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inviberu · 11 months

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everlasting vows

Faced by the question and decision of swearing their devotion and love to you, what do they do? A promise that will bind them to you for eternity... Are they willing to go to such lengths for you?

Characters: Everyone (with the exception of riquet and mitile)

Note: I tried making everyone cute to the best of my abilities but some kind of just... slipped. Happy June Bride!

— Oz!

Oz pauses for a moment. He doesn't know what to say. He almost doesn't want to say anything in the moment after letting the thought sink into his mind. He was the most powerful wizard in the world—he already has enough weaknesses as it is with his injury and his love for Arthur but he already knew that you were one of them the moment he realised how helpless he was when it came to you. Asking him to promise you his unwavering loyalty and love was akin to making yourself a target for all his enemies to pounce on just to get a hold over him. He doesn't doubt his feelings for you. He knows that he'll be able to love you till the end of time and beyond but he wanted to make sure: are you certain? You kiss his doubts away gently and that's all he needed.

"Very well. If that is what you wish… I am yours for all eternity."

— Arthur!

He doesn't hesitate. Arthur treated you like his whole world; you were the most important thing to him and having him promise you such a thing brought him immense joy that it almost brings him to tears as he grasps your hands lovingly under the moonlight. He ran his thumb across the back of your palm gently and looked at you with a gaze so soft you could hardly believe that someone could love you this much. There was no one else present in this moment but you in his eyes as he lifted your hand and pressed his lips to your fingers.

"You don't need to ask. My heart has always been ready to love you forevermore."

— Cain!

He's surprised but his expression quickly broke into a huge smile. Sometimes, Cain acted as if he was human, forgetting that his words—his promises—held so much weight behind them. You thought this was one of those instances but Cain merely shook his head and gave you his reassurance. Human, wizard, unicorn, or whatever entity he might be—it doesn't matter to him. In every universe he's in with you, with every version of himself that might exist out there, he'll always take your hand and vow to you. Like a knight swearing that he's hopelessly devoted to you for life.

"I'll protect you. I promise this—I will never leave your side."

— Snow!

He didn't think you were serious the first time you asked him. He was sure you were doing it in the spur of the moment and got carried away by shallow desires that brought sadness to him when all he felt was pure unaltered love and desire to be by your side. He loved you, yes, but if you were asking him with even just a little smidge of doubt—he'll turn you away. He wanted you to be certain. Snow always liked living in certainty; for things to remain constant once he's committed. He doesn't bode well with change and if there's just a small part of you that doubted him, he gets scared. He doesn't want things with you to end terribly. He already experienced far too much grief and pain that change brought to him.

"I'll wait for you. Be it a hundred years or another thousand—I want to see that your feelings for me will not change. But know that I hold you closer to my heart than anyone else… That is the reason why I want to be certain. I do not wish for an unhappy ending for both of us."

— White!

He's overjoyed but it was difficult to miss the hint of bitterness in his expression and tone when he replies to you. He wants to—so badly; so desperately to the point that he felt his heart ache despite being dead. He's driven by his emotions but the weight of reality is heavy on his shoulders and he couldn't help but laugh bitterly. He is not the same man he once was. He felt like he's merely a shadow of himself. A fragment of himself that he can't even tell if it's truly him or not. He wants to—He can. But, are you prepared to accept him for everything he is as he stands? Even if this form of his is fleeting? If you are, then he'll take your hand and never let you go.

"If you're willing to have me for all that I am… I will respond to your feelings with much more fervour. Truly, I love you. I promise you nothing but my heart to be yours."

— Mithra!

Promises; Mithra knew not to make them. He thinks it's troublesome—an unnecessary risk and a waste of time. However, when you asked him, he couldn't help but wonder if this was the equivalent of what marriage was to Tiletta when she was alive. A promise to love someone forevermore… His feelings are not one to waver. His feelings aren't fickle. They were stubborn just as he is and he couldn't help but think to himself that maybe promising himself to you wasn't as bad as it sounds. However, he wanted to make sure that you'd do the same for him. He doesn't want to love so passionately and be responded to by a lukewarm romance. He'd take it if he was desperate but he wants—Northern wizards when they want are terrifying.

"Your unwavering devotion and love. I want it. It's only fair if you promise me that too."

— Owen!

He wanted to dodge the question and disappear into mist but his body couldn't move and he couldn't bring himself to bark out another insult or a snarky comment to mock you. It was a futile question but you asked him anyway, you knew that he would always turn away and try to deny himself of his feelings to protect himself from such a vulnerability. But seeing him hesitate this much made your breath hitch because that proved that there was a part of him that was considering it—that there was a part of him that wanted to swear his love to you, even if it's small. He thought for another minute and that's when it hit him. Why not bind you to himself instead? He wouldn't feel as vulnerable and your desire to be together for eternity will be fulfilled.

"What made you think I'd let myself be chained to you? Let's put it like this… Why don't I put a chain around your neck and bind you to me instead? Come on, promise me."

— Bradley!

He sputtered out incoherent noises for a moment and tried to make sure his ears weren't betraying him. The thought never occurred to him and thinking about it now was something he never thought he would do. Promising his eternal love for someone was heavy—far too heavy for someone like him who liked the feeling of being free. Though it wasn't like he wasn't considering it. He loved you. Dearly. Passionately. Desperately. But a promise can be lethal to a wizard and he's reckless—what if he messes up? What if they take you to have something to hold over his head? What if he puts you in danger? What if he loses his magic and both of you end up getting killed? He doesn't know. He doesn't wanna know. He gives you a ring wordlessly as he slips it into your finger. He'll do this much.

"This ain't what yer probably expectin' but… Take it. I don't want ya to feel like I'm just half-assin' my feelings for ya."

— Faust!

Faust freezes and for a moment he allows himself to hope; to dream of a future with you by his side. He stopped himself and brought himself back to reality and looked at you with a difficult expression. He wanted to but a part of him was afraid—coming to terms with his feelings for you was already difficult as it is but admitting that he wants to believe in something he feels like is out of his reach is something that makes him take a step back. His love was pure but uncertainty was something that stayed in his heart from years before.

"Please… Don't ask me such a difficult question next time. I cannot give you the answer I want to say."

— Nero!

It takes him a moment to process everything but once he did, he covered his face with his hands to try and cover the huge smile that took over his face. He was beyond happy—someone wanted to spend the rest of their life with him? The words may not be exact but he took them as words akin to a marriage proposal and all of a sudden he's left fantasising about what could be. A future with you… It doesn't sound so bad (he's ecstatic). He manages to face you with a calmer expression and gives you a smile.

"If you'll have me, I'd be glad to stay by your side. I'll stay for as long as you want me to—Actually, no, scratch that. You'll be stuck with me for the rest of your life."

— Heathcliff!

His first reaction was his embarrassment telling him to run away but the sincere look in your eyes made him stay in place as he looked at you with an expression just as sincere as yours. He didn't want to respond to your feelings and questions half-heartedly—he didn't want to hurt you. Though how could he ever hurt you when his heart was already set on loving you for the rest of his life? It was difficult for him to say his answer but with the way he took your hand and placed it on his chest, just over where his heart was, you already knew his answer without another word from his lips.

"Of course… I can no longer see myself not being by your side. I love you—that's a promise."

— Shino!

It didn't occur to him that it was a question you have to ask him. In his mind, it was already set to default. He didn't think that there was any need to ask. When he fell in love with you and when you accepted his heart, he already knew that he was bound to you for life. His love and devotion is yours for all time; his blade will have another purpose—to protect you. He just looked at you blankly and raised an eyebrow. All of a sudden the serious atmosphere between the two of you broke when he tilted his head.

"I thought that was already a given, though? No? Well, I'll say it for you if you want me to. My love, loyalty, and devotion… It's all yours forever."

— Shylock!

Shylock was no stranger to indulging selfish requests from all people but there was always a clear line he wouldn't cross unless it was for certain people. He yearned with all of his heart—desperately and passionately. Asking him such a question was akin to asking him to walk straight into his doom. He knew that promising himself to you for all eternity will bring him immense happiness; he'll get addicted. It was as if he was tasting the finest wine he's ever had for the first time. How will he bear to let you go if those unspoken promises finally come to fruition? He'll never let you go. Not even after death.

"Fufu… After hearing such a passionate declaration of love for me, how could I bring myself to refuse you? Prepare yourself—I won't hold back any longer."

— Murr!

His expression didn't change in the slightest. Or perhaps it did, a very miniscule one that escaped your eye. Murr was a mystery no one could solve; he was a constant unpredictable variable. Every word he said to you, every touch he left on your skin, and every kiss he gave you—they were all mysteries. Even his answer to your question was a mystery. Not because he gave you a confusing response as usual but because he was silent. He didn't say anything and just continued smiling at you. For a split moment, you don't know if his eyes were downcast or it was just your eyes playing tricks on you.

"Really, really? You want me? Haha! Maybe that's a love that isn't so fruitless~!"

— Rustica!

Devoted; Rustica was a man full of undying love and devotion. He searched for his missing brides for years without any qualms. There might be a few hiccups here and there but it was undeniable that when Rustica loves, he loves wholeheartedly. Loving you was like a melody he couldn't get enough of—everything he does seems to remind him of you and he thinks to himself: so this is what it feels like to be in love with you.

"I can already hear the bells ringing for both of us. It's a precious melody meant for us… Love suits us well, doesn't it?"

— Chloe!

Chloe wasn't fully aware of the heavy weight of a promise is to a wizard. But his love is pure and he loved innocently, all he knew is how he wanted to be with you and nothing else. And that was enough reason for him to respond to you with a smile on his face as he nodded enthusiastically. He knew this is what he wanted—with a wave of his hand, he'll create the perfect attire for the both of you for your ceremony. Oh? Was he being too hasty?

"Oh! I already know what we'd wear. You'd like a traditional white theme, right—Ah, wait! I never properly responded to you… Yes, a million times, yes! I love you!"

— Figaro!

He thought it was funny that you asked him, an elusive character, such a question. Tying him down to you with a promise of eternal love and unwavering devotion? He was hoping that your positions were switched where he's the one asking you that instead. He found himself unable to answer you as he ran a finger through his hair and let out a deep sigh. He avoided looking into your gaze but when his eyes finally wandered and saw yours, he felt a little bit of his resolve break—he felt like he was going crazy. Maybe he is going crazy. A smile crept up his face.

"Do you want me that much? It feels nice to be wanted… by you. Haha, I don't know anymore. Maybe I will. Take responsibility for me, okay?"

— Lennox!

He doesn't speak much but his actions said more than his words ever could. He knelt down on one knee as he took your hand and placed a kiss on your fingers. You know exactly what he meant and no trace of doubt was evident in your expression as your absolute trust and faith was placed on him. In turn, you raised his hand closer to your lips as well and kissed the back of his palm. You wanted him to know that you'd do the same for him.

"I love you, forever and always. You have my promise."

— Rutile!

He thinks of this moment as something that came out of a fairytale or a storybook he used to read to children. There was a time when he wondered if he'll ever have this kind of moment and he felt wonderful knowing it's you he was with when it happened. He let himself smile and broke into a fit of joyful laughter and giggles. The words you wanted to hear left his lips like honey you couldn't get enough of—one more time, you want to hear his answer once more.

"Nothing would make me happier… I treasure you, I really do. I'd make a thousand promises if it meant making you happy."

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montysstuffs · 8 months

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Shea Butter Baby

I wrote this in a fit of horniness. it's not great. It's absolute garbage and I'm just rambling but Fontaine got me out of my writing rut. This is literally so quick. like written in less than 30mins.

Summary: Fontaine is obsessed with you but he always talking that shit.

Warning: Fontaine's filthy ass mouth, your equally smart ass mouth, a little bit of a breeding kink if you squint, Cowgirl position.

He's getting dizzy, drunk on your whimpers and curses. Your thick and warm thighs stick to him. your slick folds coating your inner thighs. The beaming sun aids to the sweat that beads and slides between the middle of your breasts. Fontaine wanted nothing more than to lick it up. Taste everything that you are willing to give him. He wants to consume you whole. But as you bounce on his thick cock, he knows that he's the one getting consumed. Your brown eyes bore into the very soul that he knows he doesn't have. And yet, just your eyes lit it ablaze.

Your sultry moans echoed through the walls like a velvet vice around his neck along with the slapping of skin. The moment you feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm, you throw your arms around his neck and screw your eyes shut. "Don' close them pretty eyes, look at me. Lemme see them eyes," he's desperate to chase both of your orgasms.

Hes rutting up into you at this point. He's clenching his gold teeth, grunting and hissing absolute filth as he bucks his hips to match your bouncing, "finna...fill yo guts...slut you out...fuck my kids into you...fucking slut."

"Big talk coming from somebody that's bout cum just from this," you smirk down at the man.

"Girl...fuck...you," he looks pathetic biting his bottom lip as his grip on your hips tighten.

"Fuck, you already are," your attitude never falters, even as your climax approaches.

"C'mon baby, give it to me," he wants to know if you're just as smitten with him as he is with you.

AAAAHHHHHHHH GOODBYE

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cybertroniannugget · 4 months

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Lovers can't be on the same team!

