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delopsia · 4 months

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Wolfish | Bob Floyd x Reader

Word Count: 3,800 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: AFAB!Reader, werewolf! Bob, implied werewolf hunter! Reader, unprotected sex, Bob has an undiagnosed praise kink, brief over-stimulation, size kink if you squint, sex against a wall, werewolves doing...werewolf things. Brief Summary: You can't seem to keep your hands off each other today. My late entry for @attapullman's International Bob Floyd Fucks Month!

Your back slams against the locker doors. Metal clatters so loud that it echoes. Bouncing off the walls, rattling around inside of empty crevices, and squeezing through the crack in the door. Had ought to rumble its way across the building, down the street, and right into the unwitting ears of your team. Freshly deployed. Chasing the false scent of the very man between your legs.

Sure wonder what they would think if they walked in and saw this.

The obscene pressure of a werewolf's hard cock, straining against his sweats, pressing deliciously against your fluttering cunt. Your legs coiling impossibly tighter around his bony waist, sharp hip bones digging into the plush fat of your thighs, fingers trailing up the back of his neck, across short-clipped hair, to tangle in the longer strands at the top.

His warm nose bumps against your cheek. Blindly guiding himself back to your mouth, sloppy and lazy, little wet noises punctuating every motion, razor-sharp canines nipping at your bottom lip. Such an otherworldly sensation that has your head spinning so fast you fear you'll fall, arms tightening around his shoulders.

"Four times has gotta be some kind of record," Bob's tone rumbles through you like thunder, shaking your bones like fragile leaves in the wind. The cold rims of his glasses bump into you as he draws away, darkened eyes drinking you up like a glass of water in the middle of a sweltering desert.

Your head falls back against the locker, sucking in a breath. "Maybe for you," squirming. Grinding down into the bulge of his cock, absolutely and unequivocally unashamed of putting on a show for him.

"Keep telling yourself that," stupid wolf with his stupid, dumb head tilt. You can almost picture the puppy ears flopping over, begging for a good scratch. Part of you wonders if his leg would twitch if you found the right spot.

But you certainly don't mean to actually let your fingers slide from his hair and behind his ear. Blunt nails scratching at the skin there, blessed by the sound of his soft inhale. Eyelashes flutter. A boot kicks the floor. Defiantly holding himself together.

Those sharp teeth glint in the moonlight as his mouth opens. "Gonna be in so much trouble if they catch us."

Funny, you very nearly forgot about them already. Jake, Bradley, Nat. All chasing down a scent you massaged into the fur of a semi-feral feline last night. They'll find the little calico here soon. Jake and Bradley will start arguing over who's in the right; Nat will get fed up and call for backup. If there's anything you know about Javy, it's that he'll be up and have the cat found before the spat is settled.

You only have so much time before they return, badgering you about another bad scent. Even less time to get this wild-eyed werewolf in you. Devilish, you draw yourself closer to him. Nose to nose. Legs so tight around him that your bones ache. "What, not keen on telling a group of werewolf hunters you're a—fuck," it hasn't even been that long since the last time you felt his cock twitch into you. There's no reason it should have you getting wet like this. "Werewolf?"

He stumbles forward. Knocking you into the lockers again. Big hands squeezing greedy handfuls of your ass. "Call me a prude, but I ain't much for being hunted, honeycomb."

On their own, his hips roll forward. Impossibly strong arms working double time to draw you into it. And you're so, so certain that there's a wet spot staining your shorts right now. A sick mixture of your own wetness and his cum dripping out of your abused cunt, damn near sore from how many times he's filled you up today.

And yet, it's still not enough. "You really think they'd hurt you?" Your voice almost strained. Weary hand reaching between your heated bodies. Sliding those flimsy shorts out of the way, relishing in the hitch of his breath, all over the sight of your pussy.

"I don't wanna find out," he grunts, and for a second, you think he's gonna drool.

