#been finding it hard not to obsess over who i’m not mutuals with lately

[dollhousemary]

(slight vent post don’t read the tags if you don’t wanna see)

#been finding it hard not to obsess over who i’m not mutuals with lately #like. it’s hard. people should obviously be able to follow whoever they want and curate their own online experiences #but i feel like i’m doing something wrong #there are a few blogs who i’m literally in gcs with and am mutuals with a bunch of their mutuals #and they still don’t follow me #and at some point i kind of have to figure it’s about me personally #because my content is not so different from my mutuals that the reasoning would be my posts #idk. i know this is kind of silly but also it sort of really hurts actually #i feel like no one likes me

[artemish]

Sous chef | opla!Sanji x fem!Reader

word count: 2.1k

genre/tags: Sanji x reader; first-person pov; fluff; pining (but is it mutual??); angst; hurt/comfort; friends to lovers

warnings: mild ptsd; mild trauma

summary: A restless night at sea turns into one of revelations, as the reader finds that the depths of the ocean are much like a certain chef’s heart…

a/n: Hello opla girlies! First time fanfic writer here!!

I am ever the lurker on this website, but something inside me changed when I started watching One Piece, and now I’m down bad for this crew (specifically for the hot cook)

So I thought I’d give it a shot, write a bit of fanfic and see where it goes! I’ve finished the live action and currently watching the anime, so my interpretation of Sanji is quite mixed, however I tried to stay closer to opla!Sanji. I’ve also left this open ended cos I might write more (who knows hehehe)

Shoutout to @honnelander for inspiring me to write again ☺️ (please read her go fish! series if you haven’t!! It’s great!!)

𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰!

(。･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

Sanji often stayed up late during those long nights at sea, prepping for the next day's meals, making notes of what had been used and taking stock of the ingredients that were left.

It was almost obsessive at times, desperate even.

He ignored everyone’s concern for him to just take it easy and go to sleep, even Nami’s, and refused to give us an explanation.

He would count every last bean, every last grain of rice or drop of water that he could, and he had tried many times but failed to make an accurate record (mostly because Luffy would lessen the supplies significantly).

I hadn’t really understood his habit, until one night, when the waves were particularly rough and I was disturbed from my sleep.

Usually, rough waters didn’t bother me too much, but I was already quite restless that night and had only truly been half asleep.

My mind was a blazing mess from all the thoughts that had been looping endlessly through it.

Thoughts of him.

I sat up on the futon. My hair draped in a tangled mess around my face and over my shoulders.

I looked across at Nami, her back facing towards me, breathing deeply as she slept.

I envied her ease.

I hauled myself out of the bed and straightened the silk nightgown I was wearing. I slipped on the woven shawl I had laid out over my blanket and made my way down the corridor, towards the kitchen.

The waves had picked up their brutality and began to batter the ship quite hard, so that it swayed violently from side to side.

Gripping the sides of the walls and trying to match the sway, I wondered how everyone could sleep so peacefully.

The ship moaned and croaked as it continued to sway.

I stumbled into the kitchen just as it crashed against the starboard side hard, pushing the ship port.

The force took me by surprise, causing me to lose my grip of the wall and my footing.

I tumbled through the doorway, and slammed hard against the stack of barrels in the corner.

The momentum of the ship turned once more. Lurching towards the right again, I slid off the barrel and slammed face first onto the ground.

“Ah shit!” I yelped. All traces of sleep had officially left me.

“Luffy, that better not be you,” came a brash voice from the darkness, “and if it is, you best be walking out that door right now.”

“Ack, Sanji?”

In the dull light, I saw the concerned face of the cook instantly pop around the counter.

“Y/n! Gods, are you alright?”

He moved swiftly to where I was laying and gently lifted me up.

“You're alright now, love. C’mon up. That’s it, easy”

He swung my arm around his neck and held my waist tightly as he led me to the bench seating on the other side of the kitchen counter.

Despite the daze I was in, I still felt my heart quicken, at his firm grip on my waist and at the ease with which he picked me up.

“Sanji, what are you doing up?” I whispered, not because I was trying to be quiet, but because the knock had left me completely winded.

He sat me down and wrapped my shawl around me tightly, rubbing my shoulders as he did, and kneeled down in front of me.

“Are you okay? Look at my fingers, how many do you see? Are you cut anywhere, y/n? Do you have a concussion? Do you want some water, tea? What do you need, I’ll get it for you, anything you nee-”

“Sanji,” I said, holding my hand firmly on his mouth to keep him quiet, “I’m alright.”

I squeezed his shoulder, as I saw a sigh of relief wash over his face. “You really got to stop treating me like some princess you know.”

“Madam, you are the loveliest person to ever grace this ship. I would hate it if I couldn’t bask in your beauty everyday.”

“You’re laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?” But I could feel my stomach fluttering at his words.

He grinned, “madam, someone as lovely as you deserves to hear it said often.”

I shoved his shoulder. “Shut up!”

He laughed. He looked so soft in the light of the lantern.

“You didn’t answer my question by the way.”

“What question?” he asked, as he got up to sit next to me.