Snowballfight on base pt2

Dec 15

This is what it's like for the humans against any of the bots in a snowball fight

About this fic: Implied romance with OP, GN reader, no yn

Going at it for roughly 20 Minutes, the human fraction of your team asks for a break. After some initial shouting everyone was able to hear you and the snowy war stopped.

" We ain't as durable as you guys.", a blonde soldier named Jonas panted, letting himself fall onto his back into the snow.

"Make a snow angel!", you suggest, the young man complying immediately.

Curiously, the bots gather around to watch the soldier move his extremities in the snow.

Getting up he reveals the shape he created.

"A snow angel.", he proclaims proudly.

In less than a few seconds five of the (count) bots were laying in the snow, trying to imitate Jonas' movements.

Too busy having fun, no one noticed someone else had joined the group, watching contend.

Bumblebee was the first to detect the newcomer, greeting him with a lovely Christmas song

🎶Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.🎶

"Should I ask what this is about?"

Several heads shoot up at the deep voice they've all grown to respect and knew too well.

"We're uh...", Skids attempts on speaking, feeling caught. Mudflap hits him on the head with some snow and the two roll of fighting.

Optimus raises an optic ridge before turning to Dino, who spoke up. "We're indulging in some fun Prime."

"Snow angels, I see."

"What, how do you know what this is?"

He looks over to you and you try to hide your new snowball behind your back.

"They taught me."

"You made snow angels with them?", Ratchet asks in disbelief.

"Yep, we did. It was a fun time. Educating the Prime on earth's culture you know?", you snicker.

Bumblebee was busy hyping everyone up for another round.

🎶Get on your feet, you know you can't resist.🎶

You throw a snowball at Optimus, the comparingly tiny ball hitting a window on his chest.

He takes a lot of snow into his servos, letting it fall onto you.

You shake the cold blanket of snow off, laughing.

"Now that's just unfair!"

"You started it.", he states, fairly proud of himself.

Another snowball hits you on your back, thrown by Jazz.

Optimus bends down to grab some more snow, forming it into a ball and throwing it right at Jazz's chest.

"Hey Prime, you can't be on their team!"

"Why not?", he asks.

"Lovers can't be on the same team! Get over here and help us out.

Optimus looks towards you, while you laugh.

"Yep, it's an established rule."

"Alright."

Jazz throws a fist into the air.

"Prime joined the fight let's gooo!"

🎶Get this party started🎶

#transformers x reader #jazz transformers #ironhide #ratchet transformers #sam witwicky #mikaela banes #william lennox #optimus prime #bumblebee #christmas #christmas writing challenge #advent calendar #snowball fight #shenanigans

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rowiewritesstuff · 11 months

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Hehe, here we go. Part 2 with the transformers multiverse where a good month passed (the base is fine and the Decepticons are so confused they don't even plan an attack or anything, they're just.. there and I think STARSCREAM from every damn universe is just hoping to not get a beat from Megan) they still didn't fix the groundbridge situation and William Lennox and Epps have been called in to assist (much to his utter amazement and he’s so done with life at this point and Epps totally fainted) and he meets T.F.P. Reader who is a lil younger than his own and well it just so happens that there is a reader in the Bayverse universe who works with the scientists at Sector 7 and Lennox decided to bring her to help! Sooo... my guy Bayverse O.P. has no clue what to do, can’t take his own damn advice to actually speak to the reader and she is almost the same as T.F.P. just a tad better at keeping her romantic feelings in and more waiting for the guy to speak to her ’cause she is amused. G1 totally made matters worse and T.F.P. Reader mainly helped the Ratchets and her counterpart. They actually start becoming friends and it was albeit awkward at first, but they definitely got comfortable quickly! I could imagine my Animated O.P. just low-key sulking wondering if he’ll get to meet his reader.

Ratchets when they see Bayverse O.P. trying and MISERABLY failing to interact with Bayverse Reader: “I’m too old for this shit.”

Bayverse transformers are just so confused and Jazz is totally loving this, seeing their Prime so... scared, worried, confused and the Bayverse reader could tell that their counterparts are dating and honestly is more curious and happy that they found love at least. Bayverse Reader is a total science and weapons nerd (Lennox and Epps are more worried than anything ’cause they are kind of protective of her) and 100% becomes Bayverse and G1 Ironhide’s pal. I would like to see how O.P. tries to talk to her or if he’ll avoid her in fear of hurting her and how their interactions just end up so nerd-like and a disaster. Bayverse Bumblebee is totally teasing tf outta the Primes at this point.

Bayverse Optimus X Bayverse! Reader TMV Pt. 2

It had been over a month since the huge multiverse events happened. The bots from all of the universes check in on one another every once in a while- even assisting with fighting the occasional decepticon.

You were brought in by two soldiers who worked with the Autobots- Epps and Lennox. They escorted you from Sector 7 to the Autobot base, ensuring your safe arrival- your presence and knowledge of Cybertronian science often attracting Decepticons.

When you arrived, you were shocked to see a large group of Ratchets standing around, trying to solve the problem of the odd malfunction of the spacebridges. Even more shocking- there was a double of you there. They didn’t have the same hairstyle or clothing- but they were clearly the same as you.

“Fascinating. I didn’t believe that there were dupes, but now that I’m seeing it, there’s little room to doubt.” You said as you walked around your double.

“Uh… okay then.” (Y/N) two, as you dubbed them, spoke awkwardly as everyone watched in curiosity. There was a sudden thump, and everyone looked over to see Epps unconscious on the ground. Everyone facepalmed.

Bayverse Optimus was shocked to see you- he had only met the Primeverse version of you. You were clearly a little older- and your general air exuded confidence.

(Y/N) Two wasn’t too different- but it was clear that there were key differences. You were surprised to see how Bayverse Optimus gravitated towards your counterpart, almost as if he had feelings for her. You grinned a little but quickly covered it up.

You became quick friends with (Y/N) Two, and eventually you teased them for Bayverse Optimus’ feelings towards them. They looked shocked and a little off.

“I’m already dating my Optimus. Are you sure he has feelings for me? He seems really into you.”

The more you thought about it, the more you realized that your universe’s Optimus did spend more time with you. He would often offer to take you out on drives, or lift heavy objects for you.

As soon as this came to your attention, you decided to tease him subtly. Making a flirty comment here, and a compliment there. You never went to him, though. He always came to you for any interactions.

The Ratchets all looked on in irritation and stress as they saw Optimus’ failed attempts to flirt back. He was far too flustered, and yet they weren’t surprised by his actions. No matter how strong of a face he puts on, they have known him for millions of years.

Jazz and Animated Optimus talked about it, trying to keep quiet. Jazz thought it was hilarious, how the boss bot struggled to find the words to woo his crush.

Animated Optimus, on the other hand, sulked. He wondered if he would ever find a version of you. From the way it looked, there was one of you in every universe- and he had no clue how to find you in his.

The Ironhides and Wheeljacks absolutely adore this version of you. You’re funny, playfully flirty, and- best of all to them- a weapons expert. You made some weapons (that you got in trouble for later) and went with them to fire them off in the training area. How were you supposed to know apparently all Ratchets carry wrenches?

You eventually began having feelings for Bayverse Optimus. It was adorable to you how he got when he tried to flirt with you, and even more so when he tried to ask you out and failed miserably because he couldn’t get out of his own head.

Bayverse Optimus was a little angry with himself because no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t bring himself to ask you out. He had helped Primeverse Optimus get out of his slump- why couldn’t he help himself?

One day, he overheard you talking with his Ratchet and Jazz. “You know, it’s not cool to keep teasin’ him all the time.” Jazz laughed a little.

“I agree- you’re driving him up the fraggin’ wall. If he asks me for my opinion one more time, I may run out of wrenches.” Ratchet grumbled.

“Hm, maybe I’ll let him take me on a date… Maybe. If he could ever ask me.”

That night, Optimus got a bundle of flowers. When he handed them to you, he realized he had crushed them by accident in his huge servos. He was swearing at himself in his mind. “I-uh. They weren’t meant to be-”

“I know.” You interrupted him with a teasing smile.

Bayverse Prime had never felt so much anxiety- not even while fighting his oldest foe. “Will you,” he paused. “Would you… like to go somewhere with me?”

You raised your eyebrow. “Ah, where would this ‘somewhere’ be?” Your eyes glinted mischievously.

A swell of confidence filled his spark and he suddenly spoke with his usual confident voice. “You will have to find out.”

There was a hush that fell over the room. Everyone pretended that they were working, when in reality they were listening for your answer. You looked at him, wrapping your arms around the crushed flowers gently as you leaned forward on the desk you were sitting at.

“Well, now I’m curious. I suppose I’ll have to see what you have in store.” You got up and began walking towards the exit. You looked back to see Optimus standing there dumbly. “Are you just gonna stand there…? Unless you changed your mind…” You teased.

Within seconds, Optimus transformed and left the base with you. Everyone was hooting and hollering as the two of you left.

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bobfloydsbabe · 1 year

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illicit affairs | bob floyd x oc | mob boss au

SUMMARY: Robert Floyd runs one of San Diego's most notorious crime syndicates, but his new secretary, Abby Lennox, may just be his downfall.

WARNINGS: mob boss au, bob being horny on main, possessiveness (if you squint). strictly 18+/minors dni

WORD COUNT: ~0.6k

A/N: I haven't been able to get Mob Boss Bob out of my head all day, so here we are with an introduction, a moodboard, and a small blurb. This AU will not be a full-length fic, but a collection of drabbles and blurbs. Don't hesitate to send me questions or headcanons!

MBB MASTERLIST

EDIT: Join the taglist (google form–no personal info required)

“Sir?”

He looks up and finds his secretary standing in the doorway to his office with a tablet in her hands.

“Come in,” he says, waving her inside with one hand while closing the lid of his laptop on the other. “Close the door, please.”

He’s asked none of his past secretaries to close the door before, and Jake’s warning him about getting close rings in his ears yet again. He’d dismissed him then, but as Bob’s eyes rake across Abby’s body while she closes the door and walks to his desk, he’s starting to think he should heed Jake’s warning.

“What can I do for you?”

Her brows draw together before she seems to catch herself and places her expression back in neutral. The corner of his mouth twitches as she sits in one of the black leather chairs on her side of the desk.

“Mitchell called and asked for a meeting. I tried to set one up with Trace, but he refused. He wants to meet with you personally.”

Bob leans back in his chair, folding his hands across his stomach. “He does, does he?”

Abby nods. “Yes, sir.”

Bob adjusts in his seat, trying to ignore what Abby calling him sir does to him. His trousers feel tight as he meets her dark and intense eyes across the desk.

“Did he tell you what we would discuss at this meeting?”

Abby looks down at her tablet for a second before returning her eyes to him. “No, sir,” she tells him. “How would you like me to proceed?”

Bob weighs the possibilities in his mind. Mitchell is impulsive on the best of days. Reckless on the worst. Bob had been searching for a way out of his dealings with the much older man since he came into his position, and whatever Mitchell had gotten himself into now was surely the excuse he needed.

He leans forward again, resting his forearms on the large oak desk. “Set it up for this afternoon,” he says. “Call Trace and let her know to meet me there.”

“I’ll get right on it,” she says and stands, wobbling slightly. Bob shoots out of his seat, reaching across the desk for her arm to steady her. The feeling of her soft skin under his calloused palm sends a shiver down his spine.

He pulls back and watches Abby walk back to the door. As her hand lands on the knob, Bob opens his mouth before his head can catch up to what he’s saying.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

Bob watches as she squares her shoulders and turns back around slowly. There’s a dark hair stuck in her lip gloss that he can’t take his eyes off.

“Sitting on my couch with wine and takeout, probably.”

Bob walks around his desk, stopping right in front of Abby. He towers over her, and from this angle he can see just a hint of cleavage. “I’d like you to go to the fundraiser with me.”

He meant to go alone, but the idea of mingling with senators and other state officials on his own makes him want to scream.

“You do?”

She’s looking anywhere but at him when he raises a hand, places it on her cheek, and lets his thumb drag the hair away from her mouth. “I do,” he says and leans in closer.

Abby’s breath audibly hitches when his lips brush against her ear. “Wear blue,” he whispers, “so they all know you’re with me.”

Likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are golden

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd #robert floyd #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd x oc #robert floyd x oc #mob boss bob #mob boss au #top gun maverick #oc: abby lennox #otp: flennox #fic: mob boss au #flennox au #helenawrites #madebyme #writtenbyme #my writing #i'm so nervous about this

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imawkwardlysoc · 11 months

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the night of nights

Summary- The Dagger Squad plus Mav and Ice get invited to the Met Gala (Based on a conversation @mvngokkwritings, @skiddit, @marianatrenchprobably, and I had)

Wordcount- 1,761

The first May of the month. Everyone has been waiting for this day ever since the last one. The themed carpet covers the steps of the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art as it waits for celebrities, politicians, and designers to walk on the steps as their pictures are taken. The off-white carpet with red, white, and blue stripes drawn along it matched the theme for this year’s Met Gala: "Serving America: Fashion from the Past to Present”. Fans from all over New York crowded in front of the Carlyle Hotel behind the barricades, waiting for celebrities to come out of the hotel in their outfits.

