#bob floyd blurb

[roosterbruiser]

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.”

#it is bob #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #top gun bob #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd x you #robert floyd #robert floyd smut #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd fic #bob x reader #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd x y/n #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x you #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x y/n #bob top gun #bob floyd blurb #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd x oc #robert floyd fluff #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd is a dad #bob floyd is a twin dad #robert bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd fic

[inkdrinkerworld]

A thought I had while watching top gun is in the scene when mav is like "don't tell me tell his family" and Bob looks sad I imagine that he's imagining someone having to tell his wife that he's dead 😭 the angst especially if they have kids / she is pregnant

omg yes!!

“don’t tell me, tell it to his family,” is replaying in bob’s mind all day.

he’s off, and everyone can tell he’s off.

“baby on board, everything okay?” even hangman’s voice doesn’t have the usual teasing tilt to it.

“p-peachy keen,” bob tries for nonchalance but the truth is, the thought of you having to come with your son to collect his belongings because he died on this mission is ringing like a bell in his head. R

hangman hums but they all move on with their day. bob isn’t there yet with his teammates to give them the whole rundown of your marriage and your son.

it lingers on his mind though. he doesn’t feel better till he’s parking in the front of the house and watches you open the door.

you notice something’s wrong with your husband immediately, bob knows you know when you stop your son from running across the yard and whisper, “wait till daddy gets to the door baby,”

“hi daddy!” bob’s miniature twin jumps on him and bob feels the ache in his chest dull slightly.

“hi buddy, you been good to your mama?” you ruffle bob’s gelled hair as you son affirms.

“and i helped her with dinner! we made,” he pauses, “mama, what did we make again?”

bob laughs then, heart light with the love of his son.

“we made daddy’s favourite, walleye.”

bob ushers you inside and locks the door behind himself.

“why don’t you go wash up buddy? and i’ll help your mama plate up?”

your son is wiggling out of bob’s arms in a flash.

you turn to bob and cup his cheek, “what happened today, robby?”

his eyes fill with tears behind his glasses, “something mav said,” you wait for him to continue in silence. “about us having to explain to the other pilots’ family and i just, i couldn’t stop thinking of you having to come collect my suit.”

“oh robby,” you coo, pulling him to your chest as your hand glides up and down his back. “i’m sorry that was on your mind today baby.”

you wipe his tears but know there’s really nothing you can say to get him not to worry about that. “i know you’ll do your best to make it back to us, i knew what i was getting into.” you say softly, feeling his nod on your shoulder.

“it just really got to me,” he says, wiping his cheeks before your son comes back out of the bathroom. “i love you, both of you.”

“i love you too,” you kiss him only to be interrupted by little feet pattering,

“mama, i want a kiss too.” bob chuckles as he pulls away and for now he’s comforted by the fact that he is home.

#bobfloyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd one shot #bob floyd blurb #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x black!reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x yn #bob floyd x wife!reader #bob floyd

[sorchathered]

In your love (part 2 of something in the orange🧡)

Pairing- Robert (Bob) Floyd x medic reader

Summary- Deployments had always been risky, this one more so than others. Bob is on edge and feeling his mortality, all he wants is to bury himself in his wife and forget the pain for a little while.

Warnings- this is 100% filth yall, smutty smut minors dni and wrap it up if ya know what I mean. Mentions of death, injuries, ptsd.

A/N- This is a part 2 of Something in the Orange, if you haven’t read it yet check it out here. Can be read without!

You could see the carrier in the distance, nervously rocking on the balls of your feet near the dock and you were dizzy with the anticipation of what was to come. Your husband had been gone 6 months on a deployment that had originally started as two. It had been an honor to be chosen from a select few pilots and WSO’s but it had broken both your hearts for you to have to stay behind with the rest of the squad. You’d moved to San Diego nearly two years before to be the Chief Medical Officer for the Dagger Squad, reuniting with the love of your life Lt. Robert Floyd. It hadn’t been long before he was on one knee, and then even less time for the two of you to head to the altar, life was too short and you’d spent too long apart to wait for the perfect time. This mission in particular had been more dangerous than others, sometimes going weeks at a time without contact and from what you had heard from the carrier there’d been significant injuries and one casualty. He’d been on edge the last few calls you’d gotten, his normal bright demeanor overpowered by short snappy answers, but he’d been quick to apologize in the next breath because that was just who Robert Floyd was; unwaveringly kind even when everything was going to shit.

You knew this reunion would be different than others and you had already been mentally preparing yourself for the weekend ahead. Prepped all his favorite meals and snacks so they could be easily accessible, bought almost an entire paycheck’s worth of fancy lingerie and primped and prepped every inch of your body to look like a perfect little housewife when he crossed the dock to meet you. He would need control after the time away and you would give him anything he wanted until he was completely sated and at peace.

He’d been pacing the dock since dawn, bunk completely spotless and packed full of nervous energy. This special mission had been too close of a call, two people on the team had been seriously injured after a dangerous ejection, and he and Phoenix were nearly caught in a jet wash during a dogfight that had him feeling his mortality. It had been hard without the rest of the Daggers and his favorite medic to keep them grounded, He needed stability more than ever right now, in all honesty would probably have to see the behavioral health counselor for a few sessions to begin the process of feeling like himself again. None of the squad had been themselves lately, holding themselves together by a thread just so they could get home to their loved ones. He could see the dock now, and his phone lit up with a text from you.

“I can see the carrier, I’ll be waiting near the lot for you baby.”

He quickly replied with trembling fingers, “Be ready for me sugar, I’ve missed you so much.”

You felt a chill run down your spine as you read the message, the anticipation was getting the better of you squeezing your thighs together in your tiny pink sundress for some relief.

It felt like ages as he milled through the crowd, everyone rushing to meet their loved ones made the air suffocatingly heavy. He couldn’t blame them truly, if it had been a run of the mill deployment he would have wanted the same from you, but his skin was on fire and he couldn’t get out of this crowd fast enough. He caught Natasha and her girlfriend on the way out to the lot, hugging them both quickly knowing she was no doubt as weary as he was. As the crowd began to clear he finally saw you, leaning against his old truck anxiously scanning the throngs of people for him. The moment your eyes met you were on the move, rushing for him as he dropped his duffle and caught you around the waist. He breathed you in as you cried into his shoulder, you smelled like your strawberry perfume and he let it ground him. He was home, you were both safe, and everything would be ok.

He’d dropped his bags and said hello to your menagerie of animals, before plopping himself down on the couch with a heavy sigh. He made to unlace his boots but you stilled his hands, settling on your knees while you helped him remove them both. He leaned forward to steal a kiss, he’d meant it to be innocent really, but once he’d tasted your lips he needed more, hauling you up into his lap while you both disrobed with urgency, moans spilling from your lips as he tasted your tongue and slid his hands underneath your dress to find you bare for him.

“Oh good girl, you knew exactly what I needed didn’t you baby?” He said as you nodded furiously and made to remove him from his flight suit, dragging it and his briefs to his ankles. “Use me Robby, let it all out it’s ok sweetheart your home with me you’re safe now” you said as you settled back into his lap and he couldn’t hold back anymore, sliding into you was like heaven, warm, wet heat enveloping him as he fucked you hard, both of you falling over the edge in a matter of minutes, Bob stifling a cry as he bit down on your shoulder, tears of relief in both of your eyes.

You showered together which resulted in you on your knees, he hadn’t planned to need you again so quickly but his body clearly had other plans. Once you were both clean and comfortable you sat in his lap and fed him dinner, and once again he felt that familiar feeling take over, pushing the plates and cups out of the way so that he could spread you out across the table, unwrapping you from your robe like a Christmas present as his hands and mouth roamed over your neck and shoulders, littering more bruises along your collarbones and the tops of your breasts before sucking a nipple into his mouth. You whined his name and pushed your chest into him as he licked and sucked there, then paid equal attention to the other. You were desperate for him as you wrapped your legs around his waist and he could feel you dripping onto his abs and leaving a wet patch over the top of his briefs while you grinded on him to find some relief.

“Please Robby, I need more- so good baby please” you fussed and moaned restlessly but he wasn’t letting up, he hadn’t tasted your skin in months and he was going to take all night if that’s what he desired, and he knew you’d let him because you needed him just as much.