“Why are you awake?”

He turned his face away from me and shifted uneasily on the bench. “Why does it matter?”

“Sanji, why are you awake, really? What is it that you’re not telling us? You know I’ve lost track of how many times Luffy’s found you asleep in here because you’ve been up doing… well, whatever you do. What’s going on?”

He let out a deep sigh as he turned back around to face me, looking at me through the flop of blonde hair that covered half his face. He bit his lip hard and dropped his head, defeated it would seem.

The ship continued to sway and croak and groan, as the silence between us grew.

He looked small, afraid. I reached out to hold his hands and he took them eagerly, squeezing them tightly as he did.

“You all know about what happened to me and Zeff,” he said finally, “and I appreciate the kind words and empathy you’ve all given me, but you could never really understand what that was like, being out there. Waiting to die. The scorching, unrelenting sun in the day that made my skin flake off. The icy air of night that felt like daggers, prodding at my burnt flesh. Being hollowed out from the inside, from the hunger, until the numbness set in and I thought I’d melt into that shitty rock. Even being as careful as I was, as precise, I still didn’t have nearly enough food to survive, and it really was only by fate or luck, a real miracle actually, that we were rescued.

I guess I haven’t shook that feeling yet, that fear. It was easier to distract myself in the restaurant, you know, being surrounded by food and all, but here it’s different here. I-I just want be sure, I want to know that we’re good, at all times, because I don’t want any of you to go through what I did. It’s shit, yeah I know, but I’d rather not sleep then let any of you go through that.”

Again, the silence between us was palpable.

I felt like I’d been punched.

He breathed heavily, as if trying to catch his breath and I knew then that this was something he had kept buried deep within himself because the true nature of his fear was so horrific, so raw, who could ever understand it?

None of us had been out there with him, even though we would all do the same for each other.

But our sentiments were just words.

He had lived it.

The silence grew stifling.

I knew he would do anything to protect us from that fate.

“Sanji”

“You-you can’t tell the others. They don’t need to know, yeah? I’m happy as long as they’re fed with no complaints.”

“But Sanji-”

“Y/n, please don’t tell them.”

“Then why are you telling me?”

The mess of thoughts in my mind was growing.

He held my hands tighter and used them to pull himself towards me. His thumbs made circular motions on my palms.

I heard my heart pounding in my ears and I stupidly hoped he couldn’t hear it.

“Darling, I am a ball of dough in your hands. You can knead me and form me any way you’d like, and I’ll give you no resistance.”

“Pfft” I giggled and so did he.

At this, I felt like we were both at ease again.

I always admired his way of keeping things light.

“No, but, if you’d allow me, madam, to be serious,” he straightened up a bit then, “I suppose I was hoping that you’d find me in here. I was hoping that I could tell just you. You’ve got a way about you that everyone just finds trustworthy. I don’t know but there’s, there’s something about you...” He trailed off and laughed before he could finish, and I could see a faint blush of pink on his cheeks. “Sorry I-I ugh, I’m a bit sleep deprived. I’m just glad you’re here.”

I had never seen this side of him (or any side of him for that matter) though I knew it existed. Somewhere under the flirtatious, playboy persona he put out, I knew there was a genuine sweetness. I just wished I was more awake to really enjoy it.

Once the pain I was in wore off, my whole body felt heavy, like it was being pulled down with the full force of gravity, and the sway of the ship was less violent and more like the gentle rock of a cradle.

“You know, you don’t have to pretend with me.” I swept his bangs out of his eyes and kept my hand cupped around the side of his face. I hadn’t realised how blue his eyes were until now.

Even in the dull light, I could see every shade of blue there was swirling in them, like the ocean’s raging swell on a moonlit night. I saw the sleep in his eyes weighing him down too.

“You know this is the most words I’ve heard out of your mouth since I got here.”

He grinned sleepily, “well I’ve just been trying to find the right time to talk to you, my swan.”

I could feel my cheeks burn and I hoped he didn’t see the blush come over them.

“I didn’t think the right time would be 3am, me face planted and bruised in the kitchen, but here we are.”

“You are alright now, yeah?”

“Of course,” I scoffed, “I’m just sleepy. You look sleepy too.”

As if on cue, he yawned and leaned back on the bench.

“Yeah,” he said, “it’s super late. And Luffy wanted everyone to have a big breakfast tomorrow, you know with eggs, bacon, croissants, etc. Breakfast service is always the most important. But I just…” his voice trailed off again, but there was a hint of frustration this time.

“You just can’t sleep, like you cannot.”

“Yeah.”

“I get it,” I said, and I did, “the memories, they come back; more vividly, more real at night. It’s like it’s better to be awake than asleep. Like sleep causes you to relive the pain. Every moment, everything.”

“Y/n,” he said with concern in his voice, “what caused you pain, my love?”

My love.

Those words rang in my ears for some time, even now. Did he mean it?, I thought, maybe he feels the same?

Was all that flirting genuine or was he just being nice?

Was he just being Sanji?

It had been such a long, revealing night, but that stuck out to me and I couldn’t shake it.

