mind to something, she uses all of her focus on getting it done.

Once all was said and done, Bob found himself alive and dancing stupidly as Maverick and Rooster landed safely. In all the cheering and revelry, Bob pulled his friend into a huge bear hug, which was something she never expected, and thanked her profusely for taking such good care of him. Then they both just stood there like fools and laughed like loons until everyone eventually calmed down.

"Nat, uh, are you going to the Hard Deck later?" Bob asked as they waited to dock, nudging his shoulder into hers.

"Probably. Are you?"

"No. The second we get to land, I'm running - and I mean running - to see my wife. And Finley, my son." He got his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her so she could have a proper look at his lockscreen. "I understand if you'd rather spend tonight with everyone else, but do you want to meet them?"

Weirdly, outright admitting that he family was like a weight being lifted off his chest. It's not as if it was a secret in any way. He didn't try to hide the fact. Honestly, he doubted that his colleagues would care one way or another.

But now? After everything they'd been through together, he knew Phoenix cared. She wouldn't show it on the surface, but he could read between the lines. They were more than coworkers. They were friends now, and friends that ensured the other's survival. And while it was unlikely either of them ever talked about their feelings, they understood. They were there for each other, no matter what.

"You know I'm going to hit on your wife, right? She's hot," Nat teased him, laughing when he pretended to punch her.

Her voice got softer as she focused on little Finley. "He looks like you. Has the same eyes, same hair..." she murmured.

She saw Bob watching her, too, with a softness in his eyes. A longing to be back with them. To be holding his family again.

A tiny pair of hard plastic specs were placed on the boy's nose in the photo, causing Nat to tease, "Same eyesight, clearly."

"Finn sure looks like me, but he's chatty like Y/N, not that he can speak yet. He tries, and he tries an awful lot."

A chuckle escaped Bob's lips as he thought about the happy sounds of his son's babbling.

"And be warned, he will attempt to bite your nose. We don't know why. Every new person he meets, one second he's sitting quietly, the next, he's up on his feet and trying to take a nibble at their snout."

"Weird," Nat hummed in amusement.

Just as Bob said, as soon as they docked and could see their families, he drove them to the apartment his family stayed in whilst he was in Fightertown. The second the front door was open, a very distinct batch of high pitched giggles and the clumsy pitter patter of two tiny feet coming towards the aviators could be heard.

Finley, armed with a tiny fistful of 'Welcome Home' balloons, bounced towards his father and launched himself at Bob's legs. Bob dropped his backpack and scooped the baby up and gave a big squeeze.

"Hey, big guy!" he greeted cheerfully, kissing the top of Finley's head. The small boy looked up at him through his glasses and bumped his nose against his father's. "These balloons for me? Or are they for Phoenix?"

"So this is Phoenix?" Y/N chirped as she leant against the kitchen doorframe, looking down into the foyer with a huge smile. She pushed off to join them and immediately offered Phoenix a hug, which was accepted without hesitation. "Lovely to meet you. I've heard so much about everything you do, he tells me over dinner how you keep him in check."

Sincerely, as sincerely as she could make it, Y/N took Nat's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Thank you for taking care of my Bo."

Natasha smiled fondly before nudging Bob and jeering, "Bo, huh?"

"Shut it."

"You wouldn't believe my surprise when I found out that this dork has a supermodel for a wife," Nat flirted with a knowing smirk. Bob chuckled and shook his head in disbelief as Y/N waved off the compliment with a loud snort, but there was no denying how her cheeks grew a little pinker.

"Do you two want me to give you some space? I'll just step into the other room so I don't have to get cucked right in front of my and my son's eyes," Bob joked as he looked between the pair, swaying his son in his arms in long soothing motions. He beamed at his wife and asked, "Am I going to get some lovin' or what?"

Dropping Nat's hand after a quick pat on her knuckle, Y/N stood on her tiptoes to give Bob a chaste kiss on his lips. "You're gonna get plenty of lovin'," she promised, grinning cheekily and mimicking his accent.

Every time his parents kissed, Finley felt the need to get in there and surged his head forward. And, like usual, he fully headbutted the pair. It had happened so many times, yet the couple were never ready for it and both let out groans of pain and annoyance as he made contact, only to laugh afterwards.

"Oh, I missed ya too, munchkin," Bob cooed before gently putting Finley back on the floor. The tyke quickly ran into the living room, his father's balloons still in his hand, and began climbing onto the couch where his toys were eagerly waiting for him.

"That happens way too often," Y/N told Nat, smiling as she placed a kiss on the point of injury on Bob's nose. "How do you take your coffee, Phoenix?"

There was an ease of domesticity to their interactions which Phoenix found utterly captivating and adorable. She wasn't used to it. She wasn't used to casual affection, intimacy, even. Not from anyone, really. Her upbringing had been rather strict with its rigid social expectations as a lot of military families happen to be. Her parents never did anything casually and it felt odd to feel so relaxed in a home she'd never stepped foot in before.

"Black. One sugar."

As Y/N disappeared into the kitchen, Natasha looked around the apartment, her gaze stopping on one of the many frames lining the walls. A prom picture of very young and nervous looking Bob had his cheeks being teasingly pinched by Y/N, his face scrunched up as she laughed at him, was the first she really noticed.

Next to that an image of the pair when they were even younger, six, maybe seven. A wide grin stretched across tiny Bob's face as he posed in a fighting stance, clad in his Halloween costume, which was the blue power ranger - next to an equally fierce Y/N as she posed as the pink ranger next to him.

"Childhood sweethearts, huh?"

Bob nodded as he watched his son playing with his toys in the corner of his eye. "Yeah, I've been in love with Y/N since I knew what love was, probably even before that," he confessed with a chuckle. His smile grew even softer as he added, "Took a while for me to tell her, and I mean a while. Two and a half decades, actually."

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him. "Two whole decades?!" she repeated in disbelief.

"I'm a nervous guy, okay?"

The aviators had a laugh at his expense, but had to cut it short as Bob quickly had to walk over to Finley to get him to stop trying to eat the corner of the coffee table. "What are you doing, you little freak?" Bob jeered at his boy, swooping him up in his arm and tickling him in retaliation until he let out a squeal of laughter. "Ahh, you're lucky I love you, little freak."

Finley reached his little hands out for his dad, trying to grab the fabric of his shirt as he wriggled desperately against Bob's grasp to escape the tickle attack. He was completely oblivious to Nat's amused expression as she observed the scene unfolding before her.

"I think he was born to be a dad," Y/N said as she appeared beside Nat with two cups of Joe in hand. She handed one to Natasha with a fond smile on her face, beaming as Bob began blowing raspberries on Finn's stomach. The little boy was practically hysterical as he kicked his legs frantically.

Y/N couldn't help but giggle as she watched Bob, and then turned to look at Nat, who was shaking her head in silent laughter at the scene. "Yeah, he seems to be pretty good at the whole thing," Nat agreed softly. She held the hot mug between her hands and brought the rim to her mouth to take a sip, sighing appreciatively as she felt warmth spread through her body.

After the day both Nat and Bob had, they needed any sort of comfort.

"Go, sit, sit," Y/N encouraged with a gesture of her hand and moved to place her coffee down on the coffee table. Then, almost like magic, she reached into her back pockets to retrieve two juice boxes, cooing as she held them both out to Bob, "One for Finley. And the other for dada."

Father and son looked identical as they slurped on their juice, side by side, and Phoenix almost thought Bob had been dolly the sheeped. It was spooky how similar the two looked, but it was definitely more on the cute side of things.

It was like Y/N knew that talking about the mission and everything it entailed would be distressing. The aviators needed some time to cool off before they had to deal with the fact that, yes, they could've died today. Watching a cute little baby was the best way to do that, it seemed.

Once he was finished with his juice, Finley finally noticed that Nat was there. He dramatically showed that he'd finished his drink to his mother and, in the process of looking at the other sofa, saw that there was another person there. A new person. A person he'd never seen before. A stranger.

Someone who was watching them with a warm smile. A friend, obviously. A gasp escaped Finley's lips as he put down his empty juice box on Bob's lap and scrambled down to the carpet so he could run at Phoenix, his excited squeals filling the room as he threw himself at her knees.

"You're definitely not as shy as your papa," she joked, lifting the boy so he could sit on the sofa next to her. He didn't stay seated for long and jumped up to stand on her thighs and rest his chin on her shoulders, gazing at the new girl with big curious eyes.

"Nose bite in 3...2...1," Y/N counted, and as both parents expected, Nat was promptly nipped on the tip of her nose by an eager child, giggling happily. Nat laughed as she rubbed the area.

"You little menace!" she whined playfully, giving Finn a playful tickle behind his neck and earning a delighted shriek, making him roll on the cushions as he laughed loudly.

Watching his new best friend interact with his son, Bob let out a happy sigh and placed his head against Y/N's shoulder. She gave him a loving peck on the temple and let her cheek fall to his hair. They sat quietly for a moment or two, enjoying the quiet atmosphere, each lost in their own thoughts.

Then, Natasha's phone made a noise. A ringtone that made it very clear who was calling her. The distinct sound of cockerel blared from her cell.

"Rooster?" Bob asked, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

"Yeah, mind if I take this?"

"Go for it."

Getting up and away from the boy seemed to be a task, but when Y/N cooed, "Finn...Finn, baby, what's mama got here? Is it chocolate?" Nat was free since, all of the sudden, the boy shot out of his seat and immediately rushed towards her. She lifted him onto her lap and reached for the mostly eaten packet of chocolate buttons they kept on the coffee table for moments like this, moments they needed something to bribe with.

"Does daddy get any?" Bob pouted in a fake pout, leaning forward slightly and resting his elbows on his thighs as he looked between his wife and son. Finn just grinned at him as he stuck his hand into the packet, offering one button to his father and intending to eat the rest for himself.

Bob took the treat and popped it into his mouth without hesitation as Y/N shook her head with a light blush. Finley looked up at her curiously, as if he was asking if she wanted a button too.

"Can mommy have a button?"

A chocolate button was soon being squished at her mouth, much to Finn's delight, as Y/N chuckled softly and accepted the offer. "Good boy, you're so good at sharing," she praised before she pressed a quick kiss to Finn's forehead and passed the packet back over to Finley who immediately started stuffing his face with the remaining sweets.

All too soon, the chocolate had run out and Finley was not happy about that at all. Y/N could tell just by his face that he was seconds away from crying, so she gently lifted him so he was resting his head against her shoulder and swayed them slowly together in a soothing rhythm.

Nothing in the world beat the sight of his family to Bob.

Before the baby came along, the couple would usually be already in bed and up to less innocent things. It always went that way. Bob would get home and immediately throw Y/N over his shoulder and carry her upstairs. Now that would have to wait until their son was firmly asleep.

Yet, Bob was completely fine with that. He'd hold out for a few hours if that ensured he got to see Finley's happy little smile.

"Rooster heard the words 'baby Bob' and demanded that I try to convince you guys to come with me to the Hard Deck," Phoenix explained as she returned, slipping her phone into her back pocket as she moved to sit back down.

Y/N glanced over at her husband as if to say 'up to you' and Bob nodded with a hearty, "Why not? Rooster gets whiny when he doesn't get his way."

"You should've seen him the other day when Maverick beat him at darts again," Natasha told him as she sipped from her coffee cup and glanced around. "He played a Wham! medley on the piano because he knows Pete is not their biggest fan."

And that was one of Brad's tamer days.

"Wanna go see Rooster, bud?"

Even though he had no idea what the hell a Rooster was, Finn nodded at his father.

After gathering a quick necessities bag and Bob ensuring that the car seat was in fact placed properly - which was something he did every car ride and found the same result every time - the squad was making their way to the bar. Nat had to be relegated to the backseats, a rare thing when it came to her and Bob, and she couldn't help but feel awkward when the child locks ensured that Y/N had to open her door for her.

Bradley was eagerly waiting for their arrival. He was good with children and he knew it. So was it any surprise that the moment Finley saw the Hawaiian shirt clad pilot, he was thoroughly starstruck? No, it wasn't.

"Who is this little dude?" Rooster chirped from his seat at the piano bench, waving his hand towards Finley as the kid approached him with his arms opened wide to give a tight hug. Once Rooster received him, he swooped Finn up into his arms. "Hi baby Bob."

