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fanaticsnail · 8 months ago

Text

"Good Boy"

Masterlist here

Word count: 3,200+

Synopsis: Eustass Kid didn't know exactly when it happened, but now he craves to be praised by you. He thrives beneath your words, but the one time you didn't call him a "good boy" has him in a bratty rage.

Themes: mutual pining, kid x gn!reader, fluffy, praise kink Kid, he just wants to be a good boy, no kisses just praise.

Notes: it's past 1am where I am, and I physically couldn't get to sleep until I got this request by @remisloves out of my mind. It's all about praise and softening rough characters lately with me. Good night everyone! Sweet blorbo dreams

Tag list: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @carrotsunshine

A shudder erupted from the base of Eustass Kid's spine to the top of his cranium. Downturning his chin, he attempted to disguise how wide his smile had risen to his lips beneath the shadow of his blast goggles.

Never one to shy away from a challenge, Captain Kid pushed himself to the absolute limit to best his latest opponent. Blood dripping from his body, his bones bent to the point of nearly breaking. The weight of his metal arm overencumbered his body, his brute strength no longer enough to propel his legs forward.

Successful at last, he claimed their loot in their vast treasury, selecting a few key pieces that caught his eye to present back to you: a former thief, his ships’ appraiser, and now his curator of chronological dialogue, items and routines.

What would possess this hulking captain to risk his body and his crew to collect this small piece of art to present to you? Why would he ever risk such a heavy physical toll for a mere trinket?

Because he was a good boy.

And you always informed him as such.

While Kid saw no need for a chronicler initially, he very quickly warmed to the idea of maintaining one on his payroll. When Massacre Soldier Killer suggested a small snippet of their adventures be cataloged in journals, Kid never knew that reading the words back would prompt a rapid boil beneath his skin. A craving. A need.

Seeing those words scribed on paper held him hostage. Those doting, praising, uplifting words that held such passionate composition regarding his exploits; they pushed him to go further, drive harder, propell longer in his adventures. This was all in an attempt to dream of seeing more of those beautiful words describing him articulated upon paper.

Well, his exploits at least.

Most of all, he craved to hear them depart from your lips. You managed to slip a single verbalized expression of praise once upon his return from doing a menial task. Since then, he was hooked on the rush it brought him.

“Oh, wow! Captain, you've done so well! So unbelievably well!” was that first door opening to the praise he needed.

That small snippet from you, was all well and good in his opinion. He did enjoy your recognition of his talent, but it was not what he craved the most.

And what he wanted the most, was to be told he was, “a good boy.”

He couldn't explain it, but the thought of hearing those words flee from your lips had his eyelids half-hooded, eyes glazed, pupils blackened and blown, and a droopy smile lazily draw itself up onto his lips.

You had only ever come close one time to praising him personally, rather than the talent of his exploits. He felt the flutter of his heart rapidly igniting his veins with adrenaline, screaming with his eyes for you to utter the words he so desperately craved.

And you said it.

You finally said it today.

His feet thumped upon the wooden deck, after he hoisted himself over the small opening on the side of the ship. The ‘away team' had finally assembled together and began greeting those who remained behind.

Rushing to greet your Captain, he shot you a reciprocated, triumphant and winning smile, while happily presenting a small object up to you in the center of his right, flesh hand.

“You found it? You actually found it?” your eyes widened, reaching your hand out to Kid's extended right palm. His body was still dripping with the blood of his enemies, a visible shake in his fingertips as he elevated the trinket up to you.

“It nearly cost me my other arm,” he winced through the words, his forearm beginning to twitch beneath the strain of his exhaustion, “But I brought it back for you-...” he halted his words, pondering whether it was now time to make his affections known or not “...-to add to the collection.”

“For me?” your eyes widened, looking at the shiny and ornate gold filigree design. In the center of the flattened piece lay a single garnet: small, something one would cast aside should more items be presented. But to you, a prized piece in an antique collection you had been dedicating your life to find.

“It's the missing piece, yeah?” Kid smirked, huffing through his words as the rest of the crew assembled atop the Victoria Punk, “The one you told us about last Friday?”

“Honestly, Captain, I don't remember half of what happened last Friday,” you confessed sheepishly, up turning your brows as your fingers brushed against his palm, “You'd think my liver would be able to tolerate being aboard your ship, drinking that slosh alongside the crew by now.”

He barked a cracked cackle at your confession, prompting your own to rise in your chest. His laugh was contagious, a laugh that could be felt through his whole body springing and vibrating up within your own.

“Thank you, captain,” you expressed your deepest gratitude to the taller man, your head nodding in praise, “You don't know what this means to me.”

After a moment's pause, he looked down at the object before bringing his whisky-coloured eyes back up to meet with your own. He inhaled a shaken breath, baited and waiting within his lungs while anticipating his next words.

“S-So,” he stuttered over his words, scolding himself under his own anxiety, “Did I do good? Is this the one you needed? Am I a-...” he didn't want to lead you into giving him the praise he desperately sought, but didn't want to not hear it either.

With all the patience you could muster upon such a triumphant moment in your life, you prompted him with your eyes to have him complete his sentence.

“...Am I a good-...” trying so, so hard to say the final word, he physically couldn't have them pass his lips, “...-Captain?” He mentally slapped himself, knowing that those were not the words he craved and how stupid that must've made him sound.

You took a moment to carefully think about your next words, noticing how bruised he was, how bloody his knuckles were, how a lot of the crew that went with him on this private ‘away mission' were faring upon return.

“Of course you are. You captain us extremely well, sir,” you uttered with a soft smile, “I'll adjust my findings accordingly in the journals, if I may be excused?”

A small puff of air flew from his lips, defeat almost tangibly thick as it shrouded his shoulders with its presence. He looked away after giving his nod of dismissal, his gaze fixed on the wood of the deck below his feet.

Your smile widened, claiming the object from his palm and holding your hand within his for a moment longer, before withdrawing completely. Fluttering your eyes over each fixed point of concern on his features, you searched for what his body seemed to be screaming for.

Thanking him with a curt nod, you turned on your heel and abruptly halted your next step.

At this moment, it fully dawned on you exactly the words your Captain wanted to hear. Eustass Kid, captain of the Kid pirates, champion and leader of the Victoria punk, devil-fruit user and wielder of Haki… had a praise kink. And he wanted you to praise him.

A playful smile spread like warm honey up your cheeks, a scrunch in your nose as you rolled your next words over your tongue. You turned your head over your shoulder, guarding your intentions close to your chest as you spoke two words that almost had your Captain fall on his knees in gratitude.

“Good boy.”

From that moment on, he was simply smitten. No matter what he did, whether it was aiding his crew with carrying supplies, carrying out great acts of violence, defending his Nakama from their enemies, or simply finishing his vegetables at meal time - he would look to you in anticipation, that anticipation being met with those two simple words.

“Good boy.”

They echoed within his mind, swirling around within the chasms of his brain as slumber eluded him. He did not mind in the slightest having his lack of rest consumed with praises departing from your lips.

Your voice plagued him, haunted him as a spectral ghost would hunt down their unfinished business. He did not mind such a haunting, in fact: he wanted more. He wanted to have more praise, more compliments, more of your verbal, beautiful words crying out from your perfect lips.

He was smitten, completely smitten, by your compliments. The way your talented tongue made his name sound, the way your lips curved up in a knowing smirk each time you told him he was a ‘good boy.’

Until the day you didn't.

Eustass Kid was in a foul mood, one that nobody knew the cause nor the cure for such a horrid, stampeding mess of a captain. Food, ales, meads, even gold - nothing appeared to pry him from his raging temper. Breaking tankards, tipping over tables, scattering documents on his captains’ desk, nothing was safe from the wrath he was wreaking on the furniture.

Hunched over your desk, you continued cataloging and appraising the latest haul of trinkets and treasures thrust into your office. It was overwhelming for you, the sheer number of items scattered around your room. You attempted to alphabetize them, sort them accordingly and lump them into itemized piles.

The toll the elevation of work raised onto your shoulders had you dismiss all those who presented you with various finds, including your Captain. He rocked on the ball and heels of his feet, eagerly awaiting and anticipating his sought-after praise - but found nothing but an anxious sigh and scratch of your neck in response to his hard labor.

This was the reason for his intense rage.

After leaving your office, and selfishly paying no mind to your exhausted expression, he began to spiral.

“He was so good. Why didn't you tell him he was? Was there something he could've done better? Something he could've pushed harder to strive for?” all circled within his mind as he tore piece after piece of his office apart.

Several hours had passed, and you carved a hefty chunk of your work apart and managed to get a fair bit done. It was nowhere near complete, but it had you feeling a sense of anxious accomplishment.

A knock at the door prompted you to raise your chin, eyes panicked and overwhelmed with the amount of work still required to be completed before mealtime.

“Need help?” The light flickered off the cerulean and pearl colored mask of the first mate, who peeked his head around the doorframe.

“Please,” you sighed, gesturing to your position kneeling on the ground beside you. Killer promptly entered your office, crouching beside you and sifting through the uncharted treasures still needing to be sorted.

“What we up to?” he elevated his hand, gesturing out to the various piles in front of you both, “I think I see where they need to go. You written down them all?”

“All recorded in the book, down to the last drooped earpiece,” you confirmed, nodding to the mess in the center of the room, “They just need to be put in the right piles, locked in the treasury, and then we can call it a night. Maybe have an ale, if you're up for it, Kil?”

After a moment's pause, both of you rolling the items in your fingertips and placing them within the according: gold, silver, platinum, gemstone, raw material, ceramic, wearable materials, and weaponry piles.

“Leave this with me,” Killer uttered, placing a throwing knife within the weaponry stack, “And you go and perform your other job.”

“What other job?” your brows knit with confusion, “I've already done the journalling of the exploits, the timetabling of the crew shift-changes, notarizing the stock we need within the kitchen-.”

“-Oh, no, buckaroo,” you could audibly hear the smirk behind Killer's mask as he teased you, “the other one. The one nobody pays you to do.”

“Which is, champ?” you taunted in return, nudging him with your shoulder roughly against his, “Be specific.”

“The one where you-...” he took this brief pause as an opportunity to sigh in huffed frustration, “...-where you tell our captain he's a good boy. Although, in his current state,” Killer rotated his neck to relieve the tension on his shoulders, “I might even go so far as to suggest you call him a bad one, considering that's exactly how he's behaving.”

Your confusion knit your brow down in the center of your face, your mind focussing on when the last time you praised the puppy you had turned your Captain into.

“Oh, fuck! I didn't praise him when he brought in the loot!” your eyes widened in shock, promptly rising to your feet and brushing over your pants, “I just got so overwhelmed by the sheer bloody number, I couldn't think of anything else. Oh, I'm an idiot.”

“You're not an idiot,” Killer interrupted you, rising to his own feet and cupping your shoulders in an attempt to halt the rise in your anxiety, “Hell, you're not even dating him. It shouldn't be your job-,” he brushed over your shirt, adjusting the crumpled material to make it more appealing to the eye.

“-Yet here you are,” he concluded, nodding at you before glancing down at the piles of treasure, “And here I am: the first-mate, the best friend, the confidant. The one who is unable to tear him away from his absolutely shit-house mood, because all he wants is you.”

You attempted to stifle the warm flush that drew itself up to your cheeks. Captain Kid was a tall, broad and intimidating man - those were the three assessments you initially made when you were hired to serve aboard the Victoria Punk. Then you got to know him, and were made privy to truly see who he was beneath the surface.

The twinkle behind the feral rage, the purity in his unbridled emotions, the lack of restraint in all his advances: you adored him. When he began to seek out your praises, you were immediately swooning at his attention.

He wanted your words, not just due to the fact words were your job, but because he wanted you to speak them. Just to speak his praises to be granted the luxury of a light tingle in his ears, a blush rise to his cheeks and a smile decorating his lips with such beautiful words.

Now within the doorframe of your captain's office, you arched your brow and crossed your arms. Leaning on the wooden panel, you continued to watch his chest rise and fall with each exasperated and berzerk breath. Your eyes never left his body, each arch of his back and ripple of his muscles straining under the taut fabrics atop his shoulders.

“All this because I didn't call you a good boy?” you addressed him in a low and dangerous tone. His feral eyes snapped over to you, widening as he truly witnessed the devastation in the destruction in his office.

“You've been a bad boy, I see,” you continued in your dark tone, promptly stepping into his office and closing the door behind you, “Look at all this mess. Tsk, naughty.”

The click of your tongue had Kid arching his back, straightening his spine as he bit back a soft whimper. His brows triangulated in the center of his face, bottom lip now quivering under the weight of your disciplinary tone.

Circling his body, fingers brushing against his large right hand beside his hip as you leaned into him. You shook your head, stooping down and beginning to collect the paper, stationary, tankards, and paperweights that had been flung against the floor.

Before you could say a following, disciplinary word, Kid immediately fell onto his knees and began hurriedly picking up the items he threw onto the ground beside you.

“I-I’ll pick it all up,” he nodded his head as to confirm his words further, “I'll tidy up all this shit. Please, I-I’m sorry. I just-.”

“-Just wanted to be praised, hm?” you hummed at him. He hid his head from view, his painted lips pouting while his eyes held their attention firmly against the mess.

He nodded, the weight of finally admitting his craving lifting off his chest and shoulders as he received the items you were holding atop the stack he was forming.

“Tidy up your mess, handsome,” you smiled, elevating your right hand to capture his pointed chin within your thumb and index finger, “I'll watch every step you take, and let you know how good you're being, if you do it properly.”

Kid’s breath caught in his lungs, a pink dust settled against his cheeks and ears. He hurriedly rose to his feet, up-turning his askew desk and dusting off his captains’ chair. He extended it outwards, wordlessly and politely gesturing for you to take a seat.

“My, my,” you commented, rising to your feet and accepting his invitation, “Such a gentleman, you're being. But, you've gotta’ work a little bit harder to earn that title you crave.”

Captain Eustass Kid was a dutiful, whimpering puppy under your watchful eyes. He was, almost, happily rearranging all of the objects he had thrown askew. He even took the time to appropriately categorize the pages he didn't complete prior to his little tantrum.

“Hm, very good. Well done picking up after yourself.” He blushed further at your words, but craved so much more.

“Oh, look at how much time you're taking on that bookshelf. I can even see how clean you're making each of the panels. Look at you go, big boy.” That praise had him whimpering, his eyes fluttering shut as he continued to clean in silence.

“So strong, picking up that heavy weight all by yourself. So proud of you.” He could not stop the audible gasp, nor the rush of blood seeping to places they had no business in flooding to at that moment.

He completed all this while glancing over his shoulder and thriving beneath the giddy feeling rushing to his chest upon being the center of your unwavering gaze.

Upon the last paperweight being placed and straightened atop his desk, he knelt between your knees and glanced up into your eyes. He looked innocent of all wrongdoing, all prior anger and malice fleeing from within his silent pleading.

He was desperate for those words, those two simple little words that he so yearned for. Noseying up further between your knees, his shuddering metal and flesh hands cautiously placed themselves gently on your calves.

Soft and slow circles were traced against your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as they began twinkling with hope. All his mind was screaming, silently and internally, was a simple repetition of: “Please, please, please. Say it, say it, say it.”