He had been so open about his fears, not even the captain knew what he was telling me, I was sure of it.

So then, I kept thinking, why me?

If I didn’t mean something more, then why me?

While I was mulling all this over, I hadn’t noticed that I was leaning on his shoulder until he pulled me into a hug, wrapping his arms around me and holding me tightly, so that my face rested on his chest.

The slit in his poet shirt revealed his tanned skin underneath.

I boldly moved my hand up his chest and traced his freckles with my fingers.

He played with my hair.

Friends definitely didn’t do this.

“Let’s not talk about that now,” I whispered, “just close your eyes, okay? And Sanji?”

“Yes?”

“If you need a sous chef tomorrow morning, I’ll be there.”

I felt his soft laugh hum in his chest.

“Thank you, y/n. I’ll take you up on that.”

He buried his face in my hair as he continued to hug me and I felt his whole body relax.

In one night, the chef had shown me that there were more layers to this cake of a personality he had than I had fully anticipated, and all of them were deliciously sweet.

Delectable even.

And confusing.

As we slipped further into sleep, we had also unknowingly laid ourselves out on the bench, still tangled in each other's embrace, and sharing my shawl for warmth.

An embrace that was a little too close for friends.

— — — — —

“We’re just friends, Nami,” I hissed, trying to restrain myself from yelling in her ear, “there’s nothing there! He-we- we’re just friends! There are no feelings, we are JUST friends.”

She found us in the morning and woke me up, leaving Sanji still asleep.

I flapped around our room, growling out my protests as I did, but it was no use.

She just sat there.

Just sat there.

Arms folded and tapping her toes.

With a huge smirk plastered across her face.

“Yeah, I bet you are.”

#opla sanji #opla sanji x fem!reader #opla sanji x reader #opla sanji x y/n #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #opla x reader #first person pov #vinsmoke sanji #sanji vinsmoke #sanji fanfic #sanji fanfiction #opla #one piece sanji #one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic #actually down on my knees for this man 🙈🙇🏽‍♀️

[thecameronchronicles]

Chest

TW: Smut. Language. 

SUMMARY: JJ’s obsessions calls for a quell only you can supply…

WORD COUNT: 970

REQUESTED

Anonymous asked:

Can you do JJ being obsessed with readers boobs? 🙏🏽

Chest 

He adored every single part of you and left nothing untouched. But there was something particular on this day that you were well aware had an effect on him as his eyes hadn’t budged since you removed his shirt from your chest earlier that morning. 

“JJ!” John B exclaimed as he was too fixated on the way your breasts spilled from either side of your bikini to pay any mind to the fish he had on his line. Because of this, your mutual friend would lunge to apprehend the pole before it was forced into the water, doing so a moment too late. 

“Seriously?! Whatever was on the other end of that probably could have paid for dinner-can you stop being negligent for just one second?” John B was enraged, speaking cruel words as your eyes narrowed to him. 

You understood the worry as you shared it as the paycheck-to-paycheck lifestyle would be nice if any of you were able to be consistent enough for even that. Because of this and the fact it was your fault as you had intentionally seduced JJ, you dove into the water in seconds, returning with the pole in hand as it was released almost immediately after it was taken. 

And for this reason and the fact the droplets of water dried only accentuated the soft skin he was desperate for that much further, any attempt made to hide his focus was obliterated as his eyes magnetized between yours and your chest, shamelessly. 

“Can you come help me-”

“Yep!” JJ was quick to leap off of the boat, leaving Pope and John B to round up the HMS Pogue as you led the way into The Chateau. 

“Needy a bit today, JJ-”

“What the hell am I supposed to do when you have them staring me in the face all damn day?!” He spoke at your chest as you saw the strain behind his face of how this had affected him. And so you decided to grant him a reward. Teasing the straps to your bikini top, you would set them to a descent as his eyes widened. 

“You’ve wanted them all day, haven’t you?”

“Oh my God…” He groaned upon You moved closer, pulling the top over his eyes before allowing it to cover him. He was quick to shove it away as you moved even closer, the distance between you as you led his cheeks between your hands just before he would have been able to make contact with the naked skin beneath him. 

“You’ve been suffering?” You teased a pout as he nodded, willing to sell his soul at this point if it meant just being able to touch you. Even for a second. 

“Then I want to be good to you, JJ.” His brows perked as he slowly nodded, swallowing hard as you straddled him. You brought his hands to your breasts, allowing him full reign to use them as he pleased. For a while, he would simply hold them in admiration, supporting their weight and massaging you as he basked in the addition of your moans caused by his touch. 

“That feel good, sweetheart?”

“Mmm…Making me so wet, JJ.”

“Shit…” He groaned against the nipple now taken behind his smirk, proud of how he was able to affect you as you had to him. A mixture of pulls and sucks to your nipple would have you grinding against him as he nodded. 

“It’s a miracle my cock didn’t rip through my shorts today-”

“Then maybe we should get you out of them-” Before he could fight it, you were on your knees, guiding him to stand to slip off his shorts, before making him sit once again. His eyes wouldn’t leave you for a second as you took his thick erection in your grasp and began to stroke him, finding beads of precum already at the tip. A teasing lick from your tongue would send his body trembling beneath you. 

