#robert floyd x y/n | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delopsia · 1 year

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Better | Bob Floyd x Reader

Word Count: 6,200 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, Reader has the callsign 'Weave.' AFAB! Reader, post-jet crash scenario, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, face-sitting, hurt/comfort if you squint, friends to lovers trope, blood, and bodily injury, and a likely inaccurate description of naval aviator gear.

There is nothing quite like waking up and seeing a multi-million dollar aircraft burning right before your very eyes.

It doesn't look real. Vivid hues of red and orange dance along the busted shell of what used to be a Naval aircraft, a stark contrast against the pristine, white snow. The hellish heat that licks at your exposed, frozen cheeks is the only indication that it's not a figment of your imagination. Distantly, you think you must've crashed, but it's hard to believe when there's not a single ache in your—

"Fuck!"

You shouldn't have moved, you shouldn't have moved, you shouldn't have moved.

Eyes screwing shut. Mouth ajar. Yet not another sound escaping. Every bone, joint, and muscle on your left side is screaming. White-hot, piercing through every nerve. Your rib cage feels as if it's just burst open, burning hotter than the remains of your plane.

God, what happened?

You don't recognize this place. These trees don't look like the ones from back home, and you don't recall the weatherman saying California was expecting six inches of snow. What you do recognize is the stray boot that pokes out from behind the jet. U.S. Navy issued. But you're not missing any shoes...

"Bob?" The joints of your shoulders beg you not to move, but you've already pushed yourself up, vision blurring as your head swivels. Your feet scramble for purchase on the powdery snow, but something tugs at you from behind, throws you off balance.

It's your parachute, tangled within the branches of the tree above you, leashing you. Closing your frigid hands around the material is near impossible, fingers so frozen that they can hardly bend. You've barely enough strength to disconnect yourself.

"Bob?" You try again.

No answer.

There's a numbness in your legs as you stumble closer to the roaring flames. On its own, the world seesaws, leaving you to stumble as you struggle to keep upright. You only mean to take one step left, but that singular step becomes two, four, five.

The ground comes back up and smacks you in the hip.

From down here, you can see the boot better, but you can't the leg attached to the foot that occupies it. Or maybe...that's three boots. They're right in front of you, but when you reach out to touch them, your hand can't seem to reach. Scooting forward, you swipe out and try again. All you get is snow.

But they're right there.

Forward a little more. Nothing. Something within the jet pops, wicked flames bursting out in a mushroom-shaped plume. Ravenous heat claws at your skin, threatens to eat right through you. Just a little closer. Just a little...

your hand grabs hold of the boot, vision centering a little. Around you, the wind spins like a top, but even through the haze, you realize something.

There isn't a body attached at all.

Your head feels like someone's just filled it with lead. The colorful hues of red, mere feet away from your face, threatens to reach out and melt the skin from your cheeks. You need to move. You know you do, but even as you tell yourself to move, your body refuses.

The collar of your flight suit tightens as you're yanked backward.

In the blink of an eye, you've got control again, wriggling, fighting to turn around as you're drug away by the thin material of your collar. Words tumble out of your mouth, but your ringing ears hardly comprehend them. Your foot catches on a rock, body flipping around and—

that face is familiar.

Cheeks patched with soot, blood pouring from a gash that stretches from his temple down to his cheek, just barely avoiding his eye. Glasses long gone, but there's a red indent between his eyes from the frames.

"Bob?" You know it's him, and yet it tumbles off your tongue anyway.

"'m here," his voice breaks, shaky.

The arm you're using to brace your weight crumples out from under you; the snow that catches you is pillowy soft, but the numbing cold stings at your skin, nevertheless. Bob's next tug on your collar is half-hearted, urging but lacking the strength to put behind it.

Next to you rests a bootless foot, bathed in a deep crimson that makes your heart sink.

On its own, your hand wanders out to hold onto his thigh, "you're hurt."

Your observation doesn't receive a response, doesn't exactly warrant one, either. Silence is better than hushed insistence that he's alright when you both know that's a downright lie. Instead, he shifts to rest his weight on his forearm, curling his body around yours as a viciously strong wind ripples past. The fire behind you spikes with a roar, heat blasting.

His free hand strokes the side of your head, thumb swiping at what you only assume to be blood, "what's the last thing you remember?"

And where the hell is your helmet?

There's a fogginess to your memory. You remember waking up to Natasha snoring and Bradley clapping his hand over your shoulder a bit too hard on your way out of the cafeteria. But you don't remember taking off, and your memory lacks a single shred of where you flew.

But your ears vividly recall a flurry of voices coming through your radio. Your bones still rattle with the vibrations of a too-close-for-comfort explosion, a missile narrowly avoided. A tiny voice screams out from the commotion, barely audible over it all.

"I remember you telling me to brake left," you shouldn't be leaning up into Bob's touch the way that you are.

His response takes some time, but eventually, he hums, "I didn't account for the one comin' up from beneath us."

After all this, you'd better get a raise and a vacation.

It's hard to miss the faint hum that cuts through the air. Too far away for you to see, but even through the ringing in your ears, the sound is unmistakable. Bob's head lifts, tilted toward the direction that it's coming from.

Muscles aching, you push yourself up to your knees, ignoring the angered twinges of muscles that beg you to stay still. Shelter. You need shelter. Bob doesn't require any urging, already has one hand braced on the trunk of a tree as he heaves himself up.

A yelp ripples through the chilly air, echoing through the forest around you.

It's not until Bob falls back into the snow that you realize who it came from. Crimson drips from his trembling foot like a waterfall; beneath, dull white shines through.

"'m okay," his voice wavers, "I'm okay." With his good leg, he shields the wound from your view, but you know what you saw.

The whirring of that helicopter is growing louder. Closer.

"No, you're not," but there's no time for you to grill him on it. He's already trying to get up again, breathing through gritted teeth as he's forced to put weight on his injury. You know your backseater too well for your own good. Already know he's not going to ask for help.

And that's exactly why you lift his arm and shove yourself beneath it.

"You don't need to do that," he fusses, but all it takes is one step forward for him to gasp and lean against you. That foot can't bear weight, and you both know it.

Liar.

It's hard to tell where you're going, but with the whirring of those helicopter blades growing louder, you don't have much of a choice. The only thing you know is that you flew in from the South-West; your best bet is to head in that direction. Search and rescue has a better chance of finding you there.

But only if your enemy doesn't follow the patches of red that mark your trail.

Your swollen shoulder strains under Bob's weight, so sore that even the slightest of pressure has you gritting your teeth to bear it. Fuck, never mind your shoulder; everything hurts. As your weary feet tread through the snow, it's difficult to tell what's just sore and what's been injured. Though, you've got a sneaking feeling that your shoulders and ribs are decorated with some hellish bruising.

And yet, even as he limps along by your side, suffering through the same ejection pains you are, Bob still has it in him to smile at you. It's watery, faltering when that mangled foot is forced to touch the ground, and it doesn't quite meet his eyes, but it's there.

"Bobby—"

"'m alright," he turns his head off to the side, shielding his eyes from your sight. You hate that you know what he's trying to do. Those baby blues tell a story too heavy for his tongue to bear; if they meet with yours, they'll start talking.

It's the one reason why he can't play poker.

"What's that brown mass on our right?" It's hard to tell if he's trying to change the subject or if he's actually trying to figure out what he's looking at.

The muscles in your neck are tight, making it difficult for you to turn your head. "We need to get you Lasik after this," joking through the pain, you squint in the direction Bob's transfixed on. Trees, trees, more trees, a clearing, followed by, you guessed it, more trees. You don't see what he's—

wait.

Tucked up against a steep hill sits a tiny shack. The paint has long since withered away, leaving behind nothing but brown, rotting planks. The front of it bows forward, the neglected roof sinking inward, but it's shelter.

A shelter that might collapse on you. But that whirring is growing louder and louder. The ground hums with the motions of the unknown helicopter's blades. You're in no place to argue.

"It's some sort of shack," you observe aloud, fighting the urge not to hasten your step.

It's a longer walk than it looks. It would be easy to sprint through the clearing, but Bob can't run in this state. There's no guarantee someone won't spot you from overhead. By your side, Bob meekly hobbles along; blood no longer stains the snow, but his noises grow with every step. Little grunts of pain that burn you to the core.

That helicopter just keeps getting closer and closer and closer. And finally, you see it emerge over the horizon; looks nothing like the ones back on the aircraft carrier. That's not search and rescue.

"They don't see us yet," Bob's words are rushed, jumbled together as he tries to move a little quicker. Grunting with every step, eyes bolting shut.

You're almost there. Just a few more steps. Just a few more.

"Almost there," you grunt, stumbling in tune with his hobbled steps, "almost there."

You don't even get to touch the door handle.

It's hard to tell whose foot gets caught in who's. All you know is that you're falling forward. Shoulder slamming into a flimsy wooden door that gives at the slightest amount of pressure. The decrepit floor knocks the breath from your lungs. Leaves you struggling to garner another breath.

Rusty hinges wail as the door swings shut behind you. Oddly...human.

Light barely filters through the tiny, broken windows, illuminating a cracked fireplace and what looks to be a shelf that's fallen off the wall. The very definition of bare bones.

Movement on your left has you turning your head.

Bob's shoulders shake like leaves in the Autumn wind. Laying on his belly, pretty face buried in the crook of his arm, concealing the tears that you already know are there. The blades of the helicopter are loud, but his wobbly breaths are louder.

Careful, as if moving too quickly will hurt him, you reach out to smooth your hand along his shoulder blades. Only serves to make him shake a little harder, sniffles escaping even as he visibly tries to swallow them down.

"'m fine." Not daring to lift his head.

"No, you're not." Running your hand upward, you dare to run your fingers through his messy hair, the damp locks remarkably soft, even now.

You can't be doing this. Touching his hair only makes you want to gather him up in your arms and kiss those tears off his cheeks. Your tongue already bears the words you'd whisper into his ears, sweet nothings and reminders that his feelings matter to you.

"Bobby," you try again, this time allowing the pads of your fingers to skitter across his temple. His jaw moves, ready to speak. You beat him to it. "Don't you dare tell me you're fine."

That's enough to get his head raising, red eyes peeking out from the corner of his elbow. Those baby blues meet with yours, immediately flickering away as if your gaze has just burned him.

"Me whining about being hurt is going to do nothing but get on your nerves," he murmurs, his voice barely audible, and yet his words burn themselves right into your skin, "it doesn't fix any—"

"Moron," even being shot out of the sky cannot knock the attitude from you, "you never got upset when I dislocated my ankle and whined about it for a week straight. Why would I ever get upset with you?"

Bob's eyelashes flutter, voice raising by an octave as if it'll strengthen his argument, "I didn't want to upset you."

"I love you too much to get upset with you for being in pain."

Silence.

Your mouth feels like it's full of lead. Face growing even colder than it was out in the snow. Did that really just fly off your tongue? Now of all times?

On second thought, being gunned down by that helicopter doesn't sound so bad. "I'm sorry, I—"

"D'you really mean that?" Well, he doesn't sound upset, at least. Shallowly, you nod.

You don't expect him to lift his head from behind the barricade of his folded arms, opting to rest his head on top of them instead. The hand that was just in his hair slides down to the dusty floor, limp. Bob watches it as if it's the most interesting thing in the world. Even reaches out to run his fingers along a tear in your glove. They curl around it, loosely holding your hand as he looks back up at you.

And he just...stares. A quiet transfixion on your face, like it's the first time he's ever seen you. Taking in every detail, every wrinkle and crease that your skin has to offer. His head moves forward by just a fraction, but then an awkward smile overtakes him, and he has to look away.

Your synchronous inhale is so loud that it echoes through this tiny, one-room shack. Bob tilts his head back to you, seemingly unable to take his eyes off of you. Next to his head, his fingers twist together, like they always do when he's deep in thought. You wonder if he can hear the way your heart pounds against your chest like a drum. Any stronger, and it just might break free of its confines.

Bob's moving. Pushing his weight up onto a forearm, tilting his body towards you. Hesitates, just shy of bumping his nose into yours. Again, your eyes meet. Getting shot down was scarier than this.

Hesitant lips press against your own, slotting together like puzzle pieces. There's nothing else to it, each holding it in fear of the other having second thoughts. Only lasts a few seconds, but it feels as if you spent forever there.

"We shouldn't...be doing this," you find yourself saying as if you're not actively curling your hands around his bruised cheeks, "if Cyclone finds out..."

"Fuck Cyclone." And then Bob's lips are on yours again, no thought required.

It's cruel how easily you fit together. You have a sea of options out there, and yet only Bob Floyd's lips fit against yours so flawlessly. Only your backseater smells of suede and jasmine because he can't stay out of that Polo Blue cologne to save his life. The hand that curls around your cheek feels as if it belongs there. This is how things always should have been.

The angle is awkward; you want to wrap your arms around his neck, but one of your arms is stuck, bracing your body weight, while the other awkwardly flings around to rest between his shoulder blades.

A shy hand presses against your belly, urging you to sink back against the floor. You don't know what possesses you to comply, but the feeling of Bob settling on top of you is something else entirely. Gasping as he disturbs his injury, but unable to draw himself away. Your knees rise, caging either side of his lithe hips; Bob's not wide by any means, but with him between them, your legs feel like they're spread for miles.

"Bobby," panting against his lips.

"'ve got ya," one of his hands glides up your sides, working its way beneath your heavy gear, greedily taking in what lies beneath him. Your back arches, leaning into the touch; haven't felt someone touch you like this in so long that it's foreign.

The desperate need for air is the only thing that can drive a wedge between you, lungs stinging as you gasp for much-needed oxygen. Even that can't stop you from leaning back up, still panting as you press a wayward kiss to his exposed neck. Faintly, Bob's breath catches.

"'m probably sweaty," he warns, but his words fall on deaf ears. You're already dragging your tongue along a protruding vein, sealing it with a wet kiss. "Oh, that's..." the words die with nothing but a sigh.

You've waited your entire life to hear him make that noise. "You're lucky your gear is keeping me from your collarbone," it's more of a cautionary remark than it is anything else. You're itching to nibble on those pretty, exposed bones, can only imagine what sounds he would make.

It only takes him five motions. One to unclasp his life jacket. Two to undo the strap across the chest. One to pull the underlying zipper down and another to shrug the harness off his shoulders, letting it fall down to rest against his hips.

Hallelujah.

Bruises scatter his collarbones and shoulders, glaringly sore but so sensitive as you gingerly work your way down to plant kisses on them. Feather-light, teeth only grazing so as to not hurt him. The motion leaves your neck exposed, giving him the perfect opportunity to press his wet lips to the skin beneath your ear.

"Shit," you hiss, fingertips curling against his shoulder blades. He doesn't say anything, but you can feel his mouth curling against your skin.

His hips dip down, moving on their own accord, something hard brushing against your core. With a strained noise, Bob freezes, nose wrinkling with the grimace that laces his features.

"Were you trying to grind on me, pretty boy?" Teasing. A futile distraction from the pain.

Cheeks heating red, he nods, "'n I got my karma for it, too."

It was just a simple brush, not even full contact, but you've already gotten hooked on that feeling. This isn't the time, nor is it the place. You can already hear the downright fit Cyclone is going to have when he catches wind of this.

Bob's eyebrows raise just a fraction, "yeah?"

Motivated by spite alone, your fingers are already halfway through fumbling with the confines of your harness. Wouldn't have even realized you were doing it had Bob not said anything. It takes some squirming; getting that harness off your legs is harder than it looks, and Bob can only get it down to his knees before he needs assistance.

The millisecond you get that harness safely off his ankle, you plant two firm hands on his chest and push.

"Jesus," he chuckles, arms opening up to welcome you as you climb on top of him.

It's easier this way. You've got to do most of the work, but it keeps Bob from disturbing his ankle. And now, there is nothing that can stop you from tentatively straddling his hips, ass brushing against a hardness that you hope to become overly familiar with someday.

"Better?" You chirp, back aching as you lean down to meet his waiting lips.

As the gap closes, he hums, "better."

Beneath your hands, you can feel his heart pitter-pattering away, soft little thumps that mirror the one that rattles through your weary bones. In the back of your head, a familiar little voice asks you if rolling your hips down into Bob's hard-on is a good idea. There may be no going back from this. The last thing you need is for Cyclone to split you two up and never let you fly together again.

But Bob's sharp inhale tells you that this is a very, very good idea. "Sweetheart," it's hard to tell if it's the pet name or the deep, guttural groan that sends your head spinning, "'m not sure you wanna do that to me."

Eyeroll. "But, Bob~" singsonging.

"But Weave," he whines back, twitching up to rub against the curve of your ass. His eyes scrunch shut, ankle disturbed, but it doesn't hinder him in the slightest. "If we do this," grunting, "I don't think I'm ever gonna be able to get my hands off of ya."

Should you be making major decisions fresh out of a crash? Probably not.

Will you make that decision anyway? Yes.

Leaning down, you allow your mouth to open, teeth grazing the shell of his pale ear, "maybe that's what I want." And that ear goes ruby red in the blink of an eye.

Hands running up your sides, Bob bats his pretty eyes up at you, "then lead the way, pilot."

In all of your whimsy daydreams, you've never come up with a scenario quite like this one. Your quiet, sweet-eyed backseater, laying beneath you in a decrepit shack in the middle of God-knows-where, fresh after an ejection. But somehow, as your hips begin to work themselves against Bob's clothed bulge, and as his hands timidly draw up to cup your breasts, you can't help but realize how fitting it is.

His hips unintentionally shift, and in that simple motion, everything changes. Even through the material of your flight suits, you can feel the outline of him pressing deliciously against your cunt. Not much friction, but it's just enough to have both of your heads rolling, surprised gasps falling from your lips.

You don't know when he's found the opportunity to unzip your g suit, the material that was once wrapped snuggle around your waist, now hanging low on your thighs. But now those deft fingers toy with the zipper of your flight suit, waiting on your command. Rolling your hips once more, you nod.

Bob can't get it down quick enough, barely gets the zipper halfway before he's reaching beyond, hands remarkably warm as they slide beneath your shirt. Those dull nails drag just right, tickling your skin.

"So damn soft," he muses, and with the way he's stroking up your spine, you almost think he's petting you.

They're on the move again, concealed by the distraction of his hips rising up to meet you halfway. Your bra shifts as those wandering hands dive beneath it, doing nothing but feel the shape of you in his palms. Thumbs flick across your nipples, sends your body jerking.

"Jesus, Bobby," squirming as he toys with them, you idly fumble with the side-zipper of his g suit.

"You're lucky there's snow on the ground," he's not even looking at your face, absolutely consumed by what's going on beneath your shirt, "else I'd be beggin' to get this blasted shirt off your pretty lil' frame."

"We can—" fuck, it's hard to talk with him handling your chest like that, "we can save that for when we're sneaking around on the carrier."

"We ain't never gonna hear the end of it," he rolls his hips with yours as he speaks, "Bob and Weave, validatin' everythin' them Admiral's keep sayin' 'bout us."

Just as quickly as he'd reached under your shirt, he retreats, instead taking hold of your devilishly spiraling hips. The pressure tells you to move forward, but when you do, he keeps asking you to move further.

"Bob...?" You're fully sitting on his chest now, and he's still wordlessly asking you to move up.

He reaches up, dragging that zipper down as far as it will go. Right down between your quivering thighs, exposing the flimsy shorts you're wearing beneath. Whether or not he recognizes that these are his own shorts is a different topic entirely.

"Up a little more, sweet thing," he urges once more, "want you sittin' on my face."

Oh.

You don't even know what to think. It's hard to believe that your innocent backseater even know this was a thing, to begin with, but here he is, hooking an index finger into the crook of your shorts and panties. His breath is hot against your sensitive skin, enough to have you trying to rise up and away from the feeling.

"What if you can't breathe?" Bracing your hands on the ground beneath his head.

Brilliant blue eyes flick up to take in your expression. "Good."

And with both of his hands gripping your hips, he leans up and drags his dripping tongue right between your folds. Broad, flat as he spreads you open with it, fuck, that's a hell of a feeling. With you distracted, he pulls you downward, forcing you to sit on his pretty face.

"Bobby," fuck, fuck, fuck, his tongue flicking against your swelling clit is something else.