And you obliged him by leaning down, caressing his left, scarred cheek and drawing your lips close enough to taste the tingle of his breath upon your skin. Hovering before contact was made, you floated your gaze between his whisky-hued orbs and his parted lips with a soft smile.

“Good boy.”

#one piece #x reader #Eustass Kid #eustass kid x reader #op kid #one piece eustass kid #kid x reader #kid x gn!reader #gn!reader #one piece x reader #kid has a praise kink #he just wants to be a good boy #fic request #ask snail #snail answers #snail needs sleep

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lonely-cowboy · 11 months ago

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breaking point

pairing: connor (rk800) x gn!reader

summary: to prove which of you is the better detective, you and connor like to play a little game. this time around, connor is more determined than ever to reach your breaking point.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: nothing but wildly ooc connor, it’s just them yapping away and being arrogant lil assholes

author's note: do i like this? not at all. am i gonna blame it on the fact it's 1am? sure. i just wanted to write smth ok, leave me alone

masterlist ⟡ requests

The best days at the precinct were the ones with no work. No crime scenes to investigate, no files to sort, no nothing. But they weren’t your favorite because you hated your job and the workload (quite the opposite, actually). No, they were your favorite because you could have some alone time with Connor, playing the little game you always did.

As head forensic psychologist, you were primarily tasked with interviewing suspects and analyzing their reactions. Your job got a lot harder when Connor joined the department, making your job look so much easier than it actually was.

Rather than view him as your rival, you viewed Connor as a challenge. You wanted to prove (to yourself more than anyone else) that you were just as good at your job as any android. Besides, you respected Connor’s interrogation process far too much to hate him. Or rather, you liked watching him during his interrogation process. Really, you just liked watching him in general.

When there was no work and the precinct was nearly empty, you and Connor were allowed to take over the interrogation room. You would sit across from each other, doing everything you could to make the other break in a mock interrogation.

It was there that you found yourself, hands neatly clasped atop the table and brow raised in arrogant curiosity. Connor stood opposite you with his palms pressed against the table, scrutinizing you with narrowed eyes. His eyes scanned over you as he tilted his head in that annoyingly endearing way before pulling back and rubbing his hands together in thought.

“Do you believe Lieutenant Anderson is a good mentor?” Connor asked.

The two of you always asked each other meaningless questions, doing your best to refrain from answering or to successfully lie to the other. At this question, you remained silent for a moment longer than you should have.

“Yes,” you replied simply, offering a nonchalant shrug in an attempt to throw Connor off.

“You’re lying,” he accused immediately.

“I would never,” you retorted. “I’m offended you would think so.”

Connor ceased his questioning to eye you suspiciously. His eyes trailed over your body for any indication of discomfort or nervousness. You hoped he wouldn’t find any.

“The brevity of your response and lack of natural movement suggest you’re lying,” Connor said as he studied you again. “You believe you’d be a better mentor than Lieutenant Anderson, don’t you?”

“In some aspects, yes,” you answered truthfully. After all, to lie properly was to occasionally tell the truth.

Connor nodded along with your response, noting the way you remained unaffected despite being caught in a lie. He would need to do something more to break you, something that would make you sweat.

Your gaze followed Connor as he started to pace the length of the room. Your attention was drawn to his LED as it flashed quickly between colors. Blue. Yellow. Red. Red? Yellow.

The occasional bright red made your brows furrow. Was he really that stumped? He couldn’t think of a single way to break you? You doubted it. Something else must have been on his mind, your thoughts racing at what could have him so conflicted.

“Connor,” you whispered hesitantly.

The sound of his name seemed to snap him back to attention. Connor immediately stopped pacing and fixed you with a steady gaze as if he had come to a decision. With careful steps, Connor rounded the table to stand beside you. He leaned against the table and looked down at you with his arms crossed confidently.

“You’re hard to break, aren’t you?” he murmured.

The crease between your brows deepened as your confusion grew. You were puzzled by Connor’s sudden proximity and the low tone of his voice.

“Well, I… I guess it’s part of the job,” you said softly.

Connor nodded and agreed simply, “Truth.”

Another beat of silence passed as Connor did nothing but watch you. His eyes flitted about your figure, though it seemed as though he wasn’t analyzing you this time around. It was like he was looking at you just to look at you.

“Do you find enjoyment in our little game? In successfully lying to me?” Connor inquired.

You were hesitant to answer, your confusion outweighing any thought. When you did speak, your voice cracked slightly when you answered, “Yes.”

“Do you find enjoyment in other ways from our game?” he continued.

“No.”

“Lie.”

You couldn’t help but stare at Connor. You wanted to tear your gaze away from his desperately, but there was something so appealing about the hardness of his typically gentle eyes.

When you didn’t answer, Connor raised his brows and leaned forward expectantly. The intensity of his gaze made you suddenly nervous, your heart racing as you moved to fidget with your hands.

“I need a truthful answer, Detective,” Connor stated firmly.

He knew the answer. He knew you were lying. He just wanted you to say it. There was no point in denying anything now.

“Yes.”

Connor hummed and finally pulled his gaze away from you, allowing you to sigh in relief. There was something in his eyes that made you… inexplicably anxious.

“Can you elaborate?” Connor prodded after a moment.

“I can,” you replied quietly. “But I don’t want to.”

At your refusal, Connor’s attention snapped back to you, the crinkle in his brow suggesting his mild surprise.

“Why is that, Detective?” he urged. When he got no response, only your steady gaze locked with his, he continued. “Are you worried it may incriminate you?”

“No,” you replied calmly.

Admittedly, you were very proud of yourself for keeping such an unperturbed composure. Your face remained tranquil and your voice confident. But your external composure meant nothing, not when it was Connor interrogating you. He could detect your pounding heart and uneven breaths with ease. You bet he could even sense the claminess of your palms.

“Lie.”

You weren’t entirely sure why you even attempted to lie anymore. Connor was a walking polygraph, he could see through any of your lies no matter how believable they were.

But being as stubborn as you were, you refused to admit that Connor was right. Instead, you sucked in a slow breath and pressed your lips in a thin line, eyes locked on Connor the entire time. Your stubbornness made him frown, though you knew it was a quality he had always admired.

“Fine. If you won’t tell me yourself then I’ll just have to guess,” Connor shrugged with mock defeat. He pretended to think for a moment, lips pursed in a way that made your eyes dart to his mouth. “Is it because you find superiority in besting me?”

Connor started tame. Anyone would feel superior after besting an android, he was well aware of that. And you knew he was aware. What was he trying to get at?

“Yes, partially,” you said, cursing yourself for admitting that it was only part of the reason you found your mock interrogations so enjoyable.

Connor seemed unphased by your answer as if he already knew there was more to your enjoyment. He sat in quiet deliberation again, though he had already settled on his next question.

“Is it because you’re attracted to me?” Connor questioned innocently.

Connor was smart, you knew this. You knew this and still thought that maybe– just maybe— he wouldn’t be able to guess correctly.

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing away from Connor, knowing that it only made you look more suspicious. You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes focused on the wall in front of you.

“Detective?” Connor pressed as he waited patiently for an answer.

You startled at the light touch of his hand on your chin as he slowly turned you back to him. He kept a gentle but firm grip on your chin, looking down at you questioningly. The feeling of his skin against yours didn’t help at all. It only worked to accelerate your heartbeat, which Connor immediately took note of.

“Your heart rate has increased by 32%, Detective,” Connor observed. “An increased and irregular heart rate is typically a sign of nervousness. Are you nervous?”

“You know the answer,” you mumbled.

“You’re right, I do,” he confessed easily. “But I want to hear it from you; are you nervous?”

“Yes.”

“Because I was correct in assuming you’re attracted to me?”

You inhaled slowly, working up the nerve to answer. But there was no point, you both knew your answer. He knew. You knew. It felt like everyone in the precinct– everyone in the world– knew.

“Yes…”

The corner of Connor’s lips quirked into a satisfied smirk having successfully broken his most stubborn participant. He slowly pulled his hand away from your chin, resting it flat against the tabletop. His arrogance sparked something inside you, compelling you to act unnaturally bold.

“Fine, you win,” you grunted, rising from your seat. “Congratulations.”

Without much thought, you reached for Connor’s tie and yanked him into you, smashing your lips against his. Your hand was tight around his tie, your nerves seeping into your grip. You pulled away sharply, only allowing him a quick kiss before your nerves could fully return. You released his tie and gently pushed his chest to put some distance between the two of you.

“There’s your prize,” you hissed, though you both knew there was nothing menacing behind your tone.

It was Connor’s turn to feel flustered, finally. His cheeks were coated with a faint blush, his eyes wide and utterly perplexed. His lips were still parted slightly like he was savoring the feeling of your lips against his. Unease boiled in your chest the longer Connor did nothing.

But the look in his eyes settled any feelings of insecurity. He looked entirely infatuated with you. And when he spoke again, that infatuation only made itself clearer.

“If that’s my prize, I’ll have to win more often.”

#detroit become human #connor x reader #dbh connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh connor #connor rk800

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sissylittlefeather · 1 month ago

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Kinktober Day 18: Dirty Talk

Burnin' Love

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, dirty talk, mentions of sex

Word Count: ~1.2k

Kinktober Masterlist

You walk into the studio sound booth at exactly 12:26am. Elvis has been there working on this song since about 4 in the afternoon and he's still not pleased with it. You haven't been a producer for long, and they usually only call you in when they're desperate to go home. That's how you end up here, in the studio, with Elvis Presley at nearly 1am. His band is exhausted. Their parts are perfect. It's his vocals that he isn't happy with yet. The song is complicated and he won't rest until it's just right.

“Alright, goddamnit, let's go again.” He says into the mic, ready to run it through again. His voice has an edge to it like he's irritated to still be working on the same song. You were nervous enough to be called in, much less to be called in to work with him, but you also know that his musicians are exhausted and you might be reaching a point of diminishing returns. You take a deep breath and try to ignore how good he looks, dark hair a little messy, lips shining with where he keeps running his tongue over them. Clearing your throat, you speak softly into the mic.

“Uh, Mr. Presley, maybe we should let the musicians go and you just try your tracks a few more times.” He looks up at the booth suddenly. Who the hell was that?!

“Honey, who are you?”

“I'm the producer, sir. They called me in to cover the night-”

“My name is Elvis. You don't need to call me sir.” He smiles up at the booth with his eyes sparkling behind his sunglasses. Your voice catches his attention and then when he sees you in the booth with your headphones on, he's ready to keep recording all night long. His irritation disappears with the curvature of your lips and the way your skirt hugs your thighs.

“Oh, okay, Elvis. Maybe we should let them go?” He smirks a little and then shrugs.

“Fine with me, honey. Y'all heard her. Clear out.” The musicians sigh gratefully and begin to pack up. “What's your name, doll?”

“Y/n. I think we only need a couple more takes.” You try to ignore his burning gaze and fiddle with something in the booth.

“Oh, I don't know, honey. These lyrics are really throwing me for a loop. Might need your help.” You lift your head quickly and meet his eyes. Even behind his glasses, they're piercing and you can see as he looks up and down your body. He breathes out a laugh as he notices a blush rising in your cheeks.

“Of course, sir- I mean Elvis. Whatever you need.” You stumble over the consonants and try to keep it together, but you can already feel yourself getting wet. He knows the effect he's having and thoroughly enjoys watching you drop into a chair as your knees go weak.

“Whatever I need?” He gives you a devilish smile, adjusting the headphones on his ears and you whimper, glad he can only hear you when you have the mic turned on in the recording booth.

Once everyone has gone and it's just you and him, you get the track ready to play for him to sing with, actively ignoring your arousal as it dampens your panties.

“Okay, Mr. Presley-”

“Elvis.” He smiles and you almost faint.

“Elvis, I'm going to play the track and you just do your vocal part.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Your hand shakes, but you press play and let the track run. He starts to sing and then stops, his fingertips on the headphones and a slight frown on his face while you pause the track.

“What's the next line, doll?”

“Girl, girl, girl, girl, you gonna set me on fire.” He smirks.

“Set what on fire?” You blink a couple times before you can answer. He licks his lips again, imagining how warm your body would be against him. Finally, you get it out.

“Set me on fire.”

“Am I setting you on fire, honey?”

“I-um-I-what?” You stutter and stammer into the mic and he chuckles.

“Can you sing the line for me?” He gives you a cheeky little grin and you start to suspect he's being difficult on purpose. But you're not about to let on that you've figured this out, so you sing the line.

“Girl, girl, girl, girl you gonna set me on fire.” He was right, your sweet little voice is almost as pretty as you are.

“Mmm honey, I've half a mind to get you in here singing backup for me.” Your cheeks turn pink again.

“Oh, um, thank you. Shall we continue?” He nods.

“Of course.” You push play and he keeps singing until he gets a few more lines done. “What's the line?”

“Burning, burning, burning and nothing can cool me.” He wraps his hand around the mic and pulls it in close to him.

“Oh, honey, I think you could cool me just right, what do you think?” His voice in the microphone is smooth and sexy in your headphones and you feel your center drip even more.

“Huh?”

“Nothin' baby.” He goes back to singing and you make it through the next set of lyrics before he stops you again.

“Next line?”

“It's coming closer, the flames are now licking my body.” He chuckles again.

“Licking what?”

“Licking my body.” You answer, trying to stay as professional as possible. A lopsided grin spreads across his face and he decides to kick it up a notch.

“You want me to lick your body, honey?” You sit in stunned silence and stare at him. You're so turned on you can barely breathe. “I can think of a few places on your body I'd like to lick.”

“Like where?” It comes tumbling out of you breathlessly before you can stop it. He wets his lips with his tongue.

“I bet you've got a pretty little spot between your thighs that I'd love to get my tongue into.” You moan softly into the microphone and he adjusts himself to make his erection less uncomfortable.

“Mr. Presley…” You whisper airily.

“Elvis. I'd love to get these sideburns on your thighs, baby.” You whimper again and he doubles down. “Put my tongue in that pretty pussy.”

You're so hot and bothered at this point that you can't even remember what you're supposed to be doing. He pulls the mic to his lips and keeps going.

“You wanna cum in my mouth, baby?”

“Yes…” You hear yourself whisper as you grind against the chair for friction.

“Let me put this big cock inside you? You want that, honey?” He starts to stroke himself over his pants and you bite your lip and whine.

“Yeah…” You rub your thighs together and watch as he grins and continues to palm his dick over his pants.