Your index finger slips between your folds. Gathering up your wetness, skin glistening with it, as your hand rises to his mouth. You don't need to ask for him to part his lips, letting two of your fingers slip past. His hot, wet tongue is so, so soft compared to the canines that brush against your knuckles. Sucks on them a little too eagerly, so content with your taste that his eyes fall shut.

"Then you'd better hurry up, puppy," you murmur, catching his tongue between your fingers. He can get away at any moment, and yet, he makes no move to.

Far too gentle, compared to the out-of-control, bloodthirsty werewolf stereotype.

"Quit calling me that," his speech is a little garbled, talking without a fully operational tongue. But he's reaching down, pushing at the thick band of his sweats, heavy cock damn near falling out of its confines. So flushed and swollen that you reckon it's gotten bigger since the last time you saw it. Audibly slaps against your cunt, between your parted folds, right where he ought to stay for the rest of his life.

Or, rather, where he ought to stay after he's done with you.

Bobby has to draw himself back by a damn mile to stroke his big, blunt head down your core, nudging politely at your entrance. You're still so loose, opening easily as he presses into you. Thick, pink tip stretching you wide, bullying his way back into your overfucked, needy pussy.

A noise draws out of your lips. Starstruck by the drag of his cock, big enough to make the dry, unlubricated glide feel like it's going to split you open. Would hurt if you weren't dripping around him, an obscene mixture of lube and cum spilling out of your pussy, coating him once more.

"That's it," you breathe, head tilting back, "good boy."

A pitchy whine slices through the air.

You haven't heard that one before.

Opening your eyes is damn near impossible, and yet, you're finding the strength to force them open. Immediately focusing on his flushed face. "What?" Your giggle is strained. Lungs suddenly too tight. "You like it when I call you that?"

He nods a little too eagerly. "Uhuh."

It's not fair.

Truly, it isn't. He shouldn't be allowed to bat those long, innocent lashes at you. Not when his oversized cock has your pussy aching as he sinks into you. It's a damn wonder he's fit the past three times because he's barely halfway in, and you're already struggling. Hands scurrying behind his neck, nails biting into the lithe muscle of his shoulders. Lungs seeming to shrink with every inch you take of him, running out of space for oxygen.

"'m I hurting you?" He whispers in that fragile tone of his, glasses glinting as he tilts his head forward.

Your head is shaking before he can even begin to stall his hips. "N...no."

"Your nose is scrunched like it is," and as if you could have possibly forgotten where it's located on your face, Bobby leans in and bumps his nose against yours. So damn warm compared to this chilly little locker room; feels like you've cozied up to a furnace rather than a man.

Defiant, your head tilts forward, foreheads knocking together. "Because you're big, dummy."

His eyelashes flutter. "Oh." Struck dumb.

As if he possibly could have deluded himself into believing that every man on this planet walks around hung like a damn horse. Even you had known it. Could see the fat outline of him in those thin sweats he loves. Blissfully unaware of the way his cock makes its presence known as he walks.

But he's finally, finally bottoming out in you. Not a damn millimeter of space left for him to fill, sweaty skin flush against your ass. It's a damn wonder that you haven't started waddling from the amount of times you've felt this very sensation today. Once in the comfort of your bed. Again, in the break room, after you got the call that everyone else would be late. And when you'd dared to venture into Bob's office, perching yourself in his lap, kissing beneath his ear until he cracked and let you ride him.

Fatigue has only recently started to settle into your bones, and by the looks of it, Bob is feeling it, too. Pretty eyes closed, completely and utterly uninterested in moving. You'd think he was asleep if he didn't suck in a breath when you involuntarily clench around him.

"Too tired to fuck me, Robby?" You murmur, raising a hand to comb through his messy hair, ruined by your own doing.

He hums, twitching out of you a little, only to push back in just as lazily, "thought ya might be sore."

"What," stars sparkle behind your eyelids; he's rubbing against that overworked bundle of nerves on every slow pass of his cock, "makes you think that?"

"Earlier," pumping into you a little faster now, finding that same old rhythm that never seems to lose its dizzying charm, "you were muttering about me bruising your pussy."

That...