The bastard hums, somehow already understanding what you mean when you whimper his name. Already knows that the fingers tangling in his hair are a good thing. If you'd thought his breath was hot, this is something else entirely. The wet muscle that laps at your cunt burns hotter than the flames that consumed your aircraft, threatens to burn right through you.

Only plays with your clit for long enough to have you whimpering his name under hushed breaths before lapping his way down, down, down to your neglected entrance. Tonguing it, tracing your sensitive rim before pushing inside. The soft tip of his nose presses into your clit, paying it attention while his tongue works in and out of you.

"Fuck, fuck, Bobby," you hope there aren't any foot soldiers looking for you; they'd be able to hear you a mile away, "how the hell did you—ah, even know about this?"

You shouldn't have asked that. No, no, you shouldn't have because now he's peering up at you as he works your sensitive cunt, "y'talked 'bout it one night at the Hard Deck." He doesn't even try to pull away as he speaks, words vibrating right up your spine. "Been dreamin' 'bout it ever since."

Then he's drawing back up, swirling around the swollen bud that he can't seem to leave alone, "Can y'imagine the heart attack this'd give Mav?" How long has he been hiding lewd words under a sheepish smile? "Find'n out I've got my pilots sweet lil' pussy on my tongue right after I promised I wouldn't?"

Mav. Poor bastard spent the past month convincing Cyclone you and Bob weren't seconds away from jumping each other's bones, only for it to actually happen the moment he turned his back. Not a soul on that carrier has a clue. They don't even know you're alive, never mind squirming on your backseater's face as he laps at your pussy like it's his nine-to-five.

That thought alone sends something tightening in your gut. Familiar.

"'m close," you gasp, tugging at his short locks, "don't wanna cum like this."

Bob pauses midstroke, seems to think a little before speaking, "how d'ya wan' it?"

"I'd rather cum around your cock," not even missing a beat.

And even with his face right between your legs, tongue fresh off your pussy, Robert Floyd has the audacity to turn beet fucking red.

"Well," suddenly unable to meet your eye, "then...be my guest?"

You hate him, you think, as you squirm back down, dragging his flight suit zipper along with you. You hate, hate, hate this motherfucker and his ability to sway so seamlessly between demanding and sheepish.

Beneath his flight suit, his shirt has risen up, revealing a milky-white tummy that absolutely demands a kiss or two. Even if the angle is awkward and puts a strain on your already sore neck.

"'r you really kissin' my belly right now?" Combing his fingers against your scalp, but that doesn't sound like a complaint to you.

"I've gotta do what I've gotta do," the cold tip of your nose nuzzles the smooth skin that resides just next to the waistband of his shorts. Your fingers itch to pull them down, but his flight suit creates a hell of a conundrum. You can't even catch glimpse of his pale thighs, and those are probably an eighth-world wonder on their own.

Next time.

For now, you'll have to be content with pushing the loose material of his shorts upward enough so that you can see his briefs lurking beneath. Even from here, you can see the strain he's putting on the material, makes it easy to find him when you reach past.

"Shit," he hisses, hips rising as you take hold of him at the base. Slowly, slowly, you guide him out, finding yourself amused as he chases your touch until he no longer can.

He's bigger than you thought he would be. A considerable weight in your palm, pale-pink tip silky soft as you toy with it. You hope there will come a day when you can sit down and see how long it takes him to get off from you playing with that mushroom tip. Because right now, as he bites his lip to stifle his noises, you don't think it would take too long.

Speaking of...

"Hah-!" That's a new sound. Peering up at him from beneath your lashes, you poke your tongue out and run it against his length once more. Clamping his hand over his mouth, he reaches down to bat you away from his poor cock, "'gonna get us caught if ya keep doin' that."

Maybe that's the point. Dying with his cock in your mouth. What a way to go.

Cautiously, you settle yourself up on his lap, one hand braced on his sturdy chest while the other guides him to where you want him the most. Blunt head spreading your folds with such ease that it's as if he was made to do it. Once you apply the slightest bit of pressure but allow him to slip forward, just a slight taste that has him grumbling beneath you.

Drawing him back, he catches on your entrance, and slowly, as if moving too quickly will break him, you allow yourself to sink down. It's been a long while since the last time you felt the growing pressure that comes with such an intrusion, gradually stretching to accommodate his girth.

You want to make a remark over the way he downright whimpers into the back of his hand, but you can't so much as make a noise. A little too distracted by how your walls mold to fit the shape of your backseater, filling spaces you forgot you even had. Then your hips are flush together, and it's as if your voice has been punched back into you.

"Fuck, Robby," panting like a dog, you're forced to brace yourself against his chest with both hands or else you'll collapse into a messy heap on top of him, "you could've at least warned me that you were packing."

He rolls his eyes. You hope they get stuck back there. "'m not that big," but he is, and it's so dizzyingly delicious to feel inside of you. Not necessarily long, but thick enough to warrant a wide-load sign.

Experimentally, you lift your hips, testing the waters as you rise up, then slowly sink back down onto him. He hasn't even hit anything special, and yet it's enough to have your lips parting with a silent sound. You haven't the slightest clue where he's finding the strength to swivel his hips beneath you, blindly searching on each timid upward stroke.

And then your breath is hitching, stars sparkling beneath your eyelids as his plush head finds the neglected bundle of nerves hidden within those gooey walls. There it is.

"Better?" He chirps, smiling. Evidently, he's not just good with buttons and switches in fighter jets.

Nodding. "Better"

Drawing yourself up quicker now, barely clinging to his chest as you find your pace. Something shallow enough to avoid the aching in your thighs but quick enough to give you what you want. His head downright nails that poor little spot, has your cunt fluttering around him like a damn butterfly.

"Look so beautiful on top of me," he whines, absolutely awe-struck by the way your body moves, working up and down like you've trained for this moment all your life. His hips twitch upward, weakly meeting you halfway, and rips a surprised cry right out of your throat. "Fuck, 's that what you need, darlin'?"

"Just like that, Bobby," you don't even know what you're saying, only capable of moving a little quicker, desperate to feel him strike that sensitive bundle again and again and again. "Bobby, just like that."

You want more. Need to hear his soft grunts that follow every lewd smack of skin on skin, need more of everything he has to offer you, but your thighs are growing sore. Muscles burning, begging you to stop.

"Can't," you're trying, but your legs just aren't having it, unable to chase the familiar tightening of your core as you ride him. "I can't keep—"

"I got ya," there's an unfamiliar strength to his hands as they tighten around your hips. His upward thrusts are weak, but he pulls you down into them so hard that you can hardly notice a difference.

Two motions of his hips, and you're crumbling like a house of cards, collapsing into his chest. All of a sudden, his name is the only thing you're capable of uttering, face hiding in the crook of his sweaty neck. You don't know where this is coming from, but you pray it never goes away.

"So good for me," he mindlessly babbles against your temple, "cum on my cock for me, sweetie."

His words have you clamping down around him like a vice, writhing as he fucks you. Rhythm faltering but downright merciless as he works that sensitive spot over and over, sends a fire rippling up your belly. Skin prickling as it builds, your mouth starts to move on its own. "Bobby, Bobby."

"Cum, darlin'," and he's saying more, some whispered encouragement to give it to him, but you don't need it.

One, two, three more pumps of his cock, and you're biting down into his collarbone, unable to stop the strangled squeal that he just about jackhammers out of you. Distantly, you can feel his hips stalling, an unfamiliar heat filling you, but your head is back up in the clouds. Foggy, the air so thin that you can't catch your breath as you weakly pulse around his dick.

But this time, when you open your eyes after a long while, you don't find yourself surrounded by snow and an unfamiliar forest. No, you're wrapped in the strong arms of your Weapons Systems Officer, cock still wedged in you as he presses kisses to your sweaty forehead.

"Y'still with me?" He coos into your temple.

Nodding, "barely."

It's twelve hours before search and rescue are finally deployed to come and find you. It takes another twelve for them to release you and Bob from debriefing hell. It's an hour after that when the honorary "they're not dead!" celebration takes off. The cafeteria that houses the impromptu event reeks of alcohol, which may be the reason why nobody catches you and your backseater sneaking out of your own party.

"I still can't believe you didn't break it," you muse, too focused on rewrapping Bob's ankle to pay attention to the fingers that stroke your cheek. The countless stitches look worse than the original gash itself did, sends a chill down your spine every time you see it.

"See? I told you I was fine," his eye-roll is audible in his tone, never has been good at hiding it.

Not missing a beat, you nip at his thumb, chasing his hand away from your face. You need to focus. The last thing you want to do is wrap his ankle too loosely or too tightly. But as you place the metal clasp back into his gauze, your work doesn't look too far off from the medics.

"Better?"

"Not yet," tapping his lips, "'m still missing a little something."

Huffing, you lean up, meeting his lips halfway. You fear that you're slowly creating a kiss fiend. "Now, is it better?"

All of it is worth it when you get to see his face light up, features laced with a grin so big that his eyes wrinkle with it. "Better."

475 notes · View notes

stranger-nightmare · 2 years

Text

𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫

Part One

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x (female) Reader

Summary: (this is set during a time when our young Top Gun pilots were still training at the academy) at another function hosted by the academy you find Bob being his usual wallflower self, sneaking off somewhere to be alone and away from the crowd, but this time you decide to keep him company...

Warnings: one use of ‘y/n’, inexperienced / virgin Bob, fluff, smut, oral (m receiving), minors DNI

A/N: okay so this was (loosely) inspired by a porn audio, like it just gives immaculate Bob vibes to me so I just had to actually write it out! it ended up going in a slightly softer, more emotional direction than I had ininitaly intended but ngl I kinda love it, I hope you guys do too!!

Part Two | Part Three

You sigh quietly to yourself as you poke your head into yet another room. Just one of many at this incredible mansion that the academy was currently hosting their end of year gala. You’d been idly chatting with everyone, flitting between groups of people, keeping mostly at Phoenix’s side. Occasionally you’d make eye contact with Bob where he perched against the wall, more content with just watching from a distance than being in the centre of attention, like Hangman. You’d tried to convince Bob several times to come join you with everyone else, but he’d blushed and politely declined. Eventually you’d dropped it, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

But then, just as Hangman started one of his stories that you’d already heard several times before, you noticed Bob was no longer at his spot on the wall. You looked around the large ballroom but couldn’t spot him. You just instinctively knew he’d snuck off somewhere to be alone. It wasn’t like it was an uncommon occurrence for him. But tonight, for some reason, you feel your heart drop when you no longer see him against the wall, missing the way his eyes seemed to always follow you specifically as you went around the room. Something like longing, yearning, had flooded your chest and you just couldn’t fight the urge to go and find him.

And so here you were, up one flight of stairs, poking into your third room of the night.

“Hey there, Wallflower,” you smirk as your eyes land on Bob, leaning on the back wall furthest from the door.

Bob coughs awkwardly, clearly caught off guard that you’d managed to find him in his hiding spot. The room appeared to be some kind of office or library. There was a large desk in the centre of the room, mostly empty save for a lamp and some scattered papers. The room was dim, the scattered lamps on the wall providing just barely enough light to see the room.The walls were lined with book-filled shelves, all except the back wall, which was dedicated to grand art pieces and portraits hung high in the grand room.

“Hey,” Bob flashes a bashful smile in greeting. “How did you know I was in here?”

“I didn’t,” you tell him honestly as you step into the grand room, closing the heavy door behind you. “I figured you’d snuck off somewhere, but I wasn’t sure where exactly,” you shrug. “This was the third room I checked,” you laugh lightly.

“Oh, right,” he nods at you with that signature soft smile of his; the perfect picture of sweetness and innocence.

You glide your way over to where he was leaning against the back wall, a beer still in his hand.

“The party get too much for you?” You ask genuinely.

Bob shrugs sheepishly.

“There wasn’t really anything for me to do or say so I, er, didn’t see any point hanging around,” he admits quietly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I was just being a wallflower again anyway,” he smiles at you gently.

Bob being a wallflower had become a small inside joke between the two of you. It had even developed into a nickname for which only you referred to him by. You return his small smile as you come to a stop just in front of him. You can feel the buzz of the alcohol in your system; it made your body feel tingly, your heart feel open.

“You telling me there’s no pretty ladies out there you want to ask to dance? Hmm?” You tease coyly, pressing for a response.

Bob blushes, his eyes averting from yours.

“N-no,” he gives his head a small shake, “well maybe one, but I- I- never mind,” he mumbles to himself, shaking his head as if he could dispel whatever, or whoever, he was thinking about from his head.

You looked at him with gentle curiosity. A part of you wondered, hoped even, that it was you he was talking about. You kind of thought it was. But you couldn’t be sure. You sigh and clear your throat lightly before you speak again.

“So, you just gonna hang out in here for the rest of the night then?” You ask plainly.

“Oh, no, no. I just, er, needed a moment away,” he blushes.

You nod in understanding, shifting yourself a touch closer towards him.

“You want some company?”

“Uh, I don’t mind really. I’m okay here alone,” he smiles awkwardly.

You feel a weird sensation of disappointment settle in your chest, your smile faltering.

“You sure?” You venture.

“Oh yeah, I don’t mind being alone.”

“But do you actually want to be alone?” You push.

He shrugs and stammers quietly.

“I don’t mind.”

“That’s not really an answer,” you push.

He just shrugs and gives you and awkward smile that almost looks like a grimace.

“Bob,” you almost chastise him as fails to answer you.

You stare at him hard, and he practically folds in on himself under your gaze.

“I, uh, I’m not sure what it is you want.... what you want me to say,” he flushes with embarrassment again.

You look at him earnestly, feeling warmth flood your own cheeks. You take a deep breath before you let your words fly free, the alcohol in your system giving you just enough confidence to get the words off your chest.

“I want you to tell me that you want me to stay here with you,” you tell him with a sad smile.

When he sees hurt flash in your eyes he panics.

“I do, I do! I do want you to stay,” he stammers quickly, moving to step closer to you, like he was going catch you if you tried to dart free. “I just didn’t want to make you feel like you had to if you didn’t want to. I- I do want you here,” he looks almost as hurt as you now.

You feel your heart warm as you look at him. You reach out a hand to cup his cheek gently as he stares earnestly at you. You let your thumb stroke over his cheek, watching his eyes flutter slightly behind his glasses.

“Good, because I do want to stay,” you confirm with him.

“You do?” He looks almost taken aback.

“Mm-hm,” you confirm with a warm smile.

The buzz of the alcohol fizzes in your veins again as you find yourself leaning forwards, edging your mouth towards Bob’s. He freezes but doesn’t move away. You lean close enough to feel his lips tickle yours, to breathe in his scent, and it’s enough to make you dizzy. Enough to have the last of your inhibitions lost. You push yourself forwards again and finally crash your lips against Bob’s.

He moans in surprise, his eyes widening for a moment, his body frozen.

“Wha- what are you doing?” He exhales, his words muffled as you keep kissing him.

You just hum lightly into his mouth and keep moving your lips on his, tasting the peppermint of his toothpaste laced with the beer he still held in hand. You desperately try to kiss him harder, moving your body closer to his, pushing flush against him. He whimpers, trying to argue again but you push your mouth against his harder, frantically pleading with him to give in, to kiss you back. His whimpers begin to turn into soft moans as he slowly but surely starts to reciprocate the kiss.

His lips move softly over yours for a moment, tentatively searching yours; as if he was learning how they moved, how they fit against his. His body starts to relax, the tense nerves easing as he melts into the kiss. You feel his empty hand ghost over your waist, hovering just an inch over your body, hesitant to actually touch you.

“Wait, wait,” he pants suddenly, taking a deep breath as he tries to control his breathing. “Are you drunk? Is that why this is happening?” He looks down sadly, avoiding your gaze.

Your heart aches at the question, at the pathetic look of disappointment in his eyes. You reach up and cup his face, coaxing him to look back up at you.

“I’m not drunk,” you reassure him gently.

He looks at you warily, his cheeks still flushed red. You lean forwards again to press your lips to his. And, this time, he reciprocates the motion almost immediately, letting his lips move in time with yours. You kiss him gently for a while, the taste of him making you dizzy as it mixes with the fuzz of the alcohol in your brain.

You whine softly into the kiss as you swipe your tongue over Bob’s lower lip. He groans lightly in response, his mouth parting instinctively. You seize the opportunity, letting your tongue gently push into his mouth, sliding against his own. His tongue, slowly and warily at first, soon starts to meets yours stroke for stroke. You knew Bob had been kissed before, had even had a few decent make-out sessions from what you’d heard. But you also knew that was the furthest he’d gone so far. You couldn’t help but wonder why; if he kissed this good you could only imagine what he’d be like doing more...

But your reverie is disrupted when Bob breaks the kiss suddenly. You look at him worriedly.

“Um, just one second,” he blushes, before quickly ducking away.

You’re confused, almost hurt, until you see him jogging lightly to place his beer bottle onto a small side table nearby before jogging lightly back to you. The ridiculous cuteness of his little action makes your heart flutter. He jogs back to you, his now free hands reaching out to gently grab your face. His smile could light up the night sky as he leans down to kiss you again. You both smile into the kiss, lips dancing delicately together as Bob leans back against the wall again, his gentle hold on your face pulling you with him.

You kiss him deeply and gently for a short while before the buzz in your brain starts to bubble again. You moan louder into the kiss, pushing your body flush against him, effectively pinning him against the wall. Your hands move to run through his short hair, tugging lightly on his blonde locks, mussing it out of it’s neat style. It causes a groan to leave his lips. You start to rock your body against him, rubbing your crotch against his. You swear you can already feel him semi-hard within the restraints of his suit pants.

“Oh, wait...” he pants, tipping his head back, pulling his lips free from yours.

But you don’t want to wait. You want him.

You carried on kissing him, moving down to his neck. You kiss and nip at his gorgeous throat, watching as his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. His hands are now on your waist, squeezing you anxiously as you assault his neck with a litany of kisses and soft bites. He groans and gasps in surprise again as your lips trail back up to his mouth, moving with a fervour against his again. You kiss him hard and deep, dominating his mouth as one of your hands moves from his hair to trail down his body.

“I- I don’t- oh fuck,” he whines under his breath when you bring your hand between your two bodies, palming him through his trousers.

You hum in satisfaction when you feel his hips buck pathetically against your touch. You rub him gently over the fabric of his trousers, giving his steadily hardening cock a light squeeze. His breathing is heavy and uneven, his lips losing all concentration in returning your kiss as his mind becomes fogged with only the feeling of your hand palming his cock.

“Wait... stop... we...we should... should stop,” Bob pants hard, his face a mixture of pleasure and barely contained restraint, confusion and longing.

“Do you actually want me to stop?” You ask breathlessly, giving him a second.

“I- I don’t know,” he flushes awkwardly again. “Do you actually want to be doing this? Or is... is it just the alcohol?”

“I already told you,” you nip at his neck again, “I’m not drunk. I want this. I want you,” you tell him honestly.

He freezes at that.

“You do?” His eyes are wide, alight with hope.

“Yes,” you tell him simply, earnestly, placing another kiss to his lips.

He smiles against your mouth, kissing you back enthusiastically, his hands finding their way to your waist again and pulling you against him. You smile to yourself as he finally starts to reciprocate your actions further. He whines softly as you palm him a bit harder, feeling him grow fully hard beneath your touch. It’s then that he starts to stammer nervously again, pulling his lips off you.

“But I don’t- I don’t really know what I’m doing,” he grimaces sheepishly, “I’ve never done this… anything really… before.”

“It’s okay,” you shake your head and smile gently, “just relax.”

You go back to kissing at his neck. You remove your hand from his crotch momentarily to slide up his torso. You undo his tie quickly, throwing it aside before your fingers reach for the fastenings of his crisp white button-up. You undo the top few buttons, opening up his shirt to uncover just the top of his smooth chest. You kiss greedily at the new areas of exposed skin, your lips smoothing over the curves of his delicate collar bones, the line between his pecks. At the same time, you bring your hand back down to his crotch, squeezing him lightly through his dress pants.

“Oh f-fuck,” he mewls, his hands trembling where they held onto your hips. “Okay, but I shouldn’t... we shouldn’t... I mean, what if... what if someone finds us?”

“No one’s gonna find us, don’t worry,” you whisper huskily as you start unfastening his trousers now. “Hangman’s busy telling one of his stories again. Should keep everyone occupied for a while,” you chuckle.