“Well, are you comin’ to me or am I comin’ in there?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @deltafalax @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @jhoneybees @polksaladava @searchingforgravity @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @your-nanas-house @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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maplesyrupsainz · 1 year ago

Text

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙i like shiny things 🧁 | LS2˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: logan sargeant x faceless y/n reader (she/her)

genre: social media au

warnings: nothing but fluff plz ignore the dates on the tweets it's nearly 1am 💀

summary: in which logan soft launches his new baker gf but everyone puts the puzzle pieces together faster than expected

song

my masterlist

part 2!!! (yourbff x DR3)

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, danielricciardo, and 4,738 others

yourusername life lately 🥐

view all 1,054 comments

user1 omg crumpets is growing so big

liked by yourusername

yourbff are u trying to soft launch

yourbff y/n are u soft launching without telling me

yourusername i am doing no such thing

yourbff answer ur phone

user2 the f1 drivers in the likes r suspicious

user3 right?? like have we missed something

user4 the bakery looks so amazing y/n i cant wait for the opening 🫶

liked by yourusername

logansargeant

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 68,857 others

logansargeant spending the break from racing wisely (i think)

view all 7,328 comments

oscarpiastri oh hello

user5 what do u know

user6 does he have a gf??

user7 a girl? is this new information

alex_albon interesting 🧐

liked by logansargeant and yourusername

yourbff hi logan

logansargeant hello

whatsapp ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, yourbff and 11,938 others

yourusername my bakery is officially open 🧁 thank u to everyone who came down today & to my friends nd family who helped out .. i cant believe this is my life i am so grateful

tagged: yourbff

view all 7,012 comments

logansargeant ❤️

liked by yourusername

user8 so proud of u y/n <3

liked by yourusername

user9 wow i need to visit

alex_albon was smuggled a cupcake

yourusername thoughts?

alex_albon we will be back tomorrow

yourusername 🥰🥰

user10 what is going on here

yourbff never been so proud in my life 😢🩷

liked by yourusername

twitter ->

instagram ->

logansargeant

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 87,381 others

logansargeant third wheelin

view all 13,176 comments

user13 HEAR ME OUT

alex_albon those cupcakes are for me

logansargeant go away

liked by yourusername

user14 waittt oomf might've been onto something bc that dog looks exactly like crumpets 💀

user15 THAT IS CRUMPETS

oscarpiastri i never make it onto these posts

alex_albon me neither mate

oscarpiastri are we not friends anymore

logansargeant you are clingy

oscarpiastri what happened to bros before hoes

yourusername excuse me

twitter ->

whatsapp ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, alex_albon and 8,721 others

yourusername another day another bake 🍒

view all 3,675 comments

user13 y/n we know

user16 we know

user17 i think we know

alex_albon well u tried

yourusername i warned him

logansargeant cat's out the bag

yourusername you mean dog?

liked by logansargeant, alex_albon and oscarpiastri

logansargeant

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 78,042 others

logansargeant her ❤️

tagged: yourusername

view all 32,657 comments

user13 thank you everyone

liked by yourusername

yourusername 🩷🧁

liked by logansargeant

yourbff FINALLY

yourbff NOW GET ME IN THAT PADDOCK

liked by yourusername, logansargeant and danielricciardo

user18 everybody say sorry user13

twitter ->

whatsapp ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, yourbff and 23,839 others

yourusername i like shiny things but i'd marry u with paper rings 🩷🪽

tagged: logansargeant

view all 13,847 comments

logansargeant i love you

yourusername i love you 🍰

user13 they r so personal to me

user19 parents

yourbff this could be me & daniel ricciardo but u insist on keeping us apart for some reason

danielricciardo are we being cock blocked?

yourbff AM I BEING PRANKED RIGHT NOW

logansargeant you're welcome

THE END 🩷

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #logan sargeant #ls2 #smau #f1 smau #oscar piastri #alex albon #daniel ricciardo #maddie's smau

890 notes · View notes

lizzyiii · 1 month ago

Text

His Darling (1)

pairing | loki x fem!reader

taglist | to be added to this taglist just add your username to this DOC

word count | 3.5k words

summary | loki and mobius track down a runaway TVA analyst who disappeared from the timeline. to their surprise, they find you thriving as a famous singer, living a life of glamour far removed from the TVA.

tags | nothing much really, only the start of the plot, big y/n moment (she sings)

a/n | excited for this, not proofread, don't blame me because where I'm posting it's 1am. And yes I gave her that y/n moment of singing a song. And I made her sing Fiona Apple, and that should already sum up the type of person I am

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ - ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

“She’s an analyst.”

Loki glanced at Mobius, eyebrow raised. “And how do you think an analyst is supposed to help us?” His tone was dripping with skepticism.

Mobius gave a small shrug as they stepped out of the time portal, landing in the middle of bustling New York, 2020. The city pulsed with life, bright lights reflecting off skyscrapers, cars honking, people crossing streets with hurried purpose. “She’s kind of a genius,” Mobius replied, more serious now. “You know the type—quiet, observant, can be a real know-it-all... because, well, she actually does know it all.”

Loki snorted, his eyes sweeping across the towering skyline, his posture stiffening with unease. The last time he had set foot in this city, it was in ruins, crumbling under his attempt to claim Earth. The streets had been filled with fear, not the careless buzz of normal life.

“New York looks so... different,” Loki muttered, his eyes narrowing as if trying to piece together the memory of destruction with the vibrant city before him. “Last time I was here, the streets were burning, and the people were running for their lives.”

Mobius smirked, rolling his eyes. “Well, it’s been eight years. You can’t expect to stay relevant forever.”

Loki stopped in his tracks and shot Mobius a deadly look. “I am a god,” he said with cold indignation. “I should be relevant forever.”

“Sure, sure,” Mobius replied casually, unfazed by Loki’s godly self-importance. “But right now, we’re not here to reminisce about your failed conquest. We’ve got bigger problems. And trust me, we need her.”

Loki turned to Mobius, brow furrowed, his curiosity not yet satisfied. “So, this genius analyst—why isn’t she still with the TVA?”

Mobius breathed in sharply, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone. “Defector. Like Brad. She ran, disappeared off the grid. And, honestly? She’s in a lot of trouble. Her mere existence in this timeline is enough to get her pruned.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Then how do we find her?” He waved a hand in an exaggerated, indignant gesture. “You’re usually so good at tracking people down.”

Mobius sighed, putting his hands on his hips, clearly irritated by the situation. “Look, the tempad gives us a place and time, but not exact coordinates.” His voice held an edge, as if he’d explained this a thousand times already.

Loki tilted his head, a smirk playing at his lips. “I thought the TVA prided itself on precision.”

Mobius ignored the jab, turning to scan the street, searching for anything out of place in the midst of New York’s busy streets. Then, suddenly, he stopped, his eyes widening as his gaze locked onto something down the street. His jaw nearly hit the floor. “Well… damn.”

Loki blinked, turning toward Mobius, a note of confusion in his voice. “What?”

Mobius raised a finger, gesturing down the street at a massive digital billboard on the side of a building. The image flickered into view, revealing a stunning woman in a sparkling babydoll outfit, glowing under stage lights. Your presence was captivating, the kind of star power that demanded attention. The name Darling flashed in bright letters beneath you.

Loki stared up at the billboard, a grin curling at the corner of his mouth. “The observant and quiet type?” he said dryly, his tone laced with amusement as his eyes lingered on the larger-than-life image of the glamorous singer.

Mobius groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Yeah, well, clearly she’s… adapted.” He let out a resigned sigh. “Guess the whole ‘fading into obscurity’ plan didn’t exactly work out for her.”

Loki’s gaze remained fixed on the screen, a glint of intrigue flashing in his eyes. “I think I’m going to like this one,” he murmured, more to himself than to Mobius. There was something about her—a spark that piqued his curiosity, and perhaps a kindred spirit in her ability to reinvent herself.

Mobius glanced at him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Whatever you’re thinking, just remember: we need her help, not whatever chaos you’ve got brewing in that trickster brain of yours.”

Loki gave him an innocent look, his hands spread wide. “Chaos? Me? You wound me, Mobius. I’m a professional.”

Mobius snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Unfortunately, even with Loki’s magic and Mobius’ thorough knowledge of TVA technology, tracking you down wasn’t as simple as they’d hoped.

Your new life came with walls—managers, agents, bodyguards, and all the trappings of fame that made it hard to get close. The woman who once analyzed timelines with quiet precision had traded that for flashing lights and screaming fans.

After exhausting other options, Loki’s frustration finally spilled over. “You know,” he said, his voice brimming with faux exasperation, “if all else fails, there is one surefire way to get in.”

Mobius raised an eyebrow, sensing the mischief already brewing. “And what’s that?”

With a sly grin, Loki snapped his fingers. In an instant, two front-row tickets to your latest concert in New York appeared in his hand. “Why bother with sneaking around when we can just… attend?”

Mobius stared at the tickets, clearly unimpressed. “Fake tickets? Really?”

Loki looked at him, completely serious. “They’re not fake. I conjured them. It’s entirely different.”

The stadium was packed to the brim, thousands of screaming Midgardians filling the air with an overwhelming noise that grated against Loki's sensibilities. The heat, the sweat, the sheer volume—it disgusted him. Yet, this was the only way to get close to you, the elusive analyst turned superstar.

Mobius had suggested they simply wait in your dressing room until you finished, but Loki insisted on attending the concert. He wasn’t sure why—perhaps it was curiosity, or something more subtle, something instinctual.

Smoke began to pour from the stage, the lights dimming as the crowd hushed in anticipation. Then, through the haze, you emerged. Your figure draped in a short, flowing white dress, hair blowing in an unseen breeze, you looked like a star pulled down from the night sky.

A shimmer followed your every movement, like you were made of light itself. The audience roared your name as the soft, haunting melody of a piano filled the stadium.

“I’ve waited many years

Every print I left upon the track

Has led me here…”

Your voice, when you sang, was both familiar and entirely new to Loki. It carried an otherworldly quality, something that tugged at his memory. The crowd, once deafening, fell silent the moment you opened your mouth. Every Midgardian in the room was hanging on your every word, mesmerized. Loki found himself momentarily struck by the power you wielded—not with magic, but with her voice.

“And next year, it’ll be clear

This was only leading me to that

And by that time, I hope that...

You love me

You love me…”

As you sang, your voice grew stronger, more impassioned. The entire stadium seemed to pulse with your energy, as if you had taken control of the very air they breathed. Loki’s discomfort deepened as the words grew more personal, more intimate.

The intensity of the performance was almost too much. He shifted uneasily, glancing at Mobius, who was just as captivated but far less disturbed.

“And I know none of this

Will matter in the long run

But I know a sound

Is still a sound around no one…”

The words echoed in Loki’s mind, digging at something he couldn’t quite place. You were different—more powerful than he had expected. He had thought you a quiet, observant analyst, not this radiant force.

“And while I’m in this body

I want somebody to want

And I want, what I want, and I want

You to love me…”

Your voice rose, reaching new heights as the music swelled around you. You commanded the stage with an effortless grace, but Loki couldn’t shake the feeling that you had seen him. That those words, those raw, aching words, had been a message only he could understand.

“And I know that you do

In the dark, I know that you do

And I know, that you know that you’ve got

The potential to pick me up

And I want you to use it

Blast the music

Bang it, bite it, bruise it…”

Then, in a moment that made Loki’s heart falter, your eyes—so impossibly sharp, even from a distance—locked with his. He froze. Something nagged at him, an odd, distant recognition that he couldn’t explain.

“Whenever you want to begin, begin

We don’t have to go back to where we’ve been

I am the woman who wants you to win…”

Loki remained frozen, his eyes locked on yours. The world around him seemed to blur, and for a brief, ridiculous second, he wondered if the words you sang were meant just for him. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected you to hold such sway, not over the masses, and certainly not over him.

“And I’ve been

Waiting, waiting for

You to love me…”

As the final note echoed through the stadium, the crowd erupted into wild applause, a sea of hands raised in adulation. But Loki barely heard it. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind still lingering on the brief moment when your eyes had met his across the throng of fans.

Something about it gnawed at him, an unsettling sense that he was missing something crucial—something buried deep within his memories or within you.

And then, just as suddenly, you smiled.

The seriousness and heartache that had filled your voice moments ago vanished, replaced by a carefree expression as you basked in the screams of your adoring fans. Your laugh was light, almost as if the raw vulnerability you had shown was just another mask, discarded as easily as it had been worn. The shift was so seamless that Loki almost questioned if the heartache he had sensed was real at all.

“Interesting,” Loki muttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes as you waved to the crowd.

Mobius, standing beside him, nudged Loki with his elbow. “Wow. She's adapted a lot,” he said, echoing his earlier words, though even he seemed a little awed by how thoroughly you had embraced this new life.

“She seems familiar,” Loki said quietly, almost to himself. The nagging familiarity he had felt when you sang, the connection he couldn’t yet define—it was all too deliberate.

Mobius sighed. “Let’s just try and get her to help us without causing a scene."

Loki flashed him an annoyed glance, but the truth was, Mobius was right. His curiosity was dangerously piqued. This wasn’t just a mission anymore. Something about you was pulling him in, and Loki wasn’t the type to leave a mystery unsolved.

The rest of your performance passed in a blur, though none of the immaculate songs seemed to affect Loki as deeply as the first. When the final number ended and the crowd’s applause thundered through the arena, Loki and Mobius wasted no time slipping out of their seats.

Mobius had insisted they wait in your dressing room for dramatic effect—which Loki found ironic, given that Mobius always had the audacity to call him the dramatic one.

They bickered all the way to backstage, their voices rising as they argued over the plan. Loki had just started to raise his voice when the door to your dressing room swung open, and you stepped inside.

Instantly, both men fell silent.

You didn’t jump or react with fear, as might have been expected when faced with two strangers in your dressing room. Instead, your eyes briefly flitted over them, before your expression twisted into one of irritation.

“Two men waiting for a girl in her dressing room," you murmured sarcastically, crossing your arms, "that’s not horrifying at all.”

Loki’s lips quirked slightly at the corner, amused by your reaction. Before he could speak, Mobius stepped in, raising a hand in greeting. “Hey there,” he said, with a smile that was meant to be reassuring but probably came off as awkward.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, offering Mobius a fake smile. “Mobius, I wondered when you’d find me.” Your tone was sharp, laced with sarcasm, and it sliced through the air like a blade. Loki couldn’t help but be amused by it.

Mobius shrugged with a casual nonchalance. “We would’ve gotten to you sooner or later, D—” He paused, gesturing to your eccentric decorated dressing room. “Or should I call you Darling now?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth as you tilted your head. “It’s better than D-28,” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. Then your eyes shifted to Loki, studying him curiously. “Who’s your friend?”

Loki, not one to pass up an opportunity to make an entrance, stepped forward with a wolfish grin. “Co-worker, madam,” he said smoothly, his voice oozing charm. “‘Friend’ is generous. I am Loki, the God of Mischief.”

Your eyebrows raised, and for a brief moment, a flicker of surprise passed through your eyes. Without saying a word, you reached for your cellphone, swiftly typing something as both men looked on, confused.

Before either could ask what you were doing, you lifted the phone and held it up to Loki’s face. The screen displayed a photo—a screenshot from when Loki had once tried to conquer New York, helmet and all. You squinted slightly at the screen, then back at him.

“Oh, bless,” you murmured, sarcasm in your voice, “you are the God of Mischief.” You gave an exaggerated nod, clearly unimpressed by his title.

Loki blinked, momentarily thrown off balance by your casual dismissal, while Mobius stifled a snort.

“Look, we need your help,” Mobius said, his tone shifting to something more serious.

You flashed him a sickly sweet smile, but the word that followed was as sharp as a blade. “No.”

With that, you gracefully moved past both men, settling onto the edge of your vanity dresser, crossing your legs in a posture that spoke of complete indifference. “I’m done with the TVA and its fascist, tyrannical ways. I’m thriving now,” you gestured vaguely toward the door, as if the world beyond it was yours to command. “I don't need the TVA anymore."

Mobius sighed, pushing himself off the vanity he had been leaning against, and tried again. “If you don’t help us, I’ll have to arrest you for crimes against the timeline,” he threatened lightly, though his heart didn’t seem fully in it.