Finley smiled brightly, babbling away with a smile as he clung onto Rooster's shirt, his small fists holding onto it tightly. The three other adults were waiting for the inevitable nose bite, but it never came. No, the young blond just stared up at Rooster with sparkling blue eyes, staring at him like he was a superhero.

"Finn, this is Rooster, you know like the -" Bob was interrupted.

"Wroo."

Honestly if it hadn't been so cute, Bob and Y/N would've been jealous. There had been no Mama. No Dada. But there had been a Roo. Finley's first word honour had been given to Bradley, a man he'd just met over his parents. Children are so ungrateful sometimes.

Rooster cheered and playfully waved Finn's arms about in celebration, while Finley giggled excitedly. "That's it kid, I'm Roo. Can you say it again?"

"Wroo!" the little boy cheered, causing a laugh to escape from the others.

"Well, he's clearly found his favourite person," Y/N joked, teasingly elbowing Bob in the ribs. He pretended to be hurt at first, but he couldn't stop smiling and brought his wife into his arms, giving her a kiss on the temple as they observed as Bradley placed the boy on his lap and his hands over Finn's so he could guide him to play the piano.

Just like that, every woman in the surrounding area let out a collective "Aw" as the pair started playing a soft tune.

"Bradley is definitely getting laid tonight," Nat teased as her eyes drifted from woman to woman, all of whom were drooling over the pilot who was clearly a big fan of kids.

And to rile her husband up, Y/N whispered in Bob's ear, "Robert is definitely getting laid tonight too," and felt as a sly hand made its way down to rest on her ass, giving her a small slap as he tried to keep his face as neutral as he possibly could.

One song turned into two, three. Finn just kept wanting more and more, so Y/N offered, "Want a beer, I'll drive home?" as she knew they could be there for a while.

"You sure, darlin?"

"Have fun, baby. You deserve it." Bob kissed her on the lips tenderly. "What does Phoenix and Rooster drink?"

With everyone's orders, she made her way to the bar and ordered, but she never would've guessed to see someone she recognised there. Y/N happened to glance over her shoulder as she waited for the drinks and saw one of her college buddies.

Buddies? Were they buddies? Is that what they were? Y/N honestly had no idea what they were. Fuck buddies who hung out a lot and did more than sex but refused to say that they were anything more than that.

"Hey Seresin!"

Jake had to do a double take. One second he was about to pocket a ball and the next he was being called at by Y/N L/N, someone he hadn't seen in years. "Well, well, well, Y/N, how are you still so fine after all these years?" he greeted with his signature grin, placing the bottle of been nursing down on the bar so he could give her a hug.

"Ah, still a charmer I see."

"No amount of time can stop me from being me, and you! And you, you're lucky to be the object of my affection. Come on, it will be old times!"

Clearly, he was still the same Jake. Y/N brushed him off with a laugh and changed the subject, "I'm guessing you're a pilot now. How was the big, very secret mission?"

Penny arrived with Y/N's drinks and was thanked before Y/N gestured to what Jake was drinking, "Want another?" and placed another bottle in front of him. As Y/N went to pay, Jake caught a glimpse at her left hand. Shit. She was married? Oh well, his celebration plans went out the window.

"How'd you know about the mission?" He glanced at her curiously, bringing his bottle to his lip and took a swig.

"My husband."

"What?"

"Yeah, my husband flew. Actually, he didn't do the flying bit. Phoenix did."

Weird. Cause Phoenix flew with Bob. And... and... and that would make Bob... the penny dropped for Hangman and he had a million questions.

"Baby on board? Baby on board is married to you? That's - that's so fucking weird. I've fucked someone Bob has?!? And he married you? And you married him?"

Snorting, Y/N added, "And we have a kid."

"And you have a KID?"

"Uh huh."

"When did that happen?"

"Finn will be a year old in a month."

Like he'd been summoned, Bob came to see what the commotion was all about. He'd seen Hangman come up to his wife and expected her to send him packing within two seconds, but they seemed to know each other.

"Everything alright?" Bob asked, glancing between his wife and Hangman, who was looking absolutely flabbergasted.

"You didn't tell me you knew Jake Seresin, Bo," Y/N replied as she gave Bob a light slap on the arm.

"Bo? Bo! He's Bo? Robert Floyd is Bo your best friend from back home? Wait! This is your husband?" Pieces of information that she told him so long ago clicked into place. This was Bo, the boy who had her heart.

"Yeah," Y/N grinned.

The look on Hangman's face was pure disbelief. "What is going on? You and him?!?"

Bob glanced over at Y/N in confusion, not understanding what was happening here. "Bagman, the fact you can't believe Y/N would ever go for me is kinda insulting, really."

Jake scoffed as he shook his head in amusement, leaning against the counter to prop himself up. "It's a small world, Bobby." A mischievous grin appeared as he inquired, "How's it feel knowing we have dated the same girl? You should feel honoured."

Horror flashed across Bob's face. He shifted his gaze to his wife, who just shrugged. "College," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

"College," Jake confirmed.

Now it was Bob's turn to ask, "You and him?!? Baby, I thought your standards were higher than that." He waved his hands in the general direction of Jake.

Y/N had to hold her laugh back. It was rare that Bob ever got jealous, but the fact that he was annoyed because he didn't think Jake was good enough for her was amusing.

"What? He was an older and more experienced handsome guy that, for some reason, took an interest in me, is that a crime?" she retorted, the humour evident in her voice.

"Yes!" he exclaimed.

"Now I'm feeling insulted," Jake added, pouting slightly as he rested his chin on top of his hands.

Chuckling, Y/N handed Bob some bottles from the counter and encouraged, "Come on, Phoenix is probably waiting on her drink," pushing him in the direction of the piano, only to look over her shoulder and offer, "Hey, wanna meet our son, Seresin?"

Hangman happily agreed, an attempt at being nonchalant attempting to pass his lips only to be replaced by an enthusiastic "Hell yeah."

Though it was tough to get Finley to notice anyone but Rooster, he did eventually meet Jake and was promptly lifted onto his shoulders to show off. "There we go, give me a lay of the land. See any babes that your uncle Jakey would be into?" Hangman cooed as he gently pushed Finley's chubby fingers away from his face and took them into his hands so he could hold onto them to move them rhythmically.

Wrapping her arms around Bob's neck, Y/N laughed at how he still had a slight pout, teasing, "Bo, my love, you're so cute when you're grumpy," and kissed his cheek, which prompted her husband to wrap his arm around her waist and hold her closer to him.

"Baby, I'm still caught up about the fact that you didn't tell me about you and Hangman," he whined.

"I did."

"No, you didn't. I think I would've remembered that, darlin'."

Smiling, she looked at the man she loved so much and rolled her eyes. "I've told you about Jake from college so many times," she explained and let her fingers tenderly brush through the hair at the nape of his neck.

She had. But hadn't put together that Jake from college was fucking Jake Seresin until that very moment.

"Hangman was the one who walked you to class every day?"

"Yeah, until he dropped out halfway through his last year because his mother was sick and he needed to take care of her." Y/N chuckled softly. "I don't know what he's done to make you think otherwise, but the Jake I knew, he was sweet and kind underneath all that frat boy shit."

Bob observed Jake and how he interacted with Finn. The little boy was tugging on Hangman's hair like Remmy with Linguini, each time he pulled the left strand, Jake would veer to the left and vice versa. It was rather cute to watch, and it made Bob realise that, as much as he hated to admit it, maybe Hangman wasn't so bad.

"Why'd you always have to be right?" Bob sighed, but let a small smile take over his face as he peppered her cheek with kisses, each longer than the last, until he finally pulled back and said, "Don't use that against me next time I'm all pouty."

Y/N hummed as she leant in close to him and gave him a soft peck on the lips. "Oh yeah? But I am always right," she murmured playfully, pulling back slowly until he was met with her stare.

"Course you are, honey," he whispered, running his finger along her chin and making sure their faces weren't too far apart, before leaning forward and capturing her lips once again in a kiss that was a little too passionate to happen in public.

They both pulled away when they heard Finn start babbling for attention. "What'd he say?" Hangman grinned.

"Wroo!" Finney shrieked excitedly, pointing at Rooster, who was in the process of talking to a beautiful lady but turned as soon as he was called and politely excused himself to take the boy from Jake's arms.

"That's going to become a problem," Bob joked, but there was truth to his words.

Just like his pa, Finley had a habit of fixating on things. Lego. Paw Patrol. Chocolate buttons. And now, Bradley Bradshaw.

Eventually, it became clear that his evening of meeting so many people began to tire Finley out as his eyes started to droop and his head dropped to rest against Rooster's chest. "I think you better get my BFF to bed," Brad whispered to Bob, earning a nod of agreement from him.

"Okay, bud, you tired?" Bob asked as he hoisted Finley up onto his hip. Finley nodded sleepily, holding onto Brad's shirt tightly. "Roo is going to stay here. Gonna have to say bye bye now. Say bye bye."

Sleepy babbles came out of his mouth with another muttered "Roo" as he very quickly fell asleep against his father's chest, snoring softly, and his tiny fists letting go of Rooster.

Then, after saying goodbye to everyone, the Floyd's were on their way home. The entire drive home, Bob found himself sliding his hand up and down Y/N's thigh as she drove. "Watch how high that hand is travelling, Bo. Our kid doesn't want to wake up to any funny business," she jeered, giving his hand a little squeeze and smiling when she saw his expression change to mock offence.

"I wouldn't dream of doing anything that wasn't PG, Y/N. I'm a sweet, innocent boy who's never done nothing wrong in my entire life. Besides," he leaned in close and whispered suggestively, "I want you all to myself, babe. No interruptions. I want all of your attention," before pulling back and flashing her a flirtatious smile as he sat back in his seat.

And Y/N couldn't help it, she burst into bashful laughter. It bubbled forth and flowed from her throat. There was no point trying to keep it hidden; she simply couldn't resist the urge to give into anything he wanted. After all, what was the harm in giving into the desire to be held and cherished by him?

They'd spent so long pretending they were purely platonic, and that was out of the window now. Being married really put all those feelings out there.

As soon as they got home, Bob carried Finley inside to tuck him into bed. "Night bud," he smiled fondly, kissing the boy on the forehead and turning to leave before announcing, "Love you, baby Bob."

With their child dealt with, Bob found his wife in their bedroom. When he entered, he stopped dead in his tracks and simply stared at her. She was sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but her lacy lingerie, a smile playing across her pretty red lips as she teased, "You gonna stand there gawking at me all night?"

He shook his head to bring himself back to reality. "No...no. Just...wow..."

"You like? I bought it for tonight."

"Like? Darlin, I love it! God, you're gorgeous," he breathed out and moved towards her, kneeling between her legs so he could kiss at her thighs and then work his way upwards.

She reached to touch his hair, stroking it gently before caressing his cheek as she replied, "I thought you might. That's why I did it," and giggled when Bob groaned against her skin, unable to stop himself from sucking a mark on her inner thigh.

Pushing the leg that he wasn't paying attention to further into the mattress, Bob's lips trailed closer and closer to where she desperately wanted them to go. "Fuck," Y/N breathed as she felt his tongue lick her through the thin material of her underwear, just enough pressure to elicit a moan from deep within her chest.

The sound alone made him stop and pull back, beaming brightly at her as he admired her features. "What do you want me to do? Ask and I'll do it," his hands trailed to her hips and he leant upwards to whisper, "But only if you ask nicely."

Y/N nudged her nose against his and murmured, "You can do whatever you want to me tonight, baby. Whatever," and kissed his lips deeply. His hands travelled to undo her bra, allowing him to cup her bare breasts whilst his tongue worked its way into her mouth, stroking the soft sensitive flesh gently before biting her bottom lip, and causing her to whimper into the kiss.

Her arms wrapped themselves around his neck as he pulled herself upwards so that their bodies were flush against each other's, the feeling of his warm skin brushing her own sending shivers racing down her spine. She ran her nails across his back, feeling the muscles underneath his shirt relax under her touch and he groaned lowly in response.

Rather abruptly, he sat up, yanked his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor where it landed on the heap of her discarded clothes, and patted his lap. "You're in that kind of mood, huh?" she commented, giving him a sweet kiss as she bent over knees and prepared herself for the spank she knew was coming her way.

Obviously, they couldn't make that much noise but the smack to her ass wasn't exactly quiet. Bob gently caressed her reddening skin directly after it happened, smirking as he noticed the way her breathing grew shallower, the way her eyes fluttered closed and the way she bit her lip so she wasn't too loud.