He slipped his index and middle finger into your mouth to soothe you as he hushed you, beginning his descent toward your soaking wet pussy. When he finally wrapped his lips around your throbbing clit you sobbed, tears pooling from your eyes and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him impossibly harder watching you cry from pleasure. You’d always told him he went down on you like he was starving, you being the only thing that could fill that void and you couldn’t be more right. He relished in it, the noises you made, the taste of your arousal as he licked you from your hole to clit, the way you trembled and grasped his hair, all of it was the best medicine for what ailed him. You were so close, shaking thighs and sweaty limbs as you babbled nonsense at him and he had a brief thought to edge you a little longer, see how mad he could truly drive you but you’d been so good for him today so he gave in as you begged and begged for him to let you cum.

“Ok pretty baby, it’s ok shhh ‘m gonna give you what you want sweet girl” he murmured into you and then slipped his two fingers from your mouth into your aching cunt. Your back came off the table and you gasped out a shocked cry, gushing onto his hands and into his mouth, it felt like you had been pulled from your body and you couldn’t seem to come down from your high, vision blacking out at the corners and you were sure you’d lost consciousness. Bob was kissing you, that was one thing you were sure of, but you couldn’t seem to form words or use your hands to reach for him and he just chuckled at your feeble attempts to reciprocate his affections.

When you finally settled for the night he’d pulled you tightly to his body, desperate to keep the nightmares at bay with your warm embrace. Eventually he would talk about it all, how he’d thought he’d never see you again, the thought of leaving you and the baby girl you were carrying bringing a fear he’d never known to the surface. Hand pressed to your stomach as he felt her little flutters and kicks the tears finally flowed freely, his whole world was here in this bed, everything he’d ever dreamed of.

Words of reassurance and kisses pressed into his chest were enough to finally send him off to sleep, dreams no longer filled with longing, but full of hope.

Tagging people who might be interested- @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @sailor-aviator @bobgasm @floydsmuse @floydsglasses @attapullman @sebsxphia

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd fic #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd blurb #bob floyd fic #bob fucks #bob floyd smut #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun bob #Bob Floyd

[taylorsburner]

Are You Forgetting Anything?

A/N: I really wanted to write something fluffy for Bob. It's like a requirement; Bob is fluff. It's really short but I love it. It's not my first fic, but it's my first Bob fic so I hope y'all like it :)

No matter how many times Bob went over his mental checklist, he always managed to forget something. Whether it be his wallet, or his keys, one day it was almost his flight suit, Bob always had to have a little reminder of his essentials before he stepped foot out of the door every morning. If it weren’t for the fact that his glasses were practically glued to his face, he would’ve found a way to forget them too. Bob had to have you doublecheck over everything, otherwise, he’d be in pretty bad shape at some point later on in the day.

This morning, for example, Bob almost forgot his phone.

After getting up at an ungodly hour and helping him get himself ready for his day, Bob was almost ready to leave for base. He somehow managed to grab his bag and coffee off of the counter, but leave his phone that was sitting right next to them behind. Luckily for him, you were trailing behind him to the front door with his phone in tow.

“Are you forgetting anything?” You ask as he grabs his keys from the dish beside the front door. 

Bob then turns to face you with a wide smile on his face before ducking down to place a small kiss on your cheek and then lips. 

“I think I’ve gotten everything now.” Bob proudly grins.

“Thanks, but I was talking about this.” You whisper, biting back the small smile threatening to show as you reveal his phone. Bob's face almost instantly turns red at the sight of the phone he left behind.

“I could’ve sworn I had it in here.” Bob huffs confusedly, taking the phone out of your hands. “One day I’ll have it all together.”

“One day.” You muse with a smile, sending a small wink his way and smoothing your hands up his arms to his shoulders.

“What on earth would I do without you?” Bob hums, snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you into him.

“I have absolutely no idea.”

“Well me neither, and I don’t plan on finding out.” He whispers back with a dopey smile, bringing his lips down to yours for a proper kiss. A kiss you more than deserved for saving his butt once again.

Was bob a little forgetful? Yes. Did that mean you had to get up at the same time as Bob, a time that you couldn’t even fathom being awake, to make sure he had it all together? Also yes. But at the end of the day, he never forgot the most important things, and that’s all that mattered. And most importantly, you loved him dearly. Him and all of his forgetful tendencies.

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd fic #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd fanfic #bob floyd x you #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd one shot #bob floyd blurb #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun x reader #top gun imagine #top gun fandom #lewis pullman #my writing

[planetpiastri]

💝 Bob please and 11. "their contact name being formatted differently than everyone else" from the are we friends, or more? prompt list

this trope is my kryptonite, hope u enjoy anon x | [wc - 0.7k] | join my prompt party!

“Why do we even bother? He’s obviously not coming,” said Hangman indifferently, leaning down to line up his pool shot.

“Give him a minute,” Phoenix snapped from her place at your shoulder, her phone held to her ear and currently ringing for Bob. “He said he’d be here. It’s weird for him to just…not show up.”

“Maybe he got tired of losing at pool,” said Hangman with a shit-eating grin, straightening up satisfactorily as he pocketed two balls.

“He beat me last time,” Fanboy pointed out.

“That’s not a competition,” Hangman retorted.

“He’ll be here,” interjected Rooster, taking a sip of his beer. “When’s the last time he didn’t show up to one of these? Calm down.”

“But when’s the last time Bob’s been late?” Phoenix shot back before groaning and pulling her phone away from her ear. She turned to look at you with a pleading expression. “Back me up here. This is weird, right?”

You suddenly realized everyone was staring at you expectantly. The buzzed, warm atmosphere of the Hard Deck suddenly felt a bit stifling. Usually you loved the teasing jibes and snarky retorts traded between the aviators over a few games of pool and a few more beers, but something about tonight felt…off.

Probably for the exact reason everyone was discussing at the moment.

“It is weird for him to flake,” you ceded reluctantly. “He usually at least gives us a text if he knows he’s not gonna make it.”

“Okay, so call him, then,” said Hangman, sounding exasperated. “Make sure he’s not dead.” He nudged Coyote. “It’s your shot. Would you go?”

“We have been calling him, dickhead,” snapped Phoenix. “He’s not picking up.”

“No, make the other one call him,” said Hangman, pointing at you with his cue as if you weren’t right there. “His favorite.”

Your cheeks burned with the knowledge that everyone else had picked up on you and Bob’s close bond. “I am not—”

“Please,” said Hangman arrogantly. “We are not in middle school. Just own it. We’ve all seen the little glances and inside jokes.”

Your mouth flapped open and shut uselessly. The pool game had been forgotten. Everyone was watching you with amused expressions. You stuttered out, “I do that with Phoenix, too!”

Hangman squinted at you disbelievingly before turning back to the game, like you weren’t even worth the effort of arguing with. That more than anything else rubbed you the wrong way.

“Okay, fine,” you said. “I will call him. And he won’t pick up, just like he didn’t pick up when Phoenix and Fanboy called, and we can put this to bed.”

You expected everyone to laugh at you, or shake their heads and go back to their other activities. What you didn’t expect was for everyone—Hangman included—to cluster around you and stare at your screen as you pulled out your phone.

You scrolled through your contacts quickly, wanting to just get it over with, but as you hovered your finger over Bob’s contact to call, Payback said, “Hang on—”

Right on cue, Hangman swiped your phone out of your hand and held it above your head.

“Give it back!” you cried, embarrassment flooding your body. “Seriously? You’re the one who just said we aren’t in middle school!”

“‘B. Bradshaw,’” Hangman read aloud, holding you at bay with his free hand. He was beaming. “‘J. Machado—J. Seresin—N. Trace—M. Garcia—R. Fitch.’ But would you look at this?” He scrolled back up. “‘Bobby.’ With two—count ‘em, two—emojis.”

“Stop it!” you yelped, more than mortified.

“Which emojis?” called Fanboy, who was craning to try and see.

“The nerd with glasses face and a white heart,” said Payback. “Remind me, what does the white heart mean?”

“Marriage, definitely,” said Rooster with a teasing smirk.

“You guys are children,” you yelled, hoping desperately that you looked more confident than you felt. You shot Rooster a frustrated look. “Could you help me, please?”