“I’m not gonna last in your mouth, princess…It’s been aching all day.”

“Who said I’m gonna blow you, JJ?” His eyes widened, somehow those words were more seductive and enticing than the idea of him coating your throat in him. 

“You’re gonna come on my chest…unless you-”

“I fucking love you…” 

You chuckled. “I love you to, J…Now show me how much by letting me make you come with your favorite part of me.” His eyes rolled as you stationed him between your breasts, drooling over his tip as his mouth widened in disbelief. 

“You’re so fucking perfect…Oh my god-” You forced your breasts together, allowing the pressure and warmth before providing the friction. 

“Eyes to me, princess. It’s so good-”

“Yeah JJ? That feels good?”

“Oh my God, I’m gonna come. I can’t fucking wait-” 

“Yeah?” You worsened it by moaning, taking his fingers to your mouth and sucking on them, before quickening your motions to bring him closer to the edge. 

“I can’t hold it-”

“Then don’t-”

“I’m gonna come, I gotta-”

“Right here baby…” You slipped your hand across your chest. “Anywhere as long as its on my chest-”

“Fuck, baby, I’m-FUCK!” The warm ribbons of cum coated your chest as he watched you pull him to your lips, moaning to his taste. 

“Get the fuck up here.” He groaned as he positioned you on his stomach before you were taken even higher. 

“You let me come on your chest, now I'm gonna make you drip on mine. Ride my face until you come baby…” Your eyes widened to him. 

“It wasn’t a request.”

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @bethoconnor @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection

#jjmaybank #jj maybank x reader #jjsmut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank #outerbanks #outer banks smut #obx #obxsmut #obx fanfiction #outer banks

[fuckyeahfightlock]

Advent Ficlets 2022, Day 5

Wind

Sherlock was frowning, and not just with a down-turned mouth. His wrinkled forehead was in on it, and the bridge of his nose. His shoulders crept toward his ears; he looked vaguely horrified, or at the very least, disgusted. When he stretched one index finger to stroke his laptop’s trackpad, it was as if he were reaching to touch something slime-coated, and he was quick to withdraw. He let go a slight grunt, indicating exasperation and distaste.

“What’s so terrible?” John asked, peering at Sherlock over the top of the newspaper. He let the corner of the page dip down lazily, out of the way.

“Hm? Oh.” Sherlock shook himself free of his grimacing posture as if shaking off a bad dream. “Marriage vows. In specific, those vows written by couples and posted online as--” he made quick quote-marks in the air with his fingers “--inspiration. What myriad ways people won’t find to humiliate themselves publicly.”

“You’ve a point there. I think the internet experience peaked in the late ‘90s. It’s all a bit too easy now.” John folded up the paper and set it aside on the table beside his armchair as he went on. “The standard ones aren’t bad. Book of Common Prayer. Adaptable--nobody has to promise to obey the other.”

“Don’t be so sure, John.” Sherlock’s eyes sparked at his own joke.

“Right, I’ll be requesting final edit on those, then.” In the kitchen, John switched the kettle on and waited for the water to hot up, leaning against the worktop with arms folded on his chest. “I can feel a breeze here,” he mused. “We should see about this window.”

“Tell your landlady,” Sherlock said drily. “She can phone a handyman.”

“I think you and I are the handyman, Sherlock.”

“That can’t be right.” He leaned far back in his chair, stretching his limbs for miles before resettling. “Anyway, we can write our own, I suppose. Without inspiration from the windy drivel dreamed up by Helena and Thomas from Lincolnshire, who I’m certain are by now divorced.” He shut the laptop. “I’ll have tea, if you’re making it.”

“Indeed, I am.”

“That’s rare.”

“Or I could make just my own and get on with my day.”

“Thank you, John, for making the tea. Shall we promise ‘til death do us part?”

John busied himself with the mugs and sugar bowl, immediately reminded of their mutual propensity to run into danger rather than away from it. “Seems words like that might be tempting fate. And you’ll be tired of it long before we get anywhere near old age.” He shrugged.

Sherlock, now crossing the room to join him in the kitchen, fixed him with a hard glare. “Tired of it?”

John hadn’t realised how casually he’d just predicted the demise of their relationship. He’d been going for a joke, of course. But.

“Sherlock Holmes, tied down to domestic bliss?”

“With you, though,” Sherlock said, as if it were obvious that a marriage with John Watson in it was inevitably going to be anything but tamed down to the dull roar of silent shared meals and seeing to the drafty kitchen window.

“Tired of me, then,” John said, shrugging once more, feeling rather smaller than he liked to. Where was this coming from? “Know what? Nevermind,” he said quickly, forcing a grin. “Just a joke that didn’t land.”

“No,” Sherlock intoned, and reached for John’s hand. “Not a joke. If you for even a single minute can imagine a time I will not be wildly--one might say obsessively--enamoured of you every minute of the rest of my life then I have failed us both. I can’t imagine it. Because it’s impossible. I love you ferociously.” He put sincere, heavy emphasis on the last word, imparting his seriousness. “You must know this by now.”