"You ever let Jake bend you over his knee and spank you?" he asked, more jealousy than he would've liked in his tone, and she merely chuckled lightly before rolling her eyes.

"...Robert."

"Sorry, sorry. I just can't wrap my head around it, that's all."

He rubbed gentle circles on her lower back as he waited for her to respond and soon, she craned her head back to look at him. Her lips curved into a smirk as she watched him, amused by how serious he looked. To apologise, he leant down and softly kissed her shoulder.

Yet, it didn't take long before his hand was drifting back down her butt. His fingers hooked around her panties and pulled them off to the side so he could run along her folds teasingly and slowly dip his middle finger inside her entrance. He pumped it in and out slowly, enjoying the way that she squirmed and writhed beneath him.

Bob took his time to tease her and watch her face closely. As her lips parted and eyes widened, he curled his finger in deeper and faster and cooed, "That good, hmm?" She moaned and nodded, gripping onto the covers beside her as his name rolled past her lips. "Oh yeah, baby? You like that, darlin'? Does it feel good?"

His voice sounded thick with lust and need as his other hand brushed some hair that had fallen across her face, pushing it back behind her ear before it was trailing down to grasp her breast. She gasped sharply when he dipped another finger inside her, the sensation so intense, she could feel sparks running up and down the length of her body.

"Don't you dare come till I tell you to, babe," he commanded in an authoritative tone that he only tended to use when he was in the sky. And she couldn't deny how that voice would send her further towards the edge every time he used it.

At the exact moment her legs began to shake, he withdrew his fingers and rested them against her ass cheek. "You're so mean, Bo," she whined playfully, pouting as her eyelids fluttered shut and her head dropped down to the duvet

Then he edged her again and again and again. Tears collected in the corner of her eyes as she gripped the sheets tightly, feeling so incredibly sensitive and needy. "Stand for me," he instructed, and she obliged without hesitation although she was a little wobbly because of the pleasure he caused her. "Good girl."

Before he got up to manoeuvre her into position, he tugged her hips towards him to kiss her across stomach and all over her pregnancy stretch marks. Nowhere in Bob's brain did he understand why she was a bit self conscious of them. Not only did they look like little lighting bolts, but it was a reminder of their son and how he'd been that bun in her oven.

"Beautiful," he said, pressing light kisses over one stretch mark and grinning proudly when her cheeks flushed pink before moving to cover another one. "God, I hope Finley has your looks when he grows up."

Y/N snorted. It was already very clear who he'd grow up to look like. "I doubt that. Maybe we'll have to make another one for that hope to come true," she beamed, tracing her forefinger down his cheek and gazing lovingly at his handsome face that seemed to get brighter with every word she spoke. "Maybe we should try for a girl."

Another kid? Bob felt like it was Christmas again. "Yeah?" he grinned at her and got even more excited when she nodded. "Well, what are you waiting for? Bend over the side of the bed."

So, Y/N did as she was told and was rewarded with another spank as Bob stood behind her, his palm trailing up her thighs to rest on her waist as he removed the remainder of his clothes in a hurry, lined himself up with her entrance and gave himself a stroke before pushing inside of her.

"Ah, fuck," he groaned as Y/N's walls clenched around him, holding fast even though they'd barely started. "You can come as many times as you want to," he whispered breathlessly as he tried to calm himself down. "Let me just find my rhythm."

With how hard he'd riled her up, it didn't take long before she was gushing, her whole body writhing beneath him. Her cries rang out into the plush duvet as her legs trembled violently and she arched her back, but Bob didn't stop. He kept driving in and out of her, loving the muffled sounds she was making with each thrust.

"Good girl, you made such a big mess. Can you feel yourself dripping down your thighs?" Bob purred, leaning over to kiss the back of her shoulder as he continued to drive in and out of her while she shook beneath him.

Honestly, nobody had ever satisfied her like Bob had. He knew her and her body so deeply that it was easy for him to bring her complete bliss.

"It's a blessing really, all that slick on my cock makes it so easy - so, so easy - to fuck you right," he mumbled, nuzzling the side of her face and inhaling deeply, relishing in the feeling of having her wrapped around him completely. Y/N cried out in surprise as he pushed into her even deeper than he already had, the pressure overwhelming and making her lose all the brain cells she had once had.

And Bob knew that as soon as he asked, "Feel good, baby? Huh?" She answered with a whine that told him everything he needed. "Oh darlin, I've fucked you stupid already? That's got to be a record."

A low groan slipped past her lips as he stopped for a moment to shift her further onto the bed so that plant his knees on the duvet and pound into her with his front flush to her back. Every possible bit of his skin was touching hers as his body possessively held her down; his hands finding hers, holding them securely against the mattress as he continued to thrust into her.

"Sorry babe, I'll pay for some more," Bob grunted as he pulled back to rip her lace panties as they had begun to move around and it was annoying him to no end. Once they were gone and promptly thrown over his shoulder, Bob got back at it and teased, "Felt you clench, did that turn you on? It did, didn't it?"

She hummed in agreement, biting down on her lip so she wouldn't cry. The sound sent a spark through his veins, igniting the fire burning through his gut, causing him to become wild and impatient as he began to thrust hard, slamming into her harder and faster, losing control of his own body in pure primal hunger.

"Look at you," he cooed, smiling devilishly as he brought his hand to her neck and gently tilted her head to face him. She looked dazed and dumb, tears streaking down her face, her lips swollen and red from all the biting she'd done to them. Her hair was sticking to her sweaty forehead and he loved watching her in such a state.

He wanted nothing else in the world than seeing her look exactly how she did right then; beautiful, vulnerable and desperate for him to continue making her feel this wonderful. "You're so beautiful," he uttered between quick panting breaths, stroking her jaw with his fingertips. "All mine. All for me."

The words sent her into a frenzy, her breathing becoming short and fast and frantic. Her body tightened around him as waves of ecstasy washed over her. His movements quickened and soon, he found himself coming undone within her body. Panting loudly as he let out a moan of satisfaction, he buried his face into the crook of her neck and slumped on top of her.

His chest heaved and sweat coated his toned body as he held onto her tight, kissing his way along her collarbone and neck as he jolted along with the beat of his heart until his breathing calmed.

"Holy fuck... Oh fuck…" Y/N whimpered softly, still shuddering slightly under him and he chuckled to himself at how utterly adorable she looked as she tried to get her brain back online and regain some semblance of sanity. "I wasn't too loud, was I?"

"There were no knocks on the door, so I assume not," he answered, kissing down her neck and taking delight in the small gasp she let slip when he nibbled lightly on her skin. Her eyes were glazing over and her cheeks were flushed but there was a hint of a smile playing on her lips which pleased him greatly. "Wanna go again?"

"Give me a minute."

But when Bob rolled his hips once more, she was, once again, like putty in his hand, her mouth opening as she gasped for air.

"What if I can't wait that long?" He laughed as her legs twitched involuntarily underneath him and he got right up to her ear to whisper, "I'm not going to stop until this perfect pussy is filled to the brim with my cum."

It was going to be a long and draining night, that was sure.

In the morning, Y/N stretched to find that Bob was already out of bed. She threw on some clothes and, on achy legs, went in search of her husband. It didn't take long to find him and when she rounded the corner into the kitchen, she found him cooking breakfast in his underwear while Finley sat on the counter, talking to a very sleepy looking Rooster on facetime.

"Hey Rooster," she called out, making her presence known by all three boys.

"Roo!" Finn pointed to the phone and squealed happily when she picked him up off the counter and gave him a hug.

"You do realise he's going to do this every morning?"

From the other line, Brad chuckled. "Yeah, we might have to schedule a time that's a little later if I'm going to be honest." Then he caught a glimpse at a purple bruise on the side of Y/N's neck. "Jesus Bob, you really went for it, huh?"

Bob craned his head around to see what the hell Bradley was talking about, and immediately turned pink at the sight. "Sorry babe," he apologised, although he didn't really feel all that sorry, and gave her a quick kiss before moving back to the sausages he was frying.

"It looks as if you got in a fight with an octopus, Y/N."

"Maybe I did."

Sure, Bob didn't mind sharing information about his family with his coworkers, his sex life on the other hand, that was certainly off-limits. He reached out and happily squidged Y/N's hip as if he was mentally saying "Don't tell him any more or there will be consequences."

Who knows, maybe she'd like those consequences.

#bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bob fucks #bob floyd #top gun maverick #Youtube

[waklman]

Pool Rules

summary: you get yourself into trouble trying to surprise your boyfriend during swim practice.

pairing: bob floyd x female reader.

warnings: no use of y/n. fluff, like one suggestive joke. 18+ blog in general.

olympic swimmer au

the last lap masterlist.

“Floyd, security detained your girl again,” Jake flatly announces, stalking into the locker-room with his very own girlfriend in tow, leading her inside with their hands entwined.

“Again?” Bob pivots on his damp feet, zipping up his arena jacket back up out of courtesy. 

Really, it should alarm him more that you’ve been snagged by pool staff, but this was the third time it’s happened, this week.

“It was so mean!” Jake’s girlfriend chimes in, microfiber towel thrown over her head. Not bothered enough to ask if Bob’s decent, she rips the cotton draped over her eyes and Jake grits, wrestling to get it back on. “They just—they grabbed her thinking she’s some random fan that snuck in! Isn’t that horrible?”

“Would you just—get out of here Floyd.” Jake redirects the scolding to his teammate, still fighting against his girlfriend as she erupts into a bout of giggles at Jake’s struggle to keep the towel in place. 

Understanding that Jake’s frustration isn’t fully targeted towards him, Bob nods and steers his body towards the exit, leaving his pile of dry clothes behind on the bench.

Assuming you’ve been stuck into that detainment room, Bob makes his way up there, swim tights still dripping wet.

Nearing you in his climb up the stairs, he sighs remorsefully, turning the corner. They probably stuck you in the grubby plastic chair that you swore flattened out your butt. And despite his tireless efforts to convince you otherwise, you were fully set on the fact that your rear quite literally sunk.

With a gentle knock to the door, the athlete cuts through his own stream of thoughts. And in getting no answer to the polite gesture, Bob pauses, waiting out a few more seconds before cautiously letting himself inside.

He’s not the least bit surprised to find you sitting in that very chair you hated so much, pouty face painted in streaky lines of red white and blue. As usual, you look like you’re ready to cheer on the U.S team at any given moment. 

Wordlessly coming to a stop in front of you, Bob lets you stain his white nylon jacket with your patriotic face paint as you slump forward, landing flat on his stomach. In all fairness, his bare legs do wet the front of your shirt in return, but it doesn’t seem like you care all that much when you whine and curl your hands behind his thighs to pull him closer.

“Hi there, pretty girl,” he looks down at you, his shriveled hand petting the back of your head. All it takes is the feeling of you leaning into his palm, for the tight wounds of Bob’s muscles to finally loosen, despite his wearied efforts to alleviate the strain post-practice. 

“They still didn’t recognize me from last time,” you dejectedly share, ignoring his greeting. “The guys that put me in here didn’t even believe Seresin when he tried telling them I was your girlfriend.”

Doing a quick scan of the dusty room, Bob notices that they’ve left you unsupervised this time. From a technical standpoint, the athlete can’t exactly blame them for not realizing who you actually were. Because everytime you did pay Bob a visit, you wore bizarre USA themed outfits to cheer him on—that altered your appearance each time. 

He hated to admit it but, Bob was impressed that Jake could even manage to tell you apart from one of the crazed fans camping outside the training center.

But, even if you were one of them, Bob knows there’s a partially pathetic side of him that would still forget how to expel a breath if he saw a girl as cute as you choosing to root for him, instead of one of his teammates. 

“You know why? It’s ‘cause you get prettier each time you show up looking for me. They can't believe how I got so lucky with you," he finally suggests with a small smile, coaxing you to stand up.

“Let me see what you got on today, Champ,” he reaches for your limp hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before lifting it above your head, to twirl you around.

A shy giggle bubbles out your chest when your boyfriend spins you, whispering about how pretty you looked as he runs his eyes over you. 

Not wanting to make you dizzy, Bob slows down the movement, his hands moving to your hips to steady your balance. “Where’d you get this from? It’s cute,” he leans back slightly, chuckling when you proudly puff your chest at him. 