You didn’t miss a beat. “Oh please, Mobius,” you cut in, rolling your eyes with an exaggerated sigh. Loki, watching intently, suppressed a smirk at the back-and-forth, clearly entertained.

“Your voice is making my ears ache,” you added, voice dripping with sarcasm as you turned your attention back to fixing your hair in the mirror, dismissing him with a wave of your hand.

Mobius, for his part, just exhaled deeply, clearly used to this kind of treatment. “Look, Darling,” he continued “you might not care about the TVA anymore, but the timeline is falling apart. And if that happens, all of this—” he waved a hand toward the opulent room around you, “goes with it. Including your adoring fans.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at Mobius from the corner of your eye, your silence speaking louder than words. Finally, you crossed your arms and sighed, “I’m listening.”

Mobius turned to Loki with a subtle grin, “You wanna take this one?”

Loki eagerly stepped forward, eyes gleaming as he began. “So, long story short, my friend and I killed the man who controlled the TVA—”

“The Timekeepers?” you interjected, your tone skeptical.

Loki tilted his head. “Actually, the Timekeepers were just a front—robots, to be precise. The real man behind the curtain was someone called He Who Remains.” His voice grew more serious. “And now, He Who Remains is dead. With him gone, the TVA is crumbling. Branched timelines are spinning out of control, threatening to overload the Temporal Loom and tear everything apart.”

You nodded slowly, processing this. “That... sounds like quite the problem.”

“It is,” Loki confirmed dryly. “A rather large one.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you leaned back against the vanity. “And where exactly do I fit into this mess?”

Loki glanced at Mobius, who shrugged in that familiar, laid-back way of his. “We need smart people,” Mobius said simply.

You stared at them both, unimpressed. “That’s not really specific, now is it?”

Mobius sighed, rubbing his temple. “Look, we know you’ve got a mind like no other. You were one of the best analysts at the TVA, and now… well, we need that genius of yours if we’re going to save all of time from imploding.”

Loki nodded in agreement. “You’re not just smart. You see things others miss. We need someone who can help us solve the unsolvable.”

For a moment, you were silent, your eyes shifting between the two men. Then you sighed again, this time more dramatically. “Fine. But if I agree to help, I have conditions.”

Mobius raised an eyebrow. “Conditions?”

You gave them both a sly smile. “You didn’t think I’d come cheap, did you?”

Loki's lips curved into a small, amused smirk at your response. He appreciated the spark of resistance in you. "Of course, you'd have conditions," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Nothing’s ever simple with a woman."

You shrugged casually, but your eyes stayed sharp. "I'm not one to give my services for free, god or no god." You emphasized the word ‘god’ mockingly, eyes narrowing as you met Loki’s gaze head-on.

Mobius, sensing the tension, jumped in quickly, hands raised in a placating gesture. "Alright, alright. Let’s hear the conditions. What are you asking for?”

You leaned forward slightly, still perched on the vanity, and crossed your arms. "First off, no dragging me back to the TVA full-time. I left for a reason, and I’m not about to become a prisoner there again. I help you with your little time problem, and after that, I’m free to go."

Mobius nodded slowly, mulling it over. “Fair enough. What else?”

Your eyes flickered toward Loki, your lips curving into a half-smile. "Second, no condescending lectures from anyone," you said pointedly. "I work on my terms, no micromanaging. I’m not one of your TVA minions anymore."

Loki raised an eyebrow, slightly intrigued by your audacity. "Agreed," he said smoothly, though his smirk never left his face. "I rather enjoy a challenge."

Mobius gave him a side glance but returned his attention to you. "Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal," he said. "But we don’t have a lot of time. Things are… messy back at the TVA. We need to move fast."

You stood up from your seat, finally looking a bit more serious as you glanced between the two of them. "Well then, gentlemen," you said, brushing your hair back. "If you need a genius to save time itself, you came to the right place."

Loki’s eyes trailed after you, studying every subtle movement with a mix of curiosity and something else—an itch of familiarity that tugged at his thoughts.

He didn’t know why, but there was something about you, something that gnawed at the edges of his mind, as though he had met you before, though he couldn’t place where or when.

"Shall we?" Loki asked, his voice smooth but with a hint of impatience.

You gave him a sickly-sweet smile, your sarcasm evident as you gestured to your outfit, still glimmering from your performance. "Might I at least have the decency to change?"

Loki blinked, slightly taken aback, "Yes, of course," he said quickly, just as Mobius muttered, “Yeah, sure.”

And yet, both men stood firmly in place, neither making any move to leave. You raised an eyebrow, glancing between them before dramatically gesturing around the room, "You do realize this is my dressing room, right?"

It took a moment for the realization to dawn on both their faces, their expressions shifting into awkwardness. Loki cleared his throat, looking momentarily sheepish, while Mobius chuckled nervously. "Ah… right," Mobius said with an apologetic shrug.

"My apologies," Loki added, his usual confidence cracking just slightly, before he quickly turned on his heel to exit, Mobius following close behind.

Loki and Mobius awkwardly shuffled out of your dressing room, the moment playing out with a surprising level of clumsiness for the God of Mischief and a TVA agent. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving you alone for a moment.

You sighed, shaking your head as you moved to the mirror, wiping off the remnants of stage makeup. The bright lights reflected your tired expression, but there was something more under that—an underlying spark of excitement or dread, it was hard to tell.

Since this season is all in the span of one day this is her outfit

(Darling is only her stage name)

Darling's Performance Wardrobe

(yes this is all Lana Del Reys outfits)

Hope You Enjoyed 💚💛

#loki laufeyson x reader #loki series #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #loki fanfction #loki fanfic #marvel

69 notes · View notes

vampdxllie · 2 years ago

Text

WARNING: smut MDNI !!!! bf!jay x fem!reader, cursing, oral (face-sitting, fem receiving), mention of being heavy (?)., Jay is a bit mean. please tell me if there's more! A/N: Just my midnight thots ;) It's nearly 1am here, and i cannot sleep, so i wrote this heh, enjoy <3 masterlist!

"I won't repeat myself, fucking sit." His voice was like pure venom as his face was laid on the bed, waiting for me to use it as my own chair.

Truth be told I didn't want to, I was afraid, I felt as if I was too heavy for him and that I'd suffocate him. Even after much reassuring from Jay, I couldn't get myself to sit on his face.

I slowly shake my head no again and that's when I knew I've crossed a line. I'm being a brat in his eyes, and he's not very nice when I am.

He stands up from his position and from the bed, coming over to where I was seated and grabs my chin in between his hand, tightening the grip on it, making me pout.

"Did you just deny me? Go against what I said? Hm? Fucking brat." He spat in my face as he shook my head with his hand. "I swear if you do not sit on my fucking face and put all your weight on me I will leave you wet and painful for a whole fucking month, don't try me." And that was enough for me to do it.

Aside from his words and harshness that turned me on, I didn't want a whole month without sex. I had my needs.

And so, I was above his face as of now, letting out a breath before lowering myself on his face. He grabs my hips, squeezing the flesh, pulling me lower on his face, making me feel his tongue on my hole traveling up to my clit before he bites it. I let out a squeal and grab the bed's headboard in front of me.

He starts attacking my pussy with his tongue and feasts like a beast that hasn't ate in a whole year. I let out string of moans as he let out groans and dirty words that were muffled from the proximity between his face and my pussy, sending vibrations through my body, taking me closer to my high.

I start moving my hips against his face as he mutters a 'fuck yes' under me, almost not audible from how much his face was shoved in between my thighs right now.

His tongue focused on my hole, fucking it fast while his nose was moving on my clit, driving me to the edge before I cum all over his tongue, shaking in his hold as he laps up my juices, licking me clean.

"Shit, Jay, please no more. I'm s-sensitive." I try to get off his face but his strong arms didn't let me as he starts to eat me out again with the same pace as before. This time his finger prodding into me.

"Who said I was done with you, hm?"

#jay enhypen #jay enhypen smut #jay smut #enhypen jay #enhypen jay smut #jay hard thoughts #enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts

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leighsartworks216 · 1 year ago

Text

I Come With Knives Pt2

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Part 1

I am posting this at almost 1am AND I have to get up early tomorrow to do work for class before the actual class haha I plan my time accordingly

I was going to make this chapter longer. I had an idea and I started to write it, but it just wasn't coming out like I wanted it to (bc I'm writing at 12am duh) so I'm gonna put that in another chapter

Warnings: mentions of torture, trauma, hints of paranoia, hints of self-deprecation

Word Count: 1,390

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

After a grueling battle yesterday, you chose to give everyone a day off. It gave them time to rest aching muscles, repair and sharpen weapons, relax. It gave you a chance to bathe.

You didn't neglect your hygiene, but most of the time, once camp was set up, the sun would be dipping below the horizon. On those days, you'd run into the water, scrub the gunk out of your hair and get out, back to the safety of company before the first stars faded in. Now that you had the chance, you weren't going to squander it.

Once you were certain you were alone - an uncomfortable thought soothed only by the sun filtering in through the canopy above - you stripped down and waded into the water. It was cool, but not unpleasantly so. You wasted no time scraping the dirt and blood off your skin.

Once you cleaned your body within an inch of its life, you ducked your head under the water and scrubbed at your hair and scalp. It was disgusting - you could only imagine the smell your companions had put up with this last week. You were just so happy you were clean. Your hair was smooth as water soaked it through, no knots or clumps of blood to be found. As you squeezed out the excess water, you caught your reflection between the ripples. In moments where it stilled enough, you could see the scar on your neck. It was still deep and prominent, but it was beginning to heal. It'd never healed before.

"Enjoying yourself?"

You nearly shrieked when you turned, sinking into the water up to your neck for protection. Astarion chuckled at your reaction.

"Would it kill you to stop sneaking up on me?"

"I was practically stomping like an ogre, dear, it's hardly my fault you weren't paying attention." You shot him a glare, but it was half-hearted. It was your fault you let your guard down. In the day, you were safe from (most) vampires, but there were any number of things ready to attack at any moment. "Mind if I join you?"

You shake your head, but you're already wading to shore to grab your clothes. "No, go ahead. I'm done."

"Leaving already?" You nod, not making eye contact. "I won't look, darling, if that's what's got you so flustered."

You pause mid reach for your shirt as he removes his, placing it haphazardly on a rock by the water's edge. His pants came next and you looked away until you heard the water sloshing around him.

"Though, I don't mind if you look," he teased, sparing one last glance over his shoulder before he got to work cleaning himself.

Gods, if he could hear the way your heart raced... You peek over, just a glance, before you look back at your clothes. But then you're looking again.

An intricate scar of circles, lines, and curved symbols marred his back. You feel your throat close just looking at it. You'd been forced to watch spawn and slaves alike punished by the cracking of a whip. Forced to keep your eyes forward by a hand on your jaw as the leather snapped and tore into their skin. This was worse. This was deliberate.

"Did..." You swallow, forcing your voice not to crack with the sorrow you felt for him. "Did your master do this?"

He hummed, continuing to wash his arms as though you'd asked him about the weather. The only hint it bothered him at all was the way his muscles tensed and the disdain in his voice. "Cazador," he spat. "He considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas." His movements slowed to a stop. "He composed and carved that one over the course of a night. He made... a lot of revisions as he went."

You couldn't stop staring. Your mind kept replaying the torture you witnessed, but it replaced their cries with Astarion's voice. You hated to be so lucky. To be so fortunate that your master wanted you to look absolutely perfect and unmarked. You never received physical punishment. You were too precious.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, shakily. "If I could, I'd..." What? Remove the markings forever? Take away his pain and suffering? Go back and change everything so he never had to be a puppet? You couldn't do anything. You can't help. You can't remove that pain. All you can do is witness the aftermath.

He sighed and ducked his head so he could wash his hair. Drops of water slid down his back, only drawing your eyes in further. “It won’t matter when we get to Baldur’s Gate. I’m going to kill that bastard for everything he did to me.”

You know you should leave. Put on your clothes and slink away. But… being around Astarion isn’t entirely unpleasant. You’re still a little scared of him - of what he could do, but you trust him enough to believe he wouldn’t do those things. He probably understood your plight better than anyone else.

So, you slide down into the water until you’re resting on your knees in the silt. It doesn’t quite cover your neck unless you duck deeper in. You want to hide the scar, the damn mark showing everyone else who - or rather, what you belonged to. But it felt wrong to try hiding it when Astarion was fully showing you his.

“I never asked who your master was.” He turns his head slightly, eyes just barely catching sight of you. He did promise he wouldn’t look, after all. “Where she…” He waved a hand noncommittally and scowled. “Rules.”

Her eyes flash in your mind, wicked and burning. You almost flinch just thinking about them. When you speak her name, your voice trembles. “Kir Parthene. I… don’t remember where she lives. It’s been years since I’ve even been outside - I must have forgotten.”

He slowly turns, giving you time to tell him to turn back again, but you don’t. You watch him through a fog of memories. “How long were you enslaved?”

It’s harder to answer than you thought it would be. Time begins to blur when you can’t tell if it’s night or day, when everything is fuzzy and incoherent because you never had enough blood to think straight. Sometimes she’d feed and then leave you for days. Others, she never wanted to stop feeding - drinking from you morning and night before you ever got a chance to recover. You were a slave to her hunger - time never mattered.

“I was… 16 when I was taken.” You wrap your arms around yourself. Safe. “I don’t even remember home. My parents… I’m all alone.”

He’d never heard your voice so small before. You weren’t the most demanding leader, but you could still bark commands when things were getting rough. You even held yourself well in conversation, shutting down lopsided deals or uncomfortable topics with all the authority of a royal guard. It was easier, seeing you like this, to imagine your life in servitude. Meek and quiet.

“That’s not entirely true.” He kneeled in the silt a few feet from you, smirking. “You have us for as long as this adventure lasts, as long as we don’t transform into tentacled Mind Flayers.”

“And then after that?” He shifts uncomfortably at the question. “Everyone will go their separate ways, and when you do I’m a sitting duck. I’ll be captured again. Used again.”

You trail off, but the weight of your words sit heavy. You’ll never be free. You could help everyone else with their quests, help them free themselves from what ties them down, help them get stronger - but the same couldn’t be done for you. Without knowing where your master lives, there’s no way to seek her out and kill her, too.

The water is too cold now. The cool summer breeze only freezes you more. Astarion watches as you get up and slink back over to your clothes. He looks away before he can see anything you wouldn’t want him to. In no time at all, your clothes are back on and you’ve pulled on your boots. But before you walk away, you turn to him. Your eyes are so sad.

“Thank you. For… showing me.” He says nothing. So you head back to camp. Alone.

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis

@hypopxia

@flsalazar

@beverlybeav

@angelofthorr

@emiemiemiii

@marina-and-the-memes

@lynnlovesloki

@aurasyn

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sanjifucker42069 · 1 year ago

Text

Looks Like Lingerie to Me - Part Two

Word Count: 1.4k

Part 1

A belated and awkward part 2. I’ll start writing part 3 in the morning (it’s like 1am lmao)

For those who need a visual aid, here. (oof feels like wattpad or quotev but girlypops i am cringe but i am free. it isnt a perfect representation, but its pretty accurate. titilating, no? ;) )

Warnings: Lingerie lmao…this is pretty short, and is just a set-up for part 3. A lot of this is my own feelings surrounding cis men in lingerie. As with part 1 gender neutral reader. Yeah! Hope you enjoy!

