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promisingyounglady · 2 months

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four eyes. | BF x Reader

PAIRINGS: Bob Floyd x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: asking bob to make a mess of himself on your face while you wear his glasses? absolutely.

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

WARNINGS: ahem, SMUT, established relationship, profanity, oral (m!receiving), deepthroating, facial, handjob, cum eating, dirty talk, begging, slightly sub!reader, praise, aftercare and such sweet affection from bobby, not proofread and mdni!!, reader is a minx, brief mention of term ‘slut’, size kink, awkward sweetheart w a big dick!bob,

A/N: this is the most filthiest shit I’ve ever written and if you like this ur crazy… *reblogs, comments and likes the post*

“What are you up to?” he drawls, watching carefully as you crawl over his naked midriff and through the sea of bedsheets. Post-sex endorphins were through the roof right now for Bob, a wave of happy tiredness sweeping over the pilot.

You huff, hand outstretched as you reach for Bob's glasses perched on the bedside table.

“I wanna try these on” you say to him, balancing yourself as you try to grab the frames. Bob chuckles, a hand coming to rub your ass lovingly.

You bit your lip to fight the feeling of a grin spreading on your face, the feeling of Bob's soft hands tickling you as you playfully pushed him away, all the while he simply beams at you.

The hand supporting yourself on his hard chest slips, causing you to collapse on top of your boyfriend, your naked breasts brushing over his cock and sending a shiver down his spine.

A firm hand comes to still yourself. “Careful” he says softly, hands warm.

Bob looks over, grabbing the glasses just as you were about to pick them up, and holding them out of your reach. You protest, trying to get ahold of the frames you loved so much. Bob puts them on, allowing himself to properly see his girl.

“You don’t wanna wear these, they don’t look good on anyone. Including me.” he mumbles, adjusting you on top of him.

But you're quick to swipe them off his face, ignoring Bob's laughs when you put the glasses on yourself and straddle his hips. “I like them, they’re cute,” you tell him.

“Well what d’ya know?” Bob utters softly to himself when he sees you, gazing up at his girl wearing the steel rimmed aviators and looking absolutely breathtaking.

“Hi there, four eyes” he chuckles, finding it odd saying a phrase he’s been nicknamed all his childhood. Hell, even Seresin has no problem calling him that to this day.

Bob smiles, strong but soft hands coming to rest on your hips as you sat dangerously close to where his happy trail leads to. Your brows furrowed as you viewed the world through his lenses.

“Jesus, Bob, you really are blind!” You uttered, looking down at the blurry man seated against the bedpost.

Bob’s become busy at the moment, pressing pecks to your hardended nipples. He simply nods, pretending he’s listening.

“You should go to the eye doctor, honey”

Bob peaks through, giving you a look. “That’s where I got them”

“Hm.”

The room is silent, a soft glow of the afternoon sunlight peeking through the white shutters. You feel the corners of Bob’s lips curling into a smile against your skin, a silent worship to your body.

“You’re so soft.” he murmurs.

“Honey,” you call to your boyfriend.

“Hm?” Bob replies absentmindedly, still brushing his face along your chest, hugging you closer.

You tug on his brown locks, pulling his head from your body and looking down at him.

“I wanna try something.” you grinned, a mischievous glint in your eyes mixed with a bottle of excitement. You quickly press a kiss to his lips.

Bob watches as you pull from his grasp, lips forming a small frown from the loss of contact as you shuffled down the bed so you were now kneeling on the floor by the edge.

Bob looks over at you quizzically, wondering what you were up to before you beckon towards him, ushering him to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Come sit, Robert” you directed, calling him by his birth name to get his attention.

His soft cock limps near his thighs as he adjusts himself, sitting before you in all his naked glory, hair tousled by your hands and a pink blush ghosting his cheeks. His hand comes up to play with your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. You look up in seriousness and confess.

“I want you to cum on these glasses”

Bob stops all motion, hand still tucked behind your ear. The room falls silent.

“What?”

You ignore the bafflement of your crimson cheeked boyfriend, bending down to lick a long stripe up his veiny shaft. A loud moan and harsh tug against your scalp brings you to take him further, almost triggering your gag reflexes. It all happens so fast. Bob mutters incoherently from the sudden gesture, both of you going slightly insane when your nose presses against his pubic bone as tears form near your eyes.

“Baby, hold on a moment, Jesus fuck!”

You’re worried you’re going to make a mess on the floor from the way your slick almost drips from your pussy.

You’ve been thinking of this fantasy for a while if you were to be honest. Bob pulls you back, gasping for air as a proud feeling settles in your chest. It’s not everyday you hear Bob cuss like that.