Pulled up on each of your legs are knee high socks, one blue and one red with white stripes lined at the hem. And stretched across your t-shirt is a saturated Getty image of your boyfriend, gold medal between his teeth.

Lifting yourself on your tippy toes, you glide your fingers through his damp strands, pushing it out of his face. “Would you believe me if I said I had it made? I think it’s my favorite picture of you,” you confess.

A surge of butterflies suddenly flutters in your stomach, when your eyes slowly drift down to his flushed chest, that just barely peeks through the small gap of his unzipped jacket. You swallow, spotting a droplet of water still clung to his skin that runs down the line of his torso.

“Oh yeah?” He teases, pulling your attention back to his face. Though Bob’s trying to act coy, a rare side of him that had his coach choking on his sandwich the first time he witnessed it—there’s a matching tint of pink on his cheeks that gives him away. 

Lightly tugging on the roots of his hair, a mischievous look washes over your features. 

“Mhm, I just love having you on me honey,” you playfully bite back. And there goes the controlled breathing practice Bob spent half his life perfecting.

“Okay, that was—that really wasn’t fair,” he falters, feeling another wave of heat settling into his already flushed skin.

"Oh I'm sorry, didn't know we were playing fair now," you egg on, watching your giant boyfriend grow shy.

Bob only pokes his cheek with his tongue, until he takes in the fact that you’re wearing a shirt with his face on it. And he couldn’t see it any earlier because you’ve been trapped up here the whole time.

“I don’t know why they keep doing this to you, I’m sorry Champ,” he feels the need to apologize, drawing you in for a hug.

Bob considered himself a fairly polite guy, but when his girlfriend’s been given a hard time repeatedly—he feels less inclined to be so nice in his next run-in with security. 

But instead of showing his sudden wear in patience, he relaxes completely—finding it nearly impossible to retain any tension in his body when you gently scratch at his scalp.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, twirling a piece of hair around your finger. “You found me anyway.”

“They made you sit in that chair though.” 

“My butt is probably so flat,” you let out groan at the reminder, pressing your feet to the ground. 

Not a second later, Bob goes to squeeze your butt. “Not, really,” he decides, seriously. "Even if it was, I don't think I'd care."

“Don’t you lie to me,” you scold, brows pinched together.

“M’ not. Did you want me to check again?”

Before you can anything, a uniformed man stands under the door frame, lifting his eyes off his clipboard. Almost in sync with eachother, you both stiffen hearing the noise.

“Alright young lady, I cleared things up with—Oh..”

note: swimmer bob swimmer bob swimmer bob!! as always thank you for reading, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

join the taglist for this series here or follow me on @waklman-library and turn on notifs to be notified when i post!

tags: @Genius2050 @eli2447 @s-u-t @averyhotchner @et-homephone @olymosity @wkndwlff @cruelmissdior @eternallyvenus @queerqueenlynn @sushiwriterhere @ravenhood2792 @Natdrunk @goosterroose

#robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd au #bob floyd fluff #robert bob floyd masterlist #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd masterlist #the last lap

[the-sun-and-the-sky]

The Dress

Summary: A shopping trip leaves Bob with a new obsession.

Pairing: Bob x gf!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI, making out in public places, and no beta reading so good luck

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Remind me again why I can’t just wear my uniform?” You ask, annoyance creeping into your voice. “It would make everything so much easier.” 

You gather a handful of fabric in your hand and twist back and forth in front of the mirrors. Try as you might, you still can’t properly see the back of the dress you’re currently trying on. The pale blue fabric scratches against your hand and you let it drop with a frustrated sigh. 

Behind you, your boyfriend chuckles lightly. Without having to turn, you glare at him in the mirror. Bob holds his hands up in surrender as he moves to stand next to you. 

“Because this technically isn’t a Navy function,” Bob reminds you gently. “So you’re not required to wear your uniform.” 

You sigh again. You hate shopping on a deadline. Especially when none of the options are grabbing your attention. 

“And,” your boyfriend’s voice lowers, the southern drawl becoming more pronounced. “I want to see you all dressed up. Want to show you off.” 

A shiver runs down your spine at his words. When you glance over at him, his eyes are dark behind his glasses watching you. 

You’d met Bob a few years ago when you’d both been assigned to the same squadron. There hadn’t been anything between you at first, just an appreciation for your skill as a pilot and his as a WSO. And while both of you flew with other WSOs and pilots respectively, you’d still found time to hang out and get to know each other. 

Aircraft carriers are lonely places and before long, the two of you struck up a friendship that quickly devolved into other things. And that was how, nearly two years later, you were spending your weekend in a dress shop with your boyfriend, trying on dresses for a mutual friend’s engagement party. 

“I’m just gonna…” you trail off, gesturing vaguely at the dressing room. 

Bob nods and steps back to give you your space as you gather the dress up and make your way across the large, empty room to the curtained-off section. You feel his eyes on you up until the curtain falls shut. 

Inside the dressing room, it looks like a bomb went off. Rejected dresses hang haphazardously on their hooks, a mess of colors and fabrics. The blue dress you’re wearing joins them. The airconditioned air hits your bare skin and you shiver as you consider the next option. 

Three more dresses hang on the “yet to be tried” hook. With resignation, you reach for the top one, a lovely peach dress with a long skirt and plunging neckline. But you have a hard time getting excited about it. 

The strap of the dress catches on another hook and you tug, trying to free it. A hint of red grabs your attention. You hang the peach dress back up, already forgotten, and reach to pull the red one out. Silk brushes against your fingers. You’d forgotten about this one. 

Normally, when you weren’t in uniform, you preferred to wear soft, pale colors and loose-fitting outfits. You liked how they fit and how they complimented your skin. That familiarity was reflected in the choice of dresses you’d picked out to try today. All of them, that is, save this one, which you’d impulsively grabbed and buried under the safer options. 

Quickly, and without second-guessing yourself, you slip into the red silk dress. The soft fabric falls around your thighs and the neckline gathers just above the swell of your breasts. You twist, watching the way the dress hugs your curves. The silk feels cool against your skin and you can just make out the crisscross of thin laces showing off your back. 

You take a breath, readying a quick joke, and push back the curtain. But anything you might have said dies on your tongue as Bob’s gaze falls on you. For a moment, neither of you moves as your boyfriend takes in the dress. You swear you can feel the heat from his gaze as his eyes drink in every bit of red silk and exposed skin. 

You finally break the silence. “So, thoughts?” 

You move to stand in front of one of the large mirrors spaced throughout the room. You pretend to fuss with the dress but you track Bob in the mirror as he comes to stand behind you. 

“Where were you hiding this?” He asks, his voice dangerously low. 

You shrug, feeling emboldened by the effect the dress is having on Bob. “Do you like it?” 

Bob doesn’t reply right away. Instead, his hands come to rest on your hips. You feel the heat of them through the thin fabric. The breath catches in your throat as an ache pools in your stomach and sinks lower. Bob presses his body against yours and you bite your lip, hard. 

His hands brush against your sides as they travel upwards. The silk drags with them. Your breath hitches and you lean back against Bob. He hums approvingly and you lightly shift your hips to relieve the ache building between your legs. 

Still quiet, Bob’s hands come to rest cupping your breasts. Your eyelids flutter and your head drops back to rest against his shoulder as he gently squeezes. A whimper escapes your throat. 

“Look at you,” he breathes, his breath tickling your ear. “Look at what you do to me.” 

You just manage to crack open your eyes to meet Bob’s gaze in the mirror. His eyes are dark with want. The same is reflected in yours. 

Through the haze, however, one thought is crystal clear. 

“Bobby.” He groans at your whispered use of the nickname. “We’re in public.” 

Technically, the shop attendant had left the two of you alone but there was the very real possibility that she would return any moment. And as adventurous as you were, you didn’t want to get caught going at it in a dress shop of all places. None of your friends would let you live it down. 

Bob considers this as he casts a hasty glance around the room. You watch his eyes land on the curtained-off dressing room. An idea blossoms on Bob’s face and before you know it, he’s pulling you into the small space and tugging the curtain shut. 

You giggle, watching him trip over the dresses you’d rejected. Bob shoots you a smirk before pining you against the wall, his lips finding yours. Tulle tickles your cheek but you ignore it. Instead, you throw your arms around Bob’s neck and deepen the kiss. 

Bob’s calloused hands run over your thighs, setting your skin on fire. Your breath quickens as he hitches one leg, then the other, up and around his waist. Without thinking, you tighten your legs, drawing him closer to you. He groans into your lips and you smile. 

You can feel him against your core, your clothes the only thing separating the two of you. You rock your hips just to feel something. Bob pushes his hands up under the dress to grab at your hips, making the fabric ride up and pool in your lap. His fingers dig into your skin and you’re sure there will be bruises tomorrow. You hum in pleasure at the thought. 

Bob pulls back from your lips and you’re about to complain when he dips his head and trails searing kisses down your neck and along your collarbone. Your head knocks painfully back against the wall, but you don’t feel it through the haze of your pleasure. Everywhere Bob’s lips press, your skin burns and you want more. You want it so badly, you’re beginning to rethink your stance on public indecency when a voice breaks through your spinning thoughts. 

“Are you doing alright in there miss?” 

Bob’s head jerks up, his expression of abject horror mirroring your own.

“Miss?” The shop attendant’s voice is closer now. 

Bob’s eyes widen, silently begging you to say something. You cough hastily, your thoughts tripping over one another. 

“Everything’s fine.” You manage to get out. 

Your voice is a little out of breath but you’re proud of how normal you sound overall. However, there are no footsteps that indicate the attendant leaving. 

“Actually,” you say, getting an idea. “I think I may need a larger size of the…” 

You trail off, fumbling with the tag of the nearest dress. 

“The Sky Lark dress, size four.” 

“I’ll be right back with that miss. Anything else?” 

“No,” you say, praying the shop attendant will leave. 

Only when you hear her receding footsteps do you dare disentangle yourself from Bob. He helps you stand on trembling legs and throws a nervous smile your way. You grin in return, relieved. 

“That was some quick thinking,” he says and you note the flush in his cheeks. 

You shrug, like making out in dressing rooms is a common thing for the two of you. “I guess it’s just my keen pilot instincts at work.” 

Bob laughs in relief as the two of you make yourselves look presentable again. After a moment of silence, he opens his mouth. 

“You’re getting the dress though.” There’s no room for argument. 

So that was how, when you finally left the dress shop hours later, it was with two drastically different dresses and a boyfriend detailing everything the two of you would be doing once you got home and back into that red dress. 

#tg #tgm #tgm fanfiction #tgm fic #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #robert floyd #bob x you #bob x y/n #bob x reader #bob top gun #bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fanfiction

[mothdruid]

Full

pairing. werewolf!Robert 'Bob' Floyd x afab!reader

word count. 2.3k

warnings. this is an 18+ piece of work, minors buzz off. 18+, mdni, smut, werewolf smut, penetrative sex (p in v), oral sex (fem receiving), breeding kink, pregnancy kink, knotting, cream pie, Bob is in human form but his dick has a knot (sorry, not sorry)

author's note. the second of the three. i'm super excited to share this one with you all, even though i know it won't be for everyone. jake is the only one left!

A smile tugged at Bob’s lips as he saw you casually walk into the kitchen. It was just a regular day, him in a pair of gray sweat pants and a white t-shirt, you in an old baggy t-shirt and a pair of joggers. Bob was sitting at the kitchen table working on a Lego set,and you were figuring out what to make for dinner. Bob completed one step in his manual then looked back up at you.

The sun was cascading through the window over the skin, making you look like an angel. Bob always thought you looked like an angel, but you looked so pure in the lighting. His heart lurched when he watched you rub over the mark on the joint of your neck and shoulder. Your mating mark.

The two of you had talked about it thoroughly before it happened. Even after talking about it, it took a few weeks for it to happen. Bob wanted to mate you so badly, but he was nervous about you potentially deciding he wasn’t for you. No matter how many times you assured him, he was still nervous about it. Once mated, you two would be bound together until death. Bob had been taught to be ready for this his whole life, but you hadn’t.

This whole life was new to you, but you didn’t stray from it. Werewolves weren’t something you were unfamiliar with. It came out that they were real when you were a kid, which was just exciting at the time. It was exciting when you found out Bob was a werewolf. Bob was so kind and formal, and the idea of him being able to be a ravenous beast made your insides clench. He had disclosed this information to you shortly after your third date.