---------------------------------------

Sanji couldn't stop thinking about it. You thought he'd look hot in lingerie? You thought he looked slutty?

It had overtaken every waking moment. Any time he wasn't focused on a task all he could see was the dumb stare you gave him, eyes focused on his thighs.

He'd love to wear lingerie for you if it meant you'd stare at him like that.

----------------------

The Going Merry was docked, the Straw Hats carrying out their duties, and Sanji had a plan.

"I'm gonna go shopping. You coming (Name)? Sanji can carry our bags." Nami preened, looking absolutely glowing at the prospect of new clothes. Sanji bit his lip. He wanted to go with Nami and you, really he did, but if either of you caught on he'd die of embarrassment.

"You okay, Ji?"

Huh?

You were asking something.

"What? Oh, yeah, love. I'm fine. I'm afraid I have business to attend to on the island."

You blinked at him before smiling that dazzling smile up at him. He was smitten, his fortitude nearly wavering. "Of course. You do what you gotta do!"

Business his ass. Instead he hurried to check out the town.

----------------------

A small, seedy shop tucked away in an alley. Sanji entered the store warily. A small, old woman trotted out from the back. Sanji blanched. He didn't want to discuss this with a grandma!

"Hello young man, here for something for your wife?"

Sanji felt himself flush. He tried to wander around the store. "No, no-"

"Your girlfriend then?"

Ah. This grandmother didn't know when to quit.

"Not exactly?"

The old lady grabbed his arm. Sanji raised a brow, turning back to her. She was grinning at him, eyes narrowed and sparkling with something he couldn't place.

"Is it for you? Such a handsome young man as yourself."

What? Sanji's face was on fire. He was flustered beyond belief. His hands were lightly shaking, eyes darting around for anyone else in the store.

"Come with me darling. My name's Bea." The old lady chimed, dragging Sanji with her. "What colour were you thinking?"

"Oh, um." Sanji was panicking, voice high. Did she even have lingerie for men? "Blue?"

Bea hummed. "I do have blue, but I have a lovely pink set that would just make your skin pop."

Pink? Sanji didn't think it was possible to flush darker, and yet here he was. "I, uh, would it even fit me?"

"Of course sonny! You're quite slim." Bea swatted at his arm, patting his biceps for good measure as she led him through the store. "So, tell me about the lucky one."

"They're beautiful." Sanji began dreamily. Where should he even start? "The most gorgeous creature I've ever laid my eyes on. They have this laugh that just brightens up any room, and such a sense of humour. I’ve been smitten with them since I met them.”

“You two aren’t together?”

Sanji shook his head sadly. “No, no. We’re just good friends. They, uh… Do you know what shirt stays are?”

Bea laughed, patting the cook on the arm. “Say no more.”

She let go of him when they reached the back of the store. Sanji watched nervously as she carded through a rack of, well, did it really constitute clothing? Skimpy piece after skimpy piece were revealed.

And then he saw it.

It was a gorgeous baby pink. Bea ahhed as she removed it from the rack, holding it up to inspect it. She turned to face him, sizing him up next to the set. Sanji felt his throat go dry as he really took it in.

The set was a simple baby pink bralette, made from some kind of sheer lacy material with a flower motif. The plunging neckline was created to draw attention to the cleavage, and it was adorned with some delicate string of pearl-like decoration to highlight the collarbones. The panties were the same sheer material, clear that they weren’t to hide much. The sides of it were accentuated with cute ruffles that further added a feminine touch. Sanji felt lightheaded.

Finally, it was a beautiful pastel garter belt that sat in the middle, completing the look. It too was made from the same stretchy, sheer lace. It would wrap around the waist, strategic cutouts to accentuate the waist, hips, and the bellybutton. The central cutout had a simple chain of pearls to add interest and movement. Four satin-looking ribbons led from bottom front and back, with clips attached to hold up stockings.

Oh, maybe his shirt stays were kinda…

Nonetheless, it was breathtaking. Sanji had clearly marvelled at it for too long, as Bea chuckled, causing him to flush red. The old woman, lingerie in hand, led him to a mirror.

“I’m…I can’t.”

Bea just chuckled, holding the hanger up against him. “Look in the mirror boy, I’ve been making lingerie for fifty years. This suits you.”

Sanji obeyed her, staring at himself in the mirror. What he saw took his breath away. He looked a mess, face red and hair messy. He had to hand it to the old woman, the colour was flattering against him. Even the cut looked good. Sanji shifted from foot to foot, anxiety creeping in. He wasn’t really sure how he felt about looking so…so feminine.

Sanji was a man. It wouldn’t be right for him to wear something so delicate and gorgeous. Right? Of course women’s clothing was beautiful, the fabrics they used, the stylish designs he’d seen the girls on the ship sport. Men’s clothing just, well it was meant to be masculine and boring. Right? He couldn’t let himself give in to that want to feel pretty, that would be wrong.

Right?

Bea, clearly noticing his inner struggle, scoffed.

“Sonny.”

“Sanji.” “Right. Sonny, I’ve been doing this for a long time.” “You, uh, you already said that.”

“I know that!” Bea snapped, swatting at him. Sanji’s gaze drifted back to the pink lace. “I’ve been doing this for a long time. When I started, well, I made boring beige bras and the same lacy black underwear again, and again, and again. I got bored. I got creative! And when I got creative, I became determined to make people feel pretty. People, Sonny, not women.”

Sanji went rigid, his throat was so dry. Was he that obvious? All he could make out was a simple, “Oh?”

Bea grinned. “Everyone deserves the right to feel pretty.” Sanji opened his mouth to speak but the old woman just held up a wrinkled hand. “Nope. Don’t care if you’re a ‘man’. Everyone. Sonny, one day you’ll realise that being a ‘man’ is more than just grunting like an ape, or never showing any vulnerability, or even having a penis. Man is a state of mind, and Sonny, the sooner you feel comfortable in who you are, the more beautiful life is going to be for you.”

Sanji felt breathless. “Really?”

“Really.” Bea nodded, a fondness in her eyes. “Come, we’ll get you a choker to go with it, I have just the one.”

Sanji felt a million miles away as Bea led him to the shop counter. She handled a delicate pink satin choker with care, presenting it to him. It was a giant bow, a simple snap holding it in place around the neck. Simple, but delicate. If Sanji was honest with himself, he liked it.

“Like a million berry! Your precious one will love you in it!” Bea smiled fondly at him. “So, Sonny, you buying?”

Sanji sucked in a deep breath. When he spoke his voice was foreign to him, a shakiness underlying the wispiness. Sanji felt like he was treading water, unsure and scared of the newness of it all. He could drown at any moment.

“Yeah.”

“Good, good!”

So Sanji paid. Bea took extra care to wrap the lingerie up in a delicate pink tissue paper. His own little present. She then promptly put it in an unmarked bag. She understood, shooting him a wink.

“So, anyone, huh?”

“Oh yes, yes. You see, originally I made them for my girlfriend when I was a much younger lady. She was a farmer’s daughter, wonderful girl, shared many a kiss with her, and then some! Now I make these lovely ones for my current husband. You remind me a lot of him, Sonny. You see he lets me wear this harness thing that I put in his a-”

“Thank you grandma, I’ll be out of here now!”

“Yes, yes. Good luck, Sonny! Stop by with your sweetie and get something nice one day, okay?” Bea waved her goodbyes from the doorway, smiling that same sweet old woman smile. Sanji clutched the bag to his chest tightly.

Right. Time to put the plan into place.

#one piece x reader #opla sanji x reader #sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #opla x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #zeff didnt eat his own fucking leg for sanji to be called a vinsmoke but for tagging purposes i must #DONT START ME ON HOW MUCH I WANNA BEAT THE TOXIC MASCULINITY OUTTA THIS MAN.#me to judge: look what youve done. you fucked up a perfectly good babygirl thats what youve done #anyway....guess i need to actually make a masterlist lmAOOOOO #if you read all the tags: you think its gonna fit him like a glove??#lmao maybe one of those disposable gloves you pull on too tight ant one of the fingers rips and now your pinky is just hanging out? yeah

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poppadom0912 · 2 years ago

Note

Would it be possible to please request a Halstead!Sibling piece where the reader is the sibling, and during the late hours of the night, they get a really heavy nosebleed, so they come out of their bedroom to Jay and Will in the living room watching some TV with a few beers, and all hell breaks loose when they see reader is covered in blood and can't get the nosebleed to stop? Thank you!

A/N: I feel like I haven't written in years so I apologise in advance if this is rubbish. I also apologise for not writing this earlier, this was requested quite a while ago.

I am also aware I have posted in nearly three months but life is very stressful. I promise I'll try posting more once all my exams are over which is technically mid June. I'll try to get out all my finished drafts so you guys aren't starving.

Warnings: Blood, fainting/nausea, mentions of hospitals.

*****

For once in a long time, things were good.

Jay was mentally handling things and was starting a relationship with his detective partner whose name you kept forgetting but you remembered how pretty she was. Will wasn't making Ms Goodwin's life miserable and he was accepting that he was moving on from Natalie. And with you, school was better than ever with your grades and no longer letting anxiety stop your life.

Overall, things were the best they've been since your dad died and you couldn't be happier.

Neither of your brothers were at work and upon your incessant pleas, the three of you found yourself settling on the same sofa watching a movie.

At some point, you had to excuse yourself when your best friend messaged you in a rush about homework that you completely forgot existed.

Ignoring the darkness of the night and the comfy pajamas you wore, you completed the homework to the best of your abilities and shared it with her when she expressed her struggle.

Eventually, you lost track of time and found yourself tucked under your duvet reading the intense story on your kindle; homework safely in a folder in your bag for the next day.

Totally immersed in the heating up plot, you were oblivious to the very clear signs that you would usually catch onto had you been much more alert.

You only ever realised what was happening when several single droplets of blood plopped onto kindle screen, obscuring you from reading any further.

Confused, you let go of the kindle, letting it sit on your covered lap, your hands went up to your face, trying to find the source of blood but deep down you kinda already knew.

Removing your fingers from your nose, you glanced down and sighed in defeat, shoulders slumping at the sight of blood coating your fingers.

Rolling your eyes in annoyance, you kicked off your sheets and scanned your bedside table for the tissue box you always kept because of you hayfever and nosebleeds like this. But, it wasn't there and that threw you off because it was literally there the other day.

Huffing, your mind drew a blank at what to do as blood continued to fall steadily but it seemed that as the seconds ticked away, the stream only increased in speed.

In hopes of not ruining the rug under your feet, you held up your shirt to your nose, using it just like how you would tissue in this case.

Then, all of a sudden, your nose felt ticklish and the urge to sneeze became all too strong that you couldn't even say pineapple to prevent yourself from sneezing.

With no control, your grip on your shirt fell and you sneezed thrice. The pain in your nose throbbing and stinging, your eyes pricking with tears from the onslaught of everything happening all of once.

You were far too gone now. Dragging your eyes to your alarm clock, it took you more than a few seconds to read the time and work out whether or not Jay let yet but then you remembered Jay wouldn't have left without bidding you goodbye.

Well, even if he had gone which he should've seeing as it was nearly 1am, Will would've been the most useful in this situation.

Opening your door with your elbow so you wouldn't get blood on the handle, you walked towards the living room even if you were in a daze. You knew the layout of the apartment by the back of your hand.

Your feet pattered against the wooden flooring, alerting the other two inhabitants of the apartment that you were entering. Taking into account the late time, Will turned around ready to question why you were up at such a time on a school night when he froze upon laying eyes on you.

"Y/N? What happened?" Will asked straight away, getting onto his feet and coming up to you, lifting your chin in his hand so he could get a good look at your face.

Jay turned around to see why Will was asking you such a question when his eyes widened in alarm at your figure, pajamas practically drenched in blood and blood smearing your nose and upper lip.

"What the hell!" Jay shot up. "Why are you covered in blood?!"

"I'm having a nosebleed." You said plainly, boredly gesturing to your very bloody nose that Will was inspecting. "Duh."

"Jay, can you go grab my bag?" Will asked the middle Halstead sibling, not once taking his eyes off you.

Without any rebuttal, Jay did as the doctor said but not without mumbling under his breath about how using manners would get people so far in life.

"I have no idea. One second I'm reading and the next I'm bleeding everywhere." You shrugged, answering Will's question. "And then I sneezed three times."

Will hummed, your chin grasped lightly in one hand while the other was held out to Jay. Will asked Jay for certain things which he was given without a second thought.

"You most likely burst a vessel when you sneezed which made it much worse." Will said so nonchalantly, not at all bothered by the blood that was staining the gloves he put on with way too much ease.

"Alright, just hold that there for a few minutes." Your oldest brother told you, letting you take over from where he was holding the gauze. "Let's sit you down but don't get blood anywhere, I cleaned yesterday."

You looked at him dumbfounded but followed him to sit down anyways, Jay scoffing in disbelief at his words.

"Wow, you love me so much." You said sarcastically, a tight lipped smile on your chapping lips as you went back and forth with snarky remarks.

"This is a lot of blood though Y/N." Will addressed seriously, looking at just how much blood was covering your pajamas. "How long have you been bleeding for?"

"Like literally two or three minutes." You gave a very rough estimation, grimacing as you actually looked at the damage on your clothes, groaning in disbelief. "Ugh, these are my favourite pjs."

"Don't worry about that." Jay said, watching you closely from behind Will's shoulder so he wasn't in the way. "You dirtied your sheets or anything?"

You hummed in thought, squinting as you tried to remember. "I got blood on my kindle but I don't know about my bed."

"I'll go check." Jay allocated himself the job, finding himself useless as Will wasn't going to remove himself from your side.

"Okay, let me take a look." Will said under his breath as he carefully took the bloodied gauze away from you so he could replace it with a new one.

It was only a few seconds period of having nothing for the blood but it seemed that it wasn't dripping as it was. Alas, the uncomfortable urge to sneeze overcame you and you found yourself overwhelmed with the need to sneeze.

Without even registering what was happening, you sneezed twice, covering your mouth with your inner elbow instinctively.

You groaned, dragging it out at the sight of blood on the sleeve of your cotton shirt. Yep, there was definitely no chance of salvaging it now.

"Ooo, okay." Will winced, being as gentle but using as much force necessary when pinching your nose. "Either you're getting the flu or your hay fevers suddenly acting up in the winter."

Your shoulders slumped against the back of the chair, tired with your bleeding nose that wouldn't stop. At this rate, you'd be up all night because of your stupid nose.

"Woah!" Jay exclaimed, freezing in his steps as he entered the kitchen, eyeing the new mess that he luckily missed out on seeing. "What'd I miss?"

"I'm going to die."

"She's not going to die."

"Jay, Will's lying." You whined like a baby, dropping your head in exaggeration. "I'm going to bleed out and not live to see either of you get married. What a miserable life."

Both your brothers rolled their eyes at your dramatic self. Sharing a knowing look, having a silent conversation with just their eyes you groaned again.

"I want black flowers at my wedding and I want Trudy to do my eulogy because at least she'll miss me." You said, starting your funeral arrangements very seriously despite what your brothers were thinking.

"Perfect, I'll go on holiday then."

"You're not going to die Y/N."

You sighed dramatically, your voice was nasally, as if you had a severe blocked nose when in reality, it was just a really bad nose bleed that you were trying to stop. "This sucks."