John let go a self-deprecating little laugh and even as they eased into an embrace, he shrugged dismissively. “I know. I know you do. But how can you be sure you will tomorrow? Or in a few years--when I finally lose control of my thickening middle? When we’ve solved all the cases, and traveled and stayed in, and done all the sex things.”

“There are always more and different sex things,” Sherlock corrected, and the tension broke around their shared smiles.

“It just came on in a hurry, and now we’re three weeks away from committing to something I’m not sure you’ve really thought all the way through.” John’s voice was low, and they were too close to focus on each other’s faces, which made it easier. “I mean.” He cleared his throat. “Who am I? To think I can marry you?”

Sherlock stroked his hand down John’s chest, smoothing his edges, then plucked a bit of lint and gently flicked it away.

“Well isn’t it obvious?” he asked seriously, softly. “You’re John Watson.”

#christmas fic #advent ficlets 2022 #writing #fic #ficlet

[sparkledfirecracker]

For writer meta asks - 1 & 3 please. 😘

I must compliment you on the talent to pick out the questions with the longest answers 🤣

1. Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

Current projects, do you have a minute? I’m currently working on multiple projects.

Viking Freezy, the second chapter is written, but I’ve handed it over to a mutual to be mean and give me a brutal opinion as I feel like it’s missing something. Freezy is horrible and reader has been picked out to marry him, but her heart is with Curtis. I love this story, because all the rage I’ve felt during a particular period of time is pumped into this short series (5 chapters total when I finish it). It’s difficult going back to it, but it’s almost finished on paper, just needs editing.

Mob Freezy, I’m late to my own challenge, what else is new 🤣. He’s a little softer and he’s set his eyes and mind on something he can’t have. Of course he doesn’t listen and we’ll have to find out if his cousin won’t hang him up in his own warehouse. What don’t I love about this story? It brought me one of my closest online friendships when one door closed and another opened. Teacup and Freezy would’ve never seen the light of day of it wasn’t for @wakingbeauty. He’s soft, mean, cute and possessive. I truly love it, plus he’s part of the family of mayhem, which makes things even more interesting 😆

Another challenge entry, also late, but I had good reason for this one. Diner!Bucky, it’s almost finished, I just need to write out the smut. I don’t want to say too many things about this one, as I want most of it to be a surprise, but I can admit that @rebel-stardust will be popping my Bucky Barnes cherry with this story. I’m terrified to publish this one as I’ve never written anything for Bucky before. But it’s a wip that deserves daylight, it’s been in my vault of wips for over a year now and finally gained purpose because of a challenge.

Resort CEO Andy, the first chapter is also almost finished and for the first time in a very long time I’m going to make a deadline for a challenge. He’s the director/CEO of the fitness resort and he’s got his work cut out for him with the rugrats working for him. We’ve already met Curtis and Johnny thank to @chase-your-dreams-away. But we’ll find out what Andy does on and off business hours himself soon.

A cheesy Jake Jensen story, also another that needs finishing for my own challenge 🤣. Jake is obsessed with reader and is a total geek about it too and reader loves to play games with him. There’s nothing Jake wouldn’t do for her. Colin had to take one for the team and be mean, but it had to happen otherwise Jake wouldn’t get his shot.

The last one is something I hopefully can do and start posting this year during December. It’s a fun way of celebrating my birthday month, but I’m not revealing what it is yet, as I might have to hold on to it for another year. The process is long and I’m struggling with coming up with a few things 🤣.

Mean!Lloyd who is a Harvard Football player, he’s absolutely despicable. It’s an enemies staying enemies story, no happy ending on the romance front. Mean was my monthly theme this month, but I’m loving where it’s going. Just need to finish editing the intro to the story and sort out the sloppy blowjob and steamy live stream in order for it to be finished.

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

There are two scenes for my Family Affairs series. It’s a brutal torture scene and a drug bust, I have it in mind, and I’ve attempted to write one of those, but it’s fighting me. There’s so many elements and people in these scenes it’s hard to figure out who goes where and why.

So naturally I’m resorting to watching The Sopranos, The Godfather, Sons of Anarchy, Mayans M.C., Goodfellas, Mickey Blue Eyes, etc. to give me some inspiration.

#lilo gives answers #undutchable11 #meta writing asks #ask game #lilo plays #asks are always open #asks are always welcome

[yandere-daydreams]

imagine a yandere who’s like…a total kiss ass. Like they’re constantly bowing at your feet and probably would buy your bath water type of guy. Like a real loser kinda dude. Like do you see what i’m envisioning

tw - stalking, noncon touching, delusional thoughts, yandere is a major hypocrite but when aren't they, implied kidnapping.