It’d been four years since he had told you. Two months since he gave you the mark. Ever since he had given you the mark he has had this urge. He knew there was a chance of it happening, those wolf instincts wanting to take control. Having a family was something that he had always wanted, but these instincts were starting to become too much. He was cautious though, pulling out almost every time until you two had decided on the prospect of a family.

Bob groaned internally as he watched your fingers trace over the mark. It was as if he could feel it. The soft tips of your fingers brushing over a part of his soul. He let out a deep breath as a heat started to envelope him. His sweatpants were starting to tighten, cock hardening at the thought of him filling you.

Bob never realized he had a breeding kink until after he mated you. Until after his wolf instincts to mate kicked in. The idea of his knot locking him deep inside of you, filling you to the brim with his cum. Watching it pour out of you once his knot went down, only to fuck it back into you. Watching as your belly would grow with his child. It was intoxicating for him to think about. He let his head fall back slightly, closing his eyes while breathing deeply.

“You okay, sweetie?” You asked.

You walked over to the table, noticing that he had stopped half way through his Lego set. That was unusual for him, normally not stopping until he finished the set. But he had been acting a little unusual since he gave you the mating mark. The outline of his bite was lightly scared now, just enough for someone to tell exactly what it was. A part of you had started to wonder if he might have regretted it.

You reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, kneading gently. Bob opened his eyes and offered a warm smile to you. He leaned his head towards your hand, reveling in the skin to skin contact with you. If anyone were to see him they would think he was touch starved, which was far from the truth. He literally had you pinned to the bed earlier that morning. But this was different now.

“Yeah,” Bob pressed a kiss to your hand, “I’m okay.”

“You’ve been acting kind of weird lately, ya know,” you blatantly said.

“I have?” Bob asked.

He brought his hand up to yours, grabbing it and turning it over. He placed a kiss on the inside of your palm, looking up at you with that innocent look. The look that wasn’t as innocent as it appeared. It was the look he gave you when he was up to something, devious thoughts swirling around in his brain.

“Yeah,” you chuckled softly.

“How so?” Bob started pressing soft kisses up the inside of your wrist.

“Not finishing your Legos,” you smiled as his kisses continued, “spacing out after sex, and just being weird.”

Bob stood up as he trailed kisses up your arm, eventually making it to your neck. His kisses continued, scattered all over your skin. All you could do was giggle. Bob’s hands grabbed your hips, moving you back towards the counter while attacking your neck. Soft noises started to pass your lips, a smirk formed on Bob’s lips in response.

“You want to know what I’ve been thinking about?” Bob whispered in a low tone.

“Please enlighten me,” your hands wrapped around Bob’s shoulders.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Bob’s lips ghosted over your neck, “thinkin’ about how you look with that mating mark, so beautiful.” Bob nipped at the mark softly, earning a moan from you. “Thinkin’ about how you’d look so beautiful, full of me,” Bob kissed the spot below your ear, “belly full of my pup, swollen, showing everyone what you mean to me.”

“Bob,” you were fisting Bob’s t-shirt, “are you serious?”

Bob pulled back to look at you. He was expecting there to be a bit of shock on your face, but there wasn’t any. Love and adoration covered your face, eyes practically telling him it was all you wanted. Bob leaned towards you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I mean, I’d like to but if you’re not ready or anything we can keep waiting,” Bob’s words were soft and comforting.

“No,” the word came out quickly, “I want that too, I’m ready for that. Or at least to start trying.”

All you heard was a low growl mixed with a groan before he smashed his lips to yours. One of your hands moved into the hair on the nape of his neck, tugging lightly. The edge of the counter was digging into your lower back. Hands moved up your sides, finding their way under your shirt. His incredibly soft palms ghosted up your body. Warmth was starting to spread between the two of you, encapsulating the both of you.

Bob’s hands moved to your chest, groaning when he was reminded that you never put a bra on for the day. His lips started to move across your jaw and down your neck. They graced over the exposed part of your mating mark. Bob’s hands kneaded your chest as he licked and sucked at the mating mark. The beautiful imprint of his bite, forever connecting you to him. His hands left your momentarily, pulling your shirt up and off you.

Bob gripped your sides and helped you onto the counter. He took in your shirtless form, groaning when he thought about how your breasts would look while you were pregnant. Wetness enveloped one of your nipples, tongue swirling around your hardening bud. One of his hands settled on your waist while the other moved to the apex of your thighs. Another groan came from him when he felt wetness start to dampen your joggers.

“No panties? You must really want me to fill you up,” Bob kissed a wet trail up to your ear, “want me to breed you like a bitch in heat.”

“Please, Bobby,” you tugged on his hair, “fill me up.”

Bob attacked your mouth, filling it with his tongue and dominating every crevice. His hands snaked to your hips, grabbed you and pulled you off the counter. He guided you to the living room while maintaining the kiss, not wanting to break it. On the way to the couch Bob had managed to get your joggers off, leaving you completely bare and at his mercy.

You landed on the couch with a soft thump and gasp. Bob settled down in front of you, pushing your legs a part. He didn’t even give you a chance to breathe before his tongue was lapping at your clit. A continuous whining erupted from you, not stopping as Bob continued his assault on your cunt. Your hips started rolling against his face, something he was more than happy to welcome.

Bob groaned into your cunt, sending vibrations of pleasure to your nerve endings. Both of your hands were on his head, locks threaded through your fingers. Your nails were digging lightly into his scalp, pulling a few noises from him. On one especially hard tug you pulled him off you. Bob started to kiss up your body, his fingers replaced where his tongue was.

“Need me that bad, huh?” Bob whispered.

“Yeah,” you nodded feverishly, “need you in me.”

Bob groaned and pressed his face to one of your breasts. He took your nipple into his mouth while circling his fingers against your clit. You arched your back to push your tits further out for him. Bob couldn’t stop thinking about how full your tits would feel in his mouth if pregnant. Breathy moans were falling from you as you let your pleasure mount in your lower abdomen. Bob’s fingers were working diligently against your cunt, tongue swirling around your nipple.

Within seconds you were coming on his fingers. As you quivered underneath him, he gently nipped at your nipple, suckling at it soothingly after. His fingers eventually slowed, bringing the hand up to grab your other breast to roll your nipple between his cum covered fingers.

“Can’t wait to see you so full,” Bob licked at the valley between your breasts.

“Then why are you taking so long?” You quipped at his comment.

Bob lifted himself off your chest, a smirk on his lips. His eye raked over your body, taking in your disheveled form. Your sudden neediness was amusing to him. Where was this after he first mated you? If he would have known you were this needy for him to breed you, he would have knocked you up already. He would have had you knocked up within the first week after you two were mated.

“God, you’re goin’ to look so pretty baby,” Bob started to rearrange the two of you. He laid you down on the couch then pushed his sweats down to his mid thigh. “Look even better than you do with my cock in you,” Bob jerked himself a little as he moved between your legs, “better than when my cum is dripping all over your cunt.”

Bob locked his eyes with yours as he lined himself up with your entrance. You let out a shaky breath as he started to push in. It was a feeling you would never fully get used to, the stretch and full feeling he gave you. A thrill ran down your spine when you thought about finally taking his knot this time.

When he bottomed out he attacked your mouth. Your lips parted quickly to let his tongue into your mouth. His thrusts were deep and heavy, making your abdomen ache in all the best ways. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, one threading into his hair. Bob’s hands ghosted down your sides, grabbing your ass and pulling you impossibly close. His body was blanketing yours, skin sticking to skin.

“Fuck,” Bob groaned while his thrusts started to turn more into a rut.

All you could do was moan in response. Bob’s weight and thrusts were the only things you could focus on. Each thrust hit that perfect spot that had you clenching your whole body. Crescent moons were starting to appear under Bob’s grip on your ass, nails digging so deep. Bob nuzzled into your neck, lapping at your mating mark. The both of you were starting to teeter on the edge of your climaxes.

“Please Bobby, don’t stop,” you whined right next to his ear.

Bob pulled up from you a tiny amount, just enough to look in your eyes. His lips were slightly parted, hot breath passing by and hitting your skin. The feeling of his knot starting to swell had become more noticeable. It had started catching on your entrance, stimulating your cunt in a completely new way.

“Want me to fill you up?” Bob asked in a whimpering tone.

“Yes,” you pleaded.

“Put a little pup in you?”

“Please, Bob,” you whined, scratching his back in frustration.

With that Bob was coming, knot popping out and locking the two of you together. The feeling of his knot stretching you out and his cum filling you became too much. Your climax hit you hard. Feeling yourself clench around his knot sends your mind reeling. The both of you were panting for a little bit, trying to catch your breath. You started to softly rub Bob’s back, smiling when he relaxed into you fully.

“I love you,” Bob pressed a kiss to your collarbone.

“I love you too,” you pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

You felt Bob’s hand move up your side, settling on your stomach. You didn’t think anything of it until he spoke.

“And I love you too, pup.”

You let out a soft chuckle, pulling his attention away from your full abdomen.

“What?” He looked up at you.

“I don’t think the bun is cooking yet,” you said.

Bob’s gaze changed from questioning to playful. His smile turned into a sinful smirk.

“Well, I’ll just have to keep you full all day then. Make sure you get thoroughly bred,” he rasped seductively.

And that’s exactly what he did. Once his first knot had subsided, he fucked you again. Popping a second knot and filling you with a second load of his cum. He repeated it one more time before the two of you finally went to bed. As the two of you fell asleep that night, his hand was settled on your stomach.

#robert floyd #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd smut #werewolf!bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd x you

[withahappyrefrain]

Full of Surprises

Summary: You learn some surprising things about Bob at the end of a date.

Warnings: oral (f receiving), subtle Dom/sub tones, Bob being pussy drunk, language, takes place before TGM

Robert Floyd was, without a doubt, the sweetest man you had ever met.

He refused to let you open the door, whether it be to restaurants or the car. He insisted on walking on the outer section of the sidewalk, closest to the streets. He came into your classroom after school to help you with laminating and cutting out math games for your students.

When he gently kissed you goodnight, his hands would softly cup your neck, his thumbs absentmindedly stroking your jawline, nose brushing against yours.

It was a gentleness that you didn’t think still existed. You certainly didn't expect to find it in Lemoore of all places.

But sometimes your Robby was considerate almost to a fault.

At the end of the first date, you invited him in for coffee. Your hope was that he would feel more comfortable kissing you if you were inside and not out in the hallway of your apartment.

But Bob just gave you that endearing, slightly crooked smile as he shook his head. "If I drink coffee now, I'll be up all night," he told you.

You couldn't even be mad because you knew he was being genuine. It also helped that he asked when he could see you next immediately after.

On the second date, you stood on the tips of your toes so you could kiss his cheek. The sight of his glasses fogging up, combined with his face turning bright red melted your heart. You had hoped the action would be enough for him to realize you wanted him.

Instead, he kissed your cheek while he stammered out his question of when he would get to see you again. It was such a sweet sight that you couldn't be mad, though disappointment still ran through your body when you walked into your apartment by yourself.

By the fourth date, you had enough of quick pecks on the cheeks, and opted to grab Bob by the collar, pulling his lips onto yours. He was a great kisser, once he got over the initial shock of your action and his brain fully processed what was happening.

Kissing you back made things simultaneously better and worse. The way he would cup your face, gently tilting your head up to deepen the kiss still made your head dizzy. Goosebumps flared your skin when you thought about how it felt when one of his large hands was firmly planted on your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You wanted him to take you against that door right then and there.

But Robby was a gentleman so all he did was kiss you. Which left you no choice but to shove a hand in between your legs later on that night as you imagined how his hands would feel on other parts of your body.

You wouldn’t call yourself a horndog, but the WSO made it really difficult to think straight when he would casually put his hand on your knee, his fingers caressing the soft skin of your thigh.

So here you were, towards the end of your seventh date with Bob, who was walking you back to your apartment.

You had been trying to send him less subtle messages this time. You wore a sundress, hoping the exposed skin might provoke him to be more daring.

He definitely tried to get glimpses of your chest. But every time you looked at him, he'd just blush and stammer how pretty you looked tonight. Which while sweet, did nothing to soothe the ache between your legs.

Bob's breath would hitch everytime you pressed your body against his. A faint scarlet flush had crept up his neck to his face as soon as he saw you in that dress and it had stayed there for the whole date.