"Yes it does but as long as you don't sneeze or blow your nose, you'll be fine." Will said, tossing the bloodied gauze and replacing it with another, letting go when you held it on your own.

"This is going to be a long night."

#onechicago #one chicago imagine #one chicago x reader #jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead oneshot #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x sister!reader #will halstead #will halstead imagine #will halstead x reader #will halstead x sister!reader #halstead sister

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gumnut-logic · 13 days ago

Text

Diary of a Fanboy Engineer

Alexander Sweetapple series on Ao3

What's this? Is this Nuttyfic? Not a nuttyfic reblog? The first in ages?

Why yes, yes, it is.

Consequently, the writing muscles are a bit rusty so don't expect much.

However this was prompted by conspiring Thunderfam on this post.

It is a bit of a 'let's see if this idea works or not', but since most of my fic comes under that category, I'm hoping it works at least a little :D

So we have the beginnings of some possible Sweetapple Diaries :D

Many thanks to the wonderful @onereyofstarlight for proof reading and pointing out the bits that really didn't work :D ::hugs you tight:: And many thanks to the Sweetapple cheering squad - without you, there would be no Sweetapple ::hugs you all to bits::

Warnings for m/m fic and a bucket of fluff.

I hope you enjoy these little scribbles :D

-o-o-o-

14 Jul

We are going to Paris.

Mr Tracy told Virgil in no uncertain terms that he needed time off. I can’t agree more. Hell, all the brothers need time off, but Virgil has been flagging lately. He denies it, of course. Workaholic to the core. I can see where he is coming from, but really, he needs to take better care of himself - they all do.

Paris was an interesting choice. I’ve never been to Europe, but I guess that comes with the billionaire territory.

I am excited, there are so many opportunities in Paris. I’m particularly looking forward to seeing some real Da Vinci. Climbing the Eiffel Tower is also on my list.

But for our next holiday, I think we’ll choose a spot more close to home. I know some quiet seaside towns where we could rent a bach and just lay back and relax.

Maybe France has a few hidden corners we could climb into.

Anyway, it’s something to look forward to. Really, anytime, anywhere, would be fantastic.

-o-o-o-

15 Jul

Today wasn’t a good one. We had multiple failures in the latest prototype.

Erica isn’t happy. She says it isn’t my fault, but honestly, I should have seen at least one of them coming. The effect of vacuum on micro air pockets in a flexible solid is so obvious it was ridiculous. How did I miss it?

Dearest had to cancel out again. Mount Etna tried to take out some tourists.

Virgil isn’t happy. Apparently, he has been warning the Italian authorities about the destabilisation of the volcano’s eastern face, but because their equipment can’t detect what International Rescue’s equipment can, they don’t want to sacrifice the tourism euros to close the tours.

Fortunately, it was only a partial collapse and IR was able to save those caught in the landslide. I have to say though, Commander Tracy was furious in the holoclip shown on the news. I wouldn’t want to be person responsible right now. Scott can get scary.

I did get to see some cool shots of Virgil in action though. That, I could never get tired of. He and Gordon manoeuvred Two and rappelled down to pull people out of the dirt and ash.

They are such heroes.

I do miss him, of course, but those poor people needed him more than I did.

Maybe we can holochat later…oh god, it’s 3am already!

-o-o-o-

16 Jul

Erica woke me up this morning. Really, I love her, she is so good to me, but bloody hell, can’t she knock?

Okay, it was nearly eleven and I had my phone on silent and I didn’t answer the door and…

At least I had my pyjama pants on, I guess.

What if Virgil had been here?

She said that was the reason she barged in, Virgil wasn’t here - no great green ‘bird and Tracy Two wasn’t logged at the airfield, and I was late for work. I might have been dead or something.

She cares and I appreciate that.

She could have held off the laughter, though.

Besides, I wasn’t late for work. Work is on flexi-time and considering I was up until 1am last night analysing yesterday’s screw ups, my sleep-in was natural and totally allowed.

Virgil left me a message with a ‘maybe tonight’. I’m hoping, but if there is one thing I’ve learnt it is that whatever happens, happens. No hoping too hard.

So here I am writing this entry a little earlier to kill some of that hoping time.

We solved two out of the three problems we had yesterday. The third is being a pain in the ass. Erica says I should speak to John as this lies in his speciality. I said, not until we’ve exhausted all our resources because John is a busy man.

We’re all busy, she said, and he offered to help. Gordon helped with the water issues. I could even ask Alan.

Really? It’s not at the point where I have to go to the top to help solve the problem. We’ll give it a few more days. It’s urgent, but not life threatening like the Tracy brothers need to attend to. They’ve got enough on their plate.

But John has such a lovely voice, she said.

I swear she does this just to rile me up.

That or she does have a thing for John. You would think she would have a thing for Mr Tracy, he was the one who saved her from the earthquake. Hell, she and Fireman Fred still have a mutual flirting thing going on.

—!

Virgil is here!

-o-o-o-

17 Jul

The sun rose early this morning. Somewhere in our haste we forgot to close the blinds and the first rays of dawn woke me.

I’m not a morning person, I’m the first to admit that. But this morning…

You’re lying on your belly and the covers have slipped down to your waist. The sun is painting your skin in shades of gold and your hair is glowing.

You are beautiful.

…

PS: I haven’t read anything, I promise. I just needed to write the image down and this book was the closest at hand. Can I paint you some time?

…

He read the above to me when I woke.

Let’s just say I was late to work again.

-o-o-o-

17 Jul (cont.)

Virgil stayed at Māhia today. He helped with the issue we were having with the prototype, though we did end up calling John.

John was happy to help - man, he thinks fast. Don’t get me wrong, I love my math and my physics, but John seems to be able to bend both to his will. It took him a total of five minutes. Five minutes! To design a solution to our problem - in between rescue calls.

It was one of those daunting moments where I could see exactly why they work so well together.

Of course, I am working with V.T. Green. Just let me name drop that right here. And the Voice Who Answers…is my life real? How the hell did I end up here?

Frickin’ bloody amazing.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #alexander sweetapple #nuttyfic

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fanaticsnail · 1 year ago

Text

Téir Abhaile Riú

Oh my goodness, I have been working on this for the past few hours. It is currently a little over 1am right now and I know I'm going to be up soon but I am so happy with the way this little plot developed for our favourite, pink-haired cadet.

Word Count: 5,173

Now that I've got this one out, I feel like I can really focus on the main Buggy story I've got in development currently.

Her auburn hair whipped wildly behind her, flowing freely in the sea breeze. She sprinted, skirts in hand, and barrowed towards the dock with the haste of a hare upon seeing a hunting ferret. Bounding against her back, a large hurdy gurdy sway in her movements as it bounced side to side at each of her hastened skips.

“Keep up!” She cried gleefully behind her back with a small shriek, “they’re nearly here!”

You giggled at her giddy excitement as you clasped one hand on your layered skirts and held tight to the wooden handle of your many symbolled tambourine. You looked behind you to see your fellow minstrel attempting to hold his wide bodhran in one hand and his double ended beater in the other as he too expressed glee at the playful taunt from the leader of your troop. Looking further behind him, you noticed in the distance your bouzouki player struggled to keep the hastened pace.

The three of you, four if you include the relatively far off bouzouki player, plunged into town with rocks picking up under your feet. Your belled silver anklet tinkled with each step of your right foot, reverberating and melodically harmonizing with the anklet of your leader who nearly collided with a wagon with her haste. You quickly side stepped the large wagon while your bodhran clad friend performed a large leap over the wooden frame.

“You ruddy kids! Where’s your Da?” the vendor called after you as you giggled and continued your swift pace in response.

As you continued down the dirt mountain side, you saw the stretched sails of a dark boat approaching the docks. The figurehead was an intimidating bulldog with a broad piece of bone wedged between their teeth.

“Looks like Garp,” the bodhran player informed you, panting to keep up his rapid momentum. You hummed in response, continuing to run past several shop fronts to make your way through the mountainside city to set up as the marines came to port.

You skipped on your right foot as you halted in front of a grocer, stopping your sudden rapid movement.

“What are you doing?” called your red-head leader.

“I’m getting Saoirse! She needs to sing with us!” you called to your leader, “I’ll be down with her as soon as I break her out!”

The redhead again laughs in glee before calling to you, “we’ll dance until you two join us!”

You nodded before unceremoniously swinging wide the entrance to the near empty grocer, the bell above the door rattling with a loud clang to inform your entrance. Making eye contact with the blonde behind the counter, her smile first started in her eyes before bringing her lips up into a wide grin.

“Sailors?” she asked you, untying her apron from around her back.

“Marines,” you corrected her with a mischievous glint in your eyes, extending your unburdened hand to retrieve hers, “come on! Let’s get going!”

She swung her counter bar back and it hit the wooden benchtop with a loud thump and promptly sped through the shop door while grasping your hand; flipping the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’. You nearly collided with your bouzouki player as he continued making his merry way down to the docks.

“Gee, you young ones are speedy!” he commented with a rough huff of his voice as he struggled to still his breathing. Both you and Saoirse laughed elatedly in response as you continued to hold back your pace to arrive alongside him.

The ship had finally made its way into dock, many ropes being thrust into the air to meet the open arms of the boat-hands as they awaited their receival of them. The anchor was weighed with the rattle of a loud chain before plunging into the dark sea. You took into your sights heavy damage on the fore topmast, the fore topsail limply hanging against the foremast beneath it. You narrowed your eyes slightly at the knowledge that there may be injured marines aboard, but continued towards where your red-headed leader and bodhran player had began to drum and dance a jig while lilted with one another with their voices.

You continued grasping the hand of the blonde at your side as you flittered down the hill to meet the sandy shore. Saoirse began lilting her voice to join the other two voices in harmony with a broad smile adorning her features. Your eyes twinkled at the tri-part harmony as you released her hand from your grip and began to use your thumb and smallest finger to flick against the symbols of your tambourine to keep rhythmic harmony with your bodhran player, your skirts swaying as you spun and danced in time to the beat. Your belled anklet twinkled jingled against your gleeful leaps as you continued to dance. Finally, hunching over slightly to catch his breath momentarily, your bouzouki player created a place to sit atop a barrel as he began to strum to the beat.

This is how it was with the five of you: “The Merry Mellifluous Quint”, as the town referred to you. The twins: the red-headed songstress and her brother, the bodhran player began their musical journey accompanying their recently widower father: the bouzouki player. The most recent additions to the team were Saoirse, who began courting the bodhran twin; and yourself.

The marines began to march down their extended boat ramp and bring heavy boots to thump against the dock. You continued to laugh and dance to the tune produced, linking your arms with Saoirse and routinely skip and turn to the beat before joining with the auburn-haired leader and weaving your way between them. Although aware of their decent and their attention, you chose to pay their individuality no heed as you continued to dance with your musically-adoptive sisters and drum your tambourine to accompany their triune lilting.

The bodhran player halted his vocal arrangement and gestured for you to add your voice to the troop as the bouzouki was struck by the widower. You closed your eyes, halting your dance and tambourine administrations and held it firm against your chest as you called from the recesses of your soul the tune to fully embrace the harmonies of the other two women in the troop. You heard the bouzouki player exhale a loud gleeful laugh at this arrangement, pleased at how the improvisational melody had come to fruition.

Upon de-crescendoing the tune and concluding the arrangement, you opened your eyes and smiled as your sights were set on the approaching marines. You went to clasp your hands within the two other songstresses and curtseyed in respect to the arriving military men and women as they halted under the command of their Vice-Admiral.

“Thank you for your welcome, ladies,” he thanked, before turning to the other two members of the quint, “and gentlemen.”

“You’re most welcome,” the widower exclaimed, “we’re more than happy to be at the beck and call for entertaining fine sea-worn folk such as yourselves.”

“Well,” admiral Garp began, “by all means, continue your jolly lilting as we journey on our way into town.”

With a smile, the bodhran player counted in as the red-head brought the hurdy-gurdy from its place strapped against her back down onto her lap and began to crank the handle. The strings sprung to life under the rosin reverberating against the strings. She struck the pegs to alternate between the notes as you and Saoirse vocally harmonised with one another.

As you sung your jolly tune, you made eye contact with one of the marines trailing behind the Vice-Admiral. He had broad, circular-brimmed glasses atop his nose; pink hair stuffed beneath his marine cap. His blue eyes joined with yours as he remained stationary, enchanted by your melodical display. You softened your eyes as you continued, halting your dance movements to keep him bewitched with your skilled voice.

His eyes trailed over your features, focussing on your lips as they continued their melodical ornamentation of trills within augmented tones. You subtly approached the small marine, stalking ever so closer to him as you enjoyed his attention holding on you; before a loud order cut through the air.

“Come along, cadet!” the Vice-Admiral ordered, prompting you to jump slightly at the command alongside the pink-haired cadet.

“Yes, sir!” the cadet called out with a salute. His soft, almost hesitant voice held you as transfixed as the soft irises of his eyes did once they initially met with yours. The marine, although acknowledging his command with verbal affirmation; remained stationary as his eyes continued to trail with yours.

“Koby!” Garp again called, alerting Koby again to his duty to fall in line.

“Y-yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” he called before shaking his head to flitter his gaze between the Vice-Admiral and you before he followed in line with the other marines.

As you began again your melody, you rolled within your mind ‘Koby, Koby, Koby’ as if to test the way your brogue could handle spilling it from betwixt your lips. You smiled as a warmth spread throughout your chest and crept with a tingly giddiness up towards your face as you continued to become transfixed on the retreating form of the short cadet.

You again concluded several tunes, much to the delight of the fishermen as they brought in their catch. In reward of your merry tunes, they produced several varieties of sea-bearing food to your troop as you all began to pack up your instruments and begin to return into town. All the while you packed up your instruments and conversed with the fishermen, you continued to think about the beautiful orbs hidden behind the rounded framed glasses on the marine’s face.

You bid the men and women on the shore good evening as you walked back into town. You linked arms with the bouzouki player and led him up the beach, following the echoing laughter of his children and his soon to be daughter in law.

“Oh, my dear,” he began with a small glint in his eye, taking your linked hand within his other one and holding it there, “that was some melody today.”

“Thank you, Hamish,” you smiled at him, continuing to lead him along into town.

“You even caught the attention of the young marine,” he teased you slightly, squeezing on your hand slightly, “and a handsome one at that.”

“That’s not hard to do, Hamish. They’re at sea for long, unable to have much music I imagine. I’m sure he was more taken with the tune and the liveliness than anything else,” you shrugged, trying to embrace the words you were saying to not assume anything untoward. Your cheeks at the mention of Koby began to pigment with a more rose tone as the blush slowly crept to your face.

“That’s no small feat, lassie. Marine’s are trained to avoid all distractions. That one was completely taken with you,” he added with a knowing smile,

You pursed your lips and continued to walk on your way, following behind your red-headed leader. You did notice how beautiful he was. He had an air of innocence surrounding him; something that immediately connected with you. You, yourself, tried to seek out more playfulness and mischievousness in life and opted for keeping blissfully ignorant to any sense of seriousness.

“What are we doing? Where are we going now?” Saoirse asked her beau, leaning on his shoulder in comfort.

“Where do you think?” called the redhead from the head of the troop, turning and beginning to walk backwards with a mischievous look in her eyes. Hamish laughed at her tone, while continuing to walk toe to toe with you.