He’s about to mumble another hesitation but it gets lodged in his throat as you push down his pants slightly, just enough to free his hard length. His flushes bright red as he looks down at where you held him in your hand. His entire body shakes with nerves. But you smile at him sweetly and duck your head to kiss his cheek lightly. You begin to pump him slowly, stroking your hand up and down his admittedly impressive length as you begin kissing down his throat again. He groans so gently, so sweetly, as you stroke him. He slowly but surely starts to relax again, his body untensing slightly.

You smile at your small victory before placing a final kiss to the base of throat. Then, you sink to your knees in front of him.

“Oh fuck, wha-what are you doing now?” His voice is trembling just as much as his fingers as they gently caress your face.

“I want to taste you,” you pout at him.

Bob balks for a second, his eyes widening almost comically; “you want what?”

You let your mouth twist into a smile, just a hint of wicked smirk tugging at the edge of your lips, before you wrap them around the head of his dick.

Bob groans so deeply, so loudly, that for a moment you’re almost concerned everyone would be able to hear him, even here, rooms away, even above the music that played in the main hall. His body tenses again, so you keep your touch light, just gently suckling on his tip as you gaze up at him.

“Oh, oh my god,” he whines, one of his hands reaching out beside him to help hold himself upright against the wall.

He throws his head back, his face scrunching with pleasure, eyes screwed shut. His other hand hovers just above your head, clearly desperate to hold onto to something but not wanting to do anything untoward to you, despite his cock being in your mouth. You fight the urge to affectionally roll your eyes as you grab his hovering hand, guiding his fingers to slide into your hair, cupping the back of your head. He looks at you, as if asking for permission, and you nod your head lightly once.

You then push your lips further down his cock, taking him deeper inside your mouth. He shudders as you do so, his hips bucking the tiniest bit. His fingers twitch, pulling on your hair. You moan loudly at the sharp tug, letting your tongue swirl around his head enthusiastically again as you pull back almost all the way off him.

“Wait, y-you liked that?” He mumbles as he looks back down at you.

You hum a sound of agreement as you bob back down onto his dick. His returning smile is delightful, unlike anything you’ve seen adorn his beautiful face before. You could almost squeal in delight as you feel him start to take some initiative. He curls his fingers against your skull, losing them in your hair. His thumb brushes against your jaw, running back forth from your chin to below your ear.

Your lips smile around him as you start to speed up your movements, bobbing your head up and down his length, letting your tongue flatten against the base of his surprisingly thick cock. His soft gasps and pants are music to your ears. His whimpers travel straight through your body, sending pulses your cunt as it started to grow wetter and wetter.

“O-oh, oh my god. Fuck, that feels so good. Y- you feel so good. Oh my god,” Bob rambles incoherently.

His words have you clenching your thighs, desperately rubbing them together to gain some kind of friction.

“Don’t stop, ple- please don’t stop,” he rasps pitifully, his fingers instinctively twisting harder in your hair as he loses himself to the pleasure.

His fingers are trembling as they twist into your hair. You hum in response, letting him know you had no intention of stopping. You relish in the deep groan it pulls from him. His whines start to get higher and higher in pitch, escaping his mouth more and more frequently. His hips jerk, his fingers twisting painfully in your hair. His legs feel wobbly and a part of you knew he was leaning against the wall to help keep himself upright. You also knew, from all these signs, that he was likely close. It was only a moment before he confirmed your suspicions.

“Oh shit, y/n… I... I think I’m gonna... I’m gonna...” he stammers, trying to pull himself away from you, clearly thinking himself too much of a gentleman to cum down your throat.

But you push his hips back against the wall, trapping him, keeping your mouth firmly in place. You moan enthusiastically, encouraging him, telling him it was okay. He looks down to see your wide eyes staring up at him, batting your eyelashes back up at him. Apparently, that look from you, paired with a final swirl of your tongue around his head, finally has him tipping over into pure bliss.

Bob gasps and curses, a string of profanities you’d never thought would leave this blushing aviator’s mouth. Your name is a cry on his lips as he releases himself into your mouth. His entire body trembles, shaking with pleasure as he spills down your throat. His cock twitches with each wave of pleasure as he shoots it into your mouth. You keep bobbing your head, easing up on your sucking action so as to not overwhelm or overstimulate him.

He leans slack against the wall, his legs trembling, barley holding himself upright. His chest is heaving with his rapid breathing, the tiniest sheen of sweat coating the exposed skin of his neck and chest. His hand loosens in your hair, but he keeps it resting there, his thumb still stroking your jaw. You pull yourself off him just as looks back down at you. Your eyes stay locked with his as you swallow loudly, letting the salty taste of him slide down your throat.

“You- oh my god. You’re fucking amazing,” he pants under his breath, the look in his eye suggesting he hadn't entirely meant to say that out loud.

Bob’s other hand moves to cup the other side of your face, gently pulling you upwards him. You let him guide you, standing up, until he pulls your face against his. His lips latch on yours and move confidently with your own. His kiss is soft and yet dominate, his lips searching yours feverishly.

After a moment Bob pulls away, gazing at you with a pensive look on his face. His brow is slightly creased as his eyes search your face. He bites on his lip nervously, like he was unsure about what he was about to say next.

“You okay?” You ask him gently.

He nods, his tiny smile gracing his gorgeous face, even as his cheeks flush bright red again.

“I just-“ he swallows nervously, “I want to taste you too...”

Part Two | Part Three

Masterlist

A/N: if anyone is curious this is the link to the audio! it is a porn audio so it is for people 18+ only! anyways, I really hope you enjoyed this and yeah part two is coming on Saturday night and I’m really really looking forward to it!!

Taglist // Join My Nightmare Realm // Ko-fi

2K notes · View notes

ultralightpoe · 2 months

Text

Sweet Nothing - Robert 'Bob' Floyd

Authors Note : I cannot believe this is only the second piece I had ever written for him because I loved him! This sat in the drafts a litte too long if you know what I mean.

Word Count: 3519

Warnings: - none I believe -

Requests: OPEN

Main Master list - - Midnights Event List

(Thank you for the gif @topgundaily )

x Enjoy! x

I spy with my little tired eye

Tiny as a firefly

A pebble that we picked up last July

Down deep inside your pocket

We almost forgot it

Does it ever miss Wicklow sometimes?

It’s a weird feeling, knowing that you were so close to the end and not being ready for it. You wanted to dig your heels in the mud and fight away from the finish line, drag yourself back to the start. What you would give to go back to the beginning when it was still so sweet and happy.

But you weren’t in a race, and you couldn’t fight your way away from the finish line this time. No, right now you are laid out across the bed of your guest room with the love of your life avoiding you downstairs. The end is coming. You both knew it, you just weren’t ready.

You had been warned over and over, from your friends to your parents and you knew his own group had warned him as well. You should have listened. But you both thought you could beat the odds.

He took you to the lake for a date, a fact that made your friends giggle amongst each other as you rushed around to get ready. Braiding your hair at first before panicking and not liking it so you rushed to brush through as your best friend chose the best bathing suit for you to wear and they all talked about your date.

“-He is so cute. And he blushes whenever you are close, which is so cute.” Veronica smiles, playing with your waterproof mascara as your brush snags on a nasty knot in your hair and makes you gasp in pain.

“Are you sure about this? He is a military man. We have the no dating military rule for a reason.” Samantha snaps, her eyes laid with mistrust and her body rigid as she leans against your wall. “I don’t want to get a call in the middle of the night of you crying to escape.”

That made you panic slightly, you knew Bob and he was always so sweet but how many females had fallen for the sweet act before. He was military and Samantha herself had gone through a military marriage that led to a broken cheek and nose, you had been the one to give her a place to stay.

“It will be fine.” You shrug. “I have a good feeling.”

And you had been right, he took you to the lake and you both swam around for hours. He braided your hair when you got out so it didn’t get knotted and tangled from the lake water. You stayed huddled together in his car for warmth as you ate the greasiest burgers you could and laughed about the day you had.

“I had a lot of fun today.” Bob blushes, fixing his glasses from where they were sliding down his nose as you smile at him. His cheeks were a little rosy from the sun and his knee was pressed to yours, his hair swept awkwardly. “Thank you for spending the day with me.”

“Thank you for inviting me.” You answer, both your voices low as you stare at each other. “I loved it.”

“You ready to go home, then?” He asks, his cheeks reddening even more past the burn which makes you smile a little wider.

“Or we could…. Well we could go to your place.” You offer to be near him a little longer.

“I’d love that.” He smiles, moving to pull something out of the pocket of his swim trunks, placing it on the dashboard so he could start the car, and you blink at it.

“Did you have a rock in your pocket?”

“Yeah. I thought it was pretty and I wanted to keep a memory of today.” He says lowly, looking at you nervously. “Is that weird?”

“No. Not at all.” You laugh, leaning to kiss his cheek.

They said the end is coming

Everyone's up to something

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they're push and shoving

You're in the kitchen humming

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

That little pebble from the lake still sat on his dashboard, the day he crashed his truck he made sure to grab it and keep it in his pocket. When he got his flier from the military he kept it on that dashboard now. He always carted it around in the air, saying it was his good luck charm.

The thought makes tears well up in your eyes as you drag yourself from the bed and shuffle around the room to get dressed for the day. It had been the very first time you slept without Bob, which meant you didn’t actually get any sleep and you were more than a little cranky. Tired, cranky and upset.

Not a good mix.

But you tried to keep it together while you got ready for the day, fixing your hair and slipping on shoes before heading downstairs to grab your bag and keys.

When your love sees you he casts his eyes away, rubbing at his chest as he makes himself look busy. “I made coffee if you need-”

It hurt to hear his voice, tearing at your chest as you snatch your work bag and keys before storming out of the house without any coffee. Just like that the feeling of betrayal is back, slashing at your heart and making you angry once more.

Even the sound of his voice upset you now.

Bob knew the news was not going to be delivered easily, waiting for you to get home from work with his leg bouncing wildly out of anxiety. You would leave, he knew it. Not that he would blame you, it would just tear him up through and through.

The front door stands and he rushes up, fixing his glasses and turning the corner to where you would still be taking off your shoes. “Hey.”

Your head snaps up at his greeting, smiling softly as you shuffle closer and lean up on your toes to kiss his cheek before you move to kiss his lips. You seem to read his body language then, the tight stance and the guilty way he doesn’t kiss back before you lean back and blink at him. “Everything okay?”

“I….. They are changing my… okay so you know how we always talk about how I might be restationed?” He mumbles, reaching a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “Well I… they are restationing me.”

“What? How long do you have?” You blink, fully pulling back from him. His hands catch on the bottom of your jacket, trying to keep you close and failing when you take another step back.

His face pulls in a grimace as he realizes that this is where the annoyance will kick in, where you will actually get mad at him. “I have about 2 weeks.”

“2 weeks! I’m sorry, repeat that because it sounds like you just said 2 weeks.” You snap, blinking at him as your face begins setting into anger. “Aren’t they supposed to give you more time? Why would they make this so short?”

“Well I found out… a month ago. I just didn’t know how to explain and I wanted to find an apartment that might work before I told you.”

“What do you mean, might work?!”

“For us. An apartment that would be big enough for us-”

“You expect me to drop my entire life in 2 weeks?!” And before either of you knew it there was a fight brewing.

On the way home

I wrote a poem

You say, "What a mind"

This happens all the time

You can’t really concentrate at work, your pen tapping on your desk a little too quickly, your coworkers beginning to look at you with odd glances.

The more you thought the more you began changing your mind. It’s not like you loved this job, you would be more than happy to give your two weeks. Hell, you would love to give your days notice. You would not miss this job nor would you miss any of your coworkers. You would however miss your friends and family.

But it’s not like phones didn’t exist, and it’s not like you couldn’t take vacations to come see them. But it still wouldn’t be the same, you would be tearing yourself away from your family and friends. Alienating yourself.

At the end of the day your options are narrowed down to leaving Bobby behind or leaving your life behind.

Would you be able to make that choice.

“Are you okay?” Your boss asks, coming to stand at your cubicle with a stern look. “I haven’t received any of the reports I needed from you in the past hour.”

“I…..” You blink, sitting up straighter, the photo of Bobby you have on your desk catching your eyes.

“Let’s talk in my office.” She snaps, nodding her head as you try to come up with a proper excuse to your behavior.

A month into the relationship and your friends still were a little skeptical of your boyfriend, but things were easy and you were in love.

Tonight you would be taking Bobby to your friends birthday party, which was a very important thing and your boyfriend was panicking. You were laying on his bed, watching him pace back and forth in his room as he tried to find something to wear.

“Does it look kiss assy if I match you? Because you look great but I don’t want your friends thinking I’m…. or maybe these jeans won’t work. How dressy is this party?” He panics, finally looking at you and fixing his glasses.

“I think you are stressing yourself out.” You mumble, patting the bed in front of you to call him over. He sighs, moving to sit by you with a grunt which has you crawling closer and laying your head in his lap. His fingers immediately comb through your hair as he smiles down at you.

“I know your friends don’t like me, I just want to impress them.” He blushes, shrugging his shoulders.

“They like you… they all just have thoughts on the military life.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. They are scared you’re going to try and marry me and drag me across the country away from them and everyone. It’s a valid fear.”

“So…. you…. Well….. “ He blanches, nodding his head before moving to stand up. “I’ll stick with the shirt that matches you and the jeans.”

'Cause they said the end is coming

Everyone's up to something

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they're push and shoving

You're in the kitchen humming

All that you ever wanted from me was nothing

The drive home was filled with shaky hands and tears, you had to pull over once and swipe at your cheeks, taking a second to catch your breath before you continued your drive home.

The house was dark, Bobby’s shoes gone and his key slot empty which meant he probably went to work or had some other stuff to take care of. You sighed in relief, thankful for at least a couple more hours before you would have to have this conversation with him.

Instead you went upstairs, grabbing the stuff you had angrily dragged to the guest room last night and putting it back where it belonged before you hid and called your mom.

Cowardly, you might add.

You were in tears by the time you slammed the door to the guest room, hands shaking as you screamed at him to leave you alone, your breathing ragged and torn.

How dare he? How dare he hide this from you and assume you would just up and leave? How dare he not tell you.

A little forewarning, a little more understanding. Anything more than this.

“Baby, can we please talk about this?” He asks through the door, a small thump telling you he laid his head on the door. “I…. we both knew this would happen. This doesn’t need to be this big of a deal.” “Go away. Just leave me alone.” You hated that he was right, that you had always known and had always been warned and yet still couldn’t imagine it.

Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors

And smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other

And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more"

To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it

It had been a long day that had followed a long night, and he was tired.

All he wanted to do was crawl under your shared sheets and pull you into him, snoring in your neck the way you always complain about while laughing, tickling your sides and snoring loudly just to bother you a little more.

But after the fight he was sure you would still have a couple more issues to comb through. He understood, he did. The way he threw it at you was a bit much, and he should have told you sooner but he wanted to make sure everything was sorted before he brought it up. He wanted all his ducks to be in a row.

He was used to this life, you weren’t.

The house smelled like it normally does when he gets home, your key in it’s preferred spot and your shoes left by the door, but no you in sight which bothered him. He loved when you came to greet him and now the house just felt empty when he entered.

Calling your name once, another try, one last time before he sighs and moves to find you without taking his shoes off. He heads upstairs, moving through the halls easily in search of you. Something melting in his chest when he sees you curled upon his side of the bed with your face pressed into his pillow.

Shuffling closer and placing a kiss on the back of your head before closing the blinds to your shared room and making sure you are comfortable before heading downstairs and getting started on dinner. Concentrating on that rather than remembering your tear stained face from the night before.

There were hundreds of ways he could have handled the situation better, and he tried to do the right thing and ease you into it. But he still did the wrong thing.

He just wanted you, he just needed you.

Nothing else mattered to him.

“I can’t believe it.” You smile, from ear to ear, as you help him carry in the last of the boxes into your new shared townhouse.

He had gotten news that his leave would be extended another 2 years, which meant he didn’t have to leave you yet. You both chose to find a new place together after 7 months of dating and build a home together. He couldn’t be happier.

You were quick to set the box onto the kitchen table before dashing to jump into his arms which made him laugh loudly, nearly dropping you as he tripped up and ran into a wall. “What’s the first thing we do in our new place?”

“Oh there are so many options,handsome. We can cook dinner…. Or maybe set up our kitchen table properly…” You list off ideas, a mischievous glint in your tone. “Or we can fuck.”

He chokes on air, his cheeks tinting red as he blinks at you. “The last one. Definitely the last one.”

They said the end is coming

Everyone's up to something

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they're push and shoving

You're in the kitchen humming

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

By the time you wake up you have no clue how long you slept. More than a little disoriented as you crawl from the bed and shuffle down the steps of your home, still wiping the sleep from your eyes as you keep tripping on your way to the kitchen.

He’s got his back to you as he hums, cooking over the stove, and the sight alone makes your eyes well up in tears. It had been almost 3 years with him, living together and building a life together.

He doesn’t have time to turn as you dash to him, tears falling freely as you wrap your arms around him and cry into the shirt on his back, clutching the fabric between your fingers as he tries his best to hug back. “Hey hey. Take it easy.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.” You sob, keeping him held tight.

“It’s fine. We’ll figure it out.” He whispers, finally getting the perfect spot to turn and hug you back. “I can make trips down here, any time I get days off I can try to get back here. You don’t have to give up your life for me.”

“No.”

“Come on baby. We can’t just drop this.” He pleads, trying to move you both to the table so you can sit and have conversation. “I can’t lose you. I know we were both aware of this coming but it’s different now that it is here.”

“I quit my job.” You blurt, making him blink at you. “I quit and already called my mom to tell her. I’ll be going with you.”

He can’t stop blinking at you, his heart stopping in his chest. “You didn’t have to…. You didn’t have to do that. I could have made the trips-”

“I don’t want to. I want you near all the time. I can’t live without you so if you’re being shipped to some stupid ocean side town then I will come with you and learn to swim.” You mumble out.

“You can swim.”

“Yeah…. In stillwater.” You laugh, the tears still falling. “I’ve given you 3 years. I’m not giving up now.”

“I know you don’t want this life ,marriage and being carted around.” He sighs. “But I was too selfish to let you go. And I can’t do that. I can’t let you go.”

“Is that what you think? That I don’t want to marry you?”

“Well your friends always sai-”

“I would love to marry you….. Okay you will actually have to ask me, this is not a proposal.”

“Okay, just take a breath.” Bobby laughs, watching you shake in the seat of his cockpit. “It’s just flying.”

“I’m not going in the air.” You snap a little too aggressively, the panic of being in the seat beginning to get to you. It was too high already, and you did not know how he did this on a day to day basis. “Let me out.”

“Okay, hold on. Take a deep breath with me now baby and just relax.” He orders, rubbing your arm comfortably. “Take a breath. You’re okay. Just take a look.”

You do what he says and take a deep breath in, looking around his cockpit before you spot the small rock from your first date sitting under the sun on the dashboard. “You still have that?”

“Of course.” He laughs, reaching past you to grab it before beginning to point and show you all the cool things in the cockpit.

They said the end is coming (they said the end is coming)

Everyone's up to something (everyone's up to something)

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they're push and shoving (outside, they're push and shoving)

You're in the kitchen humming (you're in the kitchen humming)

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

The new place had a weird energy.

You were still getting used to not being so close to your family and days at the beach were not as amazing as you dreamed them to be. Bobby was a part of a ‘secret team’ and his days were pretty packed with a high paced training schedule at first so there were many days you were left alone to figure out what to do.

You ended up getting another job, this one you liked a little more than the last but it was still so new to you.

It would take you a while to get used to everything which was fine, you had never had to move like that before but it would all be fine.

But today Bobby got time off, which you made sure would be spent well. Dressing up in a great outfit and driving out to the stadium to scream Taylor Swift at the top of your lungs.

By the time he drags you home you have drunkenly decided that the poster you got from the Eras tour might help you liven your new house with. Bobby agrees, smiling from ear to ear as you hang it up lopsided, knowing that if it makes you happy then he will 100 percent get more for every room of the house.