I think that's very in-line with the traditional, stalker-type yandere who's just so obsessed with their darling, too desperate for your love and affection to care what kind of mental hurtles they have to clear to turn stealing your dirty laundry into a grand romantic gesture. They're just so creepy, always lurking in your peripheral, too shy to actually talk to you and too awkward when they try, prone to stuttering, more likely to spend the conversation rubbing at the back of their neck and staring at the ground and apologizing for taking up so much of your precious, precious time than saying anything that might win you over. You're just so pretty, and so nice, and so perfect... They can't imagine you'd ever willingly interact with them. They can't imagine someone like you would ever love someone like them back. They just don't deserve anything like that, anything so mutual.

But, they're alright with a one-sided relationship. They don't deserve to be loved, but you do, so they try to love you in little ways, to leave roses on your doorstep, help out with all the household chores so much, whether that means making you something to eat when they know you'll be working late or getting rid of all the used chapstick you leave laying around, because they know you'll never finish it and they know this is the closest they'll get to ever kissing you. They try not to bother you, to check the cameras they installed and make sure you're not home whenever they have time to visit, but they get stuck, sometimes, spend a little more time than they should burying their face in your bedsheets or sorting through the contents of your closest for anything they know you're not going to miss, and they can't leave, not until you fall asleep, but until after they've taken plenty of pictures of your cute, sleeping face and taken some time to just lie beside you, playing with your hair, admiring what they've already decided they're never going to touch. Sometimes, they get brave, kissing your forehead or cheek or your lips, and sometimes, they can't bring themself to leave as soon as you start to stir, as soon as it's clear they've gone too far. They've never been caught, but it's gotten close. They've played with the idea of letting you find them, before. Of loving you in ways that aren't so little.

It wouldn't be that hard. They'd keep you comfortable, obviously, make sure your restraints are padded, buy games and books to keep you occupied, you decorate your room with all the pretty, bright things that remind them of you. You're perfect, and you deserve to be worshipped, to be loved in person, not just from distance, not just when they think they can get away with loving you. You deserve it, and after so many months, after such good behavior, they're starting to think that they deserve it, too, that it wouldn't be so bad if they let themself having something, even if it's not everything, not yet.

Not until they've showed you that they're the only one who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere prompts #yandere theory #general

[samstree]

For the reverse trope ask: the soft character comforting the tough character after a trauma

Piece Him Back Together

Part of the reverse trope series.

When Geralt gets kidnapped, it's up to Jaskier to rescue him. Some truths about a witcher's worst weakness come to light.

(geraskier, 2.1k, hurt/comfort, geralt whump, mutual pining, competent jaskier, love confession, mild blood)

read on AO3

"Shit, shit, shit..."

Jaskier lets out a string of curses all the while balancing the weight of two fully grown men with stumbling footwork. He desperately tries to keep Geralt up with a hand on the small of his back but fails to stop the injured witcher from drooping with each step, until, at last, both of them wind up in a heap of limbs by the road.

Geralt lets out a pained grunt and Jaskier scrambles with apologies.

“Fuck, sorry.” The bard shifts Geralt’s bulk with all he can muster and finally settles him on a patch of soft moss under the tree. The witcher hisses as his back hits the bark rather heavily. “Shit, I’m so sorr—”

“You already said,” Geralt interrupts him but there’s no anger in his tone.

“Still. I am.”

Jaskier retrieves a handkerchief from his pocket and begins to dab at the mess of blood at Geralt’s temple, wincing when he finally sees how bad the blow is. Blood oozes from the gash, slower than a moment before. The fabric is soaked through and the skin there is still tender.

It’s all witchers’ weakness.

The temple. A blow to the head.

It messes up all their senses and coordination, leaving them in the most vulnerable state. If Jaskier had reached him any later, this might have done Geralt in.

Jaskier lets out a distressed sound at the thought.

“Stop fussing. We need to go.” The witcher, against all odds, remains level-headed.

“No, it’s all right. I knocked out all the guards and servants, along with the duke and his mage.” Jaskier tilts Geralt’s head for a better angle to press the handkerchief down on the wound. “I may have given the two of them a little more than the recommended dose. The lady at the apothecary warned me about the risk of choking with much sleeping potion, urgh, like I give an ounce of fuck if they die a gruesome death or not. It’d be a favor to the town.”

The venom surprises even Jaskier himself, and Geralt lets out a meaningful hum.

“Rest assured, my dear. No one will be looking for us today.”

Up close, Jaskier can feel Geralt scrutinize him intently as if to burn a hole into his face. He meets the amber gaze, the dark pupils still a little blown wide from the shock, but there’s also something akin to relief flowing in those beautiful eyes.

He revels in the silence, observing Geralt in return for further signs of hurt, but finds none.

The witcher relents first, the tiniest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “So you drugged an entire castle?”

“Didn’t think I had it in me, huh?” Jaskier teases. “The White Wolf, saved by a humble bard and forever impressed by his wit.”

“Hmm.”

“Well, don’t beat yourself up, oh mighty witcher. I’m sure you only needed the rescue because those villains took advantage of your only weakness.” The bard adds his usual dramatic flair into the last two words.

Geralt blinks. Something shifts in his expression, his breathing picking up and his eyes darting everywhere. If the bard didn’t know better, he’d say the witcher is flustered, which makes it all the more confusing.