“To the pub!” Called her drumming twin in glee.

You all had a small spring in your step as you head into town towards the well-lit town centre. Several young men and women were lining up to the entrance to the large pub, which was now riddled with marines – spilling almost from the rafters. You and your jolly troop of musicians walked past the line awaiting entrance to the pub and walked directly up to the doorman who was all smiles as he saw you all.

“Ladies, laddies,” he called, opening the doors to bring forth the warmth from within the pub. Hamish released your interlocked hand from the crook of his elbow as he clapped a hand warmly upon the doorman’s shoulder in familiarity. You followed behind the trio, walking directly behind the troop.

A group of regulars were engaging in a joyous, fast-paced melodic tune; the lyrics revolving around getting drunk and leaving a maiden high and dry upon their departure. You laughed at the verses and began to aid their tune with your voice as one of the younger members of their group took to his feet and began to engage in a rhythmic jig with you.

You felt eyes trailing you as you spun and interlocked arms with the young man, enjoying the carefree and expectation-less encounter as he spun you for the final time before taking a seat. He left you in the centre of the room as you all broke into the final chorus of the tune and laughed together. A final “hooray” was cheered throughout the room as flagons were thrust into the air. You cheered, clapping your hands in response to the song.

You turned to bring your gaze to meet with the bewildered stare of the marine cadet you shared a moment in time with earlier in the day. You quirked your head to the side and offered him a soft smile, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. You trailed your gaze over his uniformed form, flittering between his pink hair and his too-large uniform before bringing your eyes up to meet with his eyes. You held your eyes on his face, looking at him through half-hooded eyes up through your eyelashes before the remainder of your troop came to thrust a drink into your arms and challenging you to throw it back faster than one another.

He watched you as your eyes widened with glee at the beverage as you held your breath and downed the drink with haste with your friends.

----------------------------

“You’re off duty, Cadet,” a gruff voice was presented to the air, breaking Koby out of his trance.

“Sir?” he asked, turning to meet the gaze of his Vice-Admiral as he sat in front of him; Bogard at his side. The Vice-Admiral rose his flagon to his lips; bringing the cold, yeasty brew to his lips before removing it to leave behind a white foam atop his silver moustache.

“You’re quick thinking, lad. I’ll give you that,” he said, bringing his thumb and forefingers up to wipe the foam from his upper lip, “but you’re pretty clueless when someone holds a candle to you.”

Bogard offered a small chuckle at the Vice-Admiral’s jest, bringing his own tankard to his lips. Koby darted his eyes around the table to focus on anything other than the Vice-Admiral, falling once more on your form as you released the drink from your lips and shuddered with a melodical laugh falling from your mouth.

“Go on, lad,” the Vice-Admiral jested with a small tap on his shoulder, “go get her a drink before someone else does.”

Immediately Koby springs to his feet, nervousness bringing a small tremble to his hands as he turns towards the bar.

----------------------

You turn to see the young marine no longer seated with his Vice-Admiral, furrowing your brows slightly and pursing your lips in disappointment. You noticed an almost playful glint in the Vice-Admiral’s eyes as he rose his beverage in a slight salute to you, a gesture which you politely returned with your empty glass.

You turned to go back to the bar before a hand pulled you into the group of bar regulars.

“Go on, lass,” called one of the members, “get your troop to give us a proper wee tune!”

You laughed, shrugging off the hand that was clasping you and turned to the other minstrels and shrugged in question. Hamish laughed before picking up his bouzouki and fixing it on his lap.

“Go on: Saoirse, Isla, Lauchlan. Go up with her and let’s give these fine folk a proper drinking song!” he called out, prompting the other three members of your party to quickly down their refreshened drinks and place the empty tankards on a table near the setting.

There was a small stage at the rear of the room, littered slightly with empty barrels of rum and ale. You asked the nearest able-bodied marine to aid you in clearing the stage as your troop made their way to the space you were making. You kicked off your shoes as you enjoyed the feeling of the wooden floor on the souls of your feet when you sang and danced to your jaunty tunes, prompting Saoirse to do the same in turn.

Isla began winding her Hurdy-Gurdy and Lauchlan started beating his bodhran with the double ended beater to start a lively rhythm. The three of you began to take turns in singing the verses before your voices joined together in a lilted harmony in the chorus. The tune of the chorus was quickly picked up by those in the pub who joined your voices in the lyrics, some providing a less than adequate melody but their enthusiasm was welcome regardless.

As you were given the final verse of the song, the beats of the bodhran halted alongside the winding of the hurdy-gurdy and the plucking of the bouzouki to have every syllable you produced be able to be articulated through your lips. You searched the crowd, eyes softened as you continued your storytelling through the lyrics before your gaze found Koby. You eyes flittered at him slightly as you cocked your head shyly to the side and continued singing the verse before the pub erupted with one last chorus of the song.

As the song ended, cheers and clanging of tankards were heard resounding the polished wooden walls. You laughed and gave a small curtsey alongside the rest of “The Merry Mellifluous Quint” as each of the names of the troop were also yelled in celebration; the last of all your own.

Koby, upon hearing your name, had it repeating circularly within his mind: much as you did with his own earlier. He closed his eyes as he focussed on the way it sounded before opening his eyes to once more find your gaze awaiting him from your distance across the room.

You bit your lip slightly to hesitantly stifle the arising feeling in your chest as you brought your attention towards Koby. You noticed his eyes trail to your bottom lip, prompting you to remove it from between your teeth and leave them slightly parted instead.

“Give us one more!” the crowd called to your troop.

Hamish laughed with his whole body merrily.

“Come on, lads! We were on the beach for a good while and we’re parched. Give us an ale and we’ll see about another!” He chuckled, prompting several pub-goers to approach the bar.

Koby looked down at his hands, already holding two tankards of ale from prior to the beginning of the first song. He quickly shook off any uneasy nervousness and approached the troop with determination. You smiled at his approach, tilting your head to the side fondly. You stepped down from the risen stage and brought yourself closer to the approaching cadet.

“Are one of those for me, Marine?” you asked him shyly, looking to the floor before looking back to his eyes. His blue orbs revealed both a hesitancy and an eagerness to please you; a combination you had not been accustomed to in some time.

As an entertainer: many sailors, marines and travellers, even regulars most days, made their desires for you known with unfiltered words and unprompted gestures. Most of the time Hamish and Lauchlan managed to keep the unwanted attention from you and the other two women in the troop and only the reciprocated connections were chaperoned. In your time venturing with the troop, you were yet to engage with entertaining the affections of a fan; only ever dancing with the odd one or two here or there.

“Yes, miss,” he said, bowing his head slightly in a nod while offering you one of the tankards in his hands. You smiled at him, receiving the tankard with a polite nod. Your hands brushed against his fingertips as you accepted the vessel containing ale and you relished in the warm tingle it shot up your arm. You could see a pink hue akin to his shrouded locks appear over his face at that slight touch. This little response from him prompted you to throw all apprehension aside and boldly propose a game onto him.

“I have a suggestion, Marine,” you playfully smirked at him, “Koby, was it?”

“Yes, Miss,” he said with a nod, anxiously awaiting your suggestion.

“First one to reach the bottom of their tankard gets a prize,” you scrunched your nose up in a taunting smile.

“A prize?” he asked, knitting his brows together.

“Yes!” you gleefully exclaimed.

“What could I possibly have that you would want? I’m just a cadet, I have nothing that’s not miliary – besides my glasses, but I kind of need those,” he began to hastily list, prompting you to giggle.

“If I win,” you say with a mischievous grin, “I get to wear your hat for the next set.”

He sucked in a small breath through his teeth at the request.

“And if I win?” he asked, gulping slightly in apprehension.

“What could I possibly have that you would want, Koby?” you asked him, biting your lip and swaying slightly.

He trailed his eyes over your form, taking in your bare feet with your bell-riddled anklet to your skirts and blouse before settling his sights on your eyes. He flittered his eyes between them slightly, triangulating down to settle on your lips before answering.

“A kiss,” he whispered through parted lips, “I would like a kiss.”

“A kiss?” you asked him with a small smile. You stepped yourself closer to him before bringing the tankard closer to your lips, “first one to the bottom, Koby.”

As soon as you uttered those words, the small marine raised his tankard to his lips and began to overzealously drain the contents of the vessel almost before you could even begin drinking from your own. You almost spluttered a laugh in your tankard, but chose to focus solely on drinking from your own. He quickly dropped the hand holding his empty tankard to the side of himself and swayed slightly at the speed the alcohol entered his body as you continued to drink yours.

As you finished the dregs of the tankard and released the container from your lips, Koby searched your eyes for permission to claim his prize from your lips. You began to step yourself closer to him and tilted your head to make to press a kiss against his lips when a call bellowed from the stage.

“Alright, let’s all prepare for The Merry Mellifluous Quint as we perform our next song!” you heard Hamish say, halting your movement. You were so close to claiming those soft lips of his, you could almost taste the cool residual remnants of the ale from his breath. Your eyes fluttered shut as you restrained yourself at the call of the elder musician in your troop.

You stepped your body away from his, opening your eyes to find his fluttered closed. You could find yourself staring at him for eternity; his slightly anxious nature and his naive innocence brought together with how truly beautiful you found him beneath his rounded spectacles.

“Forgive me, Koby,” you whispered, “I promise I will make true your reward after this next song.”

You turned and stepped your body away from his as his eyes flittered open, a sad expression displayed in his eyes. Before you could truly halt your movements, you reached up your right hand and caressed his soft cheek; a small sigh of desire escaping through your lips.

Koby felt every part of his body seize up at that small touch, your hand igniting a powerful feeling from within his own body.

“Come on, miss,” called a pub-goer from beside you, “we ain’t got all night. Give us a song, then you can have your Marine, alright?”

You widened your eyes in shock at the comment, a blush creeping up your face as you truly comprehended the amount of eyes trailing both yourself and Koby. You swallowed and shook your head, immediately returning to the stage. Hamish’s playful expression with a glint of mischief pronounced in his eyes led your blush to deepen slightly to beet-red.

“Alright, this one is for all the sailors. We’ve got some fine men and women in this town for you to occupy your night with, should you desire it!” Hamish called with a bellowing laugh, prompting the room to flood with contagious laughter, “let’s get the night started!”

The music flooded the room, voices harmonising together and trilling between the notes. You kept your eyes fixated on Koby’s as you noticed his look of pure and unbridled adoration as he listened to your melody.

You swayed to the music, gesturing to the crowd ever so often to agree with the lyrics you expressed. Isla and Saoirse also added their flare to the song, lilting with the chorus. A call and response from the crowd occurred, prompting a good rapport from the audience as you continued on your tune.

As the final notes of the melody concluded, a loud cheer erupted the hall and tankards again began freely pouring from the bar and thrust to the stage in gratitude. You paid them no mind, focussing on the pink-haired Marine who was yet to tear his gaze from your own.

You leapt gracefully from the stage and almost skipped over to Koby, extending your hand to escort him. He took your hand with his own, his other bracing his hat slightly as you brought him to the exit of the pub. You pushed on the doors to open them, the sea air overcoming your senses as the star-lit sky danced above the shore. The moon trailed its beam over the horizon as wind whispered in the sails of the secure Marine ship.

Once out of the exposing lights of the pub, you turned your gaze to Koby’s before releasing his hand from your own and pressing his back against the darkened external wall of the pub. You brought your hands to his neck and laced them behind his scruff and holding him with a firm grip before bringing your lips up to meet with his own.

His lips were everything you thought they would be. They were soft and melted immediately into the kiss you were bestowing upon him. You opened your mouth slightly to deepen the kiss, prompting a gasp to escape into your mouth at your fervour. You could feel his inexperience at this type of affection, but found him to be a fast learner. He held the flesh just above your hips and pulled your body to rest flush against his. You continued to hold him against the wall, completely in control of the kiss you were sharing. You felt his large, circular glasses graze against the apple of your cheek, prompting you to smile into the kiss. He snaked his arms around your waist and maneuvered his hands to cradle the small of your back as he savoured the attention you were giving to him.

You brought your hands up to intertwine with his soft, pink locks; wondering momentarily how a sailor exposed to sprays of seawater kept his hair so soft to the touch. You removed his hat from his head with one of your hands and continued to maneuver his head to deepen the kiss you were sharing together. You began to release his lips, opting to press a flurry of kisses to the corner of his mouth before trailing down, over his jaw. He gasped in a shaky breath as his eyes fluttered to savour every moment. Your lips met with a space below his ear and you focussed a deep kiss on that point, swirling your tongue and tasting the exposed skin.

Koby panted slightly at your administrations before seeking your lips out once more with his own. While unbreaking this new kiss, he swiped your arms from atop his hair and brought his own to cradle your face. He walked with the kiss forward before spinning you to push you against the pub wall. You gasped in surprise at this sudden display of dominance as he continued to press kiss after kiss against your lips, jaw and now in turn your neck.

Your eyes fluttered open in surprise before resting in a half-lidded, glazed over state as you enjoyed each other in this sudden display of passion. You remained blissfully unaware of your surroundings, only being brought back as the doors of the pub flew open to reveal a small bustling group of regulars exiting from the door; drunkenly repeating the verse of the final song you sang as they stepped lightly down the steps.

This sudden drunken stupor brought your attention back to where you were and what you were actively engaging in. Although completely under the shroud of darkness and relatively hidden, a wave of slight embarrassment overcame the two of you as you almost jumped out of the arms of one another. Koby’s eyes were wide in shock as he trailed the group on their ascension back towards the town. You were the first to snap out of your momentary anxiety, raising a hand to seek out the cheek of Koby and turn his attention back to you.

“Are you ok, Marine?” you asked him in a voice above a whisper.

“I-I think so,” he stuttered as he allowed you to turn his head back to face you. You smiled warmly at him and traced the outside of his lips with your thumb.

“You’re quite good at that, you know,” you praised him, “I almost feel like I was the one rewarded.”

He chuckled slightly, flittering his eyes down to your hand then meeting your face again. He brought his own hand to your cheek and caressed you, his eyes half closed as he dreamily gazed into your eyes.

“Come on, Marine,” you jested to him, releasing his cheek from your hand and reaching it down to claim his unoccupied one, “I think it’s my turn to buy you a drink.”

He laughed at your offer before releasing your cheek and accepting gleefully.

Masterlist

He stepped in front of you, leading you back to the entrance of the pub while you placed atop your head the hat you had successfully removed during the passionate encounter moments prior with a mischievous smile.

Mini Part 2

#one piece #opla #x reader #koby opla #koby x reader #koby one piece

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stanchett · 2 years ago

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Hi! I saw your post asking for prompts, so here's one for you, if you'd like. ☺️

Out of all of Nevermore's traditions, Larissa disliked Staff Bonding Nights the most. She preferred to drink her wine alone in her office instead of in a loud bar, thank you very much. But thanks to the new addition to the staff, maybe this time it wouldn't be that bad of an evening...

Here you go!! Thanks for the request, I hope you enjoy!!! :)

I owe a massive thank-you to @pro-weems-places for editing this for me, it was written at 1am and required much revision.