You fall asleep in his arms, letting him whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

#top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun smut #top gun angst #top gun fluff #top gun fanfic #robert floyd smut #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd fluff #robert floyd angst #robert floyd x you #robert floyd x y/n #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd smut #bob floyd angst #bob floyd fluff

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jaidens · 9 months

Text

Then We Kiss, And You Know I Won't Ever Tell, Yeah

pairing [s] : bob floyd x fem!reader

warning [s] : nothing | some suggestive kissing and touching. | [drabble]

a/n [s] : requests are open ! this is horrible, used to be a draft

Bob’s arms flex as he unbuttons the flight suit from his body. You're laying against the messy bed, against one of the many pillows scrolling through Instagram. The loft apartment was only lit up with the city's lights and almost dark sky. Your Bath & Body Works candles are lit, causing the room to smell like one of your favorite smells. “How was work today?” You ask Bob, noticing how his eyebrows are screwed together and he’s tugging off his clothes angrily.

He's left in a white tank top, and boxers before he tugs on a flannel pair of pajamas. They hang low on his hips and he falls to the bed, crawling into your open arms. He groans once he falls into your arms, putting his head into the bend of your neck and shoulder. “Work was horrible. Hangman was on my ass today, I left my clothes in my car, and to make it all better: the air conditioning broke.”

You frown at his words and stroke the back of his head gently, letting him mess with the bottom of your loose tank top. “That must have been horrible, I'm so sorry.” Your hands are running throughout his mop of hair while he mumbles words into your stomach. The light pink tank top is slightly risen to expose the bottom of your stomach. Bob’s lips kiss across the bottom, as his hands fall against your hips.

“Its okay. Just need you, honey. Missed you all day.” Bob's voice is laced with tiredness and need as he lets his hand glide up your tank top and let his hands mess with everything he could. When he would have these spells after work, need and tiredness, he would cling onto you and keep his hands on you at all times he was able to. The Montana accent became thicker and slurred as he kissed against the edge of your cloth shorts.

“Bobby.. lemme treat you tonight. Been working so hard recently.” You say to him and pick up his chin from where he's lying. He nods and sits up, the sound of his back cracking as he does it. Bob has some bruises in some places on his soft skin and you kiss your lips against some risen scars he has.

Bob goes to object, wanting to help you but then lays back when you run your hands through his hair. He's sure it looks crazy after being messed with so much, but he can't find himself to care as he leans into your touch. You gently rub the knots in his shoulders as they start to fall down slowly.

His lips connect with yours, his hand going to the back of your neck and pulling you down. You're sitting on his lap, feeling his hands travel up your thighs to your hips and squeezing and grabbing in some places. Bob is kissing you gently and softly, letting his lips glide against you instead of pushing it on some nights.

The night ends with slow kisses, soft moans, and a whole lot of love shared between you too.

#robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bob x reader #bob floyd #robert bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x female reader #robert floyd x you #robert floyd x y/n #robert floyd x reader #top gun maverick #bob top gun #robert floyd #bob floyd drabble

150 notes · View notes

saltsicklover · 8 months

Text

Part Nine

Title: Once an Asshole, Always an Asshole

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4200+

Rating: R

Warnings: Swearing, Crying, Tobacco, Smoking, Argument, the mention of death, mention of SA, Bob being heartbroken and fucking angry

Second Chance Romance!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bob Floyd, or anything related to Top Gun Maverick within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

---

Rooster and Phoenix sit in the Bronco silently and Sunny sleeps in the back seat. They both fidget in their seats. Natasha wiggles, adjusting her whole body. Rooster cracks his knuckles repeatedly. They only make it through the next stop sign before the quiet is broken.

"Did you know Bob smokes?"

"I have so much information on Bob,"

The pair speak at the same time, both of them shooting a glance in the rearview to see if Sunny is still asleep. She doesn't even stir.

"You first," Bradley speaks again, flicking on his blinker. The signal blinks blinks blinks. Natasha takes a deep breath, running a hand through her hair.

"Sunny has been talking about this guy who broke her heart, God, Rooster, she has been talking about him for years. I knew his name was Bobby, but fuck, I didn't even stop to think that her Bobby would be our Bob! Hell, Bob is a nickname, and do you even know how many Bobs there are in the world?!" Phoenix's voice is a bit exasperated. Sweat is settling around her hairline even though the windows of the Bronco are down. The breeze blows throughout the cab of the vehicle, prickling gooseflesh takes over her skin.

She chances a look at Rooster who doesn't pull his eyes from the road. He clears his throat quietly before running the tip of his tongue over his dry lips. He sighs.

"You can't blame yourself for that, Phoenix. It's not like Bob isn't a common name, or even Robert for that matter. Her Bobby could've been anyone," Bradley squeezes her hand before bringing his own back to the steering wheel.

"I know a lot about Bob, so much I didn't even know that I knew!" Phoenix's hands are on her head, fingers massaging circles into her temples. Her voice is higher than normal, like the stress it tweaking the octaves.

"So, you knew Bob smokes?" Bradley brings the conversation back around to his original thought. The vehicle slows for a red light. When they stop, everything is quiet for a beat.

"I didn't know that I did. As far as I knew, Bob was just Bob. Clean cut, quiet, damn good at his job. I didn't even think he dated, but, oh my god," The color all but drains from Phoenix's face.

"What is it?" The vehicle begins moving again with the change of the traffic light.

"Bob fucks," Her voice is so quiet she doesn't even hear herself say it.

"Phoenix?" Bradley prompts, chancing a glance in her direction.

"Bob fucks," She tries again, a little louder this time. She wouldn't have thought Bradley heard her if the car didn't swerve a bit as the words left her lips.

"What?"

"I guess when they were in school, back in Montana, Bob was some sort of huge player! He was captain of the swim team and broke girls hearts. That was his thing," Natasha works to recall stories from over the years, ones that came in few and far between. Sunny was never big on talking about her school life before they the pair started speaking. But, as time went on, Sunny told Natasha more and more.

"Sunshine said something about that earlier, too," Bradley nods, turning on his blinker once more. They make the turn into a driveway of a very nice house. It's in a neighborhood about fifteen minutes outside of Base. It seems completely unassuming in the dark, and really it is in the light too. It's in a neighborhood filled with Military members and their families. Their house being one of the only few where the small front yard isn't littered with children's toys.

"Do you think he is hiding anything else from us?" Natasha's voice is so small now.

"Hey, Nat," Rooster puts a hand over her own rested on her thigh, "Everyone has a past, that is just a part of life. We aren't going to know everything about each other just because we work together. Just remember, we know Bob, and he has never let us down, so that's gotta account for something, right?"

When Natasha finally exhales the breath she had trapped in her lungs, she all but deflates completely. "I guess you're right,"

"Let's get you two inside,"

"Should we wake her?" Natasha asks, turning to look at Sunny. She has barely changed positions, except her face is turned further into the backrest of the seat.

"Don't bother, I'll carry her," Bradley tells her with a curt nod. Once the passenger seat is folded forward, Bradley maneuvers Sunny's sleeping form from the backseat and into his embrace. He carries her up the front steps, following after Natasha.

There is a single light on inside where Bob is sitting, a glass of dark whiskey in his hand. He has changed out of his uniform, now in jeans and a t-shirt. It was rare for anyone to see him like this, so dressed down. His civilian clothes he wore to work were always more put together, khakis and a button down shirt. Bob's glasses sit on the side table, under the lamp. He grasps the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. He runs a finger over the lip of the glass that is balanced on his thigh.

Natasha and Bradley enter the house. They toe off their shoes, Sunny curled up in Bradley's arm.

Bob chances a quick glace up at them from below his eyebrows but doesn't say a word to the pair. There is a moment before they even realize he is sitting there. The group coming through the door are surprised to find Bob in this state, disheveled and sullen; they are even more surprised when he brings the glass of dark liquid to his lips. They all share glances, no one quite ready to make the first move. Then, Bradley clears his throat lightly as he adjusts Sunny in his arms.

"I am going to go put her in the guest room," Bradley dismisses himself before disappearing further into the house and up the stairs. He carries her like his father used to carry his mother, minding each of the corners that her body could come in contract with on the way to the bedroom. He twists his hips so her ankle won't catch the banister and he leans to keep her head from making contact with the door jamb.

Bradley lays her on the bed, her feet hanging off the end. Carefully, he grabs one of her calves, bringing her foot up just high enough to grasp the heel of her boot. He tugs the leather off of her foot before carefully laying her leg back down. He sets the boot at the foot of the bed, toes facing out, just in case she holds the same weird superstition that he does. Then, he grabs her other calf to repeat the process.

This time though, as he goes to set the boot down next to the other, the warn bit of leather at the opening of the boot catches his eye. He runs a calloused fingertip over the well warn grooves of the leather. He knows exactly what used to sit there, what caused that mark in the first place.

Something between anger and pity rises in his chest. God, he is angry at Bob for hurting her- but somewhere deep in his subconscious he knows that anger isn't going to get him anywhere. Bradley also pities Bob. He can tell how much the other man has lost from the short amount of time he has spent with Sunny. Bob threw away something that every man dreams of- a girl who is going to show up and love him, regardless of the circumstance. He saw that relationship with his parents, the way they loved each other and how the world stopped the moment his father was no longer there. Bradley can't imagine anyone throwing that away willingly.

He sets the other boot down before hoisting Sunny further up into the bed. He brings the sheet over her, leaving the comforter folded halfway down so she doesn't overheat. Then, he leans just above her to push open the window, letting the cool night air drift into the bedroom.

After, he disappears into the hallway, heading for the laundry closet. He opens the dryer, checking if they are Phoenix's clothes before pulling out a large t-shirt from inside, as well as a pair of shorts. He folds them haphazardly as walks back into Sunny's room. Bradley leaves the garments on the end of the bed before disappearing once again, this time closing the door behind him.

Bradley slips down the stairs, interrupting Bob and Phoenix's conversation as he enters the room.

"I got her shoes off and got her settled into bed. She didn't even wake up. I also threw some of your clothes from the dryer at the end of the bed for her. I'll leave you guys to it, goodnight," He crosses to the door, not chancing a look at Bob. He pulls his shoes on almost too quick.

"Thanks, Rooster," Natasha nods, a thankful expression crossing her features. He nods back with a tightlipped smile before disappearing out the front door. Natasha watches the closed door for a moment before turning back to Bob, her face expressionless.

The smell of tobacco is stuck to Bob now, from the smoke he had at the Hard Deck, and then the three he had on the way home. The two share a look for a moment, no words needing to be said. Nat moves to the couch across from him. She sits, her hands folded in her lap. Bob still plays with the edge of his glass, his nail running over the glass.

"Bob," Phoenix starts, "God, I don't even know what to say..."

"I know I fucked up, okay? I don't need to be reminded," He snaps at her, eyes glued to the contents of his glass.

"Hey, don't bite my head off! I just- I was-" Natasha fumbles over her words before taking a deep breath, starting herself over. "Are you doing alright?"

Bob's eyes snap up at her words. That was the last thing he was expecting her to ask. 'How could you?' 'What's wrong with you?' or anything else would have made for sense to him. He sputters a bit.

"Am I doing alright?" His eyes are glassy as they meet hers, "No, I think I'm the furthest thing from alright," He brings the glass up again, shooting the last finger of liquid. He doesn't even grimace and that fact surprises Natasha.

"Oh, Bob," He shakes his head at her, eyes coming back down to meet the floor.

"Don't, Phoenix. I dug this grave a decade ago, I guess it's about time I lie in it, huh?"

"Bob, it doesn't have to be like this," Natasha attempts, her eyebrows pulled together.

"You don't even know the half of it," Bob rolls his eyes. His tone is snappy and short, like he doesn't even want to entertain the subject. Hell, he doesn't even want to be sitting there with her right now, especially when Sunny is asleep just upstairs.

The only thing he wants is to walk upstairs and knock on her door. He wants to talk to her, at the point, she could yell at him, curse his unborn children and he would just be happy that he was on her mind.

As if he hadn't been on her mind for the last ten years.

"Then tell me!" The words come out as a shout, bristling over Bob as he clenches his empty glass. His throat is desert dry, his heart aching for whiskey and a whiff of Sunny's perfume.

Natasha doesn't know it, but in front of her sits a broken man. His eyes are bloodshot, the skin around them chapped and aching. He cried as many tears as his body would allow between the time he left the Hard Deck and the moment Natasha and Bradley walked through the door.

"You don't get it, do you?" He scoffs. The grip on his glass tightens, his heartbeat pulsing through his fingers. He wants to throw the glass at the wall; he wants to watch the glass shatter, to see the glittering shards sitting on the floor. He knows the slivers of glass would shine just the way the tiles on the bottom of the pool used to. Bob wants to see it because he longs for a moment when he was closer to Sunny, instead of a million miles and one flight of stairs away.

"I can't understand something that you won't explain to me!" There are tears threating to spill from Natasha's eyes. She is all but begging Bob to tell her what he is feeling. She wants nothing more than to fix this rift that has seemed to open up and swallow her two closest friends. Natasha feels like she is standing in the middle of a gun fight, armed with nothing but her goddamn will.

"I said things to her that I can never take back Phoenix, you know that. Did you see the way she looked at me? I could practically see her heart breaking through her eyes when I didn't recognize her, Nat. How am I supposed to recover from that?"

"Robert," Phoenix voice starts out confident, but the shaky inhale she takes as her hands come up to wipe at the fallen tears on her cheeks make Bob stutter out another thought before she can continue.

"Do you even know why I am the way I am Phoenix?" Bob stands, the rage building within him. It's all a large stack of tinder, ready and waiting for that right spark to set it all aflame.

"I am like this because I wanted to be a better man," He pinches the bridge of his nose so tight the skin around it turns red. "The last time I saw Duchenne, she had told me that-" He stutters out the words, tears building up in the back of his throat.

"That she thought I was different, that I was a 'good man' but I fucking left her Phoenix. I left her sitting there in the dirt with tears in her eyes all because I was afraid of hurting my chances at getting into the goddamn Navy! The Navy, Phoenix, what a fuckin' joke," He laughs out a sort of broken chuckle, one that is dripping with too much knowing.

"This isn't how it was supposed to be, Natasha. I thought the Navy, the flying, everything would keep me distracted. And maybe, deep down, I had this sick idea that she would've been in our home town, working the ranch and that one day I would hang up my flight suit and walk back into Florence as a good man, as the man she deserves,"

There is bile coating the back of his throat now, his stomach like a ship without a sail in the churning of his insides. He wants to be sick, he also wants another drink- either way his throat will burn and his stomach will continue churning.

"I am the furthest thing from a good man now Natasha, I always have been, but somehow I think I've fallen even further down. God, let this be rock bottom because I can't take another slip," He practically collapses back down into the seat he had been occupying before.

"Robert Floyd," Natasha's voice is stern now, thick with authority, "You are one of the best men that I know. You are kind, you are selfless, and you are brave. You get into that jet with me everyday and I know that you will get me home. Do you want to know why?"

All Bob can do is raise an eyebrow at her. He drags his eyes back down to the whiskey glass still in his grip. He tilts it in his hand, watching the way the lip catches the light, like the shimmering of pool water.

"Because we made a deal, and good men don't make deals they can't keep and they sure as hell don't back out of 'em either," She is so sure of the words that Bob almost believes her.

"It was supposed to be different, Natasha," He speaks after a moment, his voice hoarse.

"So many things in this world are supposed to be different, Bob. I wasn't supposed to lose my first wingman to a fucking false positive drug test causing him to get discharged, and Rooster wasn't supposed to lose his parents so tragically. Hell, even Hangman, he walked in on a sexual assault in progress during flight school and had to be the one to stop it. Life doesn't always go the way we think it will, but we are still here, Bob. We are still here, and we are stronger because of it,"

Bob looks sheepish at best. Completely defeated, like he was kicked while he was down, nursing broken ribs and an aching heart. The look in his eye is what really broke Natasha, because she was speaking before she even realized it.

"I need to tell you something, okay? So I'm going to need you to shut up and listen to me," Phoenix hits his foot with her own, making the man draw his gaze back up to her. Sunny is going to kill her, but Nat pushes that thought aside. She raises her eyebrows expectantly at Bob. He just nods.

"The whole time I have known Sunny, she has rarely talked about dating. Every guy she ever went out with never made it past the third date. At first, she told me it was because of some sort of bad habit of theirs or their inability to make conversation. I bought that at first, because I know first hand what it is like out in the dating pool. But then she met Mikael. He worked for the same company she does, but at the branch in Germany. They met in New York over a business trip. They hit it off and for all intents and purposes, he was perfect-"

"Would you quit telling me about some bastard who inevitably broke her heart? It's not going to make me feel better to know someone else fucked up with her too," Natasha kicks him again, her expression all over unpleasant.

"Would you just listen?" She grumbles, arms crossing over her chest. Natasha can't help but feel a bit of anger flame up in her chest at his disregard, so she kicks his foot again, this time with a little more force. She raises her eyebrows expectantly, he nods in return.

"They dated for a couple of months and I thought things were going great, then an email landed in my inbox. You want to know what it said?" Natasha pulls her phone from her pocket, unlocking it with a swipe of her finger. Bob hums, eyes watching her out of focus fingers dance across the screen. She clears her throat before beginning.

"Dear Nash, I broke up with Mikael today. He told me on our last video date that I seemed closed off, guarded. I think he is right. For so long I have been guarding my heart because the last time I let someone in, they shattered it. At least, I thought they did, considering I have been broken hearted ever sense. But, I think my problem is that my heart has been missing. That night, my senior year, Bobby didn't break my heart, he left with it. I guess that's fitting, considering it had belonged to him for so long anyway. Maybe it's self deprecation or maybe it's just stupid, but I think my heart will always belong to Bobby, even if he was the one who caused me so much pain. Actually, I love him in spite of that. I love him, Nash. I always have, and I think I always will, that's why it's never going to work out with anyone else. They aren't him. That's all for now, sending you my love,"

Natasha's voice wavers. Tears prick at the corner of her eyes again, keeping her from looking up to meet Bob's. He sits there, mouth slightly ajar. His fingers have stilled their motion over the glass. His eyes are glassy again, throat constricting in on itself.

"I don't-" He whispers, "I don't know what to say to that,"

"Bob, that email was from six months ago," Phoenix chances a look up at Bob, a tear escaping. It trails wet and hot down her cheek. "If you are asking me, I think you've got a chance to make things right with her. Now, I'm not saying that it will be easy, or that she will be ready to talk to you, but you've gotta try,"

"I can't hurt her again, Phoenix, I just can't" Tears are slipping quickly down his face.

"From where I stand, she is already hurt. I think you owe it to her to say what you need to say, hell, I think you owe it to yourself,"

Bob can't believe what he is hearing. Just hours ago, Phoenix was tearing him a new one for hurting Sunny, and now she thinks that he has a chance to fix it? No way in hell. He eyes the glass again in his hand, watching the light dance across it. He pushes himself from his seat, facing away from her. There is tension between the glass in his hand and the wall.

"You really think, after everything I've put her through, that she is going to want to listen to a single word I have to say?"

"I didn't say that," She corrects, "I just said I think you should try. You two might feel better just yelling at each other, who knows? But that's for you to figure out,"

"I don't know if I can, Phoenix, I mean, what's there even left to say?"

Phoenix stands, a small smile on her lips. "How about what you feel?"

Bob can only pull his lips into a thin, straight line. She pats his shoulder before heading to the stairs, ready to climb into bed herself.

"You are a good man, Bob," She hums, turning to walk up the stairs. Bob stands still, waiting for the click of her bedroom door. It's faint, but he hears it. Then, his attention is back on the glass in his hand, his eyes flickering up to the wall and back down. He could shatter the glass right now, but what would that fix? It would just be another mess to clean up.

He lets out a long held sigh before placing the glass down on the coffee table, the crystal hitting the wood with a gentle clink. The light goes out with a flick of a switch and then Bob is climbing the stairs. His joints creak along with the floorboards, both himself and the house too stiff for comfort.

He pushes open the door to his bedroom. He lets his eyes wander over the bedroom, the whole thing suddenly feeling too clean and kept.

There was a piece of himself that had been missing for years, that he found tonight as he smoked his first cigarillo in the Hard Deck. The part of himself that hadn't existed since he walked away from Sunny. The unkempt man who fell in love with her. There is an itching feeling in his palms, the need to get back to that man, as least in the most basic way he can, to the man who loved her before everything else got in the way.