“Mocking me, are you?” Geralt drops his gaze and tries to shy away, but the bard holds him in place with the other hand. Under Jaskier’s palm, the frame of the witcher’s ear is heating up.

“How am I mocking you? Geralt, even you must admit witchers aren’t all-powerful beings.” Jaskier frowns. “They messed up your head. I know all your senses get muddled when you’re like this. Seriously, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“What are you talking about?” the witcher snaps his gaze back to Jaskier, a puzzled crease deep between his brows, which only makes the bard scoff with amusement.

“The head wound, of course. How did they get you? An ambush and a blow to the head, I’m assuming.” Jaskier explains. “How else did you get yourself into a dungeon and dimeritium cuffs? What, are you telling me you walk into their trap voluntarily?”

He rolls his eyes at the offhanded joke but the silence from the witcher leaves the mood heavier. Somehow, it doesn’t feel like a denial of what he just said. Geralt is staring at him with an inexplicable look on his face, and these looks are hard to come by these days. Jaskier prides himself in being the best on the continent at reading his witcher, and he has no inclination to break the streak.

“What happened then? Talk to me, Geralt.”

Jaskier removes the handkerchief a little. The gash has stopped bleeding, so he ties it around Geralt’s head carefully to keep the wound shielded, at least until they can wash it properly. His hands stay with Geralt afterwards, waiting for him to open up.

“I—” Geralt purses his lips before continuing, golden eyes meeting the bard in earnest. “They didn’t ambush me, Jask. I walked into that castle unarmed by choice.”

“What?” Jaskier’s jaw drops.

“It’s because—” the witcher scowls. “Because I thought…that they had you.”

It’s like a lightning strike, where their skin connects tingling all the way from the tips of Jaskier’s fingers to a warm pool of fuzziness in his stomach. The air is suddenly too hot so Jaskier decides to put more space between them.

“Oh.”

Geralt chases him ever so slightly before settling back with resignation, his eyes still bare and vulnerable, as if he just revealed the darkest secret when it is only the sweetest thing in a horrible, horrible way.

“A whisper of you being held hostage and suddenly I couldn’t think. Couldn’t remember to check the truth. Couldn’t waste another second.” Geralt hovers a hand near the bard’s face before retreating to his side. “You were right that they got me because of my one weakness, Jaskier. Just not the one you assumed.”

The pounding in Jaskier’s chest is jumping out of his throat. He’s sure he will die within the next minute if he doesn’t speak to ease this ache in his heart.

“Oh.”

He ends up saying dumbly.

“It was too late when I noticed the absence of you. Your voice, your heartbeat, your scent. Nothing. You weren’t in that castle or the cells. All I could hear was silence and all I could smell was blood.” Geralt draws a shuddering breath. “I hoped, when they kept me in the dark, that they were lying about ever having you. That you were nowhere near that damn place instead of—”

The witcher swallows, unable to finish the sentence.

“Instead of,” Jaskier adds for him, “they’d already killed me.”

The tension hangs between them. The bard sits back on the heels of his feet and finds himself at a loss for words for the very first time in his life.

Geralt might be the only person who can force Jaskier through so many firsts in his life. His first time writing a hit song, first time smashing into someone’s face with a lute, first time saving a witcher’s life, and perhaps, first time murdering two evil overlords obsessed with collecting witchers for experiments.

Hmm, it’s not like Jaskier regrets any of these.

Geralt reaches out again, tentative and patient like he’s approaching a spooked horse. This time, Jaskier takes pity and meets him halfway, his thumb rubbing small circles at the sword callouses that he adores so much.

“Say something,” Geralt pleads.

Jaskier swallows a lump in his throat and sniffles to ease the congestion in his nose, his vision blurring in desperation.

“It’s the most words you’ve said in one sitting, Geralt. You’ll have to allow me a moment to figure out what you are saying and, most importantly, not saying.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “It’s you, you know? There’s always something you are holding back and that is often the crux of it. I thought I got good at reading between the lines, but this is…overwhelming.”

With the enhanced healing kicking in, Geralt is looking much better by the minute. The blood dries and crusts over and his eyes almost shining in the daylight, or is it just the emotions within them? Jaskier can’t tell.

“Maybe I can help you. With the hidden words.” Geralt squeezes Jaskier’s fingers reassuringly. He tilts his head in the most endearing way. It happens to be that particular head tilt that Jaskier treasures with his life, the one that manages to always take his breath away.

“I love you, Jask.”

The warm pool of fuzziness in Jaskier’s stomach turns into a bottomless pit, and he’s falling.

And soaring.

“I love you.” Geralt smiles sadly. “In the dark of that cell, it became…ever so clear and so loud that I couldn’t deny it anymore. I love you, in spite of myself. Gods, I’ve loved you for so long.”

Geralt picks up Jaskier’s hand and places the barest touch of a kiss there, his lips chapped but oh so gentle. Jaskier lets out a soft gasp and the tears roll down uncontrollably. The next thing he knows, he’s buried deep in Geralt’s embrace. The sobs choke in his lungs like a dam has been broken.