"You heard that?" You could have sworn you'd muttered that while you were cleaning up last time.

When he was on the other side of the room.

"I hear a lotta things," chirping, all too friendly. There's no reason why a man should smile so innocently while his hips are smacking into your ass, "like you whining my name in your hotel room last Tuesday."

Images flicker through your memory. The coziness of an expensive hotel bed. Soft blankets and an even softer, golden glow of the bedside lamp in a room all to yourself. Wrapped up in a false sense of privacy as your hand ventured below your waistband.

He'd heard you through the damn wall?

But you can't even be mad because he's squeezing you a little tighter. Every thrust of his hips bounces your body further up the lockers. Knocking the breath out of your lungs. A weakened whine twisting through the quiet air. Too intimate of a sound to be in a communally shared room.

"And you wonder why I hate most werewolves," writhing. Arms tightening around his shoulders. Heels digging into the meat of his ass. "What else can you do? Smell when I'm turned on?"

"Uhuh," his obedient head nods. Such an unassuming motion that has you clamping down around him. Rips a groan right out of his broad chest.

His hips shift. The slightest change in angle, and yet he's driving right up into those nerves. Plush tip massaging them head-on. Has you fluttering around him like a damn butterfly. Sent into a never-ending spasm.

"Fuck," you wail. Nails biting into his soft neck. "Bobby!"

And you're vaguely aware of the way he's looking up at you. Big puppy eyes, in utter awe of the sight before him. "There?"

You're nodding before you've even recognized what he's asking. Clinging to him. Squeezing his big, overheated body to yours like he'll vanish if you don't. Worst of all, he lets you—pretty face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, the rims of his glasses digging into your flesh, where you can hug him even closer. Your cheek squishing against the side of his head.

"Good boy," gasping into his ear, "keep doing that."

A shiver races down his spine. Mouthing at the side of your neck. Whimpering beneath his heaving breath. The oversized palms that cling to your ass beginning to shiver. Slippery with sweat and struggling to maintain his grip. Growling low in his chest, suddenly sharp nails poking and prodding against your flesh as something within him switches gears.

You know it has because the tips of his ears are growing unnaturally fuzzy. Pointed. And in the time it takes for your hand to reach them, they've already turned. Looks as if the ears of a wolf have been glued to the sides of his head. Twisting and turning, sensitive and reacting to every involuntary noise that falls off your tongue.

"Bobby—" you choke. Squirming. Fighting for a glance at his flushed face. Have to tangle your fingers in his hair and yank his face right out of your neck. And he's...

magnificent.

Glasses smudged by spit and sweat and hopelessly fogged. Strands of soaked hair cling to his glistening forehead. Mouth agape. Impossibly sharp canines glint in the poor lighting. Pink tongue on the verge of lolling out past his lips like a damn domesticated dog, panting in the summer heat.

And yet, as you push his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, you find that his eyes are the same shade of sky blue. Wide and so, so eager.

His feet shift, leaning away. You back presses harder against the lockers. A gap forms between your bodies. Just enough for your hand to let go of his hair and dart between. Diving past the hem of your shirt, clinging to your clammy skin, stopping just above his pistoning cock, to find your sore and overused clit. A tingle bolts up your spine.

"Fuck, you're—" Bobby's eyes screw shut. Grunting low in his chest. A guttural, animalistic noise you've only heard him make once. "Clenching around me so fucking...mhm, shit."

You reckon he can feel your sudden contraction as well as you can feel the fat swell of his cock head. Driving into you impossibly deeper. As if this sudden wolfiness has made him larger than he was before. His angle hasn't shifted, but his oversized tip rubs right into your g-spot with a vigor that makes your legs tremble around his hips. Head spinning. Tipping back to hit the locker door.

"Robby, Robby, keep, keep—," babbling. Cut short. He's listening. He's listening. Rubbing right into those little nerves over and over and over. You're not sure if the heat coiling in your belly is from his cock or your fingers. "Fuck, good boy."