"I had fun tonight," you told him as your fingers grazed over the collar of his shirt. Briefly, your fingers brushed against the skin underneath.

"I did too. Always do when I'm with ya," He said, the drawl you adored coming out. Bob could read the phone book to you and you swear you'd be enthralled.

Your touch was electric. Bob tried to focus on those bright beautiful eyes of yours, but he couldn't help but wander to your full lips. He tried looking away in an attempt to be respectful, but his eyes instead turned to the straps of your dress, tied together by a soft, velvet fabric. If he undid those knots, the dress would fall down, revealing your-

He had to get out of here.

Bob was crazy about you -in fact- he was ninety-five percent sure he wanted to marry you. Therefore, the last thing he wanted to do was come off too strong and scare you away, or worse, disrespect you.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw him beginning to take a step back.

No. Not tonight.

You stepped forward, your eyes straight on him. You made your way towards Bob with such focus and precision, it caught him off guard (a huge feat considering his job). It was how you were able to press your lips against his.

His kisses were sweet yet intoxicating, like honeyed wine on a summer afternoon. Normally you weren't one to overindulge, but tonight, you wanted all of him.

Your hands tangled themselves into his hair, gripping onto his dark blonde locks in a desperate attempt to keep his lips pressed to yours. The action caused you to lightly tug onto his hair. What could best be described as a soft moan fell from Bob's lips.

Your eyes opened, shocked that such an erotic noise came from the man you were kissing.

It also sent heat straight to your core.

Bob's bright blue eyes flew open, realizing that the noise he had prayed was just in his head, actually came out of his mouth.

He broke away, his neck and face bright red. You were positive if you undid the first three buttons of his shirt, his chest would be red too.

"I-I should go-"

"Don't you fucking dare." You grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him back in. With great care, you took several steps backwards, pulling him in so you were both inside your apartment.

It was your display of how desperate you were for him that made Bob realize that perhaps he didn't have to go home and get himself off tonight with his hand.

That was what gave him the confidence to keep his lips pressed to yours. You closed the door (locking it without looking was much harder than you originally thought), your hands returning to his soft hair.

You pushed him towards the couch. Bob, finally getting the message, sat down, spreading his long legs.

His lips were gone from yours for only a minute, as you quickly straddled his waist, your thighs on the outer side of his.

Everything about him was addicting. The scent of sage flooded your nostrils. His jeans felt rough on your bare thighs, creating fiction when you shifted forwards.

Bob used his hands to tilt your head back, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth. Your hands were everywhere now- his hair, his shoulders, his chest.

It felt like you couldn't get close to him, despite being literally on top of the WSO. His hands found themselves on your hips, gripping the fabric of your dress, causing the hem to rise further up your thighs.

You leaned your whole body forward, your hips grinding downward. The movement, combined with the friction your clothed core received from his jeans was absolute heaven. Before you could even think, a desperate mo an fell from your lips as your hips repeated the action again.

Bob snaked a hand up your neck, grabbing onto the ponytail your hair was done up in. A sharp tug pulled you back, forcing you to face him.

His normally well-kept hair was ruffled, a loose curl falling over his forehead. A prominent red flush had overtaken his face, his lips glistening from the sloppy kisses you were just exchanging. Glasses askew, those deep blue eyes were so overblown, they looked near black.

It was the hottest sight you had ever seen.

"What do you want? Tell me." His voice was deep, gruff. You were surprised with how commanding he was as he demanded an answer from you.

Bob tightened the grip he had in your hair, pulling you out of your thoughts, "C'mon darlin', tell me what ya need."

"You, Robby. I want you."

Sweet Jesus, you were going to be the death of him.

The next thing you knew, Bob's arms were wrapped around your waist and you were no longer on the couch. You were no longer on the ground, the bespectacled lieutenant holding you.

"Where's your bedroom? I'm doing this properly, not on a couch."

Despite your head spinning and your whole body flushed with heat, you managed to explain that your bedroom was down the hall and to the left.

He followed your directions with precision, or at least he tried to. Your lips had found their way to his neck, peppering the skin with kisses.

It was when your teeth sank into that sweet spot, right underneath his jawline, that he stopped in the hallway, a guttural groan falling from his lips as it took everything in Bob to not come in his pants right then and there.

Your back was now pressed against the cool wall. As his lips attached themselves to your neck, you couldn't help but throw your head back, gasps falling from your lips as his teeth grazed your hot, sensitive skin.

His mouth moved down to your collarbone and the tops of your breasts. His teeth were sinking into your flesh now, sure to leave marks that would be visible by tomorrow morning.

"Tryin' to be a gentleman and you make it so fuckin' hard with that mouth of yours. Can't even get ya to a bed so I can take ya properly." You moaned at his words, it being the first time you had heard Bob curse. His accent was thicker, his words sending heat all over your body, but particularly the spot in between your legs.

"Fuck, you sound so pretty when you do that," he said before his tongue lapped over a bite mark he had left on your neck.

"R-Robby, b-bed," you whimpered, your hips frantically bucking up in a desperate attempt to feel some friction.

Somehow, someway, the two of you made it into your bedroom. The back of your head softly touched your pillow, your body now splayed on your bed. You looked up, your eyes meeting those sapphire blues of Bob's as he hovered over you.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" He chuckled.

The neat ponytail you had out your hair in at the beginning of the night was barely holding things together, fallen pieces framing your sweet face. Your lip gloss was now smeared, thanks to him. He could see the bite marks he had left along your neck and collarbone.

You looked good, marked up as his.

One of the ribbons tied as a strap of your dress had loosen, causing the fabric to fall a bit from your chest, exposing your breasts even more. The hem of your dress had bunched up towards your hips, exposing the lacey soft blue panties that Bob definitely saw earlier in the evening when you bent over to pick something up and he hadn't been able to get the sight out of his head until now.

Now he had the whole view.

Your head was spinning. You hadn't expected this side from Bob. Quite honestly, you had prepared yourself that if things ever got physical between you two, you would be taking the reins.

You were wrong. Oh so very wrong. You had never been happier to be more wrong in your life.

"C-can I taste you?" His voice was soft, despite his hands gripping your thighs. He looked unsure, almost worried that somehow, he would go too far if he didn't ask.

It made your heart melt. It also made you want to give this man as many children as he wanted.

You nodded your head, "P-please Robby. Want your mouth on me."

Bob groaned, "You're gonna be the fucking death of me, I swear."

A giggle escaped your lips, though it was short lived as Bob's fingers quickly found the waistline of your panties, tugging them down and off your legs.

"Y-you're really pretty," He stammered upon seeing the sight of you laid out for him.

You smiled, a hand reaching up to stroke his cheek. Bob gave you that sweet, soft smile that made you melt, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

Because even though he had been dying to get his hands on you since your third date, he was never going to pass up an opportunity to kiss you.

The moment was sweet. You didn't realize how much you needed it until you felt the tension leave your body as his lips brushed against yours.

Bob broke away, giving you that sweet, slightly crooked smile before situating himself between your legs.

You opened your mouth, ready to give more words of encouragement to make him feel comfortable.

That wasn't necessary, as Bob planted his face in between your thighs with zero hesitation.

A curse fell from your lips, not that you could help it. That was impossible with how his tongue felt, licking stripes from your entrance to your clit.

Bob's mouth continued to surprise you tonight. First by showing he actually knew how to curse. Second (and more importantly), his mouth was very talented.

Upon his tongue lapping at your entrance, the tip of his nose brushing up against your clit, your hands latched onto his sun kissed hair.

You tasted fucking divine and somewhere, in the back of Bob's brain, he was wondering if you'd prefer an engagement ring with a gold band or silver band.

But then you tugged on his hair as you continued to let out another pretty moan. Thoughts of ring bands left his head as his lips attached themselves to your clit, alternating between sucking and kitten kicks.

You gasped upon feeling a thick finger enter you. You looked down, your eyes meeting Bob's.

What a sight that was. His lips still latched onto your clit, but stilled. Those beautiful blue eyes on you, watching, waiting for your next movement to help him decide what to do next.

"Please don't stop Robby."

"You know what that does, callin' me that. Don't ya?" The smirk forming on his face was new to you. It reeked of confidence, something you loved to see.

Your grin said it all.

Which is why Bob didn't feel bad when he added a second finger to you. In fact, that's why he smirked upon seeing your back arch as you fell apart on his fingers and tongue.

It was ridiculous, truly ridiculous, how fast he was able to find that sweet spot that had you falling apart. His fingers felt so good you couldn't stop the moans coming out of your mouth.

Not that Bob minded. In fact, with the pretty sounds you were making, combined with your addicting taste, he couldn't help but grind his hips into the mattress, looking for some type of relief.

You saw the action (he wasn't trying to hide it) and it caused your hips to buck up towards his face because holy shit, how was this man real?

"You taste so good," He groaned into you, sending vibrations all the way up your spine.

"A-and you say m-my mouth is killer," you managed to grit out.

Bob chuckled, sending more vibrations throughout your body.

You felt a third finger thrust against your walls. The grip you had on his hair was so tight, you were surprised he hadn't complained about it (maybe he liked it, anything was fair game at this point).

His name fell from your lips over and over again, like a prayer. Not that there was anything holy about what his mouth and fingers were doing. As if he could sense the coil in your lower stomach tightening, he placed his other hand on your abdomen, applying pressure.

You lunged forward, as much as you could with your thighs wrapped around his head as the coil snapped. It hit you like a strong wave, causing you to come up and crash down over and over again.

His fingers and tongue kept working through your orgasm, prolonging your high. The lewd sounds of your wetness against his fingers filled your bedroom.

"Fuck you taste amazing," you heard him say, his hips frantically rutting into your mattress.

"C-can I keep going?" He asked, his fingers still curling up against that sweet spot.

You groaned at the sight of his chin and lips covered in your slit, hoping he could see you nodding enthusiastically despite his glasses having fallen further down the bridge of his nose.

Bob's mouth went right back to your soaked core, lapping up your slick. Every time his nose bumped against your sensitive clit, a jolt of pleasure courses through your body.

His fingers were meticulous, curling against that spot over and over again with precision. You didn't expect his skills as a WSO to transfer into the bedroom, but it made sense. He had to be focused, whether it was on other jets or (in this case) making you come again.

What didn't make sense was how the guy who was so quiet and shy that his glasses fogged up when you kissed him on the cheek was now making you see stars.

All it took was for you to look down, your half-closed eyes meeting those deep blue, for you to come undone again. This one felt more intense, most likely due to the groans Bob was pressing against your slicked core.

You threw your head back, eyes closing your eyes as you rode through your current orgasm. When was the last time someone had made you come twice by eating you out? Has that ever happened?

You attempted to catch your breath as your brain processed what just happened.

Robert Floyd may be shy, but not in the bedroom. A pretty important lesson.

You were also pretty sure it would be the biggest mistake to not marry this guy, but you could think about that later.

Upon feeling long fingers gently stroked your cheek, you opened your eyes to find Bob's face now inches away from yours.

"D-did…..did you enjoy that?" Bob asked, a faint red flush creeping from his neck to his face.

Nodding your head, you smiled, "I think it's time I return the favor."

"Oh you don't, I mean not that I don't want you to, it's just, I uh, I-I-" as Bob rambled you looked down, noticing the dark, wet-looking spot that had formed at the crotch of his jeans. Realization hit you, causing you to clench your thighs.

He came from eating you out.

Yup, you were marrying this man. You'd be the biggest idiot not to.

"S-sorry," Bob stammered, his eyes looking everywhere but you.

Using your elbows, you propped yourself up, "Hey. It's fine. It's actually more than fine, it's really fucking hot."

His eyes widened, his demeanor resembling more of the shy, nervous man you first met in the library on that fateful day.

A hand flew to the back of his neck, "I just, I meant it, you sound really pretty when you make those noises. Not that you don't sound pretty when you don't make them. You're always pretty and you do taste amazing, whatever diet you're on-not that you should change for me- what I meant-"

You giggled as your hands cupped Bob's face, pulling him in for a kiss. Partly to throw him a rope, but mostly because you couldn't believe this sweet man was all yours.

He shifted his weight, his chest now directly on yours, deepening the kiss. As his hands found themselves on your waist, a familiar ache began between your thighs.

"It's just a shame," you broke away from his lips, "I like to think I have a pretty talented mouth too and was hoping to show you."