It was Coyote who swiped your phone out of Hangman’s hand, taking a moment to examine the proof for himself before handing it back to you. You snatched it quickly, sure that everyone could see just how flustered you were. They all watched you with amused, knowing expressions, waiting for you to defend yourself.

But then your phone buzzed in your hand, and everyone looked down.

Incoming call from: Bobby 🤓🤍

Someone snickered. You fought to maintain your dignity and straightened your posture, saying, “Excuse me, I have a call. I’m going to take this outside.”

Everyone whooped and laughed as you pushed in between Fanboy and Phoenix and started to walk towards the back deck. With shaking fingers, you accepted the call. 

“Hi, Bobby. I think they know.”

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfic #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd blurb #robert bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd fluff #robert bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #bob x reader #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd blurb #vinny's valentine's prompt party #vinny fics

[topguncortez]

11 and innocent Bobby Floyd please??

11. "How the fuck did you manage to cover me in so many hickies!?"

Bob stretched with a groan, his muscles sore from the activities of the night before. He blindly reached for his glasses on the bedside table, slipping them on and looking wide eyed at the state of their bedroom. Clothing and shoes laid in disarray, pillows and sheets tossed around, you two had even managed to knock the picture frame off the wall and broken the headboard. Bob wasn’t sure what came over him last night, but there was something about seeing you stake your claim on him that turned him on. 

You had watched from a far as Bob was sweetly talking to some young pilot at the Hard Deck. Bob didn’t even know it, but you could see it, she was flirting hard core, and it gave you second hand embarrassment to watch her twirl her hair and giggle at the way he talked about the accelerator shifts on his jet. You rolled your eyes as you downed the shot that Phoenix gave you, and sauntered over to Bob. He smiled as you got close to him, and grabbed his face in your hands and kissed him deeply. He was caught slightly off guard, but reacted quickly, grabbing your hips and bringing you in close. You pulled back and smirked at the girl. 

“Off limits, sweetie,” You said, and took his hand, leading him right out the front door of the bar. 

Bob’s blue eyes looked over at your side of the bed, and noticed that your presence was missing. He furrowed his eyebrows as he reached for his phone, and he nearly had a heart attack seeing the time. It was 8:30, and he was half an hour late for work. Throwing back the covers, he jumped out of bed, avoiding the clothing and shoes in his pathway to the closet. 

“Oh shoot, oh shoot,” Bob muttered, and slipped his flight suit on his body. He fumbled through his morning routine, taking his retainers out (which he was surprised he even remembered to put in last night between you sucking him off and having you ride his face), brushed his teeth, combed his hair and made sure his flight suit was squared away. 

He was thankful that you left coffee and a protein shake on the counter with his name on it, as he grabbed it and his keys and ran out the door. Bob probably broke all the traffic laws trying to get to the hangar as fast as he could, he knew he would get the ticket in the mail later. The door to the hanger banged loudly as all eyes turned to face him, as he stood in the doorway looking like a deer in headlights. Mav quit talking about the plan for the day, and grunted in disapproval as Bob shuffled quickly to his spot next to Phoenix. 

“Thanks for joining us, Floyd,” Maverick said and Bob’s ears turned red. 

Phoenix looked over her flight partner, and took in the sight of the thin layer of sweat on his body. She thought maybe he was getting sick and that’s why he was late and looked like shit. But then she saw it, and it was hard to miss once she saw it, right below his ear was a small red mark. Her jaw dropped as she blinked and subtly leaned in closer to take a look at the hickey on Bob Floyd’s neck. Rooster saw her lean in and looked between Bob and Phoenix curiously. He leaned slightly over, craning his neck to see the same thing Phoenix saw. He nudged the back of Phoenix’s chair, making her turn to look at him. 

“Is that a hickey?” Rooster mouthed and Phoenix nodded, her brown eyes still in awe. 

“Alright, let’s get to it,” Maverick said, clapping his hands and pulling Rooster and Phoenix back to attention, “Floyd, Phoenix can catch you up.” 

“Uh, yeah,” Phoenix said, like she hadn’t zoned out the last three minutes of Maverick’s class staring at the hickey on Bob’s neck. The squadron moved from their seats, and Phoenix tried to fill Bob in the best she could, trying to avoid looking at his blue eyes. In her mind, Bob was this innocent little brother type figure, and she didn’t want to think about her little brother Bobby having sex. 

— — — 

Bob felt weird as he walked into the locker room after his flight with Phoenix. Her and Rooster had been weird all day, stumbling over their words, not looking him in the eye, and just plain avoiding him. He sighed as he opened his locker door, putting his vest and helmet on the hooks, and unzipping his flight suit. He nodded as Hangman, and Coyote walked into the locker room. Hangman groaned as he sat on the bench and leaned back. 

“All I’m saying is, that whole flight plan was stupid. I mean, that fucking G climb? Did we learn nothing from Coyote two months ago!” Hangman complained. 

“Hey!” Coyote said, “Too soon.” 

“Sorry, brother,” Hangman smirked. 

“I thought it was a good plan,” Bob said, still facing his locker he d grabbed his shirt by the collar pulling it over his head. 

“Well that’s because WHOA THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?” Hangman yelled, sitting up straight. Bob turned around quickly, to look at Hangman, whose green eyes were wide in both shock and mischief. 

“Did you get attacked last night. . . by a fucking vampire?” Coyote asked, and Bob turned back around, looking at the small mirror in his locker and seeing his chest littered in dark purple marks. 

“I would say werewolf, look at his back,” Hangman laughed. 

“My back?” Bob asked, confused. And that’s when he heard the shutter of a camera, and Coyote showing Hangman the picture he took. Bob moved quickly, and snatched the phone from Coyote, his blue eyes nearly falling out of his head at the image of his back, littered in red scratch marks. 

“Didn’t know the Missus could be so. . . freaky,” Hangman said, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. Bob blushed and looked down at his shoes, “Hey! Not kink-shaming here Bobby Boy, I like myself a wild one every once in a- Where ya going?!” Hangman called out, as Bob quickly grabbed his stuff and headed for the door, “Might wanna put a shirt on!” 

Bob groaned, as he set his stuff down, and quickly threw on his sweaty black t-shirt, before walking back out of the locker room and to his truck. Bob was happy to see your car in the driveway, as he quickly put his truck in park and ran into the house. 

“Y/N!” He yelled your name and you walked out of the kitchen with a smile on your face, that quickly dropped seeing his disgruntled face. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“This!” Bob yelled, grabbing his shirt and taking it off. You couldn’t help but giggle at the handwork you left on him last night, “How the fuck did you manage to cover me in so many hickies!?” 

“I don’t know!” You giggled and stepped forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, “It was you and your dirty talk last night that just got me in a frenzy. I couldn’t help it. Wanted to make sure that people knew you were mine.” 

“So that girl flirting with me at the bar really did get to you.” Bob said with a smirk. 

“Hush. . .” You said, placing your finger on his lips, “Don’t act like you didn’t like it.” 

“Oh, I did,” Bob said, and then moved quickly, grabbing your body and throwing you over his shoulder. You gasped as he held you and delivered a smack to your ass as he moved down the hallway, “Guess I didn’t fuck the brat out of you last night. You think it’s funny to let me be humiliated at work? Guess daddy is going to have to teach you another lesson.”

#top gun #top gun imagine #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun blurb #top gun maverick #top gun maverick blurb #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick fan fic #top gun maverick fan fiction #bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd blurb #bob floyd fan fic #bob floyd fan fiction #bob floyd x reader

[jupitercomet]

this is for the og Boxer Bob Baddie™ @bradshawsbitch I don't really know what to tell you besides otter Bob supremacy

warnings - language, mentions of violence, brief mentions of blood, soft Bob

sweeter than sugar masterlist

Jake would be the first to admit that he didn’t know Bob especially well. By the time Bob had started fighting at Maverick’s, Jake had already left for Texas. And while, yes, it did mildly irritate Jake that Bob had been able to cut out a place for himself where Jake couldn’t, he couldn’t even focus on being mad about that because he was too busy trying to figure out how the hell a guy like Bob ended up where he is.