"You gotta quit calling me that," he pants, sentence fractured by a choked moan, "gonna have me following you like a lost puppy for the rest of your life."

He'd look cute with a little blue collar that matches his eyes. But you can't hang onto that idea for long.

"I don't mind the," gasping, "idea of that."

Your body is beginning to tense. Too hot for this little room. The coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter with every thrust of his cock. Pussy squelching with the motion of him, so damn wet that you fear you're dripping onto the floor below. And Bobby is whimpering again. Pitchy little noises that you can't believe are coming from your cunt being wrapped around him.

His pretty mouth can't stay shut. Already opening again. "I'm...I...I'm—"

"Uhuh," is all you can manage. Struggling to keep your eyes open. Legs growing tighter and tighter around him until, until, until—

Your back arches off the lockers with a silent cry. Thrust up into the clouds. Head spinning like a top. Spasming and cumming around his big, oversized cock without another warning. And you're only vaguely aware of the way he cries out at the feeling. Hips stuttering to a halt. Filling your well fucked pussy with his cum for the fourth time today. Twitching inside you. His head falling back into the crevice between your neck and shoulder.

It may not have been your most intense orgasm of today, but it does take you some time to come down. Brought back to earth by the kisses against your clammy skin and the nimble fingers that massage the plush swell of your ass.

Bobby looks normal again. Not a single wolfish feature to be found. Back to your same old, soft-eyed tech guy. The one who has deceived you into thinking he was human for so, so many years. Probably would have been able to keep up the act, too, had you not crossed the boundary between friends and lovers.

Abrupt, his head snaps up. Those wolf ears are back. Twisting and turning like little radar dishes.

"Shit," he snarls, and before you're even ready, he's sliding out of you. Cum already beginning to spill down your thighs.

"What?" You're helpless. Don't realize you've been placed back on the floor until he's led you halfway across the room. "Bobby, what is it?"

"Jake. Bradley." Short. Straight to the point. "Down the hall. Coming this way."

There's a tiny janitor's closet in the corner of the locker room—barely big enough for one body to fit inside of it, never mind two. Not the ideal hiding spot, but with no other exit, you've got no choice. It's either hide or be caught.

You can only hope that there isn't a noticeable mess on the floor. Or, worse, a trail leading all the way to the door.

The door to the locker room squeals open just as the closet closes. Your weary head struggling to catch up to speed, still processing the drop to the floor and the the things Bob has just said to you. Hell. The only reason you notice his arms are around is, is because of the wayward finger that dips beneath your shirt, stroking your skin.

Jake and Bradley are talking. The rumble of the voices is clear, but you can't make out a word that they're saying. It must be something funny because they're laughing. All too loud, uncaring of who they may disturb with their volume or where their voices may wander in the building.

For a moment, you're afraid to breathe. Worrying about the hammering of your heart. As if they could possibly hear the tiny thump of it in your chest.

Bob's spent cock bumps into your hip. Still free of his confines. Wet with an obscene mixture of his cum and your wetness. Proof of your rendezvous. Frankly, you couldn't bring yourself to go another round, even if you got your hands on a magical reset button. But you can't help but notice that you haven't felt the glide of him against your tongue in such a long while...

Surely, Jake and Bradley won't hear if you...sink to your knees, here...just for a minute or two...

"What are you doing?" Bob whispers, barely audible, even to you. Eyes wide as you reach for him. "You can't—are you serious right now?"

But kicking up a fuss will get the two of you caught. A risk he can't afford to take. Not with those big, wolfish ears still twisting and turning on the sides of his head. The very thing you've all been gathered here to eliminate.

Daring, your tongue pokes out of your mouth.

The slam of Jake's locker washes over Bob's sharp inhale. Too sensitive for the hellish sensation of your hot tongue dragging against the underside of him.

His hands rise. Both of them clamping down over his mouth. Eyes screwed shut.

There's a tremor to him that wasn't there before—shaking like a lone leaf in the wind. Helpless to do anything but let you keep licking at him. Long strokes of your tongue. Gathering the sweet mess that clings to his cock. Who could have thought that an identifying characteristic of North American werewolves is sweet cum? You sure didn't until he'd cum in your mouth that first time.