Currently, in the presidential suite of the Carlyle Hotel, the Dagger Squad along with their captain and his husband were getting ready for this event. All of them were still freaking out that they got the chance to be invited to this event. Over the past years since the mission, all of them would crowd in Mav and Ice’s theater room- yes they have a theater room, they have that type of money- and watch the live stream. All of them would boo at all of the men that would come in the basic black suit and tie while they cheer for the women and the men who actually made the effort of not wearing the black suit. After the live stream, all of them would dream of going to the Met Gala and meeting all types of celebrities while munching on food, and sipping on the most expensive champagne ever. Now they get the chance to go to this event as representatives of the US Navy.

*Back in December*

The squadron sat in the classroom and waited for their captain to come in for the last-minute meeting.

“Does anyone know what this meeting is about?” Omaha asked.

“Rooster?” Everyone looked at the mustache man.

“How am I supposed to know?” Rooster shrugged his shoulders. “Mav doesn’t tell me everything.”

“Please tell me it’s not another suicide mission,” Ruben groaned.

“Don’t worry, it’s not.” Everyone stood up when they heard Mav’s voice. “Sit down.”

Everyone sat down and Mav sat on one of the empty tables than standing behind the podium.

“I’m going to be straight to the point and tell you that we have been invited to the Met Gala in May,” Mav told them.

“What?!” All of them questioned.

Everyone started to throw Mav a bunch of questions which he tried to answer but told all of them to shut it and he’ll answer them.

“Look, the theme is Serving America: Fashion from the Past to Present and it showcases fashion in America from the Revolutionary War to now,” Mav explained. “Anna Wintour asked the SECNAV if the Navy is willing to send one of its best squadrons to help raise money and they asked Ice if he could send us. Ice and I talked about it and it’s a good idea. It’s just up to you guys if you want to go.”

“If any of you say no, you’re out of the squad,” Hangman threatened.

“You don’t have that power, Bagman,” Phoenix replied.

“That’s true, but we all know who does,” the Texan looked at their captain.

“Yeah, Ice wouldn’t do that,” Mav shot the idea down.

“I was talking about you but okay,” Hangman shrugged his

“Well, that’s the meeting. Please get back to either Ice or me by the end of the week,” Mav told them. “Now, you’re all dismissed.”

All of them said their goodbyes and left the classroom filled with excitement.

*Present Day*

After months of preparation and talking to designers, everyone got into their outfits after getting their hair and makeup done.

“Phoenix, Halo, you two look amazing,” Ice complimented them.

Halo donned an outfit created by an indie Asian fashion designer that represented her Asian heritage and gave homage to her family who immigrated here from their homeland. Phoenix on the other hand is wearing a dress resembling the dresses from the 1940s but made out of old uniforms from the Navy. The guys, on the other hand, it was a mix. Harvard, Fanboy, Payback, Fritz, Omaha, Coyote, and Yale wore intricate outfits which represented them in the Navy but also represented them in some way. Bob went kind of a safer route with a lavish suit with a bolo tie still. Rooster and Hangman, on the other hand, are completely on opposite sides of the spectrum with their outfits.

“Please tell me that you’re not going to the Met Gala in that,” Phoenix laughed as she saw Rooster walk into the room with his outfit on.

“What?” Rooster questioned. “What’s wrong with this?”

“It’s too basic,” Fanboy explained as he adjusted his shirt. “We constantly roast all of the men that come in basic black suits and now you’re one of those men.”

“What do you want me to wear then?” The mustache man questioned. “My Hawaiian shirt with jeans?”

“Yes!” Everyone in the room exclaimed.

“Let’s just hope Hangman-” Omaha was interrupted when Hangman walked into the room.

So many thoughts came into everyone’s head when they saw him. One of them was how did the Navy approve his outfit. It took a lot of convincing to let Mav and Ice add some sparkle to their uniforms. All of them wondered how much convincing it took them to approve of Hangman’s outfit.

Hangman donned a sleeveless leather vest with a short-sleeved dress shirt underneath. With his pants situation, he wore shorts that fell two inches or so below his bulge while pairing them with ass-less chaps.

“Rooster is serving basic while Hangman serving cunt-try,” Coyote let out a laugh.

“I may have misinterpreted the theme,” Hangman grinned.

“No, you didn’t,” Rooster shook his head.

“How did you even get the Navy to approve this?” Halo questioned.

Hangman shrugged his shoulders and looked at himself in the mirror while everyone was still processing what he was wearing. After getting ready for a few more minutes, the squadron with their fathers headed out of the suite and headed down to the party bus.

“Remember, we are representing the US Navy,” Ice announced. “Please don’t do anything embarrassing.”

“Um sir, have you seen what Hangman is wearing?” Bob quipped which caused Phoenix to give him a high-five.

“I need to call my therapist after seeing that,” Fritz took a swig of his drink.

“All of y’all are just jealous that I’m pulling this off,” Hangman scoffed.

Everyone else rolled their eyes and they finally got to the steps. All fourteen of them headed out of the party bus and all of them admired the steps. The view of flashing lights from the cameras came into view as they heard the photographers shout celebrities' names. They went through security before standing in line to step on the carpet. All of the members of the squadron started to fangirl/boy over the celebrities that they’d seen so far.

“Mothers,” Phoenix and Fanboy whispered under their breaths as they saw Anne Hathaway and Jessica Chastine walk the carpet.

Soon it was time for them to walk the carpet. Despite them being on a suicide mission, all of them felt nervous. Even Mav and that man faced death a couple of times.

“Wow, everyone’s loving Hangman’s outfit aren’t they?” Payback questioned all of the focus on Hangman.

“Oh don’t be surprised if he shows up on the best-dressed list tomorrow,” the Ivies said simultaneously.

“Do any of you still find it creepy when they do this?” Halo questioned.

Everyone nodded their heads and walked up the steps. Thankfully they didn’t get pulled into interviews so they just went straight up to the top of the steps. All of them individually got the chance to talk to Anna Wintour for twenty seconds before walking into the museum.

All of the exhibits showed fashion throughout America’s history. From different centuries to different decades, there were outfits from that era with placards telling some details.

“Wow, the Navy uniforms changed,” all of them looked at the uniforms.

“How did they make them more?” Rooster questioned what to say next.

“Straight?” Everyone replied.

“That wasn’t the word but that also works,” Rooster shrugged his shoulders.

They soon left the Navy exhibit since it was time for the dinner and performances. Everyone was seated at separate tables since Anna didn’t want anyone who knew each other to sit together. Everyone sat with some interesting people but I think Mickey’s table was the best. He sat with Doja Cat, Adele, Luke Combs, Niall Horan, and Bill Nye. It was a weird mix but they vibed with each other. Everyone else had interesting people at their table but Mickey’s were the far best. They were the life of the gala with the vibe they were giving. Especially when Shania Twain was the performer of the evening. Everyone got out of their seats and Mickey walked over to where his squadron was so they can jam out together. Hangman somehow got dragged and got to dance with Shania when she sang I Feel Like A Woman.

“We’re seeing the same thing right?” Phoenix downed her drink. “We’re not inebriated on drinks or drugs.”

“We’re not high on drugs right?” Ice raised his eyebrow as he looked at his children.

“Okay, why is everyone looking at me?” Fritz whined.

“Do you not remember what happened last time?” Omaha questioned.

“It was one time!” Fritz threw his hands up in the air.

Everyone shook their heads and some of them went out to look at the exhibits while some of them stayed in the main area to dance some more. Soon after, people started to leave since the after-party was coming up and they needed to get ready, which included the Dagger Squad.

“All of you better don’t do anything bad at the after-party,” Ice told them. “Remember we are still representatives of the United States Navy.”

“Just don’t add or subtract to the population. That’s all we’re asking,” Mav added.

“Don’t worry,” all of them promised.

“Alright, go have fun,” Ice dismissed them.

Everyone who was dressed up in nice suits and dresses left the hotel again to the club.

Did they do anything stupid? No, well most of them. Did they add and/or subtract to the population? Thankfully they didn’t. Did they represent the US Navy well? I guess they did and that was the goal.

The next day, all of the daggers were on the best-dressed list. Well most of them… Rooster might’ve been roasted on Twitter…

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crazyk-imagine · 1 year

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Call Sign Crack

Dagger Squad members x GN!Reader

A/N: Some parts will have members of the Dagger Squad as Boyfriends, Girlfriends, Fiancees, and/ or best friends but you can read it however you want to. I just wanted to spice things up. Also, some parts the reader knows the squad while some parts they don’t.

This is absolute crack; I have been working on this for months and I have no regrets for what you are about to read but do please enjoy!

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His call sign Hangman…

“You know how he’ll joke about his name being hungman instead of his actual call sign?” You ask.

“Yeah?” The one you learned to be Phoenix, with Bob and Fanboy beside her, all look at you with a weary expression.

“Well,” you lean in.

They have a feeling on where this conversation is going, and they’re still not prepared for it.

“He’s not wrong,” you bite your lip to keep your giggles to yourself.

“Gross,” she groans.

Fanboy tosses his head back finishing his drink, wanting the alcohol to remove this conversation from his memory.

Bob drops his head down onto the table.

Jake notices this going down as he walks back with more drinks (which are most definitely going to be needed). “What’d you do?”

“What?” You turn to him, sticking your bottom lip out ever so slightly.

He narrows his eyes at you, “don’t give me that look. I know that look and it screams trouble.”

“You exaggerate.”

“No, no,” Javy interjects. “He’s right. I’ve seen that look; it just screams trouble.”

“Well, why don’t I just tell the other where you got that nickname of yours, huh?”

He blinks once before patting his friend’s shoulder, “have fun you too.”

“That’s what I thought, Javy!” You shout, leaning up in your chair.

“Shut up!”

“They told us about your made-up call sign,” Natasha groans.

“Oh, is that all?”

The three groan and leave you two alone, they can’t handle this topic anymore.

His call sign Bob…

“Why do you call him Bobby pin?” Asks the one with the mustache, you think his name started with a B. Oh, you got it, Bradley. He always texts you from Bob’s phone but he uses his call sign… and you can’t remember that right now either.

‘Maybe it’s time to start drinking water,’ you think. You get out of your head and realize they’re waiting for an answer.

“Because,” you give your boyfriend a sweet smile before turning back towards the others, “Bobby can pin me anywhere, any time he wants.”

You want to say the cocky one’s name is Wesley… that can’t be right, but he spits out his drink, slapping his chest to keep him from choking, any more than he already is.

The man (who always stands beside him, clearly the blond’s friend) pats his back.

Natasha shakes her head, sipping her drink. She knows how you can be; she’s heard some calls and read the letters; and she thinks (but has yet to tell you) you’re even better in person.

“Couldn’t have given me a little warning, Baby on Board?” Jake whispers.

“He can’t deny it. He knows it’s true.”

Bob shakes his head, chuckling before taking a sip.

His call sign Rooster…

“Cock fighter!” You shout less than a foot away from your boyfriend.

Bradley sighs, “yeah?”

“Here you are,” you smile at him, kissing his cheek.

“Did they just call you cock fighter?” A tall man in his khaki navy outfit asks.

You glance over at him, wondering why he seems familiar. Oh, now you know, it’s Jake.

Bradley sighs, “I wish I could deny it but no.”

“I’m afraid to ask why,” Natasha, the only female sitting with a few of the others at the moment says.

You remember her more than the others, she’s always so nice when you call (and the only person you like talking to who’s in the same squad as Bradley, you have yet to actually get to know any of the others).

“You should be,” he jokes.

You smack his chest. “Shut up.”

He gives you his dazzling smile. “I love it though,” he assures you, pecking your jaw.

“You’re such a bad liar Bradley.”

“Chicken’s being sweet and it’s making me nauseous.” Jake walks away.

“Do you have any more embarrassing nicknames for Brad?” asks Natasha.

You smirk, “tons.”

His call sign Fanboy…

“Boy he sure is a fan, of me.” Reuben shakes his head.

Mickeys warned him about the bad jokes and puns you can make but he was not expecting them to be this bad.

“Please, tell me I didn’t hear that,” Jason (that doesn’t sound right as you try to think of his name after only meeting him once) says.

“You did and I only have a minor regret about it. But he got his call sign because of his love for Star Trek.”

“That I could I see,” the one with the flaming bird name… PHOENIX, yeah that’s her call sign, adds.

“Of course, they named him after his nerdiness.”

You pout, pulling your fiancé (of seven months) in for a hug, “don’t be mean, birdy.”

She raises her hands in a defensive manner even though she knows your joking.

“Besides it’s only the font that would show you his nerdiness, as you like to say.” You can feel the vibrations of his chuckle against you.

He pecks your cheek, “thanks for the defense, babe.”

You give him one of your dazzling million-dollar smiles, “always.”

“Is there anything else we should know about his call sign?” Natasha asks, having fun talking to you.

You nod, “so much. And I mean it, like you don’t even know.”

His call sign Fritz

“Hi Ritzy,” you greet him with a smile.

“Hey, you made it.” He hands the pool cue to one of his navy buddy’s so he can hug you.

“Of course, I did.”

He invited you to come and hangout with his buddies, there was no way you’d miss that. It’s always good to get out of the house once in a while.

“Ritzy?” Neil asks.

You turn towards him. “That’s just his cute nickname.”

“So, he has a dirty one?” Some blond pilot asks.

You’re still working on learning their names. You shrug, “not really.”

“That sounds like a definitely,” the same cocky blond says.

“Okay, this is stupid, but you know ritz crackers.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh God,” Billy mumbles to himself, covering his face.