Jake hadn’t thought anything of him when he first walked into Maverick’s again. Bradley, he knew, and some of the other fighters too, but the first time he laid eyes on Bob, he found him easily forgettable and hardly chalked him up to being a threat. And yet somehow he was? Other boxers whispered about him like he was some sort of ghost story—a fighter so great he’d been immortalized like a Greek god. Bradley respected him too, which was already enough for Jake to question his initial judgment on the dirty blond. And you certainly don’t get the name Grim Reaper for nothing.

It was the first time Jake watched Bob fight when, suddenly, he understood what everyone was talking about.

To an onlooker, the kind of person who had never stepped into the ring and been in the position Jake and Bob have been in, there probably wouldn’t be a difference between the way Bob fights and the way everyone else does, but Jake knows better. Where a lot of fighters build up a strong vibrato, their ego only fueled with every punch they land (and don’t get him wrong, Jake is very much included in this category) Bob is different.

Bob doesn’t take pleasure in fighting the same way Jake does and he doesn’t lose himself in it—blacking out and acting on straight instinct—like Bradley does. No, Bob gets angry. And it’s a deep anger, an anger he’s clearly held onto for a very long time. Bob doesn’t fight to win, Bob fights like it’s imperative to his survival, and that difference is usually what results in his opponents being carried out on stretchers.

Bob leaves every fight in the ring but whatever anger he carries? That stays with him. And agreeing to fight Bob is like signing up to be the punching bag for all that anger. The difference between Bob and Jake is that Bob fights every fight like it’s personal. Jake will never admit it to anyone, but that fact is borderline terrifying.

Overtime, Jake’s perception of Bob shifted. No longer was he the quiet figure in the corner that Jake treated like just another object in the gym. Now he was the Grim Reaper, the guy all the boxers collectively agreed had probably spilled the most blood on their mats, despite him being around for the shortest amount of time. He was a guy that Jake respected and trusted, an ally to him and Bradley with all the shady shit going on around them. Jake could probably even call him a friend, but he had learned to never underestimate the formidable force that was Bob Floyd.

With all of that in mind, Jake feels like he shouldn’t be seeing this.

It had started off innocently. Jake had been passing by a delicious smelling bakery and couldn’t help but think that his girlfriend would probably like a snack once he picked her up from work. Quite literally, all he wanted was a croissant. Then he asked if they happened to have a bathroom, and they did, and he took care of his business with every intention of grabbing his food and going. Maybe he took a little long in the bathroom though, because when he got out—

“Bob! You can’t be back here!” 

Jake freezes, stopping just short of the half wall that would reveal him to the bakery floor. A giggle echoes through the small building and Jake peeks his head out just barely to confirm the sight in front of him.

You—the baker who had rang him up—is biting back a smile, clearly trying to focus on typing something into the cash register. Behind you, Bob’s towering body is wrapped around yours, his chin resting on your shoulder as he tries to distract you with light nips to your cheek. “No one’s here, sweet pea. ‘Sides, if you wanted to keep me out, your counters shouldn’t be so easy to jump over.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you shake your head fondly and Bob’s arms travel down to tighten around your waist. He squeezes you gently, burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

His knuckles are bruised—with his habit of fighting without gloves, they almost always are—and it’s weird to Jake to see the same hands he’s seen shatter jaws, wrap around you delicately. Honestly this whole thing is weird, like some alternate universe version of Bob that he’s never met.

“You gonna let me go?” You tease, once you finish up at the cash register.

Bob grumbles at just the suggestion. “No.”

“Bob—”

“Otters wrap their babies up to keep them from floating away, did you know that?” Bob interrupts you, his grip on you tightening, the veins on his arms slightly bulging at the effort. “I gotta make sure you don’t float away from me.”

You laugh, ruffling his hair before ultimately succumbing to his desires and leaning into his weight. “We’re not otters, Bob.”

“Well yeah, otters understand the importance of snuggling, unlike some people.” You let out a squeak of surprise when he nips at your pulse point.

You don’t say anything after that, letting Bob rock you slowly as his head hides in your neck. Jake’s looking for an exit that won’t reveal himself to you, feeling like he’s watching something he shouldn’t anymore. After a moment, you nudge Bob’s head with your cheek, waiting for him to raise his head so you can catch his lips gently.

“Why don’t I close early and we can go home.” You bat your lashes at him. “Then you can show me everything I should know about otter snuggling practices.”

Jake waits for the two of you to head into the kitchen before he rushes quickly out of the bakery. Outside, he looks down at the croissant in his hands as he processes what he’s just witnessed. Normally, he’d be living for this. He’d go into the gym tomorrow and tease the shit out of Bob and whatever his deal with otters was, and refuse to ever let it go. 

Jake spares the bakery another glance, letting out a breath because he knows that he’s actually not going to do any of that.

Really, all Jake can think is that he’s happy to know that, at least, Bob’s anger doesn’t seem to follow him everywhere. And as he continues on his walk once more, turning his back to the bakery, Jake decides that he’ll keep this moment to himself.

#bob floyd blurb #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd au #robert floyd blurb #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd fluff #robert floyd au #bob x sweet pea #buggy's got a pen

[writingdumpster]

movie night

pairing: Bob Floyd x reader

warnings: no use of pronouns or gendered language. non sexual undressing

summary: you fall asleep during your movie night at Bob’s.

word count: .4k

“Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. But we think you’re crazy for…”

Bob looked over at you as the end of his favorite movie played. Your legs had been over his lap since the lunch scene. He saw that your body was curled into the corner of his couch as you slept. He smiled. He found you completely adorable. He couldn’t help the way that his heart was beating while he reveled in the fact that you felt comfortable enough in his home to accidentally fall asleep on his couch. It felt so intimate to him. He knew it wasn’t the time, but he was itching to tell you he loved you as he watched the way your chest rose and fell steadily. He carefully lifted your legs from his lap and then kneeled down beside you.

“Come on, angel. Let’s go to bed,” Bob cooed to you as he gently shook your shoulder. You blinked your eyes open to see Bob’s blue ones looking at you fondly.

“What happened?” You murmured in question as you raised your head. Bob reached up and smoothed out your hair.

“You fell asleep, love,” Bob said quietly, not wanting to tear you too far away from sleep.

“Sorry, Bobby. I know it’s your favorite movie,” you said.

“We’ve watched it before, angel. It’s fine,” Bob assured you. “Let’s get you to bed.” You rose and followed him to his room, his fingers tangled with yours.

When you got to his room Bob pulled out the pajamas you had in your designated drawer in his dresser while you brushed your teeth. When you came back Bob was already in his pajamas. You gave him a warm smile.

“C’mere,” Bob called. You moved into his arms and let him hug you. He released you after a moment and kissed your forehead. “Arms up,” he requested. You smiled. You raised your arms and Bob pulled your shirt off, tossing it into his hamper. He helped you into your pajamas. Some part of him was determined to take care of you in any way he could at that moment. He would come to find out that the feeling would never go away. He tucked you into bed before crawling in beside you. You immediately curled into his chest and Bob felt his heart skip a beat.

“You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had, Bobby,” you murmured. Bob smiled and kissed your temple. You were already snoring softly. Bob couldn’t think anything except that he was determined to always be the best boyfriend you had.

#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x reader fluff #bob floyd blurb #top gun imagine #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fanfic #bob floyd x gn! reader

[siempre-bucky]

If possible, could we please do "B feeling shy in swimwear and A hyping them up" for our man Bob Floyd? But can Bob be "B" because we know he would be hesitant to take his shirt off, as seen with the beach scene and he just deserves a partner/reader who's like "nah you're hot as hell, take it off"

Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: You know Bob's reserved, his favorite yellow shirt was his comfort source at the beach, but you just want to see his beautiful body underneath it. So naturally, you pin him to the side of the Jeep and tell him he's hot.

a/n: thank you so much for requesting this! I loved being able to do both sides of this prompt! Also, Bob has one of those slutty little waists people have been talking about and I will not be taking any criticism at this time.

It was unrealistically less crowded at the beach on a Saturday afternoon. “Can’t believe we get to park in the front row,” you marveled as Bob pulled into the parking lot, the palm trees lining the street blowing gently in the breeze. 