He’s panting hard, watching as a bit of saliva is smeared on your lips, eyes glossy. Bob sighs in exasperation as you decide to stroke his cock with your hands.

“You gotta let me speak-“

“Please, Bobby” you beg, pressing kisses to the pink tip and relishing in the way you feel him harden in your hand. A loud groan escapes Bob's throat, feeling sensitive despite having had sex the whole afternoon with you.

“I want you to cum while I have your glasses on” you told him, kitten licks getting the best of your boyfriend. “Like in those pornos” you mumble softly, your shy giggles driving Bob insane.

“Nobody says pornos anymore” he mumbles telling you, swallowing hard when you tug on his cock tighter for not responding.

Bob clears his throat. “You, um, want me to give you a facial?” He asks softly, holding onto your hand that's stroking his cock.

You nod eagerly.

“A-Are you sure?” He says, worried that taking him like this is gonna wear you out. In all honesty, the boy can’t help but grow hard at the thought of cumming all over your innocent face, big eyes covered by his glasses milked by his seed.

You nod, excitement and horniness flowing through your body.

“Please, honey, I want you to see me painted” you sighed, thumb brushing over the thick tip, smearing precum over the slit.

Bob thinks he’s gonna cum just from this angle, but he needs you so badly he tries to regain composure. He bends down to kiss you, tasting himself on your lips and letting your face be held in his soft touch. “Let me know if it's too much baby” he addresses in concern, the tears on your cheeks worrying him.

You sniffle, nodding your head to assure him. “Want you so bad, Bobby, let me suck you”

Your last few words are incoherent from the way you let Bob’s big cock stuff your throat, making you gag but desperately hold on. Bob lets go, both hands coming to balance himself on the edge, one gripping the bed sheets.

The sensation is fucking marvellous. You feel so full, loving the way the stretch of your mouth and untouched ache of your pussy turn you cockdrunk on Bob Floyd’s dick.

You look up, desperate to see how he's taking you, wanting to see the expression of him getting the daylights sucked out of him.

Lieutenant Bob ruts his hips pathetically, trying so hard not to make a mess of your mouth and hurt you. His head is pulled back, groans falling from his soft lips as he praises you so good.

“That’s it baby, doing so well for me” he sighs, now two large hands coming to push you a little further, a groan falling from his lips as you take him fully now.

“God, I love you!” he cries out loud, an instinctive response coming from your boyfriend as he caresses your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear. You smile, aviator lenses reflecting the light as your lips are wrapped securely around his dick.

”So pretty, such a pretty girl” he says under his breath, admiring the way your tits bounce along with every stroke on his cock. You gasp, pulling away as you let your fist do the rest.

“I love you too, Bobby” you gasped, looking up to find Bob staring at you intensely, with such a fierce gaze of love, sensuality, and pure awe.

”H-How,” he begins, starting to feel a familiar feeling settle inside him. “How did I get so lucky with you?” He admits, wanting nothing more but to see his cum painting his glasses you’re wearing. He thinks he might just let you have them. Being able to see is overrated anyways.

“I think I’m gonna cum, baby” he lets out, watching as your eyes get eager, adjusting your sore knees so you can get the perfect angle.

“Please baby, give it to me” you begged, pussy so sensitive you have to make sure you hold yourself up enough so the cold wooden floors don’t brush against your folds.

Watching you rub his dick like that, mouth open and face ready is an image Bob will have ingrained in his mind forever, a hot spurt of milky liquid shooting onto your lips as Bob finally gives you what you wanted.

Incoherent mumbles fill the sweaty bedroom, letting one hand cup his balls as the other makes sure to smear the warm fluid all over your lips, glasses starting to get foggy.

“Fucking hell” Bob cries out, spilling your name from his lips like a sacred mantra.

You hum, a wave of both happiness and satisfaction washing over you as you sit in front of Bob’s glory.

You let the man come down from his high, tasting salt and your boyfriend in your mouth. Before you can even clean yourself up, Bob is ripping off the dirtied glasses framing your face, and grabbing you towards him for a passionate kiss. The action makes you dizzy, your red, sore knees almost buckling under.

It’s only a while after when he pulls away, grabbing for a box of tissues near the nightstand and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’m sorry for the mess” he replies shyly, the image of this tall, naked, handsome, and yet totally awkward giant taking care of you making it all worthwhile.

“It’s okay” you reply, voice hoarse. You couldn’t help but feel happy, even if you didn’t cum (Bob would see to it later of course).