Bob's eyes darkened, his breathing now heavy.

"Give me fifteen minutes and I'll be ready. Plus that's enough time to get you out of this dress," He said, his tone serious.

Robert Floyd was full of surprises. But was that so bad?

#robert floyd x reader #robert floyd #bob floyd #robert bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x you #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd smut #robert floyd fanfiction #bob top gun #top gun bob #top gun fanfiction #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fanfiction #bob x reader #bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd fic #lewis pullman #my writing #No one asked for 3K words of Bob being pussy drunk but here ya go

[roosterforme]

Stiff Competition | Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: After visiting your bakery one time, Bob has a crush on you. The only problem is, so do all of the other guys.

Warnings: Fluff and some swears

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female Reader

Check my profile for my masterlist

Bob quietly followed his friends inside the trendy, new bakery that opened near base. He had become so accustomed to the bickering between Hangman and Rooster, he found it almost soothing, even early on a Monday morning.

"No way," Bradley said, shaking his head at Jake. "You're wrong, and now you're just being stubborn."

Jake sighed calmly. "I'm just saying, there's no way anyone, Fred included, would pick Velma over Daphne. It's unrealistic."

Bradley grunted in response. "Whatever. Smart girls are always hot."

Bob just cradled his forehead in his hand and let the rich smell of fresh coffee and baked goods wash over his senses. All three men in their khaki uniforms shuffled forward as the line moved.

"Holy shit," Bradley and Jake muttered softly and in perfect unison. 

"Do you see what I see?" Bradley asked, staring entranced at the sight before him.

"Oh hell yes, I do," Jake confirmed with a nod. 

Bob immediately looked in the direction they were staring, and his breath caught in his throat. All three of them were now eyeing you up where you stood behind the counter. You were smiling at one of the patrons and filling a pastry box with donuts. 

"She's kinda hot," Bradley whispered.

"Better than that. She's fucking gorgeous," Jake replied.

Bob silently agreed with them, noting the adorable smudge of flour on your cheek. He had always been a little shy, a little timid around women. And he was not about to get into a dick measuring contest with Bradley and Jake. He would just let the two of them fight it out, because Bob was never the one to get the stunning girl.

When it was their turn to order, Bob watched the other two men trip over each other to get to the counter first. You smiled at each of them in turn, your gaze lingering on Bob and making him blush. 

"Hi! What can I get for you fellas?" you asked the three of them, and Bob completely forgot what he was going to order. 

"Hey, gorgeous. What would you recommend?" Bradley asked in a deep and raspy voice as he leaned against the counter and peered at you over his aviators. 

You chuckled and shook your head. "I would recommend the citrus muffin with orange zest."

"Perfect, I'll get six of those," he said, his smile twitching below his mustache. "I'm Bradley, by the way."

"And I'm Jake! And I'll get a dozen muffins." Bob watched Jake flash you a megawatt smile, and he wished he could be half as charming. 

"A dozen muffins?" you asked Jake. Your eyes skimmed back over Bob's face with an amused glint in your eye. 

"Actually, I'll take two dozen," Bradley said, changing his order and glaring at Jake. 

"So you want a total of three dozen muffins?" you asked before turning toward the bakery case. "Okay.... seems excessive," you muttered. 

Bob watched you intently as you packed up bakery boxes of muffins and entered them into the register. You must have known what was going on here, but you just smiled at the three of them as you worked. 

"Anything for you?" you asked, flashing Bob a smile that made him feel a little nervous. "You're awfully quiet back there."

"Uh, just a small coffee, please," he muttered, getting out his wallet and trying to stay cool.

"One hundred and twenty eight dollars is your total," you announced, and Jake and Bradley both tried to get you to take their credit cards at the same time. 

"I've got it, I insist," Bradley said.

"Use my platinum card," Jake announced loudly.

"Use mine. His will definitely be declined," Bradley replied, trying to nudge Jake out of the way.

You carefully took one in each hand and said, "Um... I'm just going to split it between both cards. How does that sound?"

When the enormous quantity of muffins had been collected, and you handed Bob his coffee, he forced himself to meet your eyes. "Thank you, miss," he said softly, as your fingers grazed against his. "You have a lovely day."

Bob watched you bite your lip as he tucked five dollars into the tip jar and nodded his head at you.

"Thanks. See you soon, I hope," you called as he turned to leave. Bob glanced back one last time as he exited the bakery, and you were still looking at him.

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

On Tuesday at lunchtime, Bob was about to eat the sandwich he had packed, but Jake suggested going back to the bakery. 

"I hope she's working again today," Bradley said, grabbing his car keys. 

Jake nodded enthusiastically. "Hot little piece like that, she's gotta have a boyfriend."

Bradley snorted. "Wouldn't be the first time I've stolen a girl from another guy."

"What makes you think she'd pick you when I'm available?" Jake asked.

Bob just tuned them out until they all arrived at the bakery. He was hoping to see you again too, but he just wanted to listen to your voice and watch you smile. He'd let the other two do most of the talking. They were good at that sort of thing.

"Gorgeous," Bradley called you. "How've you been?"

"Fine," you replied, once again smiling at the three of them. "What can I get for you today? Another coffee for you?" you asked Bob, and he just nodded in reply. He didn't need more caffeine today, but he wanted you to hand him the cup again. He'd just give it to Phoenix when he got back on base. 

Bob listened to the other two men once again order more pastries than anyone could ever need, and this time Jake pulled a massive wad of cash out of his wallet and insisted on paying for everything. Bradley had a sour look on his face that he tried to hide when you smiled at him and handed him two bags of food. 

Then he stood to his full height, chest puffed out. "Thanks, gorgeous," Bradley said, sliding his aviators back into place. Bob watched Jake try to stand as tall as Bradley, failing and looking ridiculous in the process. Bob just closed in on himself a little more, trying to blend his tall frame into the background. 

"And your coffee," you said, handing the disposable cup to Bob with another beautiful smile. His hand shook when he accepted the cup, and a little bit of the beverage sloshed down the sleeve of his flight suit and splashed onto the counter.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Bob muttered, setting down the cup and reaching for the napkins. 

"No, it was my fault," you assured him. "I'll clean it up, you don't have to."

"Bob!" Jake called from the doorway. "What's the holdup, man? You coming?"

"Uh, I'll meet you at the car," he replied, mopping up the drink and drying his sleeve.

"Your name's Bob?" you asked him softly. 

He glanced up to meet your warm gaze and nodded once. "Yes. I'm Lieutenant Robert Floyd, but everyone calls me Bob," he said quietly. 

You smiled and told him your name. "Here you go, Bob. These are on the house. Sorry I spilled your coffee."

Bob took a small paper bag from you and picked up his coffee cup once more. "Oh, that's not necessary. It was my fault."

"I insist," you told him. "See you again soon?"

He looked down at his feet and smiled. "Yes. See you again soon."

"I can't wait."

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

On Friday morning, Bob was a nervous wreck. He'd been thinking about you all week, but he knew the other guys had been, too. They had been talking about you a lot, but Bob was too shy to tell them he was also interested in you. 

He'd given the coffee to Phoenix the other day, but he smiled when he opened the bag and found a croissant. His favorite. It seemed like you knew. And it was flaky and perfect, and he couldn't wait to see you again and get another one. 

"Bakery time!" Bradley announced. "Time to visit the hottie. You coming, Bob?"

Bob fell into step behind him and Jake, but then Reuben and Javy were joining as well. "Everyone's coming today?" Bob asked, squeezing into Reuben's car along with the other four. 

"Yeah, can't wait to see this girl," Javy said. 

"Heard she's sexy," Reuben agreed. 

Bob just stared out the window and sighed. He was just going to have to get over his crush on you. It was the only way to keep his heart from breaking. He wouldn't look at you, and he wouldn't talk to you. And he definitely wouldn't eat another croissant. 

He shuffled into the bakery behind the others, and there you were. He tried to look at all of the baked goods in the case, but you greeted him by name. You greeted only him by name. 

"Hi," he managed, and the other four guys turned to glare at him. 

"Gorgeous, what would you recommend today?" Bradley asked you.

"Blueberry muffins are good today," you replied, and you started packing up a box full at Javy's request. 

"So, how long have you been working here?" Reuben asked, leaning so far across the counter, he may as well have just jumped over. 

"I'm the owner and primary baker," you told them, and Bob was so impressed. 

"Wow, gorgeous. Your muffins are really famous around here. We can't stop coming back for more," Bradley said, smirking at you. But you were looking at Bob again as he inched forward. 

"Did you make the croissant? It was very good," he told you, unable to look away. 

You beamed at him. "I did. They're my specialty."

Bob swallowed hard, all four guys looking at him in surprise now. "Could... uh, could I have another one? I'll pay for it this time though, if you don't mind. It was delicious."

"Of course, Bob. Anything you want." You turned to get a bag ready, and Bob thought he might faint. 

Jake turned and mouthed at him, "Anything you want?"

Bob just shrugged and made his way toward the register. He was pouring sweat in his flight suit, trying to stay as calm as possible. You met him at the other end of the counter and smiled as you slid a bag and a small coffee his way. 

"Three dollars," you told him softly, as if you could tell he was nervous, but you didn't seem to mind.

"What about the coffee?" he asked as he adjusted his glasses.

"On the house."

Bob quickly paid you for the croissant, as he could already hear Jake and the others getting restless. 

Jake leaned across the counter as you ran his credit card. "You interested in pilots?" he asked with a smirk. 

You just swiped the card and handed it back to him. "You're all pilots?" you asked, smiling at all of them. 

"Nah, Bob here is just a backseater," Reuben said loudly, slapping Bob on the back and nearly spilling his coffee.

"Oh, so Bob's the brains of the operation? Sounds about right," you said, sending a subtle wink in his direction. 

Bob's ears felt a little fuzzy and his collar felt a little too tight. Maybe he had imagined the wink. Yes, that must be it. 

The guys all hooted, and Jake said, "Well sure, Bob's smart and organized, but that's not as exciting."

You just shrugged. "Still sounds exciting to me. Hope you guys all have a safe flight this afternoon. Enjoy your croissant, Bob."

He floated out onto the sidewalk with the others, still in a daze. 

"What the fuck, guys? She likes Bob the best?" Javy said in disbelief as they all walked back to the car. "Hangman and Rooster, you two really dropped the ball."

"Does she?" Bob asked quietly. "She likes me?"

Reuben shoved half a muffin into his mouth and grinned. "You should ask her out, man." 

Bob thought about asking you out the whole drive back to base and as he walked to meet up with Phoenix. When he finally opened the bag to eat his croissant, he saw that you had put three inside. 

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

Late Saturday morning, Bob paced around outside of the bakery with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He'd peeked in through the window and saw that you and another girl were working, but he'd lost his nerve. He was on the verge of heading back to his car and calling it a day when the door opened, and he could smell the croissants. 

"You can do it," he told himself and rushed inside before he could turn around.

"Bob!" you called with a bright smile. "Back for more croissants?"

He took a deep breath and headed toward you. He noticed you were looking at the flowers in his hand, but you didn't say anything or rush him to respond, which he appreciated. You just smiled and leaned on the counter. 

"Yes, I would like another croissant," he muttered, and you pushed up from the counter to get it for him. "Actually, I would like two. But you need to let me pay for both of them today."

"Okay. Sure, Bob," you said with the tiniest smile as you put two into a bag. But now you didn't look as happy, and he wanted to kick himself. How had he messed this up already?

He met you at the register, and you asked him, "So, are the flowers for your wife? Or your girlfriend?"

"Oh, neither," he said, lifting them a little higher. "I don't have either of those."

You looked up at him and bit your lip. "Who's the extra croissant for?"

Bob watched your lips as you waited for him to answer. He was sweating, but he was in too deep to turn back now. "I, um... thought maybe we could eat them together. When you're done working. If you're not too busy."

Your smile lit up your face again. "I would like that."

Bob's smile matched your own. "You would?"

"Yeah," you told him with a nod. "You're so sweet. Much better than your friends. Are those flowers for me?"

Bob looked at the floor as he felt himself blushing. "Oh, yeah," he said, handing them to you. "Of course they are."

He watched you disappear into the kitchen for a minute, only to reappear without the flowers or your apron. Then you joined him on his side of the counter. Without any hesitation, you placed one hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek.