Hell, he didn't even know.

It's too dark to see his face, but you can feel his eyes boring holes into your shoulders. Hips twitching away, but never making the move to push your head away. Helpless to let you clean his pretty cock with your tongue, from base to tip.

If there was light in here, you're certain he would be shimmering with your saliva by now.

Whatever it was Jake and Bradley needed to do, it didn't seem to take them long. Their boots clomp across the floor. Lockers slamming shut. Loud, muffled voices grow faint as they meander down the corridor, surely heading to their vehicles, looking forward to a well-deserved day off tomorrow.

You suppose Bob has heard the back door chime because his hands fly off his mouth.

He's fortunate that you're too tired to push him much further. Gathering up the last of him. And just for extra measure, you allow yourself the simple pleasure of wrapping your swollen lips around his tip. Teasing his slit. Sucking gently.

"You can't just," he babbles, sweaty hand pawing at the side of your face, "baby, baby, 's too much, it's too—"

His cock twitches. A splash of cum hits your tongue. A heavy puff of breath sounds from above.

He's pushing your head away before you can even begin to do it yourself.

"Monster," his chest heaves as he tucks himself back into his pants.

"I could say the same about what you just put away," you grin. Rising back up to your feet. He wipes that expression off your lips with a big, wet kiss.

His ears are back to normal, much to your dismay. No fluffiness present to greet your fingers as your hands cup the sides of his face, bringing him back in for one, two, three, four more kisses.

And as you slip back into the locker room, you're greeted with a sheet of printer paper taped to the lockers. And in big, messy handwriting, it reads, "Who's been fucking in here?" With a list of possible culprits at the bottom. Their votes have already been cast, accusing Mickey and Rueben by leaving scraggly check marks next to their names.

"Damn," Bob's brows furrow, incredulous, "my name didn't even make the list." He grumbles, already reaching for the discarded pen.

You can hardly swallow down your giggle. "That just means there's more for us to get away with, my dear." Speaking as innocently as you can. Batting your eyelashes at him.

His eyes roll.

"I'm gonna dress as an old lady and eat you if you keep quoting that darn fable," but he's laughing. Tossing that pen back where he found it. Already reaching for your hand, squeezing it in his own. And with a limp in both of your steps, you venture back into the hallway and out into the parking lot. Already conjuring up your next big escapade before you can even tumble into the front seat of his truck.

This time, you reckon that you and he should go chasing a false werewolf scent for some fun in the woods. You've even got the little red coat to fit the occasion. The exact same shade of Bob's cheeks as you reveal your idea to him.

And in two days' time, when you all flood into the locker room to change, Jake will point at the tiny, squished inscription of Bob's name on the list and laugh. How funny is that? Somebody really thought their quiet wallflower tech guy was the culprit!

All Bob can do is look your way and flash you that big, wolfish grin. Unusually sharp canines and all.

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #oneshot #werewolf au #International Bob Floyd Fucks Month

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mothdruid · 7 months

Text

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

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monstersonscreen · 1 month

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Howling III: The Marsupials (1987) was filmed entirely in director Philippe Mora's native Australia. The already low budget film had another problem: the fact Australia didn't really have a seasoned special effects artist scene, unlike the USA, UK or Japan. Australia wouldn't get a heavy FX scene until Farscape was made in the country a decade later!

To realize Howling III's various creatures, Mora turned to Bob McCarron, one of the few notable makeup artists in Australia at the time. McCarron had already provided the elaborate boar puppet and some facial prosthetics for Russell Mulcahy's Razorback (1984).

One highlight of McCarron's work is the 'were-thylacine' (it's clunky I know) that Max Fairchild transforms into. Facial prosthetics were made for Fairchild's early stages of transformation, as well as a rudimentary 'change o head' puppet. The final suit seems to consist of a bodysuit with fur applied, as well as sculpted taloned gloves, and a thylacine mask with mechanisms allowing the jaws to open and close. I love that they remembered to keep the stripes and small ears that the real thylacines had.