You feel him use the tissues to wipe your chin, face, and tits, or really, what was leftover after you sucked it all up like a slut.

“You’re crazy sometimes, you know that?” Bob mumbles, shaking his head as he smiles at you, his soft touch so rewarding.

You laugh, latching your arms around his neck and letting him hoist you up so easily. His semi-hard cock limps against your stomach, both of you standing up and lips pressing together in another soft kiss.

”Thank you for the most mind blowing head of my life.” He jokes.

”Thanks for the facial” you gleam, sucking your fingers with a pop that makes Bob weak, falling back down on the mattress and taking you with him so you’re straddling him again.

Bob reaches for the glasses, getting a tissue so he could wipe them before an idea pops in your head and you stop him.

You put on the glasses again. He looks up.

“Bobby, where’s the Polaroid camera?”

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dreamingundone · 10 months

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Infinite Space

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Female OC Rating/Warnings: No real warnings. Angsty but with a happy ending. Summary: Her life has consisted of work, trying to find her way in the world, and more work. Until he walked through the doors of her bakery. Disclaimer: I don’t own TG:M, Jake, or the lyrics I used for the title and that are at the beginning of the fic, which is from “Infinite Space” by Young Mister. Please don’t repost or translate my work without my permission! Author’s Note: Feeling some type of way about my lack of love life lately. I also read Mixed Signals by B.K. Borison last week and it gave me feelings. So here we are. Hope you enjoy!

Are you listening? Are you sending out a message of your own? Show me some flashing lights Give me a signal I'll be waiting by the window

Baking makes perfect sense to her. It’s scientific, exact measurements that when put together and baked, create something beautiful in the end.

She always thought love was like that too. Two people with the ingredients the other is missing come together, and something beautiful comes out of it. It’s just not been the case for her, ever in her entire life, and it’s something she struggles to make sense of.

It’s not like she’s miserable. She has her friends and her little house that she loves, and her bakery. She spends her days surrounded in a cloud of flour, sugar, and butter, and she makes people happy by giving them birthday cakes, little treats for their friends, and breakfast pastries to brighten up their mornings.

It’s when she leaves for the day that she feels the absence of something to make her feel happy. Her little bungalow, as cozy as it is, starts to feel too quiet sometimes, and if she lets herself think her own thoughts for too long, that emptiness starts to fill her up.

The arrival of the newest Top Gun class keeps her really busy. They come in for sweet treats and coffee and take up space at the tables at the front of the store. There’s whispers about some top-secret mission that no one really knows much about, but also everyone knows about it. It makes her grin. Nothing is ever a secret at Miramar for too long.

She’s in the middle of sliding a tray of mini cinnamon rolls into the oven when the bell over the door chimes, and she frowns, annoyed that someone is coming in this close to closing time.

“We’re–” She turns around and stops, seeing the most bedraggled fighter pilot she’s ever seen standing in her lobby, looking for all the world like he’s been in the air for hours.

“I know you’re about to close, I’m sorry.” He says, dragging a hand across his face. “Any chance you have coffee left? I’ll pay extra for it.”

“Are you okay?” She asks, coming around the counter. She slides out a chair to one of the tables, and he collapses in it gratefully. He looks a little bewildered at her question, like he can’t remember the last time someone asked about his well being.

“I’ll be alright,” he says. “I can go, I’m sorry if I’m–”

“No, I have coffee left. Made a fresh pot a half hour ago. Just let me…” she steps quickly towards the door and locks it, flipping the sign to “closed”. Heading back towards the counter, she grabs a to-go cup and starts pouring, hearing his audible sigh when the coffee steams.

“Long day?” She asks, walking back to the table and setting down the cup.

“You don’t know the half of it.” He says, eyes closing as he inhales the steam. “Seriously, let me pay extra. I don’t mean to keep you.”

She shrugs. “I’ll be here a while longer anyway.”

“Thank you.” He takes a sip, and swallows a groan. She grins. She may be known for her pastries and cakes, but she makes a mean cup of coffee, too. “I’m Jake,” he says, holding out his free hand.

She introduces herself, and shakes his hand. “I’ve seen you here before,” she says, and he nods.

“Anyone who’s been at Miramar long enough knows this is the place to go for breakfast. I think your donuts have single handedly helped me stay in my weight class.” He grins at her now, and it’s such a difference from the man that walked through the door a few moments ago, she’s momentarily blindsided.

“Any reason you’re here in time for dinner, then?” She heads back behind the counter to begin stacking plates for the next day’s morning rush.