So, Bob pulls his shirt over his head, letting it fall to the floor. Then he toes off his boots, leaving them wherever they fall. With a flick of his wrist, his belt is undone. He pulls it through the loops of his jeans before dropping it. The buckle hits the hardwood with a loud thud, the leather snaking after it. Once Bob pushes his jeans down and off, he feels like he can breathe for a moment, finally, even if it is just a moment. It's deep and full, the oxygen filling his chest. He shudders.

Bob pushes open his window, letting the chilled night breeze invade his room. The mess on the floor makes his heart feel a little more at ease, like he has some semblance of control. He dips down to grab his jeans, then pulls the silver cigarette case out of the back pocket.

He slips a cigarillo between his lips before igniting a match. He lights his smoke before shaking out the flame. The only light in the room is the burning ash at the end of his small cigar, the room quickly filling with the deep smell of tobacco.

Bob lets his eyes wander to the bathroom door as he takes a long drag. The smoke fills his lungs, grounding him to this moment, and this moment alone. He smokes this cigarillo, then another, letting his mind drift to thoughts of Sunny and how she must look, tangled up in the crisp white sheets, a thousand miles away, but one flight of stairs closer.

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roosterbruiser · 9 months

Text

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘

“Do you think they’re gonna get too hot?” Bob asks, concern carving his voice into a pitched utterance. “Like--you know, is the sun too much? Should we just take ‘em home?”

Humming from beside Bob, settled onto the old sheets you have laid out across the sand, you just sigh with a fond smile tugging on your lips.

Of course he’s concerned about the babies in this heat--he’s a good father, one that never has to be told what to do or when to do it, one that literally leaps out of bed in the night to change diapers.

“They’re alright,” you assure Bob. “They’re covered! How could the sun get them at all?”

It’s true--the babies are thoroughly covered. Linen shorts and cotton shirts, floppy little sunhats, sunscreen covering every inch of them. Not to mention the umbrellas Bob has staked in the sand behind you--which casts shade over the entirety of your family.

“A freak accident,” Bob tells you, eyes slightly widened when he thinks about one of his precious babies--including you--getting burned. “Maybe we should--!”

“--Baby,” you interrupt, laughing as you glance at him from the top of your glasses. “It’s good that they’re outside! Immunity! Vitamin D! Fresh air! They’ll be alright!”

Bob sighs, glancing down at Jolene, who is sprawled out on your bent thighs, blinking in confusion at the floppy hat that just barely comes down over her eyes. Then he glances at Waylon, whose sound asleep on Bob’s thighs, little milk dribbling down his chin.

“It isn’t too late to tell them that they can meet us at the house,” Bob tells you. He looks up at the sky--endless blue and the sun a fiery hole puncturing the sky. “If we want to do that.”

“We don’t,” you assure him. “And, besides--I think it is too late.”

At that, Bob follows your gaze and turns. Yes--you’re right. It is too late. The squadron is already trailing down the beach, all in their aviators and swimming suits, grinning and zeroed in on yours and Bob’s beach setup.

“Oh, Lord,” Bob says softly, a fond smile tugging on his lips now. “Rooster’s gonna try and steal them, I think.”

“You’re only telling me this now?” You whisper, nudging him with your elbow teasingly.

He has told you before, though, about Rooster’s affinity for children. He can’t get enough of ‘em--he’s always hogging whatever admiral’s child he can get his hands on, playing airplanes or tea party or somehow getting them to nap. And you know, somehow, that Rooster is the goofy looking one with the unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt treading through the sand.

“Sorry, honey,” Bob chuckles.

You see how much this matters to Bob. Never mind that you know him better than anyone else in the world, having met in middle school and fallen in love straight away. Even if you didn’t know him better than anyone, if you were just a fly on the wall--you’d still know. He woke up too early this morning, pacing the kitchen as the coffee brewed, checking in on the twins every few minutes until he heard the first sounds of awakeness. He picked their outfits with you, chewing on his bottom lip. He had the car packed and ready to go before noon. He even called Phoenix a few times just to make sure that plans were still on--and was reminded, a few times, that the plans were absolutely still on.

“You’re shaking the beach,” you whisper, pressing a hand to his bouncing leg.

“Sorry,” Bob mutters, distracted. He stops bouncing his leg. “I’m…I’m really--!”

“--Nervous,” you finish for him, leaning forward to press your warm cheek against his bicep. You kiss him there, soft and sweet, and then sigh. “It’s alright, Bobby. The babies are perfect, the squadron loves you, I’m very personable, the sun is shining, the seagulls are crying! Everything’s gonna be okay!”

“Yeah,” Bob sighs, scratching his head and giving you a quick peck on the forehead. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess I’m just--I don’t know. This is important to me.”

“I know it,” you say, heart swollen. “And I know it’s important to them, too. It’ll be good!”

“It’ll be good,” Bob repeats softly, glancing at you. You’re grinning at him--it makes his shoulders sink. “It’ll be good.”

“Well, well, well,” Hangman says as his feet sink into the hot, hot sand. He grins, squinting even behind his aviators as the sun beats down on his face. “If it ain’t baby on board and his babies on board.”

Bob grins at the sound of Jake’s voice--which surprises him, really. Before that never would’ve happened. But now Bob is back in Lemoore, with you and your babies, and everything feels distinctly better than it did before.

“Hangman,” Bob grins, sticking his hand out for Jake to take. “Good to see you, man.”

Hangman, who’s holding two comically large stuffed rabbits, shuffles to put them under one arm and take Bob’s hand in his.

“How goes it?” Jake asks. Then he glances at you--you’re grinning at him, holding your daughter still. “And this must be the Missus, huh? Pleasure to make your acquaintance!”

Jake crosses the sheets to take your hand, which he promptly brings to his mouth to kiss.

“Don’t mind him,” Rooster says as he appears, toting a cooler and a speaker. “The lack of oxygen in the cockpit really scrambled his brain.”

“Ha-ha-ha,” Hangman says, glancing at Rooster. “Did Bob tell you that Rooster is gonna try and steal them?” Jake asks, pointing to the babies with his brow perched.

“Actually, yes,” you answer, smiling softly. “He did.”

Rooster, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, sets the cooler in the sand before grinning at Bob and stretching his hands out.

“Baby me and I’ll beer you,” Rooster says.

“That doesn’t sound like a fair exchange,” Phoenix sighs, rounding out to clap Rooster on the shoulder before grinning at Bob and you. “Floyds!”

“Hey, Nat,” Bob grins. “How are you?”

“Oh, she’s great,” Payback answers, wiping sweat off his forehead as he sets his beach chair in the sand. “Super, even!”

“She got the aux in the van,” Fanboy explains, resting his elbow on Payback’s shoulder. “Two words: Def Leppard.”

“Lemme see those babies!” Coyote’s voice booms as he jogs up and rounds out the squadron. He’s grinning a broad grin, arms already outstretched.

“Hey, I already called dibs!” Rooster says.

“Yeah, but I got here first,” Hangman grins.

Everyone looks at Bob like he’s the tie-breaker.

“There’s only two of them,” Bob says, laughing quietly.

“You’re gonna have to choose,” Rooster says seriously.

“Here,” you suggest, leaning forward to put Jolene in Hangman’s extended arms. “Take one and pass it on.”

Everyone laughs--it’s music to Bob’s ears. He watches you carefully transfer Jolene into Hangman’s arms, watches him turn absolutely gooey at the sight of your infant daughter. He cups her little head, holds her close to him, grins down at her. You readjust her sunhat and then lean back.

“Oh, she’s too cute,” Hangman says, shaking his head seriously. “Rooster, you’re definitely gonna want to take this one.”

“Here,” Bob says, suddenly feeling more confident in his squadron’s ability than before. He leans forward and bestows Waylon upon Rooster, smiling softly and fondly as he Waylon coos and begins to blink himself awake. “You’re a natural.”

Rooster, delighted, sinks into the sand and holds Waylon close to him.

“Oh, I know,” he says--cocksure as ever. “Look at this little fella. Boy, does he look like a Floyd!”

“Yes,” you agree, laughing. “My DNA didn’t even try.”

As Hangman and Rooster hog the babies, everyone makes their rounds. You shake everyone’s hands, finally put faces to names, and collect all the presents for the babies and yourself. Bob keeps a watchful eye on the babies, but not because he’s stressed--but because he’s enamored that he has two perfect little beings to share with the important people in his life.

The afternoon drifts forward. Your little spot on the beach becomes the spot on the beach, everyone spreading their blankets out and overlapping, coolers abundant and drinks icy. The babies get passed around, hardly even fussing, but always somehow end up back in Rooster’s arms.

Even when everyone decides to get up and toss the pigskins, Rooster ends up staying on the palette with you and Bob and the babies. He’s somehow holding them both at the same time, grinning down at them as they blink up at him.

“You’re ridiculous,” Hangman had said to Rooster, rolling his eyes. “A giant, gushy, manchild.”

“Proud of it,” Rooster had said, cheeks pink.

“They really like you,” you tell Bradley, sighing softly. “I’m still getting used to having all this help, you know? I’m a bit mind-blown right now.”

“Well, I’m here for any babysitting services,” Rooster says. “Hell, I’ll pay you!”

“You’re my favorite already,” you tell Rooster.

Bob looks at you--you’re smiling softly at Rooster and the babies. Your eyes are heavy and your back is curved and he knows that you’re that special kind of tired that is special to new motherhood. Bob understands. He knows. But his heart still squeezes at your sentence. He had to leave only two weeks after they were born, which broke his heart and yours. Of course, because you’re you, you’d put on a very brave face for him. But there were a few times--a few more times than Bob is comfortable with--when you answered his call with a tearful sniffle and a deep sigh.

He reminds himself, as he gazes at you, that things are different now. He’s home for a while--and even after that, he’ll be close to home for the foreseeable future. He’ll never miss bath time or dinner or storytime. He’ll be here, beside you, through it all.

“They really are beautiful,” Rooster tells the both of you. He looks between the two of you, tired and unsure parents with glittering eyes and soft smiles. “You’re doing a damn fine job of it.”

“Thanks, man,” Bob says. “It’s all her.”

You have to swallow hard and roll your eyes, nudging him, to keep from crying pure tears of joy.

Rooster gasps suddenly. “Okay, don’t call me crazy, but I swear to God that Jolene just smiled at me!” He says, elated. “Oh, God. Hangman’s gonna be so pissed.”

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sebsxphia · 9 months

Text

three tender lovers.

robert ‘bob’ floyd x reader x jake ‘hangman’ seresin.

￫ description: bob proposes a solution to jake’s remarks to the marks on bob’s back. all three of you find resolution and something else. love.

￫ word count: 6.7K.

￫ c/w: threesome, sex, blowjobs, squirting, kissing, double creampie, nipple pinching, biting, scratching, praise, minor degradation, overstimulation, hints of mean dom bob and dom jake, use of the nickname “bunny”, crying kink if you squint, sub-space, aftercare, beginnings of a poly!relationship and our boys kissin’.

￫ a/n: this is for @sushiwriterhere threesomeissance 2023 writing event! thank you so much for tagging me my love, this was so much fun to write! <3 make sure you check out the other incredible pieces! <3 my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

Bob up-stretched his arms and shed his undershirt from his flight suit. It practically stuck to his skin with sweat and grime from a day of flying too close to the sun. He was about to hit the showers quickly in enough time to make it back home to you.

He was never one to hang about after training. The quicker he could get in and out, the quicker he could get home to his wife. That was before he heard a loud clang of a locker from behind him, followed by a whistle.

“Damn, Baby. You’ve been in a fight with a bear or somethin’?”

Jake’s voice from behind Bob caused his eye to twitch. He turned around to face the blonde pilot with an unphased expression on his face. Jake on the other hand was wearing his million-dollar, cock sure smile. He leaned against his locker with nothing on. All he was holding was his towel, bunched up in his hand and just about covering his cock.

Bob hated how overly confident Jake could be in the showers. He also hated how he found himself always trying to get a glance.

Jake had opted to now call Bob, Baby. It all stemmed from his years-old joke of what B.O.B. stood for. Baby on Board was too long for Jake, so he was just Baby.

“How’d you get those war marks on your back, Baby?” Jake jabbed again, licking at his bottom lip.

Bob’s eyes narrowed inwards towards Jake before cooling off. He chewed at the inside of his cheek as he remembered last night with you. He wanted to tell Jake to fuck off and that his sex with you is private, and he’d never utter a word to anyone about your shared, deepest darkest fantasies.

But then he remembered your shared discussion of bringing someone else in and how you both settled on Jake as a possible option. It was only talk, but at this point, Bob bit the hand that fed him.

“I don’t know,” He shrugged. “Why don’t y’ ask my wife?”

A chorus of hollers and cheers from the other pilots in the locker room could be heard and Jake bit back a laugh.

“As if, Baby. I don’t believe you fuck that good.”

“Y’ know, Bagman, if y’ want to see, how about you fuck my wife yourself?” He slammed his locker door and stared down at Jake.

Bob couldn’t help it, he really couldn’t. It had been playful, teasing jabs at one another for years and as it went on, they became far more flirtatious on both party's accounts. The locker room went into another uproar at Bob’s quick tongue and mouthful back at the cocky pilot, but he was still holding his intense gaze.

Jake’s smile had faltered an inch, only his eyes zoned in on Bob’s. He let his tongue run alongside his cheek and puffed out his chest. He wanted Bob to call bluff so badly, to call off whatever this was, to prove Jake wrong that he hadn’t been flirting with him all these years, but Bob didn’t move an inch. Not until he flung his towel over his shoulder and headed for the showers.

He briefly heard the laughter and other remarks from the pilots before the commotion died down. As he turned on the shower, the sound of water filtering through and splashing on the tiles drowned out the rest. That was until he heard the footsteps inch closer towards him.

Out of Bob’s peripheral vision, broad shoulders and sandy blonde hair came too. He continued to pay no mind to him and let the sound of the water continue to fill the room. It ran over the thick and heavy tension that was settling in the air. Neither of them spoke a word as they lathered themselves up with soap and let the duds fall to the tiles and down the drain. Unknown to either of them, they would occasionally steal glances at the other when getting the soap out of their eyes.

Bob would watch how the droplets of water dribbled down Jake’s toned torso and caught on the soft hairs of his pubic bone.

Jake would follow the trail of veins poking through Bob’s forearms and up his biceps, watching how they flexed in time with him washing the shampoo out of his hair.

Bob reached to the small shelf holding the soap to lather himself one last time. His fingers outstretched and met another set of hands reaching for the same. They met Jake’s and through the soaking water, he felt a jolt meet his fingertips and run through his veins. He was surprised at how soft they felt, yet he knew they could control a whole aircraft. It made a shiver start in his neck and run down his spine. The warm water did nothing to hide the goosebumps that were left in its wake.

Jake looked up and caught Bob’s eyes for the first time during the shower. He swallowed thickly before croaking out, “Baby, what I said back there, I didn’t mean—”

“This Saturday. I know you’re free. Come round to ours at seven.”

Before Jake could respond to Bob’s bold response, he slammed his water off, grabbed his towel and was out of the shower.

Jake was left with his lips parted in a breathless and wordless daze. His hand was still wrapped around the soap and squeezing so tight, he didn’t realize he had destroyed the bar completely.

He couldn’t believe he was here. He’d been round to Bob’s only once before and that was only to drop some paperwork off. He hadn’t even been in his hallway, let alone his bedroom, with his wife.

Everything had been agreed upon prior. Jake came round at seven on the Saturday as agreed and you answered the door with a warm and welcoming smile.

He could never deny that Bob’s wife was beautiful. You were radiant. He offered in return a kiss to your cheek and let his large hand fall to the small of your back, bringing you in. His hand was warm and firm. You felt your heart pound a little faster through your rib cage at his touch, letting your mind wonder what his hand would feel like against your bare skin.

Jake let himself inhale your perfume that rested under your jaw and the sweet smell of shampoo in your hair. It was intoxicating to him. You were beaming at him as you greeted him politely, took his jacket and hung it up on the coat hooks in the hallway.

It was such a simple gesture, but with the combined smell of something delicious cooking through the kitchen, Jake felt safe. He had entered a warm and loving home, and it settled his nerves to whatever was about to be offered.

You ate (with Jake complimenting Bob’s cooking more times than he could count), exchanged more polite conversation and then agreed on what was to happen. You slinked up to your bedroom to shed your sundress into something else before calling your husband and his co-worker upstairs. Bob took the lead up the stairs with Jake following behind.

As he came into your bedroom and saw the sight of you, a deep rumble of appreciation left Bob’s chest with a smirk resting on his lips. “My beautiful, beautiful, wife. You look gorgeous, darlin’.”

“Thank you.” You shyly replied, feeling the heat creep up your cheeks as Jake came through the doorway and his eyes fell on you.

It was the first time he had seen you like this. So exposed, so vulnerable. You were wearing a simple oversized white shirt, one that Bob would wear with his Navy whites. It was far too torn and tattered for him to wear anymore, but it became a piece of clothing Bob would become ravenous over, especially if you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

The open shirt lay over your stiff nipples but didn’t hide the swell of your breasts. With your legs crossed as you sat on the edge of your bed, you could just about catch the soft mound of your pubic bone, but your thighs were exposed. The drape of the shirt barely covered them.

Jake swallowed thickly again and his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, feeling his mouth dry up ever more. He let his heavy gaze run up and over your body and your cheeks only turned a rosier shade of pink, flushed hot. His cock twitched in his pants and it prompted him, after not saying anything for what seemed like an eternity.

“You… You look, gorgeous. Bob’s a lucky husband.” Jake half-heartedly laughed.

He was nervous.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was nervous.

Bob had a natural-born instinct for reading people and he could tell in an instant what Jake was doing.

Truth be told, Jake had already had a couple of threesomes in his lifetime, but it had never been this intimate. It had never been with a co-worker's wife, never with someone who he had come to like, never in a safe and loving environment.

Bob let his hand fall to Jake’s back and gently ran his thumb in circles to soothe the nerves of the pilot. He smoothed his hand down his back further and gently linked his fingers with his to coax him closer to you and your bed.

Jake now stood in front of you with Bob to the side and his hand gently resting in your hair. You stayed sat and gazed up at the tall blonde with a look of lust clouding your eyes.

“Jake?” You called out his name sweetly. It was barely above a whisper but his ears turned hot at hearing you say his name so sweetly. “Can I touch you?”

Your question and now the clear sight of your breasts caused Jake’s cock to twitch again, and he breathed out a desperate, “Yes.”

You tentatively reached your hands out and let your fingers graze over his shirt, feeling the ripple of muscles underneath him. You moved over his large forearms and further up his biceps. As your hands rose higher, you eventually stood up from the bed, Bob’s hand never leaving your frame and now resting on the small of your back. It was a familiar touch that still grounded you to him, despite the situation.

Your hands ran around his shoulders and behind his neck. “You can touch me, Jake.” You quietly prompted him, now standing to his height. His hands reached out and fell to your hips. He squeezed you gently through the crisp fabric of the shirt and you let out a gasp. “Remember, you say the word and we stop this.”

He nodded, but Bob pressed his finger to Jake’s chin to turn him. “Words, baby.”

Baby.

Bob Floyd was calling Jake, baby and it ignited something so deep within him he could feel a flame lick at his stomach.

“Yes. We say the words and we stop this.” Jake corrected himself and you smiled at him with an electrified smile. He had tasted love and it tasted sweet. The flame that was licking in his stomach was burning bright and deep, and it encouraged him greatly. He felt a newfound swell of confidence burn over him and he hooked his finger under your chin and brought your lips to his.

His kiss was soft at first, letting his lips become accustomed to yours before you let out a needful whine and tugged at the soft blonde hairs at the base of his neck. You pulled him closer and he reciprocated with a harsher squeeze of your hips. They were flush against his crotch and you could feel his ever-growing bulge rub against you. The grind from you caused him to groan into the kiss and let his tongue dip between your lips and run alongside.

Both your cheeks were flush with a warm glow and Bob could feel the heat radiating off you both, as you continued to press yourself against Jake growing hotter with desire. You parted from his lips with a gasp, unable to hold back your ever-growing smile.

“Jake, Bobby,” You turned to your husband whose eyes were heavy and his pupils completely dilated black. “I need you both.”