#Howling 3 #Howling 3 The Marsupials #thylacine #werethylacine #werewolf #Philippe Mora #Max Fairchild #Bob McCarron #werewolves #special makeup effects #makeup effects #practical effects #Ozploitation

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vivwritesfics · 2 days

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Howl At The Moon (And I'll Howl Back)

Chapter One

Summary: A sweet scent filled his nose. Honey and lemon. But he doesn't know who the scent belongs to. Why is the owner of that scent attacking the Pack Omega? Why is she, an Omega herself, without a pack? Why does Bradley want to take her home?

Bradley is the one she's supposed to be with. She knows it. He knows it. The entire pack knows it. Then why does she attach herself to Bob? And why doesn't Bradley mind?

Rooster X Reader X Bob

1.5K

TGM Werewolf AU

He could smell it in the air before he could see her. Sweet, like honey and lemon. The scent had to belong to somebody special, he just knew it. He lifted his nose and breathed in, trying to inhale the scent, to locate where it was coming from.

That was until the smell of Jakes barbecue got in the way. A growl was pulled from his lips, one that had Bob and Natasha laughing at him. One glare in Bob's direction and he was quiet. Natasha, though, she wasn't so afraid of him.

He returned his nose to the air and began sniffing again. But the scent, and therefore the person it belonged to, had gone. Bradley couldn't help but sulk.

He hadn't met the person, didn't know who the scent was coming from, but he wanted to know more. He'd heard Mav talk about it, how he'd met this one girl and he knew she was the one because of how sweet she was. But, because he was Maverick, he lost her in a day.

There were emotions Bradley didn't know how to handle. Of course, he'd heard the stories about his parents and how his dad knew before his mom even walked into the room. But his parents weren't here now to guide him through.

Neither did the only family Bradley had left. After his mother died, there was only one person for him to turn to. But Pete (or Maverick, as everybody else called him) had long since run off to try and make it on his own.

(Spoiler alert, Mav didn't make it on his own. It was after he had lost that girl that smelled so sweet. Ice had tried to talk him out of it, but Mav needed to feel something again, so he ran. He ran for the hills, to never return. But, when Ice Man needed him, he answered the call and returned to the pack).

"What's up, kid?" Maverick asked as he sat down beside Bradley, placing an opened bottle of beer in front of him.

Bradley grumbled out a half hearted response. He still hadn't gotten used to having Maverick around as some sort of, what, mentor. Bradley had grown up without any sort of guidance from a pack. After his father died, he thought he'd always have his uncle Maverick there to help. But Maverick took off and Bradley was left to learn everything by himself.

"Ah," said Maverick. He said it in a way that had Bradley glaring up at him. "I know that grumble."

"You do?" Bob suddenly called from where he sat beside Nat. Bob was so smart, but there wasn't a lot he knew about Alpha's. He'd never been around one until he'd joined the Dagger pack. Jake was the first Alpha he had ever submitted to.

Maverick nodded his head. "Oh yeah," he began. "Rooster's picked up the scent."

"The scent?" Natasha echoed.

It was easy for Maverick to forget how much younger his packmates were than him. They hadn't yet experienced the full range of emotions seen by most wolves.

"Have you guys ever heard of True Mates?"

A dry laugh left Jakes lips. "It's a myth," he muttered as he began plating up the meat. "If it was true, I would have her by now."

As soon as it was on the table, most of the other wolves crowded around the plate and snatched off what they could get. Bob held back; he knew with his pack Omega status would mean he didn’t stand a chance. But his pack would always take care of him.

And that was proven hand Natasha handed him half of her share. He sat on the floor, watching as the pack Alpha commanded the attention of the pack.

"True mates are real, trust me," said the pack Alpha. "Rooster's parents were true mates. I met mine once upon a time."

Bradley couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes at Maverick.