He winces. “I’m due back at the base tonight. It’s—” He stops himself, raises an eyebrow. “I really shouldn’t be telling you this.” He stands, and it looks like it takes all his energy to haul himself to his feet. He drains the rest of his coffee in two gulps and sets the mug down on the counter. He starts to dig into his pocket for his wallet, but she waves her hand.

“That one’s on me, Jake.”

And so it goes like that, at least once a week for the next month. Jake comes just before closing to beg for a cup of coffee, and a few times, he scrounges up the leftover pastries to bring back to base with him. He insists he’s not hoarding them all for himself, but really, she doesn’t mind.

Jake is easy to talk to. There’s an alarm bell clanging in her mind every time he leaves, because she knows one day he might not be back at all. He could get deployed, or reassigned, and then where would that leave her?

Right back where she’s been, going home alone at the end of a long day.

They don’t even really know each other besides the basics. She tells herself not to get attached to him, to the way he swaggers in now like he owns the place, that little dimpled smile she’s starting to think is only for her.

He moves from a table to the counter, and watches with his coffee as she preps pastries for the next morning, or does dishes, and he offers a thought here or there about bear claws or croissants or whatever it is she’s trying a recipe for.

In turn, she listens as he complains about work, about the endless training they’re doing for some mission he can’t tell her anything about.

There’s some tension between him and his coworkers that he also doesn’t open up much about, but that’s okay with her. They’re in this little bubble, she and Jake. She bakes, and he samples. They don’t get too deep. She feels like it’s an escape from the rest of her life.

It absolutely aches every time he leaves, and the emptiness she feels when she goes home at night only gets worse. She feels like she’s been waiting forever for a connection like this, and it’s that feeling that makes her hesitant. She’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The next time she sees Jake, he’s tense, his shoulders drawn up and face stoic.

“Jake?”

He doesn’t say anything for a while. She starts to get worried, starts to wonder if it’s finally happening - he’s here to tell her that he’s leaving and he’s not coming back - or worse, going to tell her that he’s been being nice by coming here so often, but that there’s nothing really there between them, and he’s sorry.

“I, uh–” he takes a few steps closer, and when he gets within arm’s reach, he stops, looking at her with an unreadable expression. “You smell like cinnamon.” He smiles, his voice a little rough.

“Occupational hazard.” She replies, smiling.

“I’m being deployed.” He blurts, and he flexes his hands like he’s not sure what to do with the energy running through his veins. “I wanted to tell you, I didn’t want to just disappear…”

Her defense mechanism kicks in right away. “That’s okay,” she says quickly, busying herself by tidying up the counter by the register. “You didn’t have to come by just to tell me that. I mean, we’re not–” she gestures vaguely, not able to meet his eyes.

If she did, she’d see the way he blinks rapidly, taking a small step back, before clearing his throat. “Right.”

She forces a bright smile and looks up, seeing how he’s still standing by the door. “I appreciate you letting me know. I’ll have to stop leaving the coffee pot hot past three in the afternoon, now.”

His answering smile is a little brittle. “Hopefully not forever.” He looks like he wants to say something else, but he just nods at her once. “I won’t keep you. Thanks for… well, for everything. The last few weeks.”

“You’re welcome, Jake.” She says. She wishes she could just open her mouth. She wishes she was brave enough to tell him that she wishes he would ask her out for real, instead of coming by for a cup of coffee and pastry. She wishes she could just say that his company over the last few weeks means more to her than he knows.

She doesn’t.

He leaves.

……………….

What if I never reach you What if I never get to see your face I've been dying to break through I know you're somewhere out there in the infinite space Somewhere out there in the infinite space

Not being picked for the Dagger mission would have been a blow to Jake’s ego on any day, but it’s especially a kick to the gut a week after his last conversation with her.

“We’re not–”

She had said it so quickly, so casually, he was just glad that she hadn’t been looking at him in time to see the way he felt it like a physical blow.

He’s not stupid - he’s not in love with her or anything, but he feels… something. He felt it the minute he came in, hoping the bakery was still open, desperate for a decent cup of coffee to give him the boost he needed to get back to work.

When he looked up and saw her there, it was like a punch right to his chest. She had flour on her cheek and there was the smell of butter and cinnamon in the air, and she asked him if he was okay.

That was all it took, really.

He kept finding excuses to come back, and at first he kept saying it was because he’d never had a neighborhood place, a place where he walked in and they knew his name and his order. This was better. She knows his name, and that he likes his coffee with one sugar and one cream, and sometimes she gives him a free cookie or croissant or asks him to taste something she’s working on.

That’s all it is.

A place where he can go where she doesn’t know him, doesn’t know that everyone calls him Bagman, doesn’t know that he’s a grade A asshole to his friends on a daily basis.