You shush him. “His all-time favorite snacks are the crackers, right.”

“Okay. What about the F?” One of the others asks.

Your silence speaks volumes.

“Oh, gross,” says the blond.

Callie groans, shivering in disgust.

You scoff, “I’m sure you’ve already gotten like five girls’ numbers and one pair of panties to go with it.”

“What about the Z?” the girl, beside the adorable guy with glasses, asks.

You shrug, “it makes it fun.”

His call sign Coyote

“Hey, Wile e coyote,” you hold your fist up.

He fists bumps you before handing you, his drink.

“Like the cartoon?” Jake questions with his brows knit together.

“Yep,” you nod. “It’s fun.”

“And childish.” Well look who’s mister judgey.

“We all need to have a little fun and something to remind us of our childhood sometimes. It’s a good thing.”

Jake raises his hands, “I’m- I’m not judging-”

The one with the mustache and the other with the glasses, fake cough into their hands and say, “liar.”

“Hey! No one asked you two. You’re not even a part of this conversation.”

“We’re helping you face your fears,” the one named after a chicken says.

You blame Jake for the false call sign you think of.

“And my fear is?”

“Being proven wrong,” Bob murmurs, munching on his snacks.

“Oh, shut up. No one asked you.”

“You did,” you and Javy say.

His friend walks away and you two chuckle.

His call sign Payback

“This is why your nickname- sorry, call sign,” you correct yourself.

“You remembered,” Reuben’s lips tug to the side into a smirk.

You smile, “I did. Anyway, back to what I was saying. This is why your call sign is Payback.”

He hums, “and why is that?”

Mickey takes a seat beside his friend, “what are we talking about?”

You rip the wrapper off your straw and take a sip of your drink before talking.

“About how bad he,” you point to your fiancé, “is at paying someone back.”

“Oh, God. Are they doing their speech about his call sign again?” Natasha asks Jake, who hands Bob and Bradley their drinks.

He nods, taking a seat beside her with his arm resting across the back of her chair. “Yep.”

“Does everyone know?”

“You don’t ever not say it,” Bradley points out.

“Bite me, Bradshaw.”

“I don’t think your fiancé would approve.”

Reuben interrupts the almost fight with a dry, fake laugh. “Ha ha. Thank you for that Rooster.” He turns to you, “ignore him. And he paid for drinks today.”

“Yeah,” Bradley chuckles, leaning back in the chair until the words process in his mind. “Wait- what?” He frantically searches his pockets for his wallet.

“This reminds me of the time Maverick couldn’t pay for bill the night before your mission,” you comment.

“You weren’t there,” Billy points out.

“You don’t know that.”

No one says anything.

“Okay, fine. But I was there in spirit, and it feels like I was there whenever I hear the story.”

Her call sign Phoenix…

You enter the bar and walk over towards the back, where Natasha told you she’d most likely be. You smile and stand behind her, resting your hand on her back so she knows it’s you.

You thought it would be smart if you two had some kind of signal so she wouldn’t do anything she’d feel bad about later.

“Hey, hottie,” you tease her, knowing it would piss one of the guys off. You just couldn’t remember who it was she was complaining about.

Just as you predicted, one of the pilots (the cocky one) scoffs. “She can call you that but one time I make a joke and you get defensive. How is that fair?”

“Maybe because I’m her partner and you’re not.”

Mickey, Reuben, and Bob chuckle.

“Burn.”

“Coyote! You’re my friend.”

He shrugs, “it was a good burn.”

“Mine was good,” he mumbles.

“Your’s sucked, Bagman,” Natasha teases him.

“I’m going to get more beer,” he grumbles as he walks away.

“Your friends are fun.”

“Wait, till they’ve had a few drinks,” she tells you.

You hum, “can’t wait.”

His call sign Omaha

“Do you know how he got his name?” Brigham asks, occupying the empty seat across from you.

You tilt your head, “maybe. Why do you ask?”

He shrugs, “I was curious if you knew, I’ve overheard a couple of the other stories. Guess, I wanted to know if his landed more on the embarrassing side or not.”

“Ah, gotcha.”

“If he doesn’t have a story, that’s cool too but I’m bored. No one’s here yet.”

You sigh, “fine, fine. I’ll tell you. It isn’t much of a story anyway it’s just about something he likes.”

He shrugs, “okay then what does he like?”

Neil grabs your drinks and starts heading back to your “special” table.

“He likes football.”

“Oh, no,” Neil mumbles to himself once he hears what the two of you are talking about.

“What? He told me he didn’t like football when I asked him if he wanted to come to the game with me.”

“Blame them,” your caring boyfriend points to you.

“I was going to say that you punk.” You smack his shoulder. “We were taking a mini vacation trip away and the whole weekend plan was non-refundable.”

Brigham takes a sip of his drink. “Fine, I’ll accept that answer but only because I have someone to give me all the dirt on you.”

You three laugh until a few of the others from their squad come over and drag the boys away, leaving you alone but not for long because the girls drag you over to play pool with them.

Her call sign Halo

“I’ve always wanted to hear the story about how you two met,” Logan says, picking through the nachos.

Jake raises a brow. “Seriously?”

“What?” The man asks with a full mouth.

“Don’t judge him. Ignore him,” you tell Logan as you shove Jake’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you because I can remember it as clear as day. I was riding my- God- what was it?”

“You said you remembered it as clear as day,” Billy points out taking a sip of his drink.

“And I rode my scooter and bike around a lot. Anyway, I decide that I’m gonna move off the sidewalk because too many neighbors are out walking their dogs and expect me to move so I go into the street, not too far away from the curb though. And then all of a sudden, I’m on the ground-”

“Did you get hit by a car?”

“Did you trip over a rock?”

“Were there any annoying little brats laughing their asses off?”

You furrow your brows at Bob’s question. “No, you clearly need some therapy, but we’ll talk more about that later. All of a sudden, there’s a person in front of me and the first thing I think is-”

“She’s an angel,” Callie finishes.

“Exactly but the only reason I said thought that was because I saw a halo.”

“That was an oddly touching story,” Neil tells you, stealing the nachos away from Logan.

“You sound so impressed.”

“Believe me, I am.”

“That’d be a great way to get some numbers,” Jake theorizes.

“Oh God. What did I start?”

His call sign Harvard

“You know I’ve always been curious about something,” Javy says, setting his napkin down.

“How did you get your call sign Harvard?”

“Has no one ever heard this story?” You ask before turning to your boyfriend. “Is it even a story? I feel like it might be more of a fact than anything.”

He thinks about it for a minute, “yeah, I guess you’re right but this- this isn’t the time to talk about it. I mean, we’re having dinner right now. Maybe some other time.”

“We’ve never asked before.”

“Come one, we want to know.”

“We won’t make fun of you.” The others comment and reassure him.

He’s still a little hesitant to say anything.

“It can’t be that bad.”

“Maybe he thinks you’re gonna be a jerk and make fun of him, Bagman,” Natasha says, with a snarky tone as she snatches the bowl of biscuits from him.

The man lets out a dry laugh. “Kind as always Princess Phoenix.”

“It was his dream school if he wasn’t able to become a pilot,” you explain, not wanting to listen to the two arguing.

“That’s nice,” Bob tells him.

Brigham nervously chuckles.

“Better than mine,” Bagman, nope. Ah, Hangman says.

Everyone chuckles before digging into their meals.

His call sign Yale

“How’s my goat?”

Everyone except for Callie and Billy turn towards you.

“I’m sorry-” Neil starts.

“Did you say goat?” Bradley finishes.

“Is that a new sex thing?” asks Jake.

Bob scoffs, “you would know.”

Jake points to the WSO with glasses. “Can it, Baby on Board.”

The man raises his hands, “I’m just being honest.”

“Oh, that’s it.” Who knew Bob was so fast?

“Okay, first off. It’s not a sex thing, I swear. Second, it’s because Logan was really into mythology as a kid and had like a thousand books about it and we were looking up random things one night. I happened to look up yale because that’s the school everyone in his family had gone to and actually managed to get successful careers out of what they studied, not that that’s important. What was I saying?”

Mickey shrugs, “you lost me at the sex part.”

“It wasn’t a sex thing,” you groan.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Oh, right. Yale plus mythology equals goat.”

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

Jake has his hands on his knees as he pants. “Hide me.”

“You’re the chaser,” Callie points out.

“Get back here Baby on Board!”

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mooncherrv · 1 year

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Building Legos w/ Dagger Squad

Character(s): Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw", Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Robert "Bob" Floyd, Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia, Reuban "Payback" Fitch, Javy "Coyote" Machado, Callie "Halo" Bassett, Billy "Fritz" Avalone, Neil "Omaha" Vikander, Logan "Yale" Lee, Brigham "Harvard" Lennox x Reader

Summary: Just being all fluffy and building legos with your fav pilots

Author's Note: Including all the pilots because i think they all deserve love and not just the main ones also i need more halo content and if nobody is gonna give it to me imma do it myself

Masterlist

Hangman

Hangman gets you two a few of the botanicals sets. He originally was gonna make them all in his free time to gift to you but you walked in on him making the succulent set and just sat down and started to help him. Eventually it just became a weekend activity for the two of you to do while a movie played in the background. Eventually when you accumulate too many built sets you end up giving them to his nieces and nephews.

Rooster

Rooster loves legos. It's not something he talks about a lot but he really enjoys building the NASA sets with you and talking about all the facts he knows about space. One day while building a spaceship set with him you asked about it and he explained how when he was little him and his dad would build spaceships out of the stray legos he had and for a bit he wanted to be an astronaut.

Phoenix

Pheonix also gets you some of the botanical sets. She loves to give you little lego flowers from time to time. When you build them she mostly just watches you while you build each set. Between the two of you there is quite the collection of stray lego roses scattered across the apartment.

Bob

Bob had a decent lego collection as a kid already so into adult hood he just kept building them. His favorite to build with you are the architecture ones. He's a man that has a lot of knowledge about random things so as you build them he explains historical events or facts about whatever it is you are building. When you two built the New York said he kept mentioning places in the city he had visited and how he couldn't wait till the two of you traveled there together so he could show you all the things he liked in the city.

Fanboy

Y'all are building the Star Wars sets. No question about it. He definitely gets the expensive Millennium Falcon set and tries to hide if from you but one night at around 3am you woke up to go to the bathroom and saw him missing. He was sitting in the living room with a lamp on building the set. He tried to hide it but instead of saying anything you just sat down and began helping him. When you two finished building the set all you did was look at him and say "Can't believe you hid this from me." before walking back to bed.

Payback

Payback doesn't actually build legos. He'd much rather sit back with a cup of coffee or tea and just silently observe you. He'll gladly help you when you are confused or lost from the instructions of the larger sets but other than that he simply enjoys sitting in silence with you and observing you build each set. He likes to see the smile on your face once you finish each set.

Coyote

Coyote doesn't buy his own legos but sometimes Fanboy gives him a few sets so he likes to build them with you when he's got the free time. He honestly doesn't even really look at the sets when Fanboy gives them to him he just shows up and is like "Hey let's build this." and tosses it onto the table. He just likes to spend quality time with you and enjoys that there is a physical product to put on display to show the time you spent together.

Halo

Halo enjoys the art sets. She never really built any legos as a kid so you are the main reason she started building sets. She'll make you each a cup of tea and sit down at the table with you to build each set while singing along to whatever has been on your playlists recently. If it's a set that allows her to she will gladly hang them on the walls around your houese.

Fritz

Much like Payback, Fritz doesn't really build the sets and simply observes you building them. He does occasionally help you build some like the Batman set you got he helped build since he really enjoys Batman. Most of the time he'll have a movie on in the background while he is watching you build each set.

Omaha

Omaha is another big fan of Star Wars and him and Fanboy definitely send each other photos of all their lego sets. He only got into legos when he met Fanboy so he has always built them with someone and never alone. He actually doesn't like building alone because he is so used to having someone with him. Even if he is super excited about a set, if you are busy, he will wait specifically till you have free time to even open the box and look inside. He loves to be wrapped up in a blanket with you and sitting on the living room floor together building the different sets.

Yale

Yale likes the Harry Potter sets. He has a lot of memories associated with the movies from when he was a bit younger so those sets always stood out to him. He doesn't have many sets but one time you got him the Hogwarts castle set and he insisted you two build it together while watching the movies. Since then, he always builds the sets he gets with you while watching Harry Potter.

Harvard

Harvard LOVES to help you build the superhero sets. Similar to Fanboy, he probably bought one of the super expensive sets to build but rather than hiding it he proudly walked up to you with the biggest smile on his face asking if you wanted to build it with him over the weekend. He has an entire shelf to display all the sets he has and he puts all the ones the two of you built together in the middle to proudly show them off.