“Breathe it in, baby, this will never be happening again,” Bob joked from the diver's seat, using his free hand to slide his aviators up the bridge of his nose. You tapped his thigh as he put it in park, your eyes scanning for the rest of the squadron. Most of them were already warming up near the water, two footballs being thrown across the sand. 

The two of you hopped out and opened the back doors to grab your things. You took off your Navy shirt and readjusted your sports bra and high-waisted shorts, humming in delight as the warm sun hit your skin. Your eyes looked over at your husband and how he triple-checked the items in your bag and even quadruple checking for the sunscreen. “Ready?” he asked, his thin lips forming a small smile. 

You weren’t ready until Bob took off his comfort beach t-shirt. You ignored his question and shut the door before walking over to him and placing your hand on the side of the door. He watched as you eyed him up and down, “Are you?” you asked in return. 

He nodded simply, “Yeah?” 

You shook your head, “You still have your shirt on, Bobby,” you pouted, leaning against the door. 

“I know,” he said with a nervous chuckle, “I’ll get less burnt that way.” 

You knew that you married the reserved one, the one who only let his true feelings show when he was alone with you. He’d rarely shown his body to anyone else, hell, he even swims with his shirt on. You understood his character and knew very well he looked good in that shirt. You rarely ever asked him to step outside his comfort zone, but there was just something about today that really made you want to see his body. Always a shame he kept it so hidden, he looked like a God in your eyes. Robert Floyd was breathtakingly beautiful. 

“Bobby,” you said his name with a slight rasp in your voice and through his transitioning lenses, he could see how your pupils were getting wider with lust. 

“Darlin’,” he countered, taking a step back, and his back collided with the cloth seat. You sauntered forward and put your hands on the sides of his waist, gently squeezing to feel the muscles he had there. 

Your face was close enough to count the little freckles that were kissed onto his face, beautiful blue eyes staring back at yours. “Why won't you take it off?” you asked, a question you never really asked directly. Bob took his hands and placed them underneath your forearms, his fingertips stroking your skin. 

Bob turned to look at the guys on the beach through the space between the open door and the body of the Jeep, Hangman and Coyote were doing pushups in the sand, their glistening biceps on full display. “I don’t- I don't look like them. I’m not ashamed of how I look but I know I’m not up to standard,” he told you, his eyes avoiding your glare until you used your thumb and pointer finger to grab his chin and made him look at you. 

“To whose standard, Bob?” you questioned, slotting yourself between his legs. 

He cocked his head, “I don-” 

“I married you, Bob. You are the most handsome man I have ever seen… and can I tell you something?” You dragged your fingers down his neck, ghosting over his Adam's apple and all the way down his torso. Your lips hovered his slightly parted ones, you could even see the rosy blush on his cheeks. 

“W-what?” he croaked. 

“You’re hot, Lieutenant,” you mumbled with a desperate whine. Your hands slid underneath his shirt and let your nails rake down his goosebump-ridden skin. “You are so fucking hot,” you growled before crashing your lips into his. 

Bob’s eyes opened wide in surprise but they slowly closed while he put his hand on the back of your neck to pull you closer. “Is that how you really feel, baby?” he panted as he pulled you away. You bit your bottom lip and nodded. He moved his arms and quickly took off his shirt before the rational side of his brain could take over, tossing it onto the seat. 

You took the opportunity and looked at his toned torso: his biceps were well defined and he had that beautiful line down the valley of his defined pecs. “You’re not flexing are you?” you purred. Bob grinned and shook his head. 

“I can if you want me to,” he chuckled. 

You tsked and shook your head, “If you did we might as well go back to bed.” He laughed as you wiggled your eyebrows, intertwining your fingers and grabbing his backpack with his free hand. 

Once you got to the edge of the sand Bob stopped and gently squeezed your hand to get your attention. “Will you say what you told me again?” he asked as he motioned to his chest. 

You giggled and put your chin on his shoulder, looking up at him lovingly. “You’re hot as fuck, Lieutenant Floyd.” 

He smiled brightly and kissed your forehead, “Thank you, baby.”

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x fem!reader #bob floyd fanfic #bob floyd blurb #top gun #top gun maverick #siempre buckys blurb night #bob floyd imagine

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Congratulations lovely! 🎉🎉 How about sunflowers and Bob?

Xo,

T

Another sunflowers request 🫣 Y'all don't make it easy hehe Hope you like this one! And thanks for playing 😘

3k Celebration Mini Drabbles

You open the door to find Bob standing on your porch with a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand. It’s raining and he’s drenched from head to foot, his hair dripping water into his eyes.

“Bob, what the fuck?” you shriek, pulling him inside.

“Will you go out with me?” he blurts out as you run to get a towel.

You spin on the spot and walk back toward him with a bewildered expression. “Come again?”

Bob glances back at the door. “Like, right now?” He reaches for the doorknob.

“No! I meant, what did you say?”

“Oh!” Bob nods. “Sorry, I’m nervous,” he says, taking his glasses off and holding them up to the light to examine the giant splotches of rainwater obscuring the lenses. “Also, I can’t see anything.” He tucks the glasses into his pocket and blinks up at you timidly and with a slight squint.

“Bob,” you say, watching him warily. “Did you just ask me out?”

He grimaces uncomfortably. “Yeah,” he says, his tone somewhat apologetic. “I kept meaning to do it and never did and then this morning, I said ‘enough is enough’ and I should just” – he makes a gesture with his hand to indicate a forward motion – “I should just do it already. And if you say no, then you say no. And then I could just stop thinking about it. Not that I think I could stop thinking about you.” He watches your reaction cautiously but, when you don’t respond, he continues speaking. “And I’ve noticed that you wear a lot of yellow and I saw, one time, you had this sunflower print dress on, so I figured you probably don’t hate them.” He shrugs and holds the flowers out for you to take. “I picked them up this morning and then it started to rain but, if I didn’t do this today, I don’t know if I’d ever be able to. So, I just said, ‘fuck it, I’m going.’ So” – he exhales sharply – “here I am.”

Tentatively, you take the soaking bouquet out of his shaky hand.

“Just so you know,” he says sheepishly. “Your response will determine my outlook on sunflowers for probably the rest of my life. If that, at all, influences your decision.”

3k celebration

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd #top gun bob #bob floyd drabble #lewis pullman #bob floyd imagine #top gun drabble #lewis pullman imagine #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd top gun #dagger squad #bob floyd blurb #robert bob floyd fluff #robert bob floyd imagine #top gun blurb #robert floyd fic #bob floyd fanfiction

[inkdrinkerworld]

something about just holding hands with Bob makes my heart just idek. maybe just being close and lovely and you notice his glasses are a little smudged and he trusts you completely when you take them off his face to gently clean them and you give him a kiss on his cheek when you put them back on idk<3

IM SWOONING RN

Bob’s got you in his lap, sitting all pretty in your skirt and top with his hands on your thighs.

It’s under the guise of you being a little tipsy, but really, you’re not that tipsy.

You like that he’s getting a little bolder about holding you in front of his friends though.

“Bobby?” You turn your cheek against his, lips moving against his jaw and Bob’s sure that some of your lip stick is smeared there too.

“Yeah, angel?” You use the noise caused by Hangman winning another game of pool to turn completely in his lap.

In doing so you knock your fingers against his glasses lens and gasp. “Sorry, Robby,” he’s halfway to saying ‘it’s fine, angel’ when you pluck them off his face.

“I’ll clean ‘em up.” You promise, pulling his glasses case from your purse and spraying the cleaner on them.

“Thank you angel,” Bob kisses your wrist as you fit his round glasses back on his face. You stamp your lips to his cheek on purpose before setting your forehead to his collarbone.

“What did you want, baby?” He jostles you on his knee a little to get you raising your head again.

He’s sure Phoenix and the others can hear, but he’s more concerned with your halfbaked sentence.

“Cuddles, m’getting tired.”

#bobfloyd #bob floyd one shot #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd drabble #bob floyd blurb #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x black!reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x yn #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd

[spidervee]

in which you and Bob celebrate the little things 🌻Bob Floyd x reader; 18+ only; implied sex

“I’m starting to think IKEA is just one big social experiment,” you huff, a thin sheen of sweat gathered on your hairline, the consequence of having to use a tiny hex key to tighten a dozen screws.