He can be someone else. And the worst part, the part that really makes him wonder where it all went wrong, is that he wants to be someone else. He wants to be better. He wants to be more deserving of that smile he gets from her when she puts that cup of coffee in front of him.

Maybe he read it all wrong. Maybe she was just being nice, humoring the exhausted pilot who kept showing up and mooching her coffee.

He runs a hand over his face, trying to concentrate on the mission specs for tomorrow. Even though he’s the spare for this, he’s determined to be ready for his moment, to prove he’s supposed to be here.

Of course the whole thing goes sideways, because of course it does. His heart is in his throat and he feels helpless the entire time, and finally he just does what he needs to do.

He says fuck it, and he takes off, unable to listen to a second more of everyone else deliberating whether or not they should sit there while Mav and Rooster get killed.

So he goes AWOL, and he does what needs to be done. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s felt he did the right thing, and he can see it in the eyes of all his squadmates.

It makes him feel more like the person he is when he’s around her.

It scared the shit out of him, too - the entire day was one non-stop adrenaline ride.

He wishes he was back in San Diego, wishes he could drive the few miles from base to the bakery, and let her talk him down. She’s always got that smile, and she always smells like chocolate and sugar, and he wishes he wasn’t such an idiot.

He should have asked her out weeks ago, so there wouldn’t have been that awkward moment. At least then he’d be sure he hadn’t just imagined the connection between them, that he wasn’t making it up. He feels like he’s known her for years, and he doesn’t even have her phone number.

He resolves to fix it as soon as they get back, as long as he’s not facing a court martial first.

...............

She wonders how Jake’s deployment is going almost every day. She keeps herself busy, tries not to replay every second of their last interaction in her head, and tries to convince herself she did the right thing.

But the look on his face when she told him not to worry about ghosting her… was there something there?

She feels like she’s been waiting for her person for so long, that it seems impossible that one day he’d just show up out of the blue asking for a cup of coffee. But what if he did?

What if she ruined it by trying to protect herself?

Too busy daydreaming, she groans as she looks down at her ruined bowl of buttercream frosting, moving to the trash can to begin scraping it out. All day she’s been like this, distracted and making mistakes.

She’s watching the clock drift closer to time to go home, and without much else to keep her busy, she’s dreading going home where all she’s going to do is overthink more than she already is.

The chime on the door surprises her, and her heart stutters.

“Any chance you’ve got one of those cinnamon rolls left?” A familiar voice asks.

Her heart lurches. “Jake?”

He looks tired, but his eyes are almost sparkling as he looks at her. “Hey.”

“You’re back.” She blurts, and immediately feels stupid. He’s standing right in front of her. Of course he is. It doesn’t deter him, though. If anything, it only makes him smile wider.

“Before you say anything, I just want to tell you that you were wrong, the last time we talked.”

Her brow furrows. “Wrong?”

“When you said it wouldn’t have mattered if I didn’t let you know I was being deployed.” He takes a few steps closer. “When you said we weren’t…” he trails off, gesturing between the two of them. “I know it’s just been a few weeks, and I know we’ve only had conversations over coffee about non-important stuff.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking like he was struggling to find the right words. He looked up to meet her gaze. “I’d like to take you out, if you’ll let me.”

Everything she’d been feeling over the last few weeks felt like it landed on her shoulders in the moment. She felt the relief of knowing that she wasn’t alone in her feelings. She felt guilty for pushing him away in the first place.

“I think I owe you an apology, Jake.” She says quietly, coming around from behind the counter. “I just… I didn’t know if you were just being nice to me, coming here all those nights. I didn’t want to assume anything. And I didn’t want you to feel obligated when you came back.”

He frowns. “I kept coming here for you, no offense to your coffee.” He takes another step closer, so the tips of their shoes are almost touching. “The cinnamon rolls are a plus.”

She laughs, and his grin widens.

“Is that a yes? You’ll go out with me?”

“Only if you tell me what happened on this not-so-secret top secret mission.”

He rolls his eyes. “Everyone around here is such a gossip. I can’t tell you everything but I can tell you about how I was a hero and saved the day.” His smile is smug.

“Perfect.” She says, and there, in the warm light of her bakery, surrounded by everything she’s ever known, she thinks she’s finally ready to take the leap and see if he’s the one she’s been waiting for, the other half she didn’t know she was missing all these years.

And for once, she’s not scared anymore.

#jake seresin x oc #hangman seresin x oc #top gun maverick fanfiction #well here it is a million years late #and this isn't the fake dating fic i promised #that's still to come!!!!

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