#top gun #top gun fic #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #natasha phoenix trace #robert bob floyd #mickey fanboy garcia #reuben payback fitch #callie halo bassett #billy fritz avalone #neil omaha vikander #logan yale lee #brigham harvard lennox #top gun x reader

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callmemana · 1 year

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Top Gun Maverick Fanfic : 1

Key: smut - 🌸/ fluff - 🦋 / angst - ☂️/ personal favorite - 👓/

Billy ‘Fritz’ Avalone:

Willow @kirliao 🦋👓

Brigham ‘Harvard’ Lennox:

Party For Two @mrsjaderogers 🦋

Callie ‘Halo’ Shen:

Halo HC @jungle-angel 🦋👓

Halo HC @probably-not-a-rocketscientist 🦋👓

Girls’ Night Out (Ao3) (+Phoenix) @gilded-sketchbook 🦋☂️👓

Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado:

Best Friend’s Little Sister @call-sign-jinx 🌸☂️

Charity Auction @wildbornsiren 🦋👓

Close @buckyr00s ☂️

Gold Rush @kirliao 🦋👓

He’s Only Happy When He’s Dancing @jungle-angel 🦋👓

Intimidating GF @sebsxphia 🦋

Javy and Your Newborn @sebsxphia 🦋👓

Levels and Jealous @mrsjaderogers 🌸

Movie Night @jungle-angel 🦋👓

This Land @jungle-angel 🦋👓☂️

The Waiting @rae-gar-targaryen 🦋👓 (pregnant! Reader)

Your Love Is All The Love I Need 2 @theharddeck 🦋☂️

Logan ‘Yale’ Lee:

Champagne Problems @kirliao

Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace:

Changing My Flight Plans @thesluttyarchivist 🌸🦋

First Time @topguncortez 🌸

Love Who You Love @daughterofthereaper02 🦋👓

Let Me Love You @twistnet 🌸

Rare Touch @wildbornsiren 🌸🦋👓

Secret Relationship With Natasha @sebsxphia 🦋👓

Sharing Isn’t Caring @topguncortez 🌸

The Night We Met @bobfloydsbabe 🦋 (OC)

Wedding Cake @daughterofthereaper02 🦋👓

Reuben ‘Payback’ Finch:

Almost There @katcoquette ☂️

Blanket & Pillow Fort @jungle-angel 🦋👓

Holiday Party @wildbornsiren 🦋👓

Prompt 37 @jungle-angel 🦋👓

Jake x Bradley:

Killshot (Ao3) @thebahwrites 🌸🦋☂️👓

Snowfall In San Diego @evansrogerskitten 🌸🦋☂️👓

Jake x Bradley x Robert:

When Your A Stranger (Ao3) @thebahwrites 🌸🦋☂️

Hannix:

The Wedding Bet Date (Hannix) @happypopcornprincess 🌸🦋☂️👓

Platonic!Halo x Platonic!Phoenix:

Girls’ Night Out (Ao3) (+Halo) @gilded-sketchbook 🦋☂️👓

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mcdonaldsnumberone · 2 years

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addicted to you

love headcanons (minus mitile)

gender neutral reader

Loves proves elusive for Figaro. He’s tasted it multiple times, letting it tease him as if it were a sweet seduction out of his reach, but at the same time, he pushes it away when the sweetness spreads too quickly and too deeply across his senses. He can’t stand being alone, yet he can’t stand being tied down either. He craves the intimacy of another person he can reveal his heart too, yet he pushes them out before he can even be honest with himself.

Figaro only hopes that the same won’t happen with you. Out of the many fearsome wizards and spectacular witches he met throughout his varied life, you don’t even come close to mimicking their power. Yet when your quiet voice rings out through the Sage’s manor or he finds you knocking at his door, he doesn’t have the willpower to send you away. The warm telltale pricks at his heart confirm his own excitement and the things he dreads most: he’s fallen in love.

His love for you is almost instinctual. For once in his life, Figaro wants to cast aside his own selfishness. He wants to chase you down for a minute of your time. Figaro doesn’t care if you want to hug him and press saccharine kisses onto his face or if you’d rather he grovel at your feet and wash your skin with his tears; all he knows is that he’s hooked on your presence. It takes all his might to not make the same mistakes he’s made before.

He knows he’s a far cry from the man you deserve. You deserve a gentleman, not a cowardly wizard who never seems to come to terms with his own fear of acceptance. But just as much as he wants to cast his own egocentrism aside, he wants to be greedy and devour whatever attention you throw at him. Whatever he does, Figaro knows he’s acting with only his intentions in mind, yet night after night, he finds his feet leading him outside your door—only to stop when he can’t find the courage to knock.

He can only pray for a miracle. Figaro doesn’t know what he even believes in any more after living such a long and damned life, but if there is, by slight chance, a higher power watching over him, he prays that one night you’ll open your door to find him there. Will you invite him inside and chase away the centuries’ worth of demons that have been clawing at his psyche? Or will you scrunch up your face in disgust, proving to him that he should put his delusions to rest? Whatever the answer might be, he’s sure that it’s better than the emptiness tugging away at his battered heart.

“Do you trust me? Of course you do—who wouldn’t trust good ol’ Doctor Figaro? Please, you can trust me.”

What are morals without emotions, and what are feelings without ideals? These same concepts have driven Lennox for the long years he had spent ravaging the world, in search of the hero of his past. There’s too many past mysteries and unanswered inquiries he has yet to find the closure to, but when you cross his path with a curious attitude and the softest soul, Lennox wonders if this his sign to live not in the past but to embrace the present.

A man of actions and not words, he wonders what the best way to approach you would be. The other Southern wizards are delighted: Lennox finally trying to reach out to someone else is the push they’ve eagerly been awaiting. The other wizards are quick to dress him up and give him pointers to talk to you, but he finds himself clamming up and reverting back to his old self when you come into view. Despite your presence as a human in a world of magic, Lennox swears you cast a spell on him: one that makes all rationality fly out the window.

He wants to be good and true, so at the end of the day, he hopes you can see him for who he is. You can see and feel hints of his past whenever you’re next to him. There are traces of the war on his hands, the yearning in his eyes whenever his crimson irises focus on you, the love welling up in his heart when he moves in—lips ghosting over your skin as he whispers something you don’t quite register into your ear—but they’re all bits and pieces that come together to create the masterpiece that you know as Lennox.

His love is homey and pure, one that hopes to touch your heart as much as you have touched his. He wants comfort and stability, so he wants to make it clear that whatever you need to do to feel safe with him is what he’ll do. It doesn’t matter if you want to lock him in with a promise—his heart wants you, and his magic is only secondary to the desire he has to scoop you up in his arms and whisk you away to the paradise of your dreams.

Lennox is someone who wants to be there with you to the end. He doesn’t love in a fickle manner. He loves truly, seriously, dedicatedly. You’ve managed to melt down his own trepidations and worries with your bright smile and open arms, and for that, he’s ready to lay himself down for you. He has faith that you won’t take that responsibility for granted, a testament to the fact that you’re someone worthy of his hard-earned love. Lennox promises—a wizard’s sacred and holy promise—to make you as happy as you’ve made him.

“...Let’s be together. I like being with you the most.”

Rutile, just like the person he is, views life through the many facets presented before him. He’s a spitting image of the volatile summer wind; he’s calm and refreshing one minute, fierce and unstoppable the next. Rutile refuses to settle for the first thing that falls into place. He wants to discover all the wonders and curiosities around him, sharing the abundance of knowledge and affection he has with strangers and close ones alike. The more, the merrier, and Rutile has nothing to lose by being welcoming yet exhilarating all the same.

His affection towards you is pure and energetic. He’s composed enough to shower you with love possessing all the grace and charm a mature wizard of his age would, but it still doesn’t stop him from occasionally pulling you into a dance or inviting you out onto a broom ride when the opportunity strikes. These chances are too good for him to pass up, and he wants to share that unabashed zest for life he has with you. He wants you to see the goodness and the wonder of the world as he does, because he believes that that is the best gift he can give to you.

His love for you is priceless. There isn’t anything Rutile could ever withhold from you. Everything, from the peals of laugher after you crack a joke to his raspy voice when he wakes up in the morning, are for you to take and indulge in. He asks that you let him do the same, to let him appreciate and savor every lovable bone in your body. His love is passionate as it is adorable, and when you’re the object of his affections, there’s no telling what detail of yours he’ll gush over next.

All the thrills of love aside though, Rutile does genuinely adore you in every way possible. Whatever form of love you want from him is what he’s willing to give to you. He can wow you with his stellar magic and take you to far off lands for a private moment, or he can conjure up all sorts of silly drawings and build a pillow fort to dedicate a night in with you. Whether you want something personal or the kind of love only seen in fairytales, Rutile is happy to deliver as long as it keeps you safe, happy, and satisfied.

Fate is fickle and jealous, and Rutile knows his life has been stricken with tragedy over and over again. But it’s thanks to that that he learned so firmly how to cherish the precious moments, so he really appreciates the time you spend with him. He’ll make every moment you spend with him worth your while, so you have absolutely nothing to fear by accepting his invitation and taking his hand. Love is as serious as it is exciting, and he wants to learn about the same kind of heart-pounding feelings his mother must have felt when meeting his father through you. You won’t ever disappoint him, so hold on tight and be ready for whatever Rutile might come crashing in with.

“Are you up? Great! The wind looks awfully nice today, so care for a stroll? Just the two of us, of course!”

#mahoutsukai no yakusoku #mahoyaku #mhyk #figaro garcia #lennox ram #rutile flores #x reader #my writing #weirdos dni esp if ur a twstie i feed only mahoyakkies now #tbz put crack in this song i swear

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shurislover · 1 year

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i wanna see letitia and ari lennox link up. idk why. i just think they could make each other laugh

#letitia wright #letitia x reader #ari lennox

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emerald-valkyrie · 2 years

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It is a sin that there are not more Will Lennox/OC or Will Lennox x Reader stories/fics out there. Y’all are missing out on one hell of a man.

#will lennox #will lennox x oc #will lennox x reader #transformers #transformers fic #transformers x reader #transformers x oc #text

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bobfloydsbabe · 1 year

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illicit affairs | bob floyd x oc | mob boss au

patch it up good

SUMMARY: After a deal goes sideways, Abby cleans Bob's bloody knuckles.

WARNINGS: mob boss au, cleaning wounds (not graphic), bob being horny on main, soft mob boss bob. strictly 18+/minors dni.

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

MBB MASTERLIST

JOIN THE TAGLIST (form–no personal info required)

SPECIAL THANKS: To @lovinglyeternal for sending this thot, which served as the inspiration for this drabble. To @joaquinwhorres, @wkndwlff, @sylviebell who all love MBB almost as much as I do.

A/N: I blacked out and wrote this in one sitting, then editing it took forever, and now it's way past my bedtime. So, enjoy this drabble, which is most likely crap.

“Sir?”

The sound of her smooth voice makes him turn around. She’s a vision. Poised, sophisticated, sexy. A deep frown decorates her face, and Bob wants nothing more than to smooth it out with his thumb.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

It’s well past midnight and everyone in the building, save for him, has gone home to start their weekend. That includes Abby, yet she stands in the doorway to his office looking concerned.

She takes a few steps forward, her black heels clicking on the floor as she does. His eyes drop down, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to ground himself and keep visions of her in all kinds of compromising positions at bay.

“I wanted to finish up some paperwork,” she tells him.

She takes another step forward, but Bob holds up a hand to keep her back. He doesn’t want her to see him like this. Exhausted and bruised, a little ashamed that he had to resort to violence to solve a simple issue.

Her eyes zero in on his raised hand before gliding down to his other that rests on the desk he’s half-sitting, half-leaning on.

“You’re hurt.”

He shakes his head, willing her concern to go away. “It’s nothing,” he insists.

Abby doesn’t say a word as she turns around and leaves his office, making him breathe a sigh of relief. He’s not sure why, but he wants to keep her away from his world as best as he can. He wants her to stay innocent and hopeful, untouched by the dangers of his life.

He wants that almost as much as he wants her.

He stands, walking to the small table next to the couch where he keeps his liquor. Pouring himself a glass of bourbon, he relishes in the burning feeling of alcohol in his throat. It’s a welcome sensation.

The sound of heels clacking on wooden floors draws his attention back up, and Abby walks into his office with a small red and white box in her hands.

“I thought I told you to g–”

“Sit down,” she interrupts. His hand freezes mid-air, and he tilts his head to the side with narrowed eyes. It’s a command given in the last tone he expected her to take with him.

He places the half empty glass of bourbon on the side table and walks back to the desk where he perches on the edge.

Abby walks up to him, placing the box that he now recognizes as a first aid kit on the desk next to him. He spreads his legs further, allowing her to stand between them.

She unwraps an antiseptic wipe and puts her hand out for him to place his own into. He hesitates, knows he’s playing a dangerous game by letting her see him like this. Abby, however, grows impatient and all but yanks his hand towards her.

When the wipe touches the open cuts on his knuckles, he can’t help the hiss that escapes his throat. He’s been here a thousand times before, but it still surprises him how much the alcohol stings.

He peers down at Abby, who’s concentrating on gently wiping at the wounds. Her dark lashes fall like blankets against her rounded cheeks, and a stray hair has untucked itself from her ponytail.

He watches her examine his hand before she places it back down on his thigh. She discards the wipe in the nearby trashcan and reaches for another.

She unwraps and takes his other hand in hers. “What happened?” She asks and meets his gaze for the first time since she got to work putting him back together.

He stays quiet, figures it’s for the best. He doesn’t want her to see him as someone who chooses a fight because not doing so is one reason he’s so good at what he does. He can keep his emotions in check. Usually.

She huffs out a small laugh. “Fine, don’t tell me,” she relents. “But don’t expect me to clean you up next time.”