Bob makes a noise of agreement in his throat as he heaves the bulk of your brand new tabletop into an upright position. His arms bulge beneath the thin white cotton of his t-shirt and you’re struck by the thought that you didn’t specify exactly what kind of social experiment. To see how many relationships were furniture-building-proof? To see how turned on the sight of a man lifting a piece of furniture could make you? Check and check.

“Done,” Bob sighs, letting his arms fall to his sides after he readjusts his glasses. You both take a moment to admire the new fixture in your dining nook.

“This calls for champagne,” you giggle, hopping off the counter toward the fridge. You only make it two steps before Bob intercepts you with an arm slung around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“I think you deserve a reward for your efforts, baby,” he coos into your ear, making your legs quiver. “Something better than that cheap champagne.”

“What did you have in mind?” Bob replies by nipping gently at your collarbone, letting his fingers slip up your shirt and splay wide across your belly. He begins to tug you back toward the table but you dig your heels in. “Robby,” you laugh, “That’s not going to support our weight—not once you get going, hm?”

Bob contemplates your words for a moment before he’s lifting you as if you’re weightless and carrying you toward the bedroom, leaving the sound of your laughter echoing throughout the house.

#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #robert floyd x you #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd smut #bob floyd blurb #bob floyd imagine

[bobfloydsbabe]

I know you’ve definitely mentioned Bob taking care of Imogen when she’s had a bad day. Running her a bath, reading to her, rubbing her back. I can totally picture her snuggled up against his chest in bed, wearing one of his T-shirts, while he brushes her hair and presses soft kisses to her neck after a particularly stressful day 🥺

- @bradshawsbaby 💕

My darling Sarah, you really understand these two so well! I love writing these sweet and tender moments between them, so I couldn't stop myself from writing a short ~450 word blurb. Thank you for indulging me and for loving them. Enjoy 💕

SHARE YOUR THOTS, GET A BLURB open for: eccentric professor bob

Imogen comes into the bedroom looking bleary-eyed and exhausted. Bob puts the book down in his lap and watches as she strips out of her clothes, then rummages through one of his dresser drawers.

“You okay?” he asks, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

“Just tired,” she mutters, unclasping her bra and slipping a tattered grey cotton t-shirt over her head. He would recognize it anywhere, and he’s not surprised she picked it out. She once mentioned that wearing it makes her feel smart because it has Oxford University written across the chest. That it smells like him is just an added bonus.

She crosses the room to his bed as he watches, loving the way his old t-shirt is too big on her and makes her look even cuter than normal. Now, like so many times before, he wonders what he did to deserve her. She pulls the covers back and climbs in, pulling them back up and crawls to him.

He lifts his arm and lets her settle into his side. She sighs against his bare chest, her breath tickling the skin, and he presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Long day?”

“Yeah,” she tells him, not quite managing to stifle a yawn. “I’ve been trying to decipher a letter all day, but the writer switches language in the middle of sentences, and his handwriting is barely legible. My brain hurts.”

He runs his hand through her hair, feeling the wavy locks weave through his fingers. She hums in satisfaction, and he can tell the tension is leaving her body. “What languages?”

Imogen tightens her grip around his torso. “Ottoman Turkish mostly, but there’s also Greek and even some Latin,” she says and yawns again. “It’s a mess.”

“You’ll figure it out,” he assures her and uses his unoccupied hand to close the book and set it back on his bedside table. He slides the glasses off his nose and put them on top of the book, then reaches over and turns off the lamp.

Darkness engulfs the bedroom, and he shuffles until he’s flat on his back, and Imogen’s cheek rests against his shoulder. Her arm drapes across his chest, fingertips absentmindedly tracing freckles on his pec.

Imogen’s breathing slowly evens out and gets heavy as she doses off. Her fingers still against his skin. He buries his nose in her hair, letting the familiar scent of crisp green apples from her shampoo fill his nostrils. He presses his lips against the smooth skin of her forehead, still unsure if letting her this close was a mistake, but unable to regret it either way.

#mail #answered #bradshawsbaby #bob floyd #bob floyd x oc #bob floyd blurb #bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd #robert floyd #otp: bob x imogen #oc: imogen van doren #THEY'RE SO CUTE I LOVE THEM #lewis pullman

[planetpiastri]

also sending 13 with bob <33333 -allie

allie help i blacked out and somehow wrote almost 3k. what did u do to me. @spideystevie

13. meeting as the best friends/wingmen/chaperones of their two friends who want to go out together, but not alone

word count: 2.7k

“I can’t believe you actually convinced me to come along,” you muttered, propping your feet up on your best friend’s dashboard.

Rooster glanced sideways at you before going back to anxiously scanning the parking lot. “Me neither,” he admitted, “but I’m so glad you said yes.”

“Remind me of the plan one more time?” you asked.

He held up his fingers and began counting items off. “First, we meet up with Natasha at the Shake Shack.”

“We are at the Shake Shack,” you said.

“Yes. The three of us laugh and play nice for a bit, just to break the ice. Second—or maybe third?—you get up to use the restroom. I don’t know, make up some excuse.”

You rolled your eyes but let him keep going.

“Fourth—wait, or are we still on three?—anyways, fourth, while you’re gone I put the moves on Natasha, maybe invite her to officially do something one-on-one. Fifth, you come back and I’ll give you the signal. Remember the signal?”

You recited, “‘Ready to rock and roll?’ means it’s not going good and we have to go. ‘Living the good life’ means it’s going really well and I should buzz off. You picked such corny catchphrases, man.”

“But you remembered them!” Rooster considered things for a moment before adding another finger. “Sixth, seventh, whatever—profit.”

You hummed sarcastically and turned to look back out the window. It was winter, so it was already completely dark over the Shake Shack as you and Rooster waited for his definitely-not-a-date to show up. Other young people on awkward first outings, as well as large groups of friends, milled about on the open-air tables and greater parking lot, swapping ice cream and fries and having a generally great time. Rooster probably couldn’t have picked a better place to stage this “friendship coup” as he called it—in short, an attempt to get out of the friendzone with Natasha Trace.

You’d only met Natasha a handful of times, but you liked her. You weren’t sure how much you liked her for Bradley, but you also weren’t the type to meddle that deeply into your friend’s love life. And Rooster had been single now for nearly four long, painful years; you thought it would be good for him to get out of his head and get back in the dating game.

“Oh, shit, that’s her!” he hissed suddenly, swatting your arm. “Come on, let’s go!”

You quickly climbed out of the Bronco, following Rooster’s lead as he began to make his way towards the sleek Volkswagen that had just pulled into the lot. The headlights in the Volkswagen shut off and the driver’s side door opened to reveal Natasha, graceful and strong as ever. She broke into a smile as soon as she saw Rooster and leaned against the open frame of her door.

“Hey, Rooster,” she said before her eyes slipped past him and landed on you. They lit up with recognition. “Oh, hey!”

“Hi,” you said, feeling incredibly transparent and awkward. 

“Oh, uh—they just wanted to come with, I started talking about Shake Shack and they were like, ‘oh my god, I want to go!’ So I hope that’s okay,” rambled Rooster.

You glared daggers at the back of Rooster’s head, but Natasha just laughed and nodded. “Yeah, no worries. I mean—I’d be kind of a hypocrite if I said no.”

Rooster laughed. “Haha, yeah—wait, what?”

Natasha bent down into the open door and said, “You can come out, you know.”

The passenger door to the Volkswagen swung open and a man stepped out, and you momentarily forgot that you were in the middle of drilling a hole in the back of Bradley’s head with your eyes.

He was tall and lean, with short blonde hair combed back out of his face. He was wearing glasses, but even in the dim light of the parking lot you could make out wide, blue eyes and a shy, kind expression on his face. He glanced nervously around the group: first at Natasha, then at Rooster, then back to Natasha, and then to you, where they stayed.

“This is Bob,” said Natasha. “I figured it’d be okay if he tagged along with us, too.”

Your mind had stuttered to a halt, but if there was one thing to be said about Rooster, he was quick on his feet. “Yeah, definitely! Nice to meet you, Bob. Hey, I just remembered I left my wallet in my car like an idiot.” He pinned you with a sharp look. “Can you come grab it with me?”