"Let's go for a walk," you told him, and Bob's heart was absolutely pounding for you. "I know a nice bench, perfect for eating croissants."

Bob felt you lace your fingers through his, and he held your hand in his larger one. "Lead the way."

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

This fic is for my Bobby loving friend Alex!!! @bradshawsbitch

Thanks to Alli @beyondthesefourwalls for giving this a read for me.

I hope I have done our Loverboy Bob justice!

@theamuz

@cherrycola27

@katiedid-3

@mak-32

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@endofdays56

@avaleineandafryingpan

@t-nd-rfoot

@wkndwlff

@eddiemunsonreader

@wintercap89

@the-fever-of-mankind

@yanna-banana

#robert floyd x reader #top gun fanfiction #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #bob top gun

[ohtobeleah]

Battle Scars // Bob Floyd

-> An Official Flight Deck Blurb

Summary: Robert Floyd doesn’t take his shirt off at the beach. But when the shirt stays on during sex? You start to wonder what he’s hiding.

Warnings: Mentions of parental Abuse. Mentions of Child Neglect. Foster Care Systems. Mentions of family trauma. Bob Floyd x Female!reader.

Word Count: 2.1k

Author Note: Day Nine of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: ‘Scar reveal’ Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

People have secrets they keep close to their chest. Some are small enough to not cause a ripple effect onto others, and some are big enough to destroy lives, crush dreams, alter realities. 

Bob Floyd wore his secrets across his chest. Scars that made his torso look like the Rocky Mountains. Littered with small to medium size scars that healed wrong, healed over, or healed with anger. 

They weren’t pretty. If anything he wore a roadmap of abuse on his body that was hard to face in the mirror every morning. He never wanted to subject anyone to the sight of his scars, some red and raised, others faded but turned a deep purple in the cold. 

“Mornin’ gorgeous—“ Bob's morning voice was something you’d never get tired of hearing. Those lazy Sunday mornings where you’d wake up to find the Naval Aviator already awake and reading whatever book he brought with him in his overnight bag were starting to become your favourite thing. “How’d you sleep mama?” 

“Like a log.” You yawned, creeping closer and closer to where Bob sat on the opposite side of your bed. His T-shirt clad back pressed up against the headboard while his legs stayed covered by the sheets and covers of your warm, inviting bed. “I thought I had an early body clock.” Being a single mum and small business owner left little to no time for sleep-ins, which usually meant you were up before the sun got a chance to kiss the horizon good morning. “But here you are, Mr Military Man with your internalised alarm system.” 

Bob couldn’t help but to chuckle as he closed his book and placed it on the bedside table you cleared just for him. Whatever this was between you and Robert Floyd you really liked it. He was the first man you’d ever paid attention to since your fiancé died. Bob was like a breath of fresh air and so was North Island. No one knew you, no one judged you, no one cared about the demons that haunted you. 

“Force of habit I guess.” He shrugged before he sunk lower and lower, meeting your eyeline once again as you both settled in under the warmth of the covers. “How long do you think we have before Oliver wakes up?” 

“Hmmm—“ You tried to hide your eagerness through a hum that kept your lips pressed together in a fine line. “He knows Sundays are bacon and egg roll mornings.” You began as your arms wrapped around Bob's shoulders. 

His lips were hot against the supple skin of the juncture of your neck, in response your body ignited, sending waves of energy through your body that only Bob could create. He was just different. 

“So like, five? Ten minutes maybe?” Bob looked up from where he’d been leaving small

but affectionate kisses against your collarbone and met you with a lust filled gaze. He was falling head over heels in love with you. “Because I only need like two—“ 

“Oh well in that case we have time for two rounds.” You teased before rolling yourself up and over to straddle Bob's waist. He let you easily. If he wanted to, he could have fought back. The thing with Robert Floyd was that he had a sleeper build. He wasn’t as buff as some of the other Naval Aviators that frequently stopped by the Flight Deck for their morning or mid afternoon caffeine hit. With the amount of sugar and caramel syrup you dosed Hangman with on a regular basis you weren’t entirely sure how he managed to maintain his muscle density. 

But for as much as Bob was a gentle soul, he was strong and fast. He enjoyed a long run every now and again. But for all intents and purposes—he let you be on top. He liked the view. After all, he was just a simple man. Boobs were pretty cool. Especially your boobs.

“Can I ask you a question?” You cooed all the while Bob's hands trailed up your hips. You wore nothing but one of those silk nightgowns that made you look like an angel. The bed hair was cute, Bob liked you first thing in the morning. It was a side of you only he got to see. The side before the makeup, before being put together– he liked it. The authenticity. For what it was worth, Bob just really liked you. 

“Depends what the question is?” Bob replied as his hands squeezed at your hips, rolling you gently back and forth over his boxer brief clad length. “I’m kidding, ask away.” 

He had been expecting the question sooner rather than later. And with how things were going between the two of you Bob knew he would have to come clean. He was just afraid of what you might say. What you might think, and if his scars would be a deal breaker. They were, after all, a part of him that he couldn’t get rid of. 

But even expecting the question to come didn’t make it any less hard to hear. 

“How come you never take your shirt off?” You wanted to approach the question as politely as possible. “You don’t have to tell me, if you aren’t comfortable, I just—I’ve just noticed.” You saw the hesitation in Bob's baby blue eyes as he searched your face for any kind or fear. “Again, you don’t have to tell me.” You reminded the man lying beneath you as his hands stilled on your hips. “But I want you to know that if you’re hiding some sort of third nipple under there—I’m all for it.” You tried to make the conversation a little more lighthearted, Bob could appreciate that. He smiled softly at you while his hands needed at your hips like dough. 

Bob didn’t say much after that, he simply laid beneath you stroking his hands up and down your exposed thighs as his mind ran rampant with memories. He hated his scars, but most of all he hated the people who gave them to him. 

“You’re a waste of space!” The memories were all too prominent even after all these years. “I wish I never gave birth to you!” His mothers words were as cruel as she was violent and unpredictable. 

“You’re the abortion I wish I fucking had.” The abuse Bob endured went with him everywhere, even well into his adult life. He learned not to complain, to cause a scene. “Stop crying for fucks sake kid.” He learned not to show emotion when it wasn’t asked or needed. 

“You did this to yourself, if you had stayed out of the way, none of this would be happening.” But most importantly he blamed himself, for hiding his scars that clearly showed how strong he really was. 

Bob sat up to meet your eyeline. For a man haunted by so many scars he certainly had the softest of eyes. He gently tucked your hair behind your ear and placed a fleeting kiss against your forehead, all before he reached up and over to take his shirt off over his head. 

What you saw rendered you speechless for a few moments as you took in the terrain that was your, well, you wanted to say boyfriend but Bob wasn’t even officially that, torso—littered with scars he surely would have called ugly on the best of days. 

“It’s a lot.” Bob whispered just barely above an audible level as he chucked his shirt off to the side. “But they’re not going away, ever.” It was almost as if Bob had struggled with that notion himself. He wished he could have them removed—expunge from his record. The tales of parental abuse he suffered before collecting more in the foster care system. 

“Oh Bob—“ You tentatively reach out to glide your fingers over one of the many scars that were angry, red and what seemed to be risen. “You don’t have to hide these from me, ever.” Bob's heart was racing a million miles inside his chest, no one had ever touched him the way you were now. With so much love, with kindness, with understanding. “What happened here?” Your fingers gently glided across the scar down near the waistband of Bob's boxers. Right above his hip bone. 

“One of the kids in one of the foster homes I was in.” Bob began, you could tell he was uncomfortable talking about it, but you didn’t stop him. You knew if anything he would stop if he didn’t want to talk about it. “I think his name was Ryan, had an old bow with those barbed edges on it.” You knew where the story was going. “It got wedged in there deep when we were playing around, but our foster parents didn’t have insurance, so they weren’t gonna take me to get it removed—so they ripped it out and poured bourbon over it.” Your heart sank into your stomach. “I was nine.” 

“That must have hurt a lot.” You replied gently as Bob laid back down in your bed with his hands resting behind his head. His roadmap of scars on full display. “What happened here?” You moved your hand to the longer scar across his left peck. It seemed less angry, more healed, but the story attached was just as heartbreaking. 

“When I was eighteen I went back to see my parents.” Bob's eyes were tearing up. He hadn’t ever spoken about this to anyone. Not even the people he trusted with his life. You were the only one. “It was a mistake, I shouldn’t have, but I needed some closure.” Your fingers gently ran the expanse of the scar that had never been touched but another person. Bob wanted to stop you out of fear you’d leave—but he willed you to continue because it felt comforting to be touched with such warmth. “My dad ran at me with a knife the second he saw me—I remember he was rambling on about how I broke my mum's heart when I went with CPS. I’m lucky it was only a graze, he still got me good enough to leave a scar though.” 

“Bob, honey, I don’t even know what to say.” You were a mother yourself. You couldn’t ever imagine doing anything of the sort to your son. Bob reached up to guide your hand across his torso to his wrist—you’d seen those small circle cluster scars time and time again but never bothered to ask what they were from. 

“These are from where my mum and my foster mum would put their cigarettes out on me.” Again, it made your heart sink, but Bob never faulted as he guided your hand around his body, back up to his stomach just above his belly button. Ridged abs peaked through the softness of his skin. “This one is from when I had to have surgery after I got an infection. Doctor said I could have died if my friend and I didn’t walk ourselves to the emergency room.” 

Bob wanted you to touch every last scar that littered his body, he wanted your gentle touch to heal his old wounds. So you let him guide you as your straddled his waist and looked down at the roadmap of torture. 

“These smaller ones are from when my dad swung the whipper snipper at me, I was in his way, I shouldn’t have been there, I remember they wouldn’t stop bleeding and ruined a bunch of my shirts.” 

“None of these are your fault.” All his life, until he joined the Navy and ran as far away as he could, Bob had been told every scar he collected was his fault. The abuse he suffered as a child, from his parents and in foster homes, was his fault. “Someone who loves you doesn’t do this to you.” You reminded the man who laid beneath you. He could hardly breathe with how hard his heart was hammering in his chest as your hands trailed over the expanse of his torso. “Bob I don’t know your history, but from what I can gather about you in the present you are all but the problem.” You were the first person to ever tell him he didn’t deserve the scars he wore, the scars he hid. 

“You’re a really good person, you know that right?” Flashes of your own war blinded your vision for a moment. The lies and haunting rumours that had you running as far away as possible could came flooding back to you in a blur as Bob sat up to kiss your lips softly, tenderly, and all so lovingly. “You don’t know how much you mean to me baby.” The term of endearment sent a shiver down your spine you weren’t expecting. But you welcomed it nevertheless. Bob was a dream, your new beginning. 

“I reckon you’ve got about three minutes to show me.” You teased, deciding now was not the time to bring up your dead fiancé. “With the shirt off—“

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

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leahs whumptober masterlist #bob floyd x female reader #flight deck // bob floyd #bob fliyd angst #Bob floyd whump #bob floyd x reader #top gun bob #top gun imagine #top gun fan fic #tw: parental abuse #tw: mental health #tw: scars

[ereardon]

Before I Knew [Masterlist] — Full Length Series

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader 

Overview:

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

#jake hangman fic #top gun fanfiction #jake seresin #top gun imagine #bob floyd fanfiction #jake hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #jake hangman imagine #bob floyd x female reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #pregnancy #pregnancy fic #unexpected pregnancy #sister reader #natasha phoenix trace #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #glen powell

[floydsmuse]

thinking about Bob having you pinned down & thrusting into you at an almost snail like pace. he’s caught in a trance, practically drooling at the sight below. he’s absolutely mesmerized by the way his cock so perfectly glides into your sweet pussy and the feeling of you clenching around his thick shaft sends shivers down his spine. you’re squeaking out. growing impatient, & begging for him to pick up speed. Bob perks up. snapping out of his trance like state when he feels your heels dig further into his back & you’re grabbing a firm hold of his head. you bring your lips up to meet his ear & lean in. whispering the words, “use me daddy. please! fuck me like you mean it.” you nip at the shell of his ear before pulling away & a switch is suddenly turned on inside of Bob. he rams into you without hesitation, making you gasp out in pleasure & doesn’t hold back until you’re a pathetic cying mess…;)

#i need him so bad #😩 #bob floyd #top gun maverick #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x you #bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd #bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd fic #lewis pullman #floydsmuse