Black and White

Warnings: NSFW, alcohol use

Word count: 3.4k+

Your laptop screen glowed a bright white in your dark bedroom, the seemingly endless stream of emails welcoming you to the Nevermore staff taking up the open tab. The most recent one caught your attention the moment you read the subject line, “Staff Bonding Night at the Weathervane”, written in bold black letters.

“That could be fun, I suppose...” you pondered to yourself while scrolling through Netflix for something to watch.

Normally, you were more of an introvert, but you were determined to come out of your shell a bit in light of your new position at the school. You turned in for the night, shutting your laptop and curling up in bed with a nature documentary, unaware of what the following evening would bring.

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The next morning was a bit of a drag as you roamed the hallways of the school, nearly getting lost (again) as it was only your second week. It was still early, about an hour before your class was supposed to start. Rounding a corner, you almost run head-first into Larissa Weems, the stunning principal you’d hardly stopped thinking about since meeting upon your hiring. She gasped in surprise and stepped back from you, clutching her chest while she caught her breath.

“Oh Principal Weems, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you coming-” you apologized, but a quick wave of her hand dismissed your apology.

“It’s quite alright, Ms. Y/L/N. Are you lost? You seem a bit turned around.” You blushed at the realization that you definitely were, and nodded in confirmation to her question.

“Walk with me darling, I’ll show you the way from here,” Larissa offered, and you gratefully accepted. Keeping in stride and making small talk was easy with her, she was so sweet and polite. You wondered if you would see her that evening at the staff gathering.

“Hey, will you be at the Weathervane tonight? How do those events usually go?”

Larissa rolled her eyes with a sigh, “Oh yes, that.. I myself am not normally in attendance, but I’ve heard they can be quite fun, according to other staff members. I much prefer my study and a glass of red personally, but to each their own.”

Your heart sank a bit at her admission, but you tried not to look too defeated. “Why don’t you give it another shot? After all, I’ll be there..” you said in a mock-suggestive tone, secretly hoping she would realize you meant it in a way that wasn’t entirely a joke.

Just as you delivered your makeshift pickup line, the two of you arrived at your classroom. You stopped at the door and leaned against it with your arms crossed, looking up at Larissa with a challenging look, “What do you think?”

She chuckled and looked away from you - was she getting flustered? Clearing her throat, she stated, “I’ll think about it. Enjoy your class this morning, Y/N.” And with that, she headed back to her office. You watched her leave for a moment and smiled to yourself, then removed the keys to your room from your pocket. If she decided to show up tonight, you would make sure she had a great time.

By 5 o-clock that evening, you found yourself rushing around to finish getting ready, hopping out of the hot shower to throw on a button-down and some slacks. Leaving a few buttons undone in hopes you would catch the principal’s attention, you put on some light makeup and headed out the door. You hoped beyond hope that Larissa had made up her mind and decided to show.

After a short drive down the winding road, you parked outside the café and noticed the inside had been completely revamped to reflect a vibe similar to a nightclub of sorts; the tables had been pushed to the edges of the space or removed altogether to make room for a makeshift dance floor, and the overhead lights dimly lit the room in a variety of colors. “Maybe this’ll be more fun than I thought...” you whispered to yourself, glancing in the mirror of your sun visor to double check your makeup before leaving your car.

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Swinging the front door open, you were immediately greeted by a chorus of hellos from the handful of staff members already inside enjoying themselves, the low hum of dance music hitting your eardrums.

“Y/N! I’m so happy you showed up! Welcome to our little annual bonding tradition,” Ms. Thornhill exclaimed, quickly looping her arm through yours to guide you to the counter. “Would you like a drink? There’s a full bar and a table of snacks over in the corner, too. You’re welcome to them!”

You smiled your thanks in return, and she patted your back before rejoining a group of teachers by the door. She seemed like the excitable type, which you weren’t really into, but she made you feel included nonetheless and for that you were grateful.

Peeking past the counter, you spotted Coach Vlad preparing a few drinks. He handed them out, then headed your way with a grin.

“Hey, fresh blood! I’m so glad to see you! What’ll you be having?”

You thought for a moment before deciding, “Just a Jack and coke for me, Coach. I’m glad I could make it. This place moonlights as a club for you guys, huh?” You jest, leaning on the counter, eager for something to take the edge off your remaining nerves.

“Oh yeah, the Nevermore staff really knows how to get down,” he joked, gesturing to the dead crowd before you both, all chatting away. He handed you the drink and you took a swig. Strong stuff. You wondered where Larissa could be. Would she really decline your ever-so-convincing offer?

“I guess Weems doesn’t really ‘get down’ much, does she?” You asked him. His hands were already busy with prepping another drink.

“Not these days. She hardly shows her face at these events. Not really her style, I gather.” He wandered to the other side of the counter to take some more orders. You took another sip and pulled out your phone, suddenly feeling out of place without someone to really talk to.

While you were mindlessly scrolling through your social media apps, the group of teachers suddenly went silent, quietly muttering to each other as opposed to the loud conversations they were just having. You look past them and see a flash of silver brush past one of the windows. Was that..?

The front door eased open and you swore you had never seen anyone more beautiful - in walked Larissa, adorned in a silver dress and white elbow-length gloves, her hair done up perfectly.

Your jaw dropped to the floor and you struggled to keep from staring. She caught your eyes roaming up her figure and strutted her way over to you, politely greeting everyone along the way. It was at that moment you realized the alcohol was starting to hit you, giving you more confidence than you normally possessed.

Setting your drink aside, you attempted to lean coolly on the counter behind you as she approached. “Fancy meeting you here,” you teased when she reached you, her gloved hand coming to rest on the marble surface next to you, effectively trapping you beside her.

“I suppose I could say the same..” she said, her eyes openly sweeping over you, momentarily coming to rest at your slightly revealing choice of clothing before flicking away to Vlad who was still wearing a look of surprise on his face at her appearance.

“I’ll have a red, Coach,” she said all too smoothly. Grabbing the wine bottle, he poured her drink with a nod. Her gaze turned back to you, her eyes glistening under the multicolored lights as she regarded you.

Leaning in, she said in a low voice, “You sure clean up well, Ms. Y/L/N.”

You were momentarily grateful for the low lighting, positive it hid the blush that quickly rose to your cheeks and shiver down your spine. But you feigned shock at her words, putting a hand to your chest as you retorted, “Principal Weems, are you flirting with me?”

She raised an eyebrow and elegantly turned to accept her drink, looking you dead in the eye as she took a long sip. You felt a searing heat gather in your lower abdomen. God, this woman is stunning, you thought to yourself.

“It’s possible,” was all she said.

There was a sudden clap sounding from the center of the room, an attempt from Thornhill to command everyone’s attention. “Alright everyone, partner up! Let’s get a little dancing in, shall we?” She said with a grin.

A collective groan passed through the room and she jogged over to you, a huge smile still plastered on her face. “Would you care to join me? It’s your first time here, you have to give it a shot at least!”

You would feel bad turning her down, so you jokingly rolled your eyes and agreed, Larissa watching your reaction the entire time. She tried to hide her amusement but she was looking forward to this. You swallow the rest of your drink and let Marilyn lead you out onto the dance floor.

Someone cranked the music up a little higher and you quickly found yourself swaying to the beat, the alcohol in your system doing its job. You were grateful several others ended up taking her up on the offer as well, all of you dancing together to the rhythm. You closed your eyes and lost yourself to the music for a moment, your hips working on their own to keep time with everyone else. Maybe Nevermore really did know how to get down.

You opened your eyes to see Larissa staring you down from her spot at the bar, her eyes raking over your body while you danced. Without thinking, you reached a hand out to her, wiggling your fingers in the air as a silent signal for her to join you. Tossing the remainder of her wine down her throat, she placed down the glass and stalked over to you, her eyes never leaving yours. She came to stand in front of you, and you boldly placed your hands on her hips. You looked up to catch her eye and confirm that this is alright with her, her only response a sly smirk and a glint of mischief in her eye.

She began moving her body to the beat in time with you, and you released your hold on her to raise your hands above your head, losing yourself to the music once more. She closely watched your every move, almost hypnotized, like you’d put a spell on her. You turned your back to her and threw her a glance over your shoulder. That was all the invitation she needed.

Placing her hands on your hips instead, she pulled you against her front for a moment, and you gasped at the contact and her forwardness. You deliberately moved your hips more seductively against her, your intentions becoming infinitely more clear. You knew you couldn’t keep this up in front of your co-workers, so you turned to face her once again as the song ended, tossing your head back with a throaty laugh.

You looked up to find her smiling down at you, that hint of something more never leaving her glare. You crooked a finger to beckon her down to you, and she quickly leaned down to catch your whisper. “Do you wanna get out of here?” It sounded so cliche, you knew, but in that moment your arousal was almost unbearable. Straightening up again, she nodded in agreement and even in the dim light you swore you saw her cheeks redden. You bit your lip and jerked your head in the direction of the door.

Waving your goodbyes to everyone in attendance, you passed off the excuse to Thornhill that you were too tipsy to drive in an attempt to avoid suspicion and practically darted out the door, Larissa hot on your heels. Hopping in the passenger side of the school’s van, you waited while the principal buckled up and started the engine.

“You’re quite the little tease, aren’t you,” she said, her own voice coated in arousal. Her words shoot straight to your core. It was nothing you hadn’t heard before, but it sounded so much better coming from her. Her gloved hand came to rest on your thigh during the drive back to the school, her thumb stroking the sensitive skin. You were ready to hop into her lap just as she pulled into the parking lot, and she quickly cut the engine and got out.

--------

Once inside, you let her lead the way back to her quarters, your eyes glued to her backside the entire walk there. She unlocked the door and ushered you inside, locking it behind you both before pressing you against it with her hips. You gasped and looked up at her, her pupils blown so wide you could practically see your reflection in them.

“Is this what you want?” she asked, making certain you’re on the same page before proceeding.

“God yes,” you breathed out, hands coming to rest on her lower back.

She wasted no time in leaning down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing a deep moan that rumbled from your chest. Her thigh pried your own apart, coming to rest between them and you gasped into her mouth wantonly, your hands grasping her ass.

“I’ve wanted this from the first time I laid eyes on you,” you husked.

Her lips worked your neck, making your eyes roll back. “Then that makes two of us,” she whispered, pressing her thigh to your center.

You let out a breathy moan, your legs threatening to give out. All at once she pulled away to examine her work, her eyes burning into you and you licked your lips in anticipation.

“Take off your clothes and get on the bed for me.”

You loved the idea of following her orders. You didn't hesitate, tugging at the buttons of your shirt hurriedly and dropping it to the floor, followed by your pants, leaving you in your matching set of black lace panties and bra. You climbed onto the bed and knelt at its edge, and Larissa turned her back to you, silently prompting you to unzip her dress.

You took your time in doing so, kissing down her back in the zipper’s wake. You eased the garment off her shoulders and she removed her gloves, tossing them onto a nearby chair. She turned to you to reveal her choice of lingerie; a cream-colored set that complimented her skin tone perfectly. You felt your mouth water at the sight.

Sitting up on your knees put you at her height at last, and you pulled her into another kiss, this time softer. You passed your tongue over her bottom lip and she granted you entry immediately, a small whimper escaping her throat. You allowed your fingers to tangle themselves in her perfectly pinned-up hair, her own exploring over your body. You arched into her when her fingers found your nipples through your bra, her lips quirking into a playful grin at your reaction.

“Someone’s eager..” she teased, pinching them experimentally, earning her a gasp from you.

“Lay down for me,” you whispered against her lips.

With a chuckle she obliged, lowering herself beside you. You quickly took your place between her thighs, placing open-mouthed kisses from her knee up to her inner thighs. Your fingers danced over her core through the fabric, and she shuddered at the contact, spreading her legs further for you.

“Someone’s eager,” you teased, throwing her own words back at her.

Larissa covered her face with a giggle, but it quickly turned into a gasp as you finally made contact with her center through her underwear. The heat of your mouth drove her mad with need, and she tugged the offending article off, revealing just how aroused she was for you. A low growl left your chest at the sight and you dove in without a second thought.

Flattening your tongue against her clit, you finally got a taste of her, and it was well worth the wait. Her sweetness coated your tongue as you devoured her, and you glanced up to watch her writhe beneath your touch. Her back arching as her hands grabbed for anything that would ground her, eventually landing in your hair. Her whimpers were heavenly, you could listen to them all night long. And you planned to.

Just as her breaths started to quicken, you circled two fingers over her entrance, before easing them into her. She let out a high-pitched moan, and you moaned against her in response, her sounds and the tugging of your hair spurring you on. You began pumping and curling them inside her in time with the strokes of your tongue, and you could tell she was already getting close by the way her walls were tightening around you.

“Are you gonna come for me baby?” you coaxed, your fingers brushing that sweet spot inside her that drove her wild.

“Y-yes, I’m- fuck-”

You could get used to hearing this woman curse. Especially if you were the cause. With a few more gasps and breathy moans, she reached her release, flooding your fingers and mouth with her intense taste. You helped her down from her high before removing your fingers carefully, climbing up beside her and flopping onto your back to catch your breath.

After a few minutes Larissa wordlessly straddled your waist, lowering her lips to yours to taste herself on your tongue. Whining against her, you squeezed your thighs together for some much-needed friction and she chuckled against your lips.

“Oh don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet,” she teased, her fingers trailing up your thigh.

With practiced skill she pulled your panties aside, quickly finding your clit and circling it with featherlight touches. You gasped and bit your lip, the coil inside you already wound tightly. She kissed up your torso, her soft lips finding your hardened nipple through your bra with ease. You leaned up on your elbows and removed it for her, the movements of those damned fingers making it a nearly impossible feat.

She caught the sensitive peak of skin in her teeth before you could lay down again, causing your head to fall back in pleasure, a desperate whimper leaving you. Her tongue circled it in the same pattern as her fingers below and you felt entranced by her touch. You cupped her cheek, encouraging her to meet your heated gaze.

“I need you,” you all but begged, your cheeks turning pink at the nature of your words.

“That’s all I needed to hear, darling.”

Her words in such a low tone nearly drove you over the edge, but as she pressed her fingers into you, it took everything in your power to keep from crying out. A pathetic whine still managed to leave your throat despite your efforts.

Her digits filled you up in the most delicious way and she knew it. She pumped them slowly, finding the same spot in you as you did in her, massaging it as you fell back onto the mattress. You knew it wouldn’t take you long to finish at this rate, but the sudden ascent toward your orgasm took you by surprise.

“Larissa.. so.. so close,” you whimpered, your eyes squeezing shut in an attempt to stave it off a bit longer.

Your hands gripped her shoulders, nails digging in. Your vision gained a few black spots when you opened your eyes again, only to find Larissa’s lustful stare looking back.

“It’s alright dear, I want you to come.”

Her words sounded delectable in your ear when she whispered them to you, and you couldn’t help yourself when you came undone on her fingers, a moaning mess beneath her. You moved to cover your mouth but her hand caught your wrist, pinning it above you. She wanted to hear you, so you let her.

Once your pulsing around her slowed, she pulled her fingers from you and looked deep into your eyes as she sucked them clean, groaning at your taste. A smirk played on her features, proud of her handiwork as she regarded your now disheveled demeanor.

“Perhaps I’ll make a habit of going to Staff Bonding Nights.”

You both burst out in laughter before settling into a comfortable silence, soon after falling into a deep sleep, wrapped up in each other.

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #gwendoline christie #requests #my fics

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