A grin spreads across his face of its own volition. “Think there’ll be a next time?”

Her hands still in his, and when she looks up at him, it’s not the timid woman he’s grown used to. Her eyes are hard and unamused.

Her attention goes back to his knuckles, where she does a final few swipes across the angry skin. “There,” she says, and let’s go of his hand.

She discards the second wipe in the trash and moves to step back, but Bob reaches out for her. He touches her hip lightly, not wanting to startle her.

She looks down at where his hand rests on her hip, only to look back up at his face with a bewildered expression.

She doesn’t flinch, though, and lets herself come to him when he pulls at her hip. She fits between his legs perfectly and the scent of her perfume makes his head spin.

He’s never been as affected by someone as he is by Abby. She’s intoxicating.

Her breath hitches when his other hand travels up the curves of her body, landing on her jaw, so his fingertips touch the nape of her neck.

She holds his gaze, intense fire burning in those dark eyes. Her cheeks flush and turn warm under his palm, and he knows he has this effect on her. He wonders if she knows what she’s doing to him.

Tension hangs in the air, thick and palpable, when Bob leans down and places his mouth over Abby’s. She goes completely still for a moment, but then, right as he goes to pull away, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, she gasps against his lips and kisses him back.

He uses the hand on her hip to pull her closer, pressing harder against her mouth, letting his tongue run along the seam of her lips. She opens up without hesitation, and Bob groans into her mouth when her hand comes up and tugs on his hair.

It’s hungry and messy, the sounds of moans and shaking pen cups filling the quiet office. Bob wraps his arms around her waist, spinning them around so she’s the one on his desk.

He presses himself flush against her, not bothered to hide the bulge in his pants. She gasps again when he slots a leg between hers and it brushes against her clothed core. He wants nothing more than to keep drawing that sound out of her, to make her a whimpering mess under him.

One of his hands travels down to her leg and he hikes it up over his hip, but it’s the wrong thing to do. She pushes him off her, and Bob stumbles back slightly. Her hand raises up and covers her mouth, shock filling her eyes.

Bob steps back further to give her space and watches as her fingers tremble against her mouth. Something inside him breaks at the sight.

He opens his mouth to apologize. For craving her so much that he could no longer control himself. To beg forgiveness, but Abby beats him to it.

“I should go,” she mutters, standing up and straightening out her dress.

He nods as she gathers up the first aid kit, and as she passes him on her way towards the door, he lightly grabs her elbow.

She stops, eyes darting down to his hand before returning to his face.

“I overstepped,” he says. “I’m so–”

The apology dies in his throat as Abby’s lips connect with his once again in a kiss that makes his head flood with desire and confusion.

She pulls away. “Goodnight, sir,” she says and walks out of his office, leaving Bob to his thoughts and a semi he’ll have to take care of himself.

It’s not until the sound of heels clacking on the floor fades that he snaps out of his stupor. He chuckles to himself, walking back to his long-forgotten glass of bourbon and downs the rest of its contents in one go.

likes are nice, but comments and reblogs are motivating

TAGLIST: @lovinglyeternal, @yanna-banana, @canarysposts, @bradshawsbitch, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @sylviebell, @wkndwlff, @theunmeltables-blog, @rooster-84, @roosters-girl, @bradshawsbaby, @cdauni, @withahappyrefrain, @onethirstyunicorn, @apparently-sunshine, @some-lovely-day, @linkpk88, @thedroneranger, @cherrycola27, @lunamooncole, @purplevortexx, @hangmandruigandmav, @lorilane33, @olivia21blunt, @ravenhood2792, @desert-fern, @wittywhispers, @hisredheadedgoddess28, @mikpieboo, @petersunderoos96, @soulmates8

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd #robert floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x oc #bob floyd x oc #robert floyd x oc #tgm #top gun maverick #fic: illicit affairs #fic: mob boss au #mob au #oc: abby lennox #otp: mbb x abby #helenawrites #writtenbyme #madebyme #mywriting

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imawkwardlysoc · 1 year

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The reason I didn't add Rooster and Hangman is because I feel they already have enough fanfics and love

#top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #mickey fanboy garcia #reuben payback fitch #robert bob floyd #javy coyote machado #natasha phoenix trace #callie halo bassett #billy fritz avalone #logan yale lee #brigham harvard lennox #neil omaha vikander

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tarjapearce · 5 months

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Poppy Blue

Blue Jones! Miguel x Baby Doll! Reader.

Art by @marbipa on x

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Power play, choking kink, rough sex, mentions of abuse, preying, toxic and perverted behavior, implicit clandestine and illegal activities, lobotomy, dissociation, implicit depersonalization, objectification, hate sex, manhandling, violence, sub space. No Proofread.

Summary: Messy things ~ (I guess?) Miguel as Blue Jones from Sucker Punch.

A/N: Watched Sucker Punch last night and... yeah. Had to get this out of my system. ~ Another one for the Miguelverse ~

Masterlist

All it took was a bullet. Aimed at your assailant with no intentions of missing. Yet you did. You missed, failed terribly so. His chest was your goal, instead it went directly to his shoulder.

Projectile ripping and scorching skin, tissue and muscle in the go, earning a shaky and pained yelp. But it was the least he deserved after trying to be sneaky on your sister, that laid cold and bled out in the floor. She was no match for his knife and his blood thirst of the night. The rest was a blur.

And now, you were dragged down to the wet and dull greys walls of your future home. Lennox House. Or rather Lennox Asylum for the Mentally Ill.

Everything about the place screamed danger, everything about the people working in the monstrosity of place yelled I'm no better.

Barefoot, soaked in rain, holding your new uniform and gazing at the biggest man you've seen in you life, holding a bunch of keys while his eyes bore into you.

The way he stared made your skin crawl and it didn't help your clothes clung to your body. Arms braced the uniform closer to your chest, trying to cover it up. His eyes wandered to the man behind you, a police officer with three scratched lines into his face. You hadn't left him unscathed. Not when he tried to play rough with you back at your old home.

The man showed you around, place was as depressing as it was from the outside, but The Theater took the prize.

Girls your age dressed in gray, socializing in the area. And by socializing it'd mean to watch them either receive therapy with a polish beautiful woman named Vera Gorski, or watch them fight over the stupidest things. But who could blame them?

Some probably had enough time inside that had memorized the cracks in the wall, the scratches on the floor, the number of chewed gums underneath the table or how many dust particles were accumulated in the windows. Gray. Everything was gray and dull.

Even the voice of the men behind you talking about a price for your silence were tiresome and dry. Two thousand. That's what your memories were valued as. A number you now hated.

Corrupt pigs

The police officer gave you a gentle push forward as a nurse came to fetch you. The simple touch of that man made your skin revolt and slapped him hard across his wilting face, a scowl on your grimace that slowly turned into a smirk as the police officer tried to catch you, but you were being dragged away by two nurses into a life that would turn your head upside down and backwards, the many times it saw fit until you'd understand that you weren't in charge.

Until you'd understand your purpose.

Dance.

"If you don't dance, you have no purpose."

Madam Gorski murmured to you. Pretty, dangerous and aware of the many many situations revolving in the brothel. Cause in truth, the asylum was just an alibi and a frontage for the real deal. House Lennox. A house of pleasure.

Bets, drinks, sex, meds and a hell of a show to anyone that filled Miguel's pockets.

The main attraction? Girls that society deemed unfit to keep within her picky guts. Too into messy situations to keep the pretense around relatives. Too fucked up to function properly but good enough to mold and shape into something useful, and too tempting to break even further.

She mumbled while circling you, her dark eyes scrutinized you unabashedly, taking in everything her sight could reach. Pursing her pouty lips upon your body.

Pretty, scared, still holding a grip on reality while trying to swallow a really hard to deglute pill, and oh so perfect for a new purpose.

"We do not keep things in here that serve no purpose."

The collide of her cane on the floor was like a metronome, setting the pace to enter a forbidden place, somewhere that none could reach but you. Mind splitting in two, dissociating soul from conscience, leaving an empty, moving vessel behind. You were free for a moment. And now you wanted more, more of that place where your imagination ran rampant.

Where Gorski's words meant nothing, where the guards had no power, where you were allowed to break down and feel without second intentions or being frowned upon. But mainly, without Miguel’s preying gaze licking you raw while undressing your form with it.

But the clapping and praising brought you back to this reality. Red eyes fell upon you, studying, raking over your body upside down, stopping at your thighs to then go back to your flushed and breathless face.

Mr. O'Hara. Miguel 'Blue' O'Hara. The asylum guard, the key bearer, perverted pimp, and your new shadow.

Ever since that dance many things changed.

Even though you danced, duties in the asylum weren't to be neglected. If you said no, you'd get a visit to the hole.

If you didn't dance, you'd get a visit to the hole.

But if you didn't do things Miguel's way, you'd get a personal talk with him, and then a visit to the hole.

And those talks, surely weren't words.

Scrubbing the floors gave you the chance to listen a bit of everything. Girl's derangements, psychotic outbreaks, mumblings that were filled in with regret and many more flourishing emotions; the ever loud music from the cook, and the unceasing mewls and obscene noises coming from Miguel's office.

Some girls misbehaved on purpose, just to get a taste of him. Others did anything to draw his attention to them, specially in the dance floor. But you knew better to anger him.

Sure, pleasure came in hand with a high price. He wasn't good, he wasn't nice nor gentle, matter-of-factly some girls cried during their one on one sessions and the degradation only enhanced the tears.

Sick fuck.

Gorski's alarms flared up upon seeing belt marks on their legs and ass, bites in their inner thighs and bruises on their hips. Eyes a bit too gone and tired to actually work in anything. They might have spread the gossip around of Miguel fucking them, and even enjoyed it.

But the aftermath of it, said otherwise. And it was enough to keep you on check, but even so he was pulled to you like a magnet so strong you could see the refrain in his eyes every time he approached you.

Hands shaky, tongue rubbing and wetting his plump lips, a soft flush on his cheeks and pleading eyes. A silent 'Let me play too' cause he wasn't allowed to touch, or taste you. Instead, he'd use the girls willing to please him to take his anger out. Their bodies meant nothing, they meant nothing cause they weren't you.

They didn't have your body, they didn't have your sweet voice that distorted into moans and gasps that he'd kill to induce every time you danced, but above all, they didn't have your spark.

That little interaction with the police when you first arrived, had him folding on a bathroom, stroking himself to oblivion at the mere sound of your slaps.

Unbeknownst to you, you held so much power over him. Power he was set to dull, because he was the only one in control. Not even Gorski and her stupid polish methods to get in the rest's head. He ran the place and had it under control.

For how long though?

You wanted out. His little Poppy wanted out and surely would get everything to be free and leave him, forsake him in this damned place.

Anger flowed within his veins like molten lava upon remembering how other men looked at you, how other men wanted you. They'd possibly been imagining how good and tight your insides would feel cause the way you moved when you were up in the stage, was surreal. It was like another person took over.

But he, a sick fuck through and through, would want both. No. He'd have both. He craved and needed both, even better when you were dressed in such things that only added more dry bones to his needy fire.

Fucking lucky of them to feel you and be a your second skin. Even that stupid and everything but innocent uniform you were to dress every day, stirring up enough to let him take a peek of your panties, or the stockings underneath that remained etched on your supple thighs he'd often fantasize in getting lost between.

He just had to wait for you to misbehave. But sadly you didn't seem keen into breaking the rules. He'd wait.

---

"Stormy, come."

Vera called another girl. Whoever gave their names either knew them too well or picked random words in a go. Gorski too engrossed into her lessons to notice you had been dragged away by other guards under Miguel's petition.

Had you forgotten about something? No. Surely not. Last week's chores were fulfilled completely, the bathrooms were clean, the kitchen's dishes turn were washed up, and so were the floors. Your wrists sore, a reminder to ask for a new brush.

And-

Shit.

Fuck.

The laundry.

Some dancers had ran out of stockings, lingerie, and some sheets from the brothel needed to be replaced ASAP.

But you, Poppy, as Vera had called you and it stuck with the rest ever since, had trouble. Just cause you had forgotten about the damn laundry.

Miguel's formidable frame came into view, he was on a call, lying on how well someone's daughter was doing after a lobotomy. How they didn't have to worry about her anymore.

Your stomach felt sick and your heart leaped on your chest once he ended up the call. The guards had been long gone, leaving you with your shadow alone.

If honest, you knew Miguel either followed or kept you watched under hawk's eyes. Time stopped as soon as he turned to face you.

Pupils wide blown as soon as you came into his sight.

"My sweet, sweet Poppy."

He inhaled deeply and clasped his hands together before his face. An uncontainable smirk morphed into a light titter.

"You've been a bad girl, princesa."

His hands slamming on the table before him made you jolt and blink at his sudden mood shift.

"We..." He wetted his lips as he came behind you, "We were counting on you, Mi cielo. But... you failed us. Failed me."

A gulp as his breath fanned over the crook of your neck.

"You see..." His big and long fingers brushing your hair away from the right side of your head joint, "Now I gotta improvise something for the next show. "

"I'm sorry, I forgot-"

His hand took a hold of your neck and the contact made him growl. Warm, smooth, feeling every heartbeat underneath his big and calloused palms.

Lips dangerously close to your ear, breathing and panting as he pulled you closer to him, your back colliding against his torso and abdomen.