“Of course,” Bob purred and slid his hand from your back to the base of your neck, pulling you to be millimetres from his lips. “Will you be a good girl and show our guest what your pretty little mouth can do?”

You quietly moaned and nodded, letting Bob pull at your neck and press his lips to yours in a searing kiss. Jake let out a curse of your name at seeing you bend to his touch. He was beginning to get a taste of just how dominant Bob could be and it intrigued him even further.

“Off for me and on your knees,” Bob instructed you again with a flick of his finger under your shirt. You willingly shed your shirt and let it fall to the bed. Now completely naked to Jake, he let out a wanton groan. You sank to your knees and gazed longingly upwards at the two pilots, their cocks both straining hard against their trousers and appearing prominently.

The sight was nothing like Jake had ever seen before. Your nipples were stiff and you sat obediently with your hands in your lap, awaiting your husband's next instruction. But it never came. Jake’s shoulders had rolled backwards and he was relaxed. He was adhering to the agreement that you were to do as they say. He let his fingers cradle your jaw and gently slipped his thumb between your lips. You took it into your mouth eagerly and sucked on it. The feeling of your tongue swirling around his thumb had him longing to know what it felt like on his hard cock.

“Jesus, such a sweet thing, Bobby. So good, so obedient.” Jake purred and Bob chuckled.

“There’s the Jake I had imagined in the bedroom,” Bob said lowly with a smirk.

Jake couldn’t hold back the heat that rose to his cheeks as he thought of Bob imagining him in the bedroom, but he was brought back to the present by the needy moan of you below them.

Bob shushed you gently and reassured you. “I’m sorry, darlin’. We’ve been deprivin’ you, haven’t we?” You nodded again and this time, they both let out a low chuckle.

They made quick work of unbuckling their belts and pushing the waistband of their boxers down to let their aching cocks slap against their torsos. You had always thought Bob was big, but Jake was no different. Your mouth began to salivate and you moved towards Bob, but his hand was in your hair and pulling you back with a click from his tongue.

“Nu-uh, darlin’. Guests first.”

You swallowed and looked back at Jake who was gazing down at you with his pupils blown wide with desire. He gripped the base of his cock and let his tip move past your lips tentatively. The soft feeling of your mouth wrapping just around his tip had Jake groaning. You moved your mouth further down his shaft, with Bob’s hand not letting go of your hair to steady you, but it couldn’t stop you. You wanted to feel Jake rest heavily on your tongue completely. You felt his tip nudge at your throat and a gag rumbled through your throat. Jake stumbled and his hips stuttered forward.

“Shit. Oh God, sweets. So needy for me already, hm?”

You whined around him and it vibrated off his shaft, earning another deep groan from Jake. Your eyes flicked to the side and you caught a glimpse of Bob fisting his cock heavy in his hand, his jaw set solid and his eyes trained heavily on you both, watching how your mouth took every inch of him. You wanted to put on a show for your dear and loving husband. You wanted to show him you craved this just as badly as him.

You worked your mouth up and over Jake’s thick shaft with precise strokes. Every time his swollen tip hit the back of your throat he let out another rumbled groan, earning smaller groans from Bob. Your tongue was laying flat underneath his base and it allowed Bob to gently start rocking your head for himself, letting Jake fuck your throat, his hips rocking into you.

Another handful of movements from Bob came before he was getting antsy. “C’ere, sweetheart.” He purred and moved your head off Jake to place your swollen lips around his shaft. You sunk easily, knowing every inch and vein like the back of your hand. Your nose brushed against Bob’s brown curls at his base as he rocked into your mouth. You gazed up at your husband with tears starting to prick the corners of your eyes from your throat being fucked so consistently. Bob’s jaw was still set firm as he revelled in the familiar feeling of his wife’s mouth, letting out deep moans and hissing when his tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly.

But Jake was beginning to get cocky.

“I thought we were doing this so I could fuck your wife stupid. Earn those bear marks of yours.” Jake drawled out with a smug tone before reaching for your hair and pulling you off Bob, leaving him snarling from the loss of contact so suddenly. A pitiful whine left your lips with a string of saliva still connecting to your husband's tip. As you swallowed back around Jake’s cock you began to bounce gently on your knees, your bare cunt trying to find friction from the air as desperation began to make you clench around nothing.

Bob let out a chuckle as he saw you hump the air pathetically. “I don’t think y’ need to wait much longer.” He pulled you off Jake once more and cradled your jaw to let you gaze upwards. “Do y’ want to be fucked now, Bunny? You’ve been so good for me and your guests.”

“Please, please, please. I’ve been so good.” You pouted slightly, your eyes pleading desperately with your husband. He hummed in pleasant agreement and reached down to pick you up gently, laying you on the bed as if you were fragile porcelain.

By this time Jake was already stripping himself off his clothes and Bob followed in tandem. Although your mouth was just full of heavy saliva, your throat dried up and your breathing quickened as you caught sight of the two naked pilots. Bob’s beauty was always intoxicating and dizzying to you and you found Jake giving you the same effect.

You counted your lucky stars of your current situation and your husband found himself doing the same. He had seen Jake naked too many times for him to count, but this was different. His eyes were heavy with desire, and his cheeks and chest were flushed with the most beautiful rosy pink. He had never noticed how blonde the soft curls were on his pubic bone, as his cock was pressed against his tone torso, although he’d caught sight of them constantly in the showers. They replicated how his hair was dusty and sun-kissed blonde, already becoming ruffled from Jake running his hand through his hair.

Bob thought he’d never looked so handsome.

“Jake?”

“Baby?”

The name made Bob shiver and his stomach crashed like thunderous waves against stone rocks.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please, Baby.” Jake gasped before wrapping his hand around the back of Bob’s head, his fingers tugging gently on his hair as he pressed his lips against his. They both let out a deep moan in unison. Years of tension and yearning rolled off their shoulders and bubbled up their throats as they tasted each other for the first time.

You watched keenly from the bed. It both made your heart bloom with a thousand flowers that your husband found solace within Jake and caused your abdomen to feel as though a thousand butterflies were coursing through you. Your thighs pressed and rubbed together to alleviate some of the growing arousal. You let out a whimper and they broke from the kiss to look at you, both with a lopsided smile on their faces.

As you pulled your thighs apart and felt the cool air run over your twitching cunt, Bob cooed. “Bunny, we’re so sorry. We’re comin’.”

Jake could feel his mouth salivate at the sight of Bob’s wife’s thighs spread apart and their pussy glistening with arousal, practically throbbing. “Look at that pretty pussy, sweets. Your thighs are slick already.” He groaned, kneeling between your thighs.

Bob took place up by your head, letting his hand soothe through your hair and his other holding the base of his cock, giving himself lazy, slow strokes.

Your hands came under your thighs to hold yourself open for him, squirming your hips closer to his cock as Jake took it in his hand and slapped it on your aching clit. It jolted sparks of pleasure through your abdomen at its first contact and you let out a loud whine. Your hips involuntarily bucked upwards to chase the feeling and Jake relished in the neediness of your touch. His free hand came to grip your hip as he ran his tip through your folds and collected your arousal, smearing it over your clit. It earned louder moans from yourself and more desperate bucking. He was smirking down at you with his signature cock sure smile.

“I want to remember the moment I slip my cock inside Bob’s wife’s tight pussy.”

He hissed as he slowly slid inside you and felt your slick walls take him, clenching tightly. He was thicker than Bob and you squirmed your hips, moaning as you adjusted to his size. He cursed to himself and threw his head back when your hips met his.

“Jesus, takin’ me so pretty, sweetheart. That’s it… Good fuckin’ girl.” He purred down to you as he momentarily slid out before feeling his tip run back over your sweet spot nestled deep inside you. At each slow and teasing stroke, you clenched tighter around him. You finally felt so full and you didn’t want the feeling to be taken away. You were desperately chasing it.

As he set a pace you glanced up at Bob with a couple of stray tears now leaving the corners of your eyes. “B—Bobby,” You whined. “He feels s’ g—good. It feels so good, fuck!”

Bob’s thumb gently wiped your tears away and smoothed over your hot cheeks, gently reassuring you. “Such a good girl for me. My pretty little wife looking s’ fuckin’ pretty takin’ another pilot's cock.”

As his thumb came down to his lips, you took it into your mouth to soothe yourself, but Bob removed it quickly. “No, no. C’ere,” He gripped the mid-length of his cock and let his tip fall between your parted lips. You eagerly sucked as much of his length as you could from this angle. “Good, Bunny.” He praised you.

You let your eyes flutter shut as the beginnings of complete pleasure roll over your body in waves. Over and over, you felt the powerful thrust of Jake’s hips with Bob rocking and resting heavily on your tongue. Two pairs of hands were gripping onto your flesh or soothing over your goosebumps, occasionally tugging on your stiff nipples to elicit louder, yet muffled, moans. You were stuffed full and you felt whole.

Jake’s thrusts picked up their pace and he was pistoning with such pressure you could feel the familiar warmth in your stomach grow. As his pubic bone met yours it grazed over your clit. It was small and frictionless contact, but the teasing alone had you nearly coming undone.

“They’re squeezin’ me so tight.” Jake gritted between his teeth, still cursing your name so pretty.

The corners of Bob’s lips quirked upwards and his eyes zoned in your expression. Your jaw was slack and although still stuffed full, you were drooling around his length with your eyes all but rolling back into your skull. He knew you were close.

“You want to earn those bear marks now?” Bob quipped. He grunted and nodded feverishly at him. Bob slipped from your mouth with drool still connecting to his tip. You mewled as he left you, but he was quick to reassure you he would be right here as he slid his hands into your hair.

With silent encouragement from Bob, Jake doubled down over your body and his large frame covered you whole. Your hands fell to his shoulders and gripped them tightly. One of his broad forearms rested by you to hold himself up enough that he could snake his hand between your slick sweaty bodies and find your aching clit. The soft pads of his fingers connected to you and you cried out his name loudly, finally feeling a firm pressure. He drew lazy circles around you with his thrusts now seemingly impossibly closer to you.

“Please, please, please… oh God!” Incoherent babbling left you as hot tears continued to streak down your cheeks. You never thought your husband’s, co-workers cock, could ever feel so fucking good.

“Bobby, Bobby!” You screamed instinctively. “Can I come?”

You heard him bark out a laugh behind you.

“Don’t ask me. It’s not my cock makin’ you cry, Bunny.”

Your brain was clouded with what felt like cotton and you scrambled to find the words quickly as your orgasm was building at a frighteningly quick pace.

“Jake! Can I come? Oh God, please can I come?” You babbled. Through his laboured breathing, you felt his warm breath tickle against your ear as he chuckled.

“Never gon’ want any other cock, sweets. I’ve ruined you for your husband, haven’t I?” Condensation was laced thick in his tone and it made you squeeze your eyes tightly shut, holding on so tight to stave off your orgasm.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” He barked out the order and your eyes peeled open with the most pleading expression you could muster, as he continued to rock deeply into you. Your nails by now were forming crescent shapes on his tanned skin. The beginnings of the bear marks. “Tell me, fuckin’ tell me and you can come.”

Everyone who was currently in the bedroom that was dowsed in the scent of sweat and sex, knew that this was not true. You would always love Bob and you would always want his cock. It was certainly still the most mouth-watering and appealing thing to you. You found yourself dreaming of having them both ruin you, forever.

But at this moment, Jake’s lusting and filthy words were clouding your senses and making Bob’s cock twitch heavy in his hand. For he too was incredibly aroused by Jake’s words and the sight below him.

“Y—you’ve, r—ruined me, Jake.” Your bottom lip began to tremble. “Please!” You begged with a hoarse cry. His fingertips pressed down firmer with precise motions and the last thing you saw before you snapped, was him grinning down at you like the Devil.

“Come for me, sweets.”

With a couple more swipes of his fingers over your abused clit, combined with the punishing pleasure from his thick cock, you were seeing stars. A white-hot feeling flooded from your abdomen outwards across your body. Your toes curled and you wailed. The crashing sensation of your orgasm wracked your body whole, cursing his name, Bob’s name.

You felt Bob’s hands soothe through your hair and you could faintly hear his sweet praise over Jake’s loud groans.

Jake didn’t let up with his thrusts. He pressed his sweaty frame closer to yours and snaked his hand away from your twitching clit. His face pressed into the crook of your neck and your nails raked over his back as he fucked you through your orgasm. With how close you were held against him, there was still enough friction rubbing mercilessly over your clit. His voice was hot in your ear and you heard him.

“Feel s’ fuckin’ good for me, I’m so lucky. You’re both so perfect, shit.” At his final curse, he groaned deep into your sweat-covered neck and you felt his teeth graze over your tender flesh and suck harshly. He was hissing and grunting with his thrusts becoming sloppier, but you could feel himself leak into you.

Everything was so deadly intoxicating. You never wanted to leave this room. You wanted to stay with them both forever.

His thrusts eventually slowed completely and he pulled off your burning frame. His own body was completely flushed pink with his sandy blonde hair mused and some strands of his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. As his softening cock pulled out of you and you felt his spend trickle down your puffy lips, you let out a pitiful whine, suddenly feeling so empty.

He wore a satisfied grin as he gazed over the pretty sight of your pussy and then back up at Bob. You felt Bob’s large hands trail over your shoulders and squeeze against your breasts. You craned your neck to look at him with your eyelashes fluttering and a cock drunk smile plastered over your lips. Your body trembled with anticipation, knowing you still had Bob, and your clit was still aching for just one more.

A chorus of praises and strings of kisses to your warm flesh, left the two pilots' lips as they gently moved your trembling frame. Jake sat against the headboard with your back pressed against his chest. A pillow was slid under your hips to elevate them higher to allow Bob to make your eyes water from pleasure with the angle. Your hands were holding onto Jake’s forearms as you looked your husband in the eye, kneeling in front of you with a grin.

He held the base of his cock firmly and let his tip run through your folds and catch Jake’s spend mixing with your leaking arousal. He pushed it against your swollen clit and you let out a breathy moan, your eyes already faltering shut. Behind you, Jake watched the scene unfold with hooded eyes and soft groans. Bob teased you for a moment longer before easily bottoming out inside of you with a hiss and a groan.

“S’ warm for me, Bunny. Taken Jake’s cock and you’re still so tight for me, aren’t you?”

You mewled and dug your nails in tighter to Jake’s forearm, earning more scratches on his skin. Bob had patiently sat by and watched his friend fuck his wife. He was wasting no time and set a cruel pace instantly. The sudden feeling of feeling so full with his familiar size had you moaning and squirming your hips already, but he kept his hands firmly on your thighs to hold you open and take what he gave you. His swollen tip was rubbing mercilessly at your spongy sweet spot and the angle was enhancing your pleasure to a feeling so sweet, that you felt as though you could burst. One of Jake’s large hands snaked upwards to pinch and tweeze your nipples, heightening your sensitivity. You heard his groans low and hot in your ear as you responded with desperate whines.

Pleasure was licking at the flame in your abdomen, but with your heightened sensitivity it was producing something else. Something more.

“Oh, Bobby!” You practically wailed. He felt the way you clenched tightly around him and how your walls pushed down. He knew your body like the back of his hand.

He groaned at the tightening sensation and gave a final piercing thrust before pulling his cock out entirely. You pushed down and gasped out a breathy moan as you felt your arousal squirt out of you.

“That’s it, good girl, good fuckin’ girl.” Bob groaned again with a knowing and smug smile pulling at the corners of his lips. He moved his fingers through your wetness and watched it splatter over your thighs.

“Jesus, Baby. Makin’ them feel so good.” Jake groaned louder from behind you, before directing his words back to you. “I’d love to see you squirt on my cock next.”

You could hear the cocky pilot's grin from behind you as he let his lips run over the shell of your ear and nibble gently.

There was a deadly concoction mixing in your abdomen as Bob bottomed out inside of you again and you took in Jake’s words. The notion of another night like this had your head spinning. Their sinful words and fiery touch on your skin had you feeling hot and dizzy. The pleasure was seeping through every vein of your body with every jolt caused by Bob’s cock pushing deep inside of you. You were gasping and moaning incoherently, only able to feel this ecstasy-inducing feeling. If it wasn’t for their grip on your body, you would’ve gone completely limp.

Suddenly you could feel Bob’s soft thumb on your now throbbing clit, rubbing precise circles. There was nothing lazy about Bob Floyd when he fucked.

Hot tears began to fall from the corners of your eyes and streak down your cheeks. You were babbling nonsense by now and you felt your impending orgasm grow closer with each swipe of his thumb. Your jaw was going slack and as you panted hungrily, tiny droplets of drool were pooling in the corners of your mouth.

“Are you gonna come again?” You whimpered his name in response and Bob snickered. “You are, aren’t you? So desperate for cock. It’s pathetic to watch. My sweet little Bunny practically drools as they take another man’s cock.”

Your stomach swirled at his words, in time with the swirl of his thumb. “Bobby!” It was a shriek of a plea, like nothing Jake had ever heard before. “Please can I come? Please, please, please…”

As you begged harder, your tears began to fall harder. Bob watched your body lovingly, with heavy hooded eyes. He saw every twitch, every shiver, every squirm, and he knew when your body couldn’t take anymore. He was still merciless with his strokes and thumb, but as you locked your pleading and tearing eyes with him once more, his firm set expression softened and his voice was coaxing you.

“Come. Come for me my baby Bunny.”

Your jaw went slack and a silent scream tore from your throat as you let the bubbling sensation of your orgasm burst through your abdomen, feeling the tendrils of pleasure wash over your body in crashing waves. Your hands shot up to wrap around the back of Jake’s head and pull tightly on the smaller hairs at the base of his neck. Your body withered and your chest was heaving, panting furiously as the sensation rolled over your body repeatedly. You faintly heard a string of praise from them both, Jake’s low voice still hot in your ear. Bob’s praise turned to grunts and with two more forceful thrusts, you could feel him leak his spend inside of you.

His ministrations slowed and as your head lolled to the side of Jake’s shoulder, you still let out a quiet and needy whine again, feeling so empty and feeling the now double mix of cum leaking from your abused cunt.

Your head felt full of cotton. You reached out with shaky hands to your lover. “Bobby…” You breathed out, barely above a whisper. He leaned down and took your shaking frame from Jake’s slick chest. He pressed you close to his own and with Jake’s help, he moved you to lay limp against him with his broad arms encasing you tightly. Jake stayed next to you both and let his fingers trail tenderly over your damp back.

All three of your chests were steadying out with calculated breaths, as you all came down from your highs. Tender and loving kisses were placed on your skin from them both, and more hushed words of love and praise were whispered close to your ears.

When your energy eventually came back, Bob cleaned you up gently with Jake’s help. The remainder of the leftovers from your prior dinner were fed to you and you gulped down more glasses of water than you could count. The duvet cover was changed and with your head still feeling full of soft cotton, and your body swimming with the afterglow, your two pilots lay down to sleep with you.

Before the peaceful waves of sleep pulled you under, you remember watching how lovingly Jake cradled Bob’s jaw and placed a kiss on his lips. The next thing you felt was his tender fingers bringing your jaw up to place his lips on yours. Your cheek then felt another pair of lips and you turned your face to find Bobby’s.

You kissed them both a handful more times. Each time your heart pounded a little faster and you felt the thousand butterflies flutter through your stomach.

Maybe this could work.

Maybe, this could be a forever thing.

Jake stayed on Sunday till around three in the afternoon. You all woke up late and lazily gathered yourselves to share a warm, yet deeply refreshing, shower.

You spent the rest of your time in the kitchen, just talking and eating. You spoke about everything and anything. You talked about the prior night, you talked about aircraft manoeuvres that had gone wrong, and you asked Jake about his home and where he grew up. Occasionally you found yourself pressed into Jake’s side with one of his broad arms incasing you close to his chest, as you both watched Bob cook up the food. Jake insisted that he would make you both a homemade recipe his Ma taught him some time.

All three of you exchanged fluttering touches and loving kisses with each other, and Jake found something blooming deep within his chest. He felt safe within this peaceful and domesticated home. He didn’t want to leave.

Come the evening on the Sunday, you were curled in between Bob’s thighs as you both read in peaceful silence.

“I really like him, you know.”