You only considered arguing for maybe half a second before tearing your eyes away from Bob and sighing, “Yeah, let’s go. Be right back, guys. Meet you at the shack?”

“Sounds good!” called Natasha as you and Rooster began to jog away.

Rooster yanked open the driver’s side door of the Bronco and bent over the seat for pure formalities, because he knew as well as you did that the outline of his brown leather wallet was prominent and very obvious in his back pocket.

“She brought one too!” he hissed at the gas pedal.

You looked up at the sky, asking anyone listening to please, please, send you help. Then you said, “So?”

“So that throws a bit of a spanner in the works!”

“Does it?”

He straightened up, waving a pad of brown napkins in your direction. “Yes! Is that her way of telling me this is a strictly-friends situation? Is Bob my competition? What message am I meant to receive here?”

“Maybe the message that she felt the same way that you did about this little hang-out and brought along a safety net?” you offered. “Please stop waving those napkins at me, Bradley.”

“Right, sorry.” He tossed them into the backseat, where they scattered like confetti, and you fought back a shiver of disgust. “So what do I do?”

You cocked your head at him. “I don’t know, Rooster. Maybe…go hang out with her? And stop stalling at your car?”

Rooster blinked. “Fuck. You’re right. Let’s roll out.”

When you arrived at the front counter, Bob and Natasha still hadn’t ordered. They were standing shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the menu, and you took a moment to try and decipher their body language: her arms were folded, his loose and relaxed; she would periodically tap her hip against his, less in a manner that tried to get his attention and more out of casual familiarity; when they spoke to each other, they didn’t turn their heads, just spoke out of the sides of their mouths and trusted the other to catch it.

In all honesty, they reminded you a lot of you and Bradley. The thought made you feel strangely…relieved, but you couldn’t figure out why exactly.

Bob noticed you and Rooster first, turning and smiling. He met your eyes, but then looked away just as quickly.

“Hi,” you said, stepping up next to him and introducing yourself. “Sorry about before. I swear, he’d lose his head if it wasn’t screwed on.”

“Yeah, I’ve gathered,” chuckled Bob before blinking. “Oh, I just mean—Natasha’s told me—I’ve heard that Bradley can be—”

“You’re good,” you interrupted swiftly. “I love him, but he’s an idiot.”

Bob smiled that quick, nervous smile again before turning back to the menu board. “Okay. Do you know what you’re gonna get?”

You nodded. “They do a killer float here.”

Bob glanced at you in surprise. “You don’t get shakes at the Shake Shack?”

“You do?” you countered.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s a Shake Shack.”

You found yourself laughing. “Okay then, wise guy, educate me!”

“I’m gonna change your life,” promised Bob, stepping up to the counter and ordering two peanut-butter fudge milkshakes. When you tried to pull out your own wallet, he put out a hand to stop you. 

“I’m perfectly capable—” you started.

“Please. What kind of teacher would I be if I made my student pay for their own school supplies?”

You snorted with laughter, turning to share an amused look with Rooster before realizing in a panic that you’d been so caught up talking with Bob that you’d lost track of both Natasha and Rooster. You swore under your breath, stepping away from the counter and looking back and forth for where they’d gone. He’d asked you to be his wingman because he was nervous, and you’d already messed it up!

Bob stepped up next to you, two milkshakes in hand. “Hey, you okay?” he asked.

“Where’d they go?” you asked, still looking around the patio and the parking lot.

Bob slurped loudly at one of the shakes for a moment before saying, “She said something about stealing him away to play mini golf across the street. Must be what happened.”

You whirled around to face him. “You guys had a game plan?”

His cheeks colored and he didn’t meet your eyes. “Yeah. She was nervous. That’s why I’m here.” He squinted at you. “Did you guys have a game plan?”

You bit your lip, realizing you’d been caught. “Yes,” you said softly.

“There we go, then,” said Bob, holding out the second shake. “Even Stevens.”

You took it from him and worked your straw up and down, trying to mix it. “Well, then what are we supposed to do while they play mini golf?”

Bob did meet your eyes then, fixating you in place with that impressive cobalt stare. You felt your breath hitch in your throat and a warm flush began to spread out from your throat. You hoped against hope he couldn’t tell in the darkness.

Bob said, “Wait for them to get back, I guess.”

You led the way back to Rooster’s car, where you retrieved the spare key that only you knew about from its spot in the front wheel well. You and Bob worked together to lower the small tailgate of the Bronco, and then Bob helped lift you up onto it. You both sat there, hip to hip: you, swinging your legs over the empty space; him, keeping his calmingly still.

“I can’t believe they ditched us,” you said around the straw wedged between your lips.

Bob moved his straw up and down, just like you’d done before. You tried not to stare at his hands. He said, “I don’t know. This was kind of best-case-scenario for how tonight could have gone.” He smiled. “Imagine the four of us wedged in a cramped diner booth, watching both of them fail to flirt.”

“Ugh, good point,” you said. “Not that it’s any of my business, but—you and Natasha? Just friends, then? She’s here for Bradley?”

Bob made a strangled noise, somewhere between a snort and a raspberry. “No,” he said. “Just friends. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

You took another sip of your shake before setting it down behind you. “I don’t know, that can be kind of romantic sometimes.”

“Natasha and I are not romantically engaged,” he said, enunciating clearly. “She’s here because she wants to see how things go with Bradley.” He paused. “Besides, I’ve heard stories—how do I know you and him aren’t secretly pining for each other?”

You pretended to gag. “Ew, no thanks. He’s practically my brother.”

“See, it’s weird!” laughed Bob. “You’re not allowed to make fun of me!”

“I’m not!” you laughed back. “You made your point. I’m sorry.”

You both smiled, a comfortable silence falling over the backseat of the Bronco. The nerves of the night were starting to wear off, and you found yourself shivering in the cool winter air. When you reached behind you to grab the blanket Rooster kept stashed in the back seat, Bob helped wrap it tight around your shoulders, rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

“Thanks,” you said, trying to fight back that shy flush of warmth that threatened to overtake you again.

A few more minutes of quiet stretched out in front of the two of you, and you finally sighed, buzzing your lips and trying to fill the silence. “Now what?” you asked, starting to swing your legs again.

“How do you know Bradley?” Bob asked, leaning back and resting his head against the back of the headrest.

You turned, arching an eyebrow. “Twenty questions? Really?”

He laughed. “If you’ve got other ideas on how to kill time, I’m all ears.”

You rolled your eyes again, turning to face forward and letting an amused giggle escape your lips. “Okay, fine. But that’s not how twenty questions works. You have to work up to the deep shit.”

Bob pulled one leg up onto the tailgate, lacing his fingers around his knee. “Okay, wise one,” he teased. “Educate me, then. You go first.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Seven. How do you know Bradley?”

You burst out laughing, grabbing onto his arm to keep yourself upright as he snickered, obviously pleased with himself. When Rooster and Natasha came back, you were both still giggling, but over a different twenty-questions-inspired joke. You didn’t even know how much time had passed—apparently enough for at least one game of mini golf to be completely finished.

“You guys look like you’re having fun,” said Natasha with a smile.

“Hey, guys,” you said. “How was mini golf?”

“Good,” said Rooster, swapping a look with Natasha. “Fun. I lost.”

“No surprise, there,” you teased, and Bob chuckled.

Rooster lifted his eyebrows at you. “Thanks for that. You ready to head out?”

You sat up quickly, letting the blanket fall away from your shoulders. “Oh, yeah, sure. We can head out. Is this a rock-and-roll situation?”

Rooster shook his head but didn’t say anything, so you figured he was withholding a lot of things that he wanted your opinion on. You stifled a sigh and shifted off of the Bronco, stretching your legs as Bob stood up next to you. As he shuffled closer to Natasha—presumably to ask how her date was—you leaned back into the cab and grabbed your mostly-full milkshake, holding it out to Bob.

When he took it, his brow furrowed in confusion and he reached up to adjust his glasses. “You didn’t have any?”

“I had a couple sips,” you said defensively. “You can finish it.”

“But—you—I—”

You grimaced and whispered, “I don’t like peanut butter in my milkshakes. But I can pay you back!”

“This is the most embarrassing moment of my life,” said Bob, and you were only half-sure he was being sarcastic. “Don’t worry about the money. We’ll just have to come back and get floats next time.”