But he wasn't the one that said anything, instead sinking his teeth into his food. "Yeah, yeah, Mav," Jake muttered. "We all know the story. You met her and immediately fell in love. But, because she was human, she couldn't feel the bond like you could and she couldn't feel how much it hurt when she left."

Maverick always told the same story when he got drunk. The pack knew it off by heart by this point. The only one really affected by it was Bob.

The thing about a scent like that was that it was addicting. Bradley desperately wanted to smell it again. For the next few days, everywhere he went, he'd suck in a deep breath, try to pick up the scent of lemon and honey.

But, no matter where he went, Bradley didn't pick up the scent again. Maybe he wouldn't smell it again. But it had only been a few days, and he wasn't ready to give up.

In his desperation to search for the scent, Bradley began taking Bob everywhere. Being the pack Omega, somebody went with him wherever he went, just to keep him safe and to give the rest of the pack piece of mind.

"Wanna go and get coffee?" Bradley asked as he sat down at the rather large kitchen table with Bob and Mickey (before Bob became the pack Omega, they all thought it was either going to be him or Mickey).

Bob's eyes lit up behind his glasses. "You sure you're not busy, Rooster?" He asked, but he was unable to hide his excitement.

Bradley shook his head. "I've got time," he answered. Plus, the coffee shop was one of the only places he hadn't yet searched for the honey and lemon scent. But he'd never tell Bob that.

The thing with their pack was that the dynamic was mismatched. They weren't like most packs, made up of families working together. No, none of them had family, and that was how they found each other.

Bob was more than happy to climb into the Bronco as Bradley drove him to the town. He was practically preening under the attention of one of his packmates.

The thing is, their pack dynamic wasn't like most. Other packs were families that came together, to work together and protect each other. Most packs were ever growing, constantly welcoming new members when mates were found.

But their pack wasn't like that. None of them had family that they were particularly close to. Some of them had no family at all. But they'd come together and formed a pack.

Ice Man had been the one to bring them together. But when he got sick, he called Maverick to take the place of pack Alpha. It was uncomfortable between Bradley and Maverick at first. Bradley hated Maverick for abandoning him all of those years ago and Maverick knew he didn't deserve forgiveness.

But that was over a year ago and the two had come along way. The rest of the pack didn't know much about their relationship so, whenever Bob got a moment alone with Bradley, he asked.

That was what he did on the drive to the café. There was a lot of it that Bradley didn't like to talk about, especially when it came to his parents. But he couldn't just say nothing to Bob.

Bradley parked outside of the café. "Are you coming?" Bob asked, moving to climb out of the Bronco.

He looked towards the café. They weren't the kind of places Bob liked to step foot in. The lights were too bright, the smell of coffee too strong and the music too annoying. But Bob liked his coffee, and Bradley was happy to drive him there.

He shook his head and Bob climbed out of the Bronco. Bradley watched as Bob walked into the café. It always fucked with his senses, and he could barely smell Bob. But it didn't stress Bradley out. That distressed smell didn't fill the air, he had no reason to march into the café with a panic.

Suddenly, there was that scent again. Lemon and honey filled the air. Bradley sucked in a deep breath, searching through the faces of the people walking past the café. Which person was it? Bradley couldn't work it out from his place in the Bronco.

But then, the smell disappeared again. Well, it didn't disappear, but it was masked by something much stronger. Distress. Bob's distress.

Immediately, Bradley was out of the Bronco and marching towards the café. He ripped the door open with such ferocity, he almost pulled it off his hinges.

His eyes quickly scanned everybody in the café. Bob wasn't there. Where the fuck was he? He breathed in deep and followed the smell of his pack Omega's distress out of the cafes back door. Nobody stopped him.

When Bradley threw open the door and walked out into the alley behind the café, his heart stopped.

There Bob was. He himself might have been six foot tall, but he submitted to the woman who was holding him captive, arm around his neck, teeth bared. Bradley breathed in, and a mix of scents filled his nose. Bob's distress, along with honey and lemon.

Fuck.

a/n: this is cringe but the cringe is gonna be worth it I sweeeaaar

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