You spoke out into the silence. There was a beat before you felt Bob’s chest take a deep breath and then exhale. You glanced up at him and he wore a soft smile as he placed a tender kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah. Me too, Bunny. Me too.”

A chorus of loud cheers and hollers broke out and echoed across the locker room on Monday. Javy slapped Jake on his bare back, making note of the marks scratched down his flesh.

“Jake! Now who’s been fighting with a bear?”

Bob continued to look forward at his locker as he gathered up the remainder of his belongings, paying no note to the commotion he heard behind him.

Jake huffed out a laugh and flashed his signature smile to Javy, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Bob smiled to himself at hearing Jake’s words. The images of Saturday evening and his wife scratching their nails down his back were flashing evidently behind his eyes. Once he heard the others trail off to the showers, he turned around to face him. It was only them left in the locker room and he leaned back against his locker, watching Jake pull his jacket on and reach for his bag.

“We’re really lookin’ forward to having you round for dinner tomorrow night.”

Jake’s head perked up at Bob’s words, his signature smile still etched over his face.

“Yeah, me too, Floyd.”

Jake placed his hand on Bob’s shoulder to move past him and leave the locker room, but before he took another step further, he lingered for a moment longer. Jake’s lips brushed up against the shell of Bob’s ear and in a low and flirtatious drawl, he whispered, “Bye, Baby.”

And he left.

Jake didn’t look back and see how Bob was biting down frightfully hard on his bottom lip to hold back the beaming and lovesick smile he was currently adorning. He didn’t see how Bob’s cheeks flushed a rosy pink colour in seconds. All he saw ahead of him was a future of tender love with you and Bob.

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purelyfiction · 1 month

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paging dr. floyd - doctor!bob floyd x f!single mom au

coming soon...

#coming soon #i keep having all these ideas #oops #bob x reader #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd x y/n #robert x reader #robert floyd #bob top gun #robert bob floyd x reader #if it's giving waitress #it's supposed to

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callsign-phoenix · 4 months

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I wrote this for @attapullman’s ‘international Bob Floyd fucks! month’, and also happy birthday Lewis!

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

Warnings: this is kinda an AU in terms of that it’s wildly inspired by Saltburn, alcohol, alcoholised sex, smut (18+), only proofread by me

You were the most popular girl at Princeton, and you loved your life.

Starting your time at university had come naturally to you and everyone admired you, the popular as well as the unpopular.

You were beautiful, smart, kind and caring, and had a way of mesmerizing your peers and professors.

There were a few admirers you had gathered over time, but none were really ever of interest to you more than a few days.

Yes, there had been pretty ones as well as smart ones but each and every one bore you after the first or second night.

None were ever a threat to you and you rather enjoyed everyone’s attention, especially the pretty ones’.

One of said pretty ones was a young computer science major with a passion for aviation.

Bob Floyd was a shy study-obsessed bespectacled young man that was just finishing to fill out his form.

He was rather slim, but he remedied that by all the exercise he did outside of class.

You had noticed him before, even if just barely, because against all odds he was pretty enough to catch your attention.

What you hadn’t realized was that you had captured his attention by storm, even to the point of obsession.

Bob was inconspicuous to most and certainly not dangerous, but his heart and body were aching for you.

While you lived your life without much caring for Bob, he saw and took notice of you every day, as often as he could find the time between his rigorous program.

He was determined to become a WSO for the US Navy, but the moment he first laid eyes on you he knew there was another goal in his life.

Every party he went to his eyes were fixed on you, as you went on with your day.

The alcohol and sheer amount of attractive people kept you distracted, until you found yourself at the bar one night, standing next to your quiet admirer.

“Another round of shots, please,” you asked the bartender as you leaned over the bar, smiling broadly as you settled some cash onto the counter.

As you waited for the bartender to serve you your gaze wandered, your eyes finally settling on Bob.

You let your gaze shift over him before it returned to his face, and you saw that Bob had seen you check him out.

“You’re one of the quiet ones! I have seen you around!” You exclaimed, and a smile you couldn’t quite place appeared on his face.

You moved towards him further, fueled by the alcohol in your system, invading his personal space without yet touching him.

When he introduced himself a smile appeared on your face, and Bob found pleasure in the way all your attention was on him.

He leaned in as well and settled his arm on the bar, which put his hand near your waistline.

“You’re pretty,” you exclaimed and set your hand on his upper arm to steady yourself, feeling the muscles that were hidden by the sweatshirt he was wearing.

Bob chuckled and wrapped his arm around your waist to help you keep your balance, which also brought you closer to him.

You staggered slightly before your body connected with his, holding you up straight and bringing you close enough so you could smell and feel his body.

He seemed strangely strong for the nerd you had made him out to be but you didn’t know about his intention to become a part of the Navy, which didn’t matter to you at the moment.

When the tray of shots was settled next to you on the bar you didn’t notice any of it, as you leaned in to connect your lips to his.

He tasted like beer and leaned in further when you deepened the kiss, pulling you as close as physically possible.

You could have been eating each other, which would have been a similarly passionate act.

When you pulled away your lips were swollen and your lipstick smeared on both your faces.

It only fueled your arousal to see the mark you had left on him and you were excited to leave even more over the course of the night.

“Where’s your dorm?” You asked him and he sent you a cocky grin that seemed atypical for someone like him.

He was quick to reach for your hand, pulling you with him out of the bar and towards his bedroom.

The door wasn’t even fully open when you reconnected your lips, noses knocking against each other and teeth grazing teeth in pure haste.

Bob shut the door with a kick but his entire attention was on you, his hands roaming over your body, trying to take in as much of your form as possible.

He had your skirt open and your shirt pulled up before you knew it, his hands moving to your breasts.

Bob pulled away from your lips to move his to your cleavage while unhooking your bra and pulling it and your shirt over your head.

He made quick work of your clothes and you had to admire his efficiency, even though your head was slightly buzzing with the alcohol you had had earlier in the night.

You chose to ignore it and instead focus on the sensations Bob was eliciting, which only added to your daze.

Bob navigated you so that you sat down on his bed, staring up at him through your lashes as he pulled his shirt over his head.

You were surprised by the way his body was sculpted like that of a greek god and you instinctively leaned in to kiss his skin, trailing kisses down his happy trail as you expertly opened his belt and jeans.

This time you were the fast one as you pulled his jeans and boxers down his legs.

You were only able to press a single kiss to the tip of his cock before he pushed you backwards so you were lying on your back on his bed, with him climbing on top of you.

He pressed a kiss to your sternum as he pulled your skirt up to your waist, exposing what he was most interested in at the moment.

There wasn’t much moaning until he was inside you, both of you rutting against each other.

Your foreheads lay against each other and your breaths mixed, both panting, moaning and occasionally leaning in to share a sloppy kiss with each other.

Bob held onto your hips and had his other arm propped up by your head, creating a closeness between you two.

Neither of you was quite there for the romance and it showed by the way you both chased your orgasms.

The moment you reached your highs Bob lifted himself up, giving you space to breathe again as he made himself comfortable beside you on the bed.

Neither of you said a word until you moved to stand back up, collecting your shirt and shoes from Bob’s bedroom floor.

“Thanks, Ben, that was nice,” you said as you shrugged your clothes back on, putting your shirt on and pulling your skirt down your legs.

Bob didn’t even mind that you used a wrong name as he watched you closely from his position on the bed.

You were sure that you’d never speak a word with him again, but Bob knew otherwise.

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#robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd #robert floyd #robert floyd x y/n #robert floyd x you #robert floyd smut #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #top gun bob #bob top gun

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stargazing15 · 1 year

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Worth the wait

Bob x Fem!reader

Summary: The daggers are back from their deployment. How will the reunion with Bob go? After all he hadn't tried to contact you, not even a 'We're on our way back'.

Warnings: injury (nothing bad), fluff

A/N: okay, I gave in, Bob is too cute okay - still thinking on how to make our dear Bobby sweat 😅

Previous: What a timing - Next: Make the boy sweat

Enjoy!

Tired, heart palpitations, scared, anxious, that all summed up how you were feeling for the past two weeks. No communication, even Penny was left in the dark.

Then, finally, a text from Penny that they were on their way back home. First night of good sleep. They were all okay, Bob was coming back.

The strange thing was that you got a text from Phoenix with the exact date and hour of arrival and when they would be able to meet you at the Hard Deck. Of course in the middle of your workday and of course your boss wasn't allowing an early leave for the day. Bob had sounded excited to start over with you again, so why wasn't he the one texting you?

Despite the lack of communication from Bob's side, you had messaged him quite a few times over the last few days, only they didn't get the normal recieved-icon.

Focusing on the positive part, everyone coming home, you put on the new dress you bought. It was hugging your curves in all the right ways and it was loose from your hips. If Bob maybe had lost interest in you, maybe someone else would.

Some guys at work indeed appreciated your dress, it weren't creepy comments, as you knew the persons behind the whistles. They knew what you've been through and are trying to lighten up the mood. And it did lift your spirit getting nice compliments.

After a long workday, you were more than happy to hop in your car and go to the Hard Deck to meet everyone. The moment you entered, you got attacked by Khaki-uniforms hugging you. Only one was missing, the one you were secretly longing for.

"So, he ain't coming?" Disappointment was written all over your face.

"Oh Y/N, he is coming, he needs to make a stopover before he can come here. You'll understand when you see him." Phoenix chuckled.

While catching up with everyone, your neck and shoulders started to get sore. You were one of those where stress always took it out on your body. While talking to Coyote, he had noticed it too on your posture and suggested to massage your neck. On queue, as you were thinking about to call it a day, because of the wait for Bob and the anxiety for the reason him not being here had drained you, the front door opened. You only hadn't noticed it yet, being a little too engulfed in your conversation with Coyote. You had been able to preorder the new limited edition sneakers you knew he wanted to add to his collection. Only they came out with Coyote being stuck on the carrier without Internet. That the man was as happy as a child got the coolest gift ever was an understatement, so the massage was a little thank you.

Bob was now behind you, slightly hurt by the sight in front of him: you and Coyote, again, this time he was massaging you. Only, did he know Coyote probably was going to marry his sneaker-collection first before ever trying to hit on you.

Bob's soft "hmm" broke you out of Coyote's heavenly massage. When you turned around, shock washed over you as you saw Bob's appearance. "Oh my god, Bob! What happened? I thought they said no one was injured?"

"No one got injured during the mission. I, uh, funny story. After the debrief I got a little too excited be going home, to see you again and I, uh, tripped over my own feet. My arm broke the fall." Still fueled on your anxiety and tiredness you slapped Bob on the cheeks. It was not too hard, but hard enough to leave a light pink handprint visible on his cheek.

Only one emotion had now filled the area: shock. Not just Bob, everyone was shocked by your reaction.

"I - uh for making me worry sick while I should be mad at you. I still should be so mad at you, no communication, nothing. But I can't." The last part you had whispered. "S-sorry Robby, oh god, I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm so confused. Sorry, I-I-"

"L-let's talk outside." The second you slapped him, his insecurities and shyness had come back. Just like the day you met, but this time around he knew what he could loose.

The jitters were back in his belly, his legs suddenly felt a little wobbly when he saw you. He was still in awe by your appearance. Even in joggers you looked like an angel to him, but this dress, damn. The prettiest angel existing. Only he hadn't expect the angel palming a hand on his cheek. But you had a point. He could have borrowed Phoenix' phone to call you, but he didn't.

Bob had taken your hand in his to lead you outside, but froze for a second at your touch. The way your hand fits perfectly in his, the not injured one, made you both forget your surroundings for a moment. The world around you had fade away, just a couple of seconds it was only Bob and you, you and Bob. Just a couple of seconds of piece, before getting greeted again with reality.

Bob took you a little further down the beach, where you two had escaped a lot more in the past for a little one-on-one time. "Is uhm, is it okay here?" He knew he shouldn't be nervous or shy around you anymore, but he couldn't fight it. He knew this was his last chance with you and already felt like failing for not trying to call you. So everything now had to be calculated and thought through.

"It's nice here, thank you, has nice memories." You said while taking your sandals off before plopping down on the sand and signalling Bob to sit next to you.

He sat down next to you letting your knees touch. The body heat radiating from underneath his khakis felt like a welcome home. So you decide to melt into the feeling, as did Bob.

After a silence, contemplating what to say to you, his soft voice broke the silence. "How are you?"

"I don't know, happy that everyone came back safely, tired, I - I don't know, I feel so many things. It's so confusing." You only had noticed your head feeling heavy from all the overthinking and worrying when it landed on Bob's shoulder. The band of his arm sling felt scruffy on your skin, but you didn't mind.

"Sorry for slapping you Robby. When no one wanted to tell me where you were in combination with that I hadn't heard anything from you personally, I thought that, I thought you went back to her. That made me so angry and scared and then I saw you with the cast, I was relieved. But with the tiredness and all these emotions - I'm sorry." You lifted your head up and caressed the cheek you hit gently.

"It's okay beautiful angel, I got back and I will never, and listen good, never go back to her. You are a thousand, no a million times better than her. And I was dumb enough to not realize that when I made that stupid decision."

"You basically cheated on me, in front of me and that really hurt, I should still hate you, but I can't. So don't mess up ever again, okay?"

Bob stuck out his pinky, "Definitely yes, I will even pinky promise that to you." You intertwined your pinky with his. "I will work hard to call you mine again." He had finally gained confidence towards you again, the sweet blushy smile on his face showed it. "So this dress..." There was a slight hint at the tone of his voice.

"Seems it is working." A small mischievous smile appeared on your lips too.

"For me?"

"Don't push your luck too much Robby, I am going soft on you today. Only because you are injured. From tomorrow on, your making it up to me will start."

"Yes Ma'am, I will be at your service tomorrow," he did a little salute at you accompanied with his bright smile. "I love it when you call me Robby." His voice had lowered.

"As I said, going soft on you today. I had missed your company. Do, do you think we can be us again? Like before?"

Bob let his hand caress your cheek lovingly, you melted at his touch. This made you realize even more how much you had missed being together with him. His touch felt like coming home, it was warm and familiar, but good familiar.

"I know we will need time, let the wounds heal properly. And if you still want us back, I will not make you regret it. I still love you." You snuggled even closer to him, if that was even possible, almost colliding with the cast around his other arm.

"You mean that?" The look on your face was almost like an emoji, your eyes were big and your lower lash line was decorated with tears, happy tears

"Every single word beautiful angel. I will fight for you, I don't care how long it takes, but I need you in my life, you're the only one who makes me genuinely happy. I know it will all be worth the wait."

"Oh Robby." One of the tears on your lower lash line had now escaped down on your cheek. Bob quickly laid his free hand on your cheek and removed the tear with his thumb. Your hearts started to beat out of your chests. Neither was able to look away, your eyes were locked on each other as if magnets were attached. And it felt so intimate.

Your hand made it's way up to join Bob's one on your cheek. Giving in into the moment, your body moved itself forward, leaving just enough space not to crush his arm. That close, your lips were almost touching with Bob's. Before you let your mind get the chance to take over your heart you leaned and let your lips touch. You had missed the feeling of his lips against yours. Yes, you still remembered how the short kiss was before Bob left, this one just felt so different.

Bob also leaned in into the kiss and also let his heart speak up. Neither wanted this moment to stop, so you both didn't. Your lips were magically making love to each other. Not in an erotical way, in a way where your souls were speaking to each other, saying the loveliest and cheesiest words, at this moment real words would be calculated, thought through and maybe even swallowed back in due to hesitation. While the kiss, the kiss was coming from deep down, hidden underneath all the fear of the what ifs and insecurities. That feeling deep down was more than pure happiness, this moment was surrounded with an incredible sense of love and safety. Like it was saying "It's alright, let it all go, give in, let love in, it is really alright and yes it does exist." Was the history forgotten? For a moment yes, and the fact you could kiss Bob again like this and not overthink, made your heart a little lighter.

Bob was the first to let go of the kiss. His eyes immediately met yours, searching for anything in yours. Anything that would give him hope. And your soft smile gave him that.

"That was -"

"-wow." He finished your sentence.

"Yeah." Still a bit dazed from the kiss, you seated yourself again next to Bob with your head on his shoulder.

"I am going to fight so hard for you. I know it was the moment speaking, but it was a good reminder what I'm fighting for. I don't mind the battle, it will be all with it, beautiful angel."

"Thank you Robby, for understanding. And being here." Bob gained new energy, he knew you were probably going to make him sweat a bit, but he actually didn't mind. You wanted him back, and that was all what mattered, despite the upcoming 'obstacles' on the way.

The two of you stayed like that, staring at the glinstering waves under the moonlight.

Taglist: @mrsjaderogers @cycbaby @bradleybeachbabe @mavrellover91 @iamdannyday @rhirhikingston @luckyladycreator2 @xoxabs88xox @apparently-sunshine

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delopsia · 1 year

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Santa Dress | Bob Floyd x Reader

Word Count: 5,400 Cross Posted Here on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, Fem!Reader, unprotected sex, surprise welcome homes, unrealistic snow because who gives a shit about realism, bob fingering you while he drives, ✨road-head✨, and my personal favorite, sex against a wall :D

It's a flurry of red and white behind this tiny little bar, velvet red dresses flowing back and forth as you and Penny put together drinks and fetch ice-cold beers from the mini-fridges. It's been hours since you've last been able to feel your hands, frozen into numbness by the sea of orders. The never-closing front door has long since sucked out any ounce of heat, and you've long since given up on tucking your hands into the faux leather belt of this short Santa dress.

Curse whoever decided not to give this dress pockets.

"Thank you again for helping me out," Penny says aloud, sidling up to you to fill a chilled glass with Belgian White, "I know you always hated the Holiday Rush when you used to work for me."

The two Budweisers in your hand are desperately attempting to slide out of your weak grasp; the pilot you're serving is quick to reach out and take them, at least. "Me, hating the Holiday Rush?" Feigning innocence, under the thin veil of a barely audible gasp, "I could never!"

Although you can't see it, you can feel the hard stare fixating upon the back of your neck, "the only reason you didn't quit that last Christmas was because you met your little drummer boy."

"As if you haven't stayed over just to spend more time with a cute Navy boy or two," and you had more ammunition to tease her with, but a stone-faced Admiral is speaking up, ordering a whiskey on the rocks.

Great, more ice!

You're still not sure what made you agree to this. Maybe it's the boredom that comes with being unemployed. Maybe you're chasing the wistful memories of looking up from the bar that fateful evening and locking eyes with a shy new Top Gun student sitting on the far end of the bar, visiting early to spend some time with his buddies for the holidays.

It certainly isn't money or the overwhelming pressure to find a job, that's for sure. Bob's position in the Navy pays quite well, and he's been sure to make it very clear that you don't have to work if you don't want to. "Money is never going to be an issue, sweetheart," he always reminds you.

Maybe you're just hoping that every time you turn around, you'll find him standing there in those same old glasses with that same bashful grin. If you try hard enough, you think you can still feel the way your heart fluttered when he kept coming back to see you again and again.

"You've got me there," that flashy diamond ring on Penny's finger is enough proof of her own ventures with a Navy pilot. Strange, usually Maverick is looming around the bar at this time, a vulture seeking to claim the next available seat.

The whiskey on rocks is by far one of the easier orders of the night. Nothing special, so simple in fact that you only remember handing it off to the Admiral and then immediately being hit with more beer orders.

"How's Bob?" Penny asks as you pass her once more, "coming home for the Holiday?"

"No," resisting the urge to flick this bottle cap at the man rudely trying to flag you down, "they've decided to keep him until after Christmas, for whatever reason."

"Santa must need a WSO."

The rush is just about over; a few more fussy customers and you think you just might be able to catch a breather. Back and forth, the skirt of your festive dress flowing with each and every turn, the soft white fluff on the ends brushing against your cold thighs. You're not sure if it was Penny's idea to wear these for the holidays or if it was Maverick's.

Your gut tells you it was Maverick, and a part of you hopes he gets forced into a Santa suit again. If Rooster could find a way last year, you're sure he can find a way this year.

Reaching below the bar, your frigid digits open the door to the mini-fridge and delve inside, seeking another ice-cold Budweiser, "damn it."

Penny's head tilts over her shoulder, too preoccupied with mixing this drink to fully turn around, "we out again?"

"You still keep them in the same spot?" Your question is answered with a simple nod of her head, and that's really all you need.