As soon as he realized what he’d said, his whole face lit up bright pink. You saw Natasha and Rooster’s eyebrows fly into their hairlines at the same time. You grinned, unable to stop the quiet laugh that bubbled out of you as you nodded and said, “Yeah, I guess we will. I’ll see you around, Bob.”

“See you,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck and wincing as he and Natasha began to slowly make their way back to her Volkswagen. She grabbed his sleeve, giving him a firm and teasing shake, and you grinned at the sight before turning and closing the tailgate back up and moving to the passenger seat.

“So,” you said as Rooster turned the key in the ignition, “how was it?”

He made a ‘kaputz’ gesture with his hand and blew a raspberry.

Your face fell. “Oh no. What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” he explained, turning and backing out of his parking spot. “I guess that’s kind of why it’s a no-go. I think we’re just better as friends. And I think I’m actually okay with that.”

You smiled and nudged him on the arm when he paused to shift gears. “I’m proud of you, Bradshaw.”

He scoffed and shook his head. You sat back in your seat, prepared for a nice, quiet drive home, when Rooster suddenly leaned across the center console, shoving his face into your personal space. “How was your night, hmm?”

“Oh my god, go away, you freak!” you giggled, shoving at him. “None of your business!”

He sat up and pulled out of the parking lot, laughing and sending you a knowing look that made you want to explode. “The truth will out,” he said, “and by that I mean I’m gonna text Natasha later and get all the details. So which side of the story do you want me to hear?”

“His,” you said. “Definitely his.”

Rooster laughed again and you kicked your feet back up on his dashboard, pressing your knuckles to your mouth as you turned to look out the window. A pleased, heady fog had settled over your brain, and you felt like giggling for no real reason at all. The night had no more biting chill left, and your fingers smelled like chocolate and peanut butter.

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob x reader #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #top gun maverick #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfic #bob floyd fluff #top gun maverick fanfiction #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd blurb #vinny fics #natasha trace #bradley bradshaw

[topguncortez]

Omg this would be so cute with Bob please?? “ i know we want this to be a secret, but people are getting suspicious. i can only turn down champagne so many times… ”, especially as Bob doesn't drink so he wouldn't be able to down the alcohol for her

hehehe this is cute:) for my @gretasmokerising cause i know she needs it:)

pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x wife!reader

It was well known among the dagger squad that Bob Floyd didn't drink. If someone were to buy him a drink, he would simply pass it off to a friend or his wife. But that had all started to shift about three months ago.

No one at the Naval Ball had figured it out that Bob nor Y/N were drinking tonight. Maverick was finally getting his promotion, so they decided to have a small party to celebrate. The drinks were flowing and Bob had dragged Y/N out to the dance floor. The two of them giggled as Bob twirled her around.

Bob had been by her side the whole night, he was usually by her side, but he seemed to be by clingier. Ever since Y/N told Bob that she was pregnant, he had gone into protective bear mode. He had hardly let her lift a finger around the house, and she had just started showing.

"Drink, sir, ma'am?" A waiter asked them, coming up to them.

"Nah, we're good," Bob said and the waiter nodded, going off to find someone else to bother, "I know we want this to be a secret, but people are getting suspicious. I can only turn down champagne so many times… ”

Y/N smiled and laid her head on his chest, "I know, I know. Just a little bit longer, I like this being just between us." Y/N lifted her head and looked at her husband. Bob's hands went to her small bump, and rubbed the bump with his thumb.

"Well soon enough you won't be able to hide it," Bob smiled, "Baby doesn't like to be hidden, do ya."

"You know the second Hangman finds out that we're expecting he is going to be demanding godparents privileges."

The next day, as the hungover members of the dagger squad showed up at the Hard Deck for brunch, Y/N and Bob made the announcement that a junior pilot would be joining them in six months.

#top gun #top gun imagine #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun blurb #top gun maverick #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick fan fic #top gun maverick fan fiction #top gun maverick blurb #bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fan fic #bob floyd fan fiction #bob floyd blurb #bob floyd x reader

[jupitercomet]

hi bugs 🫶

i was just thinking, having thoughts when i started thinking like we know that uthd! bob is a total sweetheart right? but when that man is turned on and behind closed doors? then what does he become? because i can see “his eyes darkened” (but in a horknee way) era starting and this man becomes a fucking tease but with an edge if you get what i’m saying? especially bc i can just see him with the long hair and it just feels right. anyways, do with that what you will. i’m always going to push the bob fucks agenda ehehehheeh

-🧚‍♀️

okay, so this isn't exactly the prompt, but I thought about it long and hard (haha hard) and I genuinely think this is what Bob (or at least my Bob) would be like

warnings: ...I tried my best idk, language, religious verbage used about sex (I don't really know what to call it), smut - (oral f receiving, p in v, unprotected sex, brief cum play/eating)

Bob Floyd doesn’t fuck. 

It’s crass and empty-sounding, and his mother would have his head if he referred to the act as such. Bob Floyd doesn’t fuck because he’s never been with someone who he could have meaningless sex with. Bob doesn’t do one-night stands, or friends with benefits, or any of that shit. Bob Floyd doesn’t fuck.

Bob Floyd doesn’t make love either.

The things he does in the bedroom really only ever border on loving. The filth that leaves his mouth could make the devil heat with embarrassment. Bob Floyd has loved every person he’s ever slept with, but he doesn’t make love to them.

No, Bob Floyd worships. 

“Oh, Bobby! Oh, fuck!”

Bob gets on his knees and repents for his sins until his jaw is sore. He finds absolution between your thighs, forgiveness reflects in the essence of you that shines on his lips and chin. He repents until he can’t breathe, until your thighs are vibrating on his shoulders. Darkened blue peer up at you through long lashes. His mouth works as he looks at his salvation.

“Bobby, I can’t—” Your back arches, your hand tugging on the strands of his hair, pulling him from all of the wicked and depraved that surrounds him. “Oh, god!”

Bob thinks that he should be the one saying that. 

He drinks from your nectar until his thirst is quenched. Ambrosia coats his tongue for... the third time? The fourth? Bob has lost count. All he knows is that he needs more. His knees ache, his jaw is numb, and Bob worships. 

He takes in your soft thighs and stomach and breasts. With his teeth and tongue, he praises and reveres. He memorizes your body like perfection, like art. To him, you’re a goddess. He nips and sucks like every inch of you is holy ground. 

“Please,” you’re gasping with pleasure, your hand in his hair to guide him to your face. He complies, Bob is nothing but your follower. “Please fuck me.”

Bob is nothing but your follower.

He loses himself in your warmth. He begs for forgiveness. His every breath is to please you. He looks at his salvation. You open yourself to him, accepting his sins and purifying them with every angel’s song that leaves your lips. You gift him heavenly noises and Bob swallows them greedily. 

Though you chant his name, it is he who prays for you. It is his hands that explore your Hellenic body, that worship and adore every handcrafted part of you. It is he who revels in your beauty — like an angel, otherworldly, too magnificent for his eyes to comprehend.

He spills his tainted soul inside you, bringing you to ecstasy like it’s his only purpose. And when you collapse, blissfully content, blinking up at him like you are nothing less than Persephone herself, he kisses you softly, as if to thank you for your benevolence. 

Bob Floyd doesn’t fuck. 

He watches hypnotized as his sins drip from between your narcissus petals. He traces his finger through the cleansed soul you spill from between your legs and he brings it to your lips like irresistible pomegranate seeds, unable to take his eyes away from the vision of you sucking on his fingers.

Bob Floyd doesn’t make love.

For that would imply that his love is mortal. That it is possible for him to focus on anything more than just your pleasure. Bob loves you in a way that exceeds earthly limits. He cannot see you as anything less than rapture.

So Bob Floyd worships.

He gets on his knees, mesmerized at how he’s filled you with himself. How he’s pleased you and you allowed him the privilege of his own pleasure. Two fingers part your folds so he can watch, what he believes to be, true divinity. He wets his lips.

“Bobby? What's— Oh!”

Most of all, Bob Floyd cleans up his messes.

#bob floyd blurb #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x sweet pea #sweeter than sugar #under the hard deck #buggy's got a pen