"Shh"

He hushed while taking a big whiff off you. A mix of soap, perfume and cigarettes. His hand squeezed tighter, earning a lovely and sweet yelp from you as he pushed you against his desk.

Your eyes widened in surprise upon feeling the hardening cock in between the slot of your thighs, poking, begging to be released and finally take you.

"You remind me of someone. Too bad she lost her spark."

His hand riled the skirt of your uniform up, passing up some layers of extra clothing, your underwear and stockings. Hand plunged inside to finally allowing his fingers to have a sample of your flesh.

"But I'm keeping yours alight, sweetheart."

His cock twitched when he found your clit. Fingers dexterous and peeling the outer folds away to give a gentle rub before you closed your legs almost instantly. A little delaid reaction, your brain was still processing it.

You went completely still when he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips. He sucked them off with hunger, groaning and trembling at the taste.

"Por Dios, preciosa..."

You tried to pry his hand out of your neck but the struggle made his breathings more labored and needy as he humped and ground against you from behind. Letting his tip to speak volumes at how hard and wanton he was. How bad you made him react. How much power you had over him.

Of course.

The idea of having him subdued to you assaulted your mind. Pressuring you into pleading, just like your clit that clenched and twitched upon having his tip rubbing in a slow yet firm strokes.

His hands went back inside your panties, searching for the nub of nerves that had you melting. Tongue skimming at the tender skin of your neck.

Just as he was about to bury a finger knuckle deep, the ever annoying voice of Vera urging Miguel from outside the door, asking for you. Her dear and lovely Poppy.

"Chingada madre" (Fucking shit)

He sighed with an exasperated growl and looked at the door.

"The fuck you want?!"

"I need Poppy on the practice. Now."

Where was the shocking baton when he needed it the most?

For once, you were relieved to know that you didn't go unnoticed under Gorski's watch. She protected the girls in her own way.

Knees trembled as he kept the hand inside. A little miscalculation had you whimpering while his fingers remained trapped in your flesh. His eyes snapped back on you with a smirk.

A hand clasped on top of your mouth, suffocating any moans as he worked his fingers between your pussy. Touching and prodding at the forbidden flesh, a moan vibrated through his hand with a high pitched Hmm

"I'll get her to you right away!"

Miguel yelled while working his fingers harder and faster, alternating between rubbing and fucking your hole with them.

"Spread your legs wider, pretty baby" The husk of his voice made you close your eyes and hips hump ever shyly at his hands. Gaining as much friction as possible.

"Miguel, I need her now."

He grumbled under his breath while moving his hands faster. The wet smooch and sucking squelch had him humping against your panties, breaths agitated, muttering something you could only decipher as filth in spanish, your hands clenched onto him, tightly fisted on his clothes.

Just a bit more

He heard Vera cursing in her native tongue as he prodded his fingers inside, toying with your opening. Stretching and fucking it at his likings.

"You fucking little slut"

He tittered while rubbing furiously in your clit. A bit too rough that had you bucking and trembling in his arms. If his hands made you quiver and melt he couldn't wait to see what his cock could do. You drenched his fingers.

Said fingers were cleaned up again by his mouth with a droopy and pleasure drunk face.

Despite having your legs shaky, he held you by the hips, and forced you to grab onto his desk. His hands quickly fumbled with his pants and boxers, pulling his cock out.

He stroked a couple of times, tip susceptible to stimulation. He pulled the panties aside, your stockings the only barrier between you and his erection. The flimsy layer of clothes instantly adhered to your soaked skin, He pushed in between your thighs, rubbing his cock back and forth with slow thrust against your pussy. His hot length brushed against the already engorged and sensitive nub.

The tightness of your warm thighs smooshed together created the perfect friction hole for him without actually penetrating you. So close and yet so far of that forbidden territory. Soft mewls and whimpers came out your mouth, too enraptured in feeling than verbalizing your pleasure.

He also needed his toys. Specially his favorite. Stockings were thoroughly soaked the more he pushed his cock in and out. Labia clothed and slicked parted to feel his shallow moves. He used you as his fleshlight, his hips smacking yours. His chest rumbled with animalistic and low growls.

His hands were clumsy as the pleasure turned overwhelming, you could see the flushed tip of him peeking out your thighs, the urge of tasting him turned bigger the faster he went. You were trying so hard to keep it as quiet as possible.

"Wished I was inside you, don't you?"

You gasped as he purposely angled his tip in your dripping hole. A shivering breath was all he received.

He took you by your chin and squeezed

"Don't you?!"

"Y-Yes!"

"Yes, what?!"

"Yes, sir."

Jesus fucking Christ.

He pushed in deeper in your cunt, his cock pushed a bit of the stockings inside as he doused it with his cum, unable to hold back any longer, marking you.

You had never heard a man pant and wheeze like that before. So deep, raspy, needy, cradling you tighter, anchoring to you as he shook his orgasm out.

"Fuck- Ay Dios, fuckfuck-"

He slurred while engulfing your frame against the table. Breathings matching his erratic ones.

Your skin between supple thighs felt clammy and sticky. Black stockings ruined completely by the white and wet patch of his scent.

Hot breath fanned over your neck.

"Can't wait to feel the real de-"

The door banged.

"Boss! We need you!"

The guards and Vera had proposed to fuck around with him cause his patience had been tested many times.

Your steps marching away from him snapped him out of his thoughts, He blinked and held you by the wrist, pulling you once more to him to kiss you.

Your first kiss in years. Soft but needy and filled in with a promise to fulfill later.

Now that he had a taste, there was none to stop him. He'd take his favorite toy and go home.

----

Freedom was taken away from you, right before your eyes. Forsaken by your so called friends, marooned by the crew you had gathered within the depths of despair. Your hope had given them a chance at surviving, your courage had transformed you into a fucked up sisterhood, but it was their greed that made you the ultimate sacrifice to their success.

You could only watch while thrashing your way out, but the more you fought, the more guards came to you, but one in particular pulled you out of the mess like a feather. But you didn't stop fighting. Not even when your tabs were in absolute zero probabilities of winning, not when Miguel dragged you inside manhandling your crying form like a ragdoll.

Scratches, fists and other punches didn't move him in the slightest. His grip tightened once you both were locked up in his office once more. He tossed you on the floor.

"Why... Why did you want to leave?"

His tone menacing yet hurt.

The idea of you almost slipping away from him had sent him in a berserk mode that unleashed hellbent through the asylum. Just to find you and when he did, he wanted nothing but hurt you, just the way you've hurt him.

Wasn't his attention enough? , wasn't him being lenient on you and your chores enough? Wasn't he enough?

"WHY?!"

You were too dumbfounded to process his question. Too marked with shame at your failure and rage to pay him attention, and that alone sent him grabbing you by the neck and crash you against a vanity. Tossing everything above it to the floor.

Your back collided against the now shattered mirror, you yelped but still managed to slap him and that made him groan and nod frantically.

Yes

One of his hands was more than enough to hold your both arms as he positioned between your thighs, pressing further against you.

"You don't like me, Poppy? Why?"

"Let me go!"

His hand squeezed your neck tightly, cutting all air for a minute while he kissed you. Sloppy, angry and so full with lust and rage. It gave you no time to react while his other hand tore the panties from underneath your skirt.

You kept slapping him, but that only enticed him to spread you further

"Love that fucking spark on you, preciosa."

He then thrashed you against the table sending a painful jolt through your body, It made you still for a moment.

"No! No! Don't-" his eyes widened in panic, "Don't lose it. Please-"

"No" You panted, "Just found it" A flower vase was smashed in his forehead. And that granted you freedom from his hands as you fell on the floor, gasping for air and crawling away from him.

Heavy steps echoed, trailing dangerously after you. Miguel took you by the ankle and dragged you towards him.

"No!"

He hissed and pulled you upwards, like a statuette, and slammed your torso against the desk you had been clenching onto. All air knocked out your lungs.

A hand passed over his buckle and removed in a swift motion his belt in one go. The sight of your pussy peeking underneath the ruffles of your skirt made a smile that didn't reach his eyes to appear.

He quickly got the belt around your neck, your hands instantly pried, or at least tried to pry it away, scratching yourself in the process. The smell of copper filled in the air, the vase had broke the skin of his forehead.

"You fucking ungrateful bitch!"

He secured the belt tighter and you wheezed, hands flailed to get a hold of him. Fingers already prodding and toying with your cunt, to his surprise, the struggle and fight turned you on, knowing that a man wanted you so badly that would do anything to have you, and you denying such power had you soaked.

Specially when the man in question was this 6'9" cell guard that wanted nothing but to wreck you, destroy you the way you had destroyed his fucked up illusions.

"All I did for you, everything I did meant shit for you-"

He rasped before slapping your butt with such force it stung and left a red imprint on the now reddening flesh.

"I didn't... a-ask you for shit!"

He grunted at your broken words as he pulled the makeshift leash backwards, separated your legs and pulled out his cock once more.

"There we go, baby"

"Y-You're so pathetic-"

Words died in your throat as he slid inch by inch inside. The intrusion made you sob a feeble whimper, it burned and hurt, but in a way you weren't expecting and you liked it.

"Me? Pathetic? Ay muñeca, is not me whose gonna beg me to stop" He pulled your face towards him and kissed you once more, "You won't even remember your name once I'm done with you."

He buried to the hilt as he watched your expression. Troubled yet blissful. A little grip was loosened as he felt you were about to speak again.

"You talk too much shit-."

Part of you regretted said words, cause he smashed your head in the desk and dug his fingers around your hips.

"Is that so?"

Nothing had you prepared for the assailing onslaught of his hips. Fucking was a measly word compared to what he actually was doing to your poor and snug cunt.

It wasn't slapping, his hips thwacked yours with such force you were sure your cervix would be bruised and your legs wouldn't walk properly for the next few days, but as it hurt, it felt good. Too good for your own comfort. Specially when propped a leg ontop of a stool for more leverage to ruin you deeper.

A garbled moan came out your lips, before gritting your teeth together and shaking your head vehemently. He laughed in between deep growls and moans.

"Am I dulling that spark, muñeca?"

Your body lurched forwards, pussy drenched him with every remorseless push he delivered. Eyes struggling to keep on the front, but it was unavoidable to have them rolling back as your jaw slacked open.

High pitched wails rumbled out of your gaping mouth, permeating the once silent room. Two of his fingers slid in your mouth, hot breath colliding against them. They hooked forcing your mouth to keep open.

The desk shook under your weight, the room filled in with moans so sweet and delicious, unlike the many that had been under him.

You were experiencing first hand the danger. Miguel wasn't nice, he wasn't gentle. The latter made an emphasis on its own as he pulled the belt impossibly tighter. A gurgling and rasping noise came from your throat. He wasn't squeezing anymore, he was choking you.

And Dios mio, you were sure you'd die. But dying sounded way too much of a reward than staying in this awful place.

"Yes"

You hissed in between butchered pants and wheezing mewls. Mind set in welcoming the reaper as air was still cut out of your lungs. Legs too weak to keep on their own. Dizziness fogging your mind, fire engulfing your body, Your cunt slurped him in, wetness no longer an issue since he slid and out so easily.

The only indicator you still had consciousness was the little pathetic cries you did as his hips plowed you with a new intensity you didn't know possible.

He had been whispering the filthiest things into your ear, a couple of degrading words you couldn't quite hear, too busy being cock drunk and slipping in and out of consciousness.

Your torso and arms laid in between his arms and the desk, his upper body keeping you still as his hips did the whole assault. His face too snatched in a myriad of things.

Pride cause he finally got to have you and proved you wrong, lust cause you felt just like he had imagined, anger because of your previous words. He was the one that was rawing you into oblivion, had your brain turned upside down, not Gorski, and had you cumming with such an intensity it was overwhelming and too much for your brain to digest.

Too much.

The choking had your brain's fuse in a shortcut, shutting itself off for what it felt like forever, until he spilled himself inside. Renovating your walls white.

Hot cum spurted and not a single drop was wasted as he made sure you kept it inside.

His hulking figure trembled, torn in between subtle and violent spasms that shook him to his very core and raged pants that sent a shiver down your sore spine.

He finally had you and you were his. He wasn't letting you go. Not when he was about to give you a new purpose.

Being his.

---

Everything that he thought good and right blurred. Eyes filled in with tears at your state. Gone. Gone from this world, gone from him, the spark had vanished.

How this happened?

His mind raked through the memories, trying to find the right moment everything went to shit.

He signed a paper. A lobotomy authorization in your behalf.

No!, no!.

"Come back" He pleaded while kissing you and squeezing his hands on the joint of your head and shoulders, to pry something out of you. But nothing came.

The spark had been lost.

And so were you.

"Please, muñeca"

He sobbed and cradled you in his arms, but there was no push, no retaliation, nothing. Only a lovely vessel of his love.

You were gone. For real.

He had been so naive to believe that fucking you senseless meant to have you. He had been such a fool to fall for such a simple thing as that.

And now he had lost you. His own hand brought his demise. Guards and Gorski dragged him out, his hand latched on to you, but even your skin felt different.

"Poppy!"

He yelled but you didn't answer. Just watched him with a look that shattered his heart.