It's almost strange how easily this has all come back to you. When you left, you truly never thought you would be coming back here to work again, but here you are, stepping into the old backroom, and it's like nothing has changed. It's still lined with old pictures that couldn't fit onto the main floor. There's still a mark from the time you snuck Bob back here and pushed the door open so hard that the handle put a dent in the wall.

You're the reason why the door handle was removed in exchange for something less-destructive to innocent walls.

You'll have to remember to take picture of this and send it to him before you leave. You can only imagine how pink his cheeks will get at the memory. For now, though, there are people in the bar who will not be happy if you let the memory of kissing a Navy WSO until he's lightheaded get between them and their beer.

There's a crate already loaded and ready in the walk-in cooler. This used to be one of your favorite places to get away for a minute or two, but that will have to wait for a day when your hands aren't going completely numb.

It's a hell of a task just to bend down and pick this thing up off the floor; the designers of this tiny Santa Dress truly did not have functionality in mind when they made this. God, you forgot how heavy these things are when they're loaded fully.

Cold-crate in your arms, you head back out into the bar floor, carefully balancing your fragile cargo while minding each and every customer that decides to offer you a rushed "excuse me" as they step right in front of you.

Someone steps out a little too fast, his shoulder colliding with your crate, the beer bottles rattling dangerously. The bar equivalent to a rattlesnake shaking its little tail, threatening to create a problem.

"Watch where you're going!"

This is why you quit.

Biting your tongue, you step past him, darting into the safe confines of the bar itself. If Penny overheard any of that, she hasn't said anything just yet, still chipping away at yet another unique drink order.

Every bar has a regular asshole, and for some reason, the Hard Deck seems to be running rampant with them. For every sweet and well-mannered person that walks through that front door, two fussy assholes come in, asking you to give them the moon and the stars. Something you really hadn't paid much mind to until Bob came through those doors.

Oh, Bob. Sweet, sweet Bob, who would beat you to picking up that heavy crate by a mile, would offer to put these cold bottles away because he knows how cold your hands get on shifts. Bob, who just had to walk through that door and remind you of what a real man is.

Bob, with his gentle hands and kind heart, that's too big for his body. Who would visit you during your shifts, no matter how exhausted he may have been, and drove you home when your car wound up in the shop because it's not safe for you to walk alone in the dark. Who climbed a tree and fractured his ankle because Amelia's new kitten had gotten stuck up there.

It never healed right, still bugs him every once in a while, and leaves him with the slightest limp, but he always says it was worth it because, in the end, that kitten wound up safe and sound.

You're thinking so hard that you swear you can hear him laughing as you finally hand off this beer to the man that's been waiting all this time. It's not him; you don't know how many times you've sworn you heard him laugh, only to get excited and realize it's not him at all.

You can't wait to go home and sleep in one of his old t-shirts, pretend that just for a little bit, he's here, with you, and not anywhere else.

Empty crate in hand and your latest order taken care of, you turn to head back out of the bar; if you leave this thing out, one of you will trip. And these aren't the kind of clothes you need to be tripping and falling in.

You aren't two steps out onto the open floor when that same guy walks past you, throws a glare over his shoulder as he passes...but strangely, it falls right off his face. Expression wiped clean and left pale as a ghost before he scurries off into another part of the building.

...did you look at him funny?

There isn't much time to dwell on it because, all of a sudden, another Hard Deck employee is walking up to you, taking this crate off your hands. "I'll take this off ya," is all he offers, disappearing into the backroom with it.

Odd, Penny told you she couldn't get anyone to work today.

You're turning around, question heavy and burning on the very tip of your tongue, but it dies before you can even open your mouth.

Because you either miss him so much that you've started hallucinating, or that's Robert Floyd sitting right in front of you. In the same damn chair that he always sits in, smiling so big that the corners of his eyes crinkle from it.

"Was wonderin' when you'd notice me starin' at you," and he must be exhausted because that Southern drawl is thick as can be, absolutely dripping off his tongue.

You aren't sure when your feet start moving. All you know is he's standing up, opening up those big, warm arms, and wrapping you up in them for the first time in what feels like years. He just about melts into you, so tired and worn down that you can feel it radiating off of him. Even so, he still has the energy to lift you off the ground by a few inches, swaying back and forth like he always does.

"I missed you," murmuring into the crook of his neck, where you can still catch the faintest hint of his favorite cologne, "how long have you been sitting there?"

"Since Penny texted me and said you went into the back," he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Your jaw slackens; of course, it would be Penny that constructed this entire thing. "I thought you were stuck in..." but there's no point in finishing your sentence because he's already shaking his head.

"Pulled a string or two," gently, he lets you slide down until your feet comfortably hit the floor once more, "didn't expect Penny to put you to work, though."

"Consider it retribution for all those times you two snuck off during a shift!" Penny all but yells, shaking her damp towel at you with an animated iron fist.

Just like that, Bob's cheeks tint pink, "didn't know those retributions included freezing you half to death." Wandering hands slide up your shoulders, trickling down your arms until they reach your numb fingers, jumping at just how cold they are, "always so cold."

"You're lucky I didn't stick my hands under your shirt," because while you always seem to wind up frozen, Bob runs as hot as a furnace, no matter the weather.

His large, warm hands encompass yours, and you can already feel the ice starting to melt from your bones, "well, if you let me drive you home, I'm sure I can find a way to keep you warm."

"You didn't tell me it was snowing!"

"I thought you knew!"

God, it's everywhere, ice-cold snow covering everything the eye can see, draped in a white blanket that sparkles under the street lamp. There hadn't been a single snowflake when you first went in, never mind catching a glimpse of it falling through the windows. It's a good couple of inches, at the very least, enough that it's going to get into your black slip-on shoes.

In hindsight, the boots were a much better option.

It's by some miracle that he's already found your car; you're not sure who else would have cleaned the snow off your vehicle and your vehicle only. Parked nice and neat in the back of the lot, where nobody other than employees are likely to park.

"I didn't know it could snow in this part of the state," a breeze has you stepping closer to him, eagerly snuggling into his very, very warm side.

"I didn't either," Bob squeezes you closer to him, just about cradling you into his chest, "hold on, I've got an idea."

Apparently, that was meant a little more literally than you thought. One moment your feet are firmly on the ground; the next, you're being scooped up like a bride, clinging to Bob's broad shoulders as he starts to carry you. This certainly isn't what you had in mind, but you'll take it.

The hand on your thigh plays dangerously close to the inside of your dress; it's been so long since you've last felt that, the slide of his soft, strong hand on your upper thigh. Oh, the things you would do to get him to slide that hand just a little higher...

It takes a little maneuvering to get the car door open, but soon enough, you're perched in the passenger seat of your own vehicle, watching your favorite WSO struggle with readjusting the driver seat.

"This car gets smaller every time I get in it," he chuckles, "don't think I remember a time where my knees didn't wind up pressed into my chest."

"I think you're just getting taller," you're genuinely convinced that he's gained an inch or two since you met him. That, or you're, for some reason getting shorter.

The world will never know.

There's that eye roll, scoffing like he's just heard the most ridiculous statement of all time. Such a little action that makes your heart flutter, even now. You're just as jittery as you did the first time he drove you home, but even now, no matter how many times he's done this, he manages to completely miss getting the key into the ignition.

The streets are just about empty, sparkling with snow that nobody quite knows what to do with yet. It's breathtaking, your own private winter wonderland, and yet, you find your attention fixating on Bob. The way the street lights illuminate his face, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the console because he's so used to driving a stick shift that it just winds up there out of habit.

You can't fight the urge to reach out and tangle your fingers together; it's been so long that you've become powerless to resist even the tiniest of things. His hand lifts, and for a second, you think he's pulling away from you, but instead, it comes to settle on your thigh, squeezing lightly.

"Jesus, you're like a little ice cube over there," gasping, he runs his hand up and down your chilly skin. But you're so sensitive after these past couple of months that heat blossoms between your legs. Just from his touch alone, your legs involuntarily flutter shut, trapping his roaming hand between them.

"If you keep doing that, we're going to have a new problem, Bob," you grit, composure rapidly slipping out of your grasp.

For a moment, he's quiet, but then his hand starts to move again, swirling light circles into your inner thigh, climbing up and down, higher and higher, until you feel him brush against your thin panties. "I did promise to keep you warm, doll."

All it takes is for you to part your legs the tiniest fraction, and you're rewarded with a taunting finger, stroking up and down your folds through the thin fabric. All the while, his eyes are trained on the road ahead.

Cute bastard.

It's a traffic light that becomes your saving grace, flickering red and forcing you to come to a stop. Bob's hand slips out from between your legs, and you catch yourself whining at the loss; the radio does nothing to conceal the sound.

"Hold on," chuckling, he wets two fingers with his mouth, pink tongue visibly swirling around the digits until they're dripping, "I promise I ain't done with you yet."

Then he's reaching back down, sliding your panties to one side as his fingers tease your entrance. Only one dips inside, but your head hits the headrest all the same; it's been too long. You've almost forgotten how thick his fingers are.

"You've gotten so tight, baby," he's so fixated on watching his finger work in and out of you that he almost misses the light turning green. You certainly believe him; can feel yourself stretching as that second finger eases in alongside the first. Shallow thrusts that stop just short of halfway, giving you what you want but not quite enough.

Impatient, your hips squirm further down the seat, urging him a little deeper. Simultaneously, his fingers curl upward, dragging deliciously against a spongey spot that sends you reeling. You can never seem to hit this spot the way he does, and he makes it look so effortless. Working back and forth, curling and uncurling where you're most sensitive. You're quivering around him, growing wetter and wetter, and he hasn't even so much as brushed against your clit yet.

But you're still so far from home.

"Baby, sweetheart, I'm driving," Bob hisses, but there's no malice to it, a weak warning that's only half a bark and no bite.

"That hasn't stopped you so far," smiling big and wide as you stroke up his thigh; those sweatpants do nothing to conceal his cock as it twitches.

His bottom lip quivers as your palm rolls over him, once, twice, before stopping in opt to trace your fingers along the outline of his cock. That left leg starts shaking, bouncing up and down, with some hellish mix of hesitance and impatience.

It's so easy, reaching up and slipping under his waistband, circling around his girthy length and making him jump.

"Seems I'm not the only one that's sensitive," you tease as you gently ease him out of his pants.

The streetlights shimmer against the already wet head, still dripping and slicking your hand up as it experimentally strokes down. Despite his warning, he's already twitching up into your touch the best that he can, eyelashes fluttering behind wireframes.

Reaching down, you guide his fingers out of you, already longing for him to delve inside of you once more, but not as much as you long to feel him against your tongue.

"Oh no," he whispers under his breath, but despite his audible expression of concern, he does nothing to stop you from leaning over the center console.

It's been so long since you were last able to run your tongue along the side of his cock, from base to tip and then back down again. Bob twitches under your touch, audibly inhaling through his nose, and you just know he's trying to force himself into silence. Don't react, and maybe it'll stop.

Tentatively, your tongue swirls around his head, slow, languid motions that treat him like a damn lollipop. Over and over, like he's the sweetest candy you've ever had until he's so wet with your saliva that he's dripping.

That breath punches out of his lungs the very moment your lips wrap around him, keening high in his throat as you hollow your cheeks and suckle at him properly. The hard plastic of the console digs into your ribs as you sink down on him, but you can't bring yourself to pay it any mind. Not when he's panting above you, free hand scrambling for purchase on the back of your head.

"Oh God," Bob whispers, gasping between words, "feels good, feels so good."

You can't help the satisfied hum that he churns out of you, and God, he shakes, and he hasn't even hit the back of your throat yet. Just another inch, and he does just that, fat head pressing against your hot throat; you can't take him any further, not when you physically can't lean any further across this console.

Instead, you reach down with your other hand, dipping between his legs to find and stroke his balls in tune with your mouth. Such a simple motion that rewards you with the prettiest moan. Caught so off-guard that he can't hold it back.

Drawing back until only his head is in your mouth, you give his slit an experimental flick, can hear the way his hand tightens around the leather steering wheel. Then you're going back down, settling into a slow bobbing of your head, going as far down as you can, and then all the way back up.

Bob's left leg is shaking, struggling to maintain some sort of composure that just about melts when you swallow around him, forcing him to feel your mouth and the entrance to your throat contract around him.

"Almost—" he tries, gulping, "house is right there."

With a loud, wet 'pop,' you draw yourself off of him, peering out the window. You recognize where you are now, only a few hundred feet from your driveway, by the looks of it. And as if you hadn't just been tormenting your poor boyfriend, you settle back into your own seat, wiping your spit-slicked lips clean.

"Actively trying to kill me," you hear him mutter under his breath.

You suppose you'll be nice and reach up to press the button on the garage door opener, seeing as he's actively attempting to tuck himself back into his pants and turn the vehicle all at once. It's remarkable just how well he manages to park your car, all pink-cheeked and chest heaving, struggling to catch a breath that you seem to have stolen.

As soon as the car shuts off, you're getting out of the car, and you don't need to look over your shoulder to know if he's following or not. Walking straight to the door and stepping inside your warm, cozy home, fumbling for the light switch.

You don't hear the garage door rumbling as it shuts, can't pick up on the soft pitter-patter of shoes on the hardwood floor. All you know is that you find the light, and all of a sudden, you're being pressed against a wall, and there's a pair of lips on yours that you haven't felt in ages.

"Got me wrapped right around your tiny little finger," he grumbles into your mouth.

The words are on the very tip of your tongue, but he's already kissing you, open-mouthed and completely unyielding. Strong body pressing against yours, firm hand settling on your waist, gathering you closer, the other audibly thumping against the drywall as he backs you right into it.

Your surprised gasp opens your mouth to his, and your tongues meet for the briefest moment, only broken apart when he settles both hands on you and lifts. You're caught by chiseled hips sliding between your legs, strong hands cupping your ass as your legs lock around him.

There, there, now you feel him, hard and heavy, right between your legs. All you're aware of is his mouth on yours and his heavy cock, grinding directly into your dripping core, so close to where you want him to be.

It's all Bob and his tongue that tastes like the lemon candies he can't quit sucking on and his big hands that work in the backseats of fighter jets so effortlessly that he makes it look like child's play. Bob and the scar you can feel as you tangle your fingers in the hair resting at the nape of his neck. Bob Floyd and the well-concealed muscles that you can feel rippling against you, such a pretty body that so few get to behold.

"Here?" Weakly, you pant into his mouth, unsure of his next move.

You don't get a verbal response, just a soft 'mhm' against your lips before he pulls away in favor of nibbling at your jawbone. Teasing nips that tug at your skin until it's red and sensitive, then beyond, settling comfortably at the soft spot below your ear. His tongue laves over the spot, such a surprising sensation that makes you squirm away, tugging at his hair.

"Sensitive?" He asks, drawing back in tune with your pulling.

Nodding your head, "very." Carefully, you reach up, taking hold of those silver frames and lifting them off of his face. Only intending to gently place them somewhere safe, but Bob's faster, taking them from you and tossing them to the kitchen countertop with a loud clatter.

"I was trying to be careful," you pout, feigning hurt.

Bob chuckles at that, already returning to your neck, "need new ones anyway."

There's not a doubt in your mind that there's going to be a few marks on your neck in the morning, not with the way he sucks at that same spot and soothes over it with his tongue, only to repeat it in a neat little line to your collarbone. This position leaves you with no other option but to squeeze your legs tighter around him and pant into his ear.

His hands are wandering again, up and down your ass, dipping under the thin band of your panties but never staying for too long. Cock grinding into you, such a feeling that makes you twitch around nothing, simply from the reminder of how big he feels between your legs.

"Robert—"

"—I know, darlin', I know," voice husky and deep as he momentarily draws his hips back, holding you up with one strong hand as he fishes himself out of his sweats.

His cock hits your inner thigh with a soft sound, still wet from your mouth. There's no option to remove your panties in this position. The most you can do is reach down and push them to the side, but oh the feeling of his head dragging between your folds could kill you right here and now.

Circling against your clit, the first attention it's gotten all day, and it is delicious. You almost wish he would get you off just like this, just the tip of his cock rubbing against that sensitive little button until you're cumming just from that. But then he's dragging back down and catching on your entrance, and you realize that the idea will just have to wait for a time when you're too sore to take him.

"Do you want me to open you up a little bit more?" Sweet, sweet Bob, who always has to keep asking questions, too afraid of hurting you on accident.

Impatient, you lock your legs behind his waist and push down, forcing the thick head of his cock into your pussy without warning. It's been so long that you've almost forgotten how thick he is; there's a dull sting that's already settling between your legs. However, that's completely forgotten in favor of watching his eyelashes flutter, baby blue irises momentarily drawing into the back of his head at the feeling.

"Fuck."

You take pride in being the only reason Bob Floyd will swear.

Gently, he sinks into you, stretching you open around him. Opening you up a little bit more may have been helpful because even you can feel just how tight you are. The slow drag of his cock against your gummy walls is dizzying, has Bob pressing your foreheads together as you both pant, overwhelmed by the feeling. Every time he comes home, it's like the first time all over again.

"So tight, sweetheart," he cooes, right against your lips, "almost all the way, I promise."

And somehow, he manages to delve even deeper, to places that your little vibrator can never seem to reach. So full that you feel like you can't breathe, unable to take a full breath with him opening you up like this.

His hips press flush against yours, bottoming out entirely, and for some reason, you're concerned that he may just keep going, even now.

"Who knew you were this fucking big," you gasp. Even after all these years, even you manage to forget his size.

"Who knew I was comin' home just to find you in the tiniest little dress I've ever seen," already drawing back because he knows your cues better than you do, "and to think I almost didn't get to see it."

There's something you want to say, some little recollection about how when you'd fantasized about him coming home and bending you over the bed the moment you put this little garment on. But you can't get it out, not when he's drawing out until he's about halfway and then snaps his hips back in, a little half thrust that knocks the breath right out of you.

Stars sparkle behind your eyelids as he does it again and again, hard, short thrusts that take their time on the drag out. Such an overwhelming feeling that only seems to build each time the head of his cock kisses that little gooey spot along your walls. Over and over on each bypass makes you flutter around him and your hips start to squirm, unsure if you want more or to escape it.

"Oh, you feel so good," he gasps, "I should've come home sooner, fuck—"

Your nails bite into his clothed shoulder, struggling for purchase on anything that will keep you from falling after every hard thrust. Oh, it feels so good, the way he stretches you open, how he never seems to miss that sweet spot that makes you grow wetter and wetter until each thrust is punctuated with a soft squelch.

"Bob, Bob," you chant like a mantra. Like it's the only word you can remember.

His pace is changing, quickening, as soon as he's pulling out, he's already pressing back inside, can't punch the breath out of you anymore because you can't even breathe now. Feels so, so good that you don't realize your mouth has fallen open, whimpering so loud that it echoes throughout the kitchen.

"'M already close," he warns, and without missing a beat, he takes one of your hands off his shoulder. His soft tongue wets the bottom of your index and middle finger, guides you down between your legs, "touch yourself for me, sweetheart."

As soon as your wet fingers find your neglected clit, a shudder ripples throughout your body, your pussy clenching down around his pistoning cock. Your skin feels like it's been set alight, walls twitching and beginning to spasm as your entire body begins to shake.

You're close too, so, so close.

"Baby, baby, baby," Bob whines, his head tilting back, "fuck, can—can feel you spasming around me."

It hits him first, seemingly by surprise, because one minute he's weakly looking you in the eye; the next, his eyes are fluttering closed, and his hips are just about slamming into you, drilling directly into your sweet spot just one more time. You've got no choice other than to feel his cock pulsate inside of you as his hips hold you down, and like a freight train, you cum too. Trembling, crying out as you bury your head into his sweaty shoulder and cum around him.

The world is spinning, everything turning white as it washes over you in tidal waves, so overwhelming that your entire body downright tingles.

"Talk about a hell of a welcome home," Bob mumbles directly into your ringing ear, and you don't know how long it's been because it feels like you've just woken up from a dream.

"Welcome home, loser," barely strong enough to lift your head and kiss his cheek, "have fun cleaning up the mess you've made between my legs."

It's weak, but you feel his cock twitch inside of you. "I'm sure I can fuck it out of you in the shower."

You're not sure if you'll be able to walk when Christmas day finally rolls around.

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