You were free. Free and far far away.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel smut #spiderman 2099 smut #sucker punch #t writes✨#one shot #Miguelverse

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httpsserene · 5 months

Text

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊’𝖘 1𝖐 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 - 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖑𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖘

𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞

summary: tainted, virgin!reader is growing tired of grinding against her boyfriends. she’s never touched herself before—no toys, no fingers, no fondling—the friction from a pillow used to be enough. but, maybe having something inside of her isn’t as terrifying as she believed. charles’ pretty pianist fingers don’t look too scary, and they way he raves about how talented max’s daunting thicker fingers are; well, she could be convinced to see what all the fuss is about. content warning: 18+ only. explicit. no penetrative sex. corruption kink. fingering. hand and finger kink. guided masturbation. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. dialogue heavy. max is a brat tamer. word count: 2.7k words pairing: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader soundtrack: pressure • ari lennox

preface: *laughs maniacally*

prev 1k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents next ↻

max stated, “when you get your nails done today, don’t get a new set. keep them natural; you can get polish but keep them short and rounded with no sharp edges.”

you stared at max with a lukewarm expression. it’s seven in-the-fucking morning, and he’s woken you up from your extremely comfortable position tucked into charles’ chest to tell you that you’re getting your nails done and exactly how he wants them done. he must have lost his mind overnight.

“d’you think,” you croaked out, voice unused from sleep, “that getting my nails done will distract me from realizing that my thighs have healed from the friction burn?”

the dutchman opened his mouth to speak but you held up a hand to shush him, and continued scratchily, “‘cause it hasn’t worked. ‘n i don’t even have an appointment to get my nails done? ‘s not happening today.”

“i made one,” he responded with a self-satisfied smile, “it’s in an hour.”

“WHAT THE HELL, MAX?!” you exclaimed, fighting through the layers of blankets tangled around you to make your way out of bed to rush through getting yourself ready. charles, still asleep, snuffled unhappily at the commotion and rolled over facing away from the two of you.

max chuckled mutely as he watches you stumble off the bed towards to en-suite bath, “use my black card–i’m sure it’ll cover the late fee.”

slamming the bathroom door shut, your yell carries through the door, “I WAS GOING TO USE IT ANYWAYS!”

thanks to years of lounging in bed to the last possible second before you needed to get ready, you were exactly on time to your appointment. it’s a boujee “self-care salon” that you don’t usually go to but it’s pretty much impossible to mess up a soak-off and basic manicure. actually, max is paying so there’s really no harm in treating yourself. you go from a basic manicure to the most luxurious mani-pedi package they offer, there’s even a hand, arm, foot, and calf massage included. you leave a healthy tip too; it’s not like you can run up max verstappen’s black card, he won’t even notice.

by the time you get home, you’ve completely forgotten about being mad at max for terrorizing you with morning. but, you’re quickly reminded of why when he jumps you as soon as you walk in the front door, tugging you in by your hands as he examines your nails.

“sheesh,” you gasp, “can i close the door first?”

charles, more awake but still disgruntled (he considers any-time before noon “too early to be awake), apparates from around the corner and walks to shut the door behind you. he wordlessy shimmies your keys and bag out of your hands, and presses a kiss to your cheek, “bonjour, mon coeur.”

“good morning, charlie,” you murmur sweetly, ignoring max’s general incompetence, “may i…” you shift awkwardly on your feet, “can i have a real kiss, please?”

the brunet’s discontented gaze turned to liquid gold warming your body with the amount of love that poured through just one glance. he leans in to kiss you but yelps, flinching away from you at a pinch on his arm from max.

the older man grunts, “bedroom first. then you can make out with each other to your hearts content.”

your legs have turned to mush from deep kisses, so you’re thankful to be seated on top of charles’ lap on your vanity chair. the monegasque has one hand fisted in the curls at the nape of your neck, moving your head to just the angle he likes as he continues to explore past the seam of your lips. he doesn’t allow you to pull away for more than half a second to catch your breath, all of your hums, moans, and whimpers of delight are caught in his mouth. the lust fogs your brain as he nips and tugs at your bottom lip, the soft skin surrounding your lips raw already from his stubble. the weight of his large hand resting on the small of your back combined with the overwhelming sensations has you shifting your hips rocking back and forth on charles’ thigh, yet you haven’t consciously noticed you actions yet. you haven’t noticed how max has been calling your name to get your attention for a while now.

“liefje, come here,” max’s voice has a commanding edge to it, that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand to attention, “you’ve been patient like i’ve mentioned. so, i think it’s time you experience more than one of our thighs, hm?”

you squirm of charles’ lap, prying his hands off your waist when he tries to tighten his grasp, and eagerly make your way over to the foot of the bed where max is sitting–has he been watching the whole time? the monegasque huffs loudly to inform the two of you of how displeased he is at you discarding him quickly at the promise of something more. the younger man stands up and doesn’t manage to take more than one step in your direction before max halts him.

“and where do you think you’re going?” max asks condescendingly, he pulls you down to sit in between his legs, his chest to your back, so you can face charles, “only good boys get to participate. and if i can remember…two days ago, you decided to be a brat.”

the brat in question reddens, “yes! i was…being mean–but, you said that i don’t get to come, not that i don’t get to touch her?”

max shrugs dismissively, and he starts to undress you–pulling off your shirt to leave you in your bra, while he motions for you to tug off your jeans.

“mon chat–this is unfair,” charles whines, “let me touch her!”

“you want to touch her?” max asks, charles nods eagerly in response, “say you were a brat and apologize, and then maybe i’ll let you touch her.”

the brunet gapes at his boyfriend, stumbling over his words for a few seconds, before he turns to look at you, expecting you to help him out. you curl up, dropping your gaze to your lap and pulling max’s hand around you to play with it while he sorts out charles. the monegasque, too stubborn to do anything but disagree with max, clenches his jaw and fists, before he steps and back and sits in your vanity chair again. he crosses his arms across his chest, and turns his head up at max to emphasize his attitude.

“mmm,” the blonde’s chest rumbles behind you, he dips his head to press a kiss to your temple, “he’ll learn how to act once he realizes he won’t be able to finger your pussy, pretty girl.”

you and charles both jolt with matching gasps of surprise at the reveal of today’s sexual exploration. a meek whimper escapes you and max coos sweetly, “do you want to this, liefje?”

you nod shakily, ignoring the flush of heat to your cheeks and the way you press your thighs together a little tighter.

“words, baby.”

“y-yes, maxy.”

“remember the rules: any time you feel uncomfortable, tell me and we can stop or take a break.”

“y-yeah,” you say airly, “ok.”

“good girl.”

max tilts your head to the side and lavishes kisses along your neck. your breath catches at the unexpected attention, you can only rest limply against max as he sucks marks into your skin. he nips teasingly at your pulse point and you tighten your grasp on his hand to prevent yourself from moaning embarrassingly loud. you let your head fall backwards to give max complete access to the length of your throat, and in the motion you make eye contact with charles. his green eyes are piercing–you can see the envy, yet you can’t tell if he wishes he was max in this moment, or if he wishes he was you.

the dutchman moves lower and focuses on bruising up your collarbone, tugging and biting at the thin skin and you’ve quickly lost your ability to regulate your volume. every exhale transforms into a moan and max’s free hand gets more exploratory as a result. his lips are wet and flushed red when he pulls himself away from the expanse of your newly bruised neck, playing absently with the strap of your bra and whispers next to your ear, “may i take this off, liefje?”

“yeah, yes, yes–take it off,” you rush out, turning shy at the sound of max’s amusement, “you can take it off, please?”

the use of manners quiets the man’s laughter easily; something about the way you use ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ unhesitantly in bed causes his brain to misfire. he rids you of the bra, tossing it at charles, who catches it and stares at max in disdain.

the older man smirks, and brings both of his hands to your chest to ghost the pads of his thumbs against your nipples. the barely there touch had your back arching, pushing your breasts more firmly into his grasp to seek more of the sensation. his chest rumbles behinds you and he steadfastly applies more pressure as he toys with the buds–your moans are more like sharp whines now, and whenever he throws in an occasional pinch you shriek, as your vision already blurs from this level of pleasure. you’ll cum before he gets his hand inside your panties.

you clumsy pull at his right hand, trying to tug it away from your breast to direct him further south, but max tuts disapprovingly and you cease your motions as soon as the sound registers.

“actually, liefje–you won’t need my hand for this part, only my voice.”

you tilt your head towards him to stare in confusion, and max brings his hand up to caress your cheek, “i’m going to teach you how to finger yourself, if that’s okay?”

you gulp, the pressure in your tummy only building, “more than okay.”

max nods, and presses a kiss on your jawline.

“be good for me and touch yourself over your panties, pretty girl.”

you squirm anxiously, but do as he ordered. you drag your hand down past your navel and in between your thighs, trying to keep them as closed as possible without having yourself spread out obscenely. max, obviously, doesn’t allow that to slide, and spreads your legs for you, draping them along the outside of his, his knees pressing outwards to prevent you from slamming your thighs shut. you whimper shamefully, but continue to drag two fingers along the seam of your cunt over your thin panties, the fabric beginning to darken as you start to leak.

“nice and slow until you start to get wet for me, yeah?”

“‘m already wet, maxy,” you murmur, biting your lip to suppress a whimper.

(“merde,” charles groans from across the room, throwing his head backwards.)

max brings his hand down to tug your panties to the side, exposing your cunt to the cooler air of the room, and moans at how your glistenting already, “shit–always so wet for me. keep dragging your fingers up and down, liefje.”

max’s hand continues to rest on your navel after he tucked your panties away, and you quickly bore of the slide of your fingers, huffing silently and nudging your nose against his jaw for the next direction, “once your fingers are nice and wet, you’re going to take just one–and gently press inside, yeah? you should be nice and relaxed, okay–if your pretty hole doesn’t open up easily just keep rubbing at yourself and then try again.”

you nod jerkily, and your first attempt at breaching your inner walls fails. you chickened out–after your felt yourself opening up, the pressure was odd. however, with max’s reassurance, you took another pass over your cunt and then tried again. and this time, your finger easily slid within in you–a shocked gasp pushed from your chest at the intrusion.

“you’re okay,” max murmurs, rubbing at your side and navel calmly, “take your time, get used to the feeling, and when your ready you can start moving that finger, liefje.”

it’s odd–the feeling of something inside you. a little uncomfortable, but not painful like you thought it would be. the strange feeling passes quickly, especially when you draw your finger out and press deeper–it feels good? you think, it feels good at least. max watches the array of emotion pass over your face, and once he sees the previous apprehension dissipate, he instructs you to slide in another finger. the addition for another finger is easier for you this time, even though the pressure is multiplied–as if once you learned that this wouldn’t be painful you were a lot more receptive to the intrusion.

and when your second finger pops in, the stretch feels good. you sigh breathily, and without further instruction, you begin to slowly thrust your fingers. max leans back and allows you to awkwardly fumble through your own motions, allowing you to figure out what brings you pleasure and what doesn’t. you mimic what you’ve heard girls talk about before, curling your fingers, scissoring them wide, pressing them upwards–and it feels fucking euphoric. your moans begin to ring through the room, and your hips buck dowards to meet your palm, pushing in your fingers deep.

“hm–you see why you needed your nails cut now, pretty girl,” max teases. his words go unheard by you, you’re more focused on trying to find the one spot everybody raves about–you want your vision to flash white, your toes to curl, your eyes to roll, your back to arch, your chest to heave–but you can’t find it. you whine in displeasure, kicking your foot out angrily, and begin to more vigorously thrust your fingers to no avail.

“let me give you a hand, pretty.”

max gently removes your hand, a sob falling from your lips at the newfound emptiness, but quickly soothes you with the press of two of his fingers inside of you. you and max moan in unison–max at the feeling of just how tight and dripping wet you are and you at the size of his fingers. max patiently waits for you to adjust, before he begins to absolutely ravage your pussy. his fingers are unforgiving; his rhythm is consistent, the pads of his fingers press firmly along your walls, and he finds your sweet spot after his second attempt of searching.

you shriek, legs trying and failing to slam shut at the overload of pleasure—max coos, ‘good girl’s’ and ‘so pretty’s’ falling from his lips freely. it’s a testament to how talented he is with is fingers that as soon as his thumb falls to press at the bud of your clit–you cum.

it surprises you, max, and charles (from across the room). it’s so overwhelming you cry–forget a toe-curling orgasm, you’e pretty sure you’ve just forgotten your name. your hips are frantically thrusting forward freely, and maxx continues to rub his hand over yout clit until you start bucking away from him in discomfort. you’ve soaked the bed, again. the dutchman tenderly pulls his fingers from the pulsing warmth of your cunt, and calls charles to the bed.

the younger man rushes forward, kneeling on the bed next to max. wordlessly, the blonde shoves his fingers covered in your essence into his mouth, smirking wide at how charles’ eyes widen, exposing his blown out pupils, before they drop to a half-lidded gaze as he thoroughly slurps max’s fingers clean.

when charles pulls away from max’s hand, panting heavily like he was the one who was just brought to a mind-blowing orgasm, max drops that same saliva-covered hand to grope at the bulge in charles’ pants.

the monegasque moans highly, hips thrusting forward to press deeper in to max’s hand–but he pulls it away cruelly.

“you better go take a cold shower charles, since you still can’t come for a while,” max orders nonchalantly, “you might want to put some music on while you’re in there. i would hate for you to get hard again when you hear me make her squirt.”

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