“I—” Jaskier is amazed to find that their roles have reversed. The witcher has expressed everything but the bard becomes mute. So he takes up Geralt’s role gladly and replies with actions.

Jaskier’s lips are pressed everywhere he can reach: the soft, warm skin of Geralt’s neck, the sharp of his jaw, his cheek, the tip of his nose. He disregards the grime and dirt and kisses Geralt’s uninjured temple, the single most fragile part of a witcher’s body—barring their heart, so it seems. He tucks away a strand of white hair and kisses Geralt’s temple one more time, tasting the salty tang of tears.

When he pulls back, Geralt’s smile is blinding.

He hears Jaskier, even though—

“I still don’t know what to say,” Jaskier croaks, sniffling hard.

The bard rests his hands at the nape of Geralt’s neck and loses himself in the sunlit golden honey, his favorite color in the world and the most beautiful dream that’s ever come true.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Geralt wipes away the wetness on Jaskier’s face with the pad of his thumb. “Master Jaskier, poet, minstrel, professor… Stumped for words and forever impressed by a witcher’s love confession.”

He mimics Jaskier’s phrasing and the bard can’t help but chuckle despite the tears and snout, his hand swatting at Geralt’s shoulder. Jaskier knows he must look so absurd, laughing and crying all at once, but it’s the last thing in the world that matters.

Geralt loves him, and—

“You got hurt because of me.”

The remorse licks up, along with the urge to protect and to care. The sight of Geralt limp and bloody, bound by the wrists in a dark cell is something Jaskier never wants to relive again.

“I don’t care, Jask.”

“I care.”

“Then make it better.”

So he does. Geralt never wavers as Jaskier captures his lips and pours everything he cannot voice into the kiss, drawing a contented moan out of the witcher.

“Does it still hurt?” the bard whispers between one breath and the next.

“A little.”

Jaskier resumes his work and cards deft fingers through silver hair, careful not to nudge the handkerchief. His nails ghost over Geralt’s scalp and scratches gently until a purring sound rumbles deep in the witcher’s chest. The bard giggles proudly.

“Now?”

“Keep going.”

Geralt traps Jaskier between his strong arms devours him with passion, the heat of his body solid and calming.

Jaskier has never thought of himself as a protector, except at this moment with his witcher arching into his every touch and producing those heavenly sounds. The world is too bent on hurting Geralt, too eager to take and take and take from him.

A bard is not a fighter. Jaskier cannot stop monsters from tearing through armors or crossbows fired with ill intent.

But a bard is a lover. What Jaskier can do is heal, is piece Geralt back together with gentle words in the dark and soft lips on the thin skin at his temple.

“How about now?”

They are panting in tandem, the gold of Geralt’s eyes dreamy and out of this world.

“Still dizzy.”

“That’s from all the kissing, you oaf.”

But Geralt begs wordlessly with those wide, puppy-like eyes so openly, and Jaskier’s already non-existent resolve breaks into a million pieces. He kisses Geralt until the witcher melts into a puddle of purring mess, sun-warmed and pliant.

And he kisses Geralt more.

Again and again.

---

Thanks for the prompt. I kind of just rolled with the concept. The twist looks a bit obvious from the beginning, but feel free to tell me what you think. <3

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @dapandapod @artisanbaguette @birdsflyhome

Please tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #reverse trope #trope subversion #soft geraskier #geralt x jaskier #cw: blood #soft jaskier #hurt geralt #geralt whump #mutual pining #love confession #first kiss #italicized oh #hurt/comfort

[il-ballo-della-vita-maneskin]

Hiiii first, I'm totally in love with your blog...

Second I'm obsessed with that video of Damiano were he pulls vic all of the way of a motorcycle, could you do a imagine based in that and it turns in a argument with reader maybe fluff in the end just him being protective and all...

sorry it took me so long to write this, but here it finally is

i really hope this is somewhat what you wanted. i maybe have gone in a sliglty different direction, but i honestly couldn’t help myself, i really love mutual pinning, lol.

anyway, i hope you’ll like this, i had so much fun writing it and thanks for the request (if you have any more, send them in).

damiano david x reader

word count: 1802 (i think, lol)

warnings: mutual pinning, arguing, make out scene, cursing, maybe a little pathetic characters ng

gender of the reader: unspecified

~

You knew Damiano was next to you and that he was telling you something, but you didn’t pay much attention. You absentmindedly nodded your head while writing a message to Victoria to tell her you’ll be back soon.

It was already much later then you have expected it’ll be. Damiano and you had a meeting with some photographer, that will take pictures of the band. All of them were supposed to go, but none of them felt like going, so Vic asked you.

With your feelings for him clouding your thoughts and leaving you awake at night, you weren’t sure how clever of an idea was that. Though, it didn’t seem like he was enjoying it either. For quite some time now, he’s been acting distant, hasn’t really been talking to you. And it was the same way today. He barely said a word to… 

A hand grabbed your forearm and yanked you aside, just as you had sent a message to Vic, to tell her you’ll be back soon. You raised your head to see what’s happening and a motorcycle passed by you. Judging by its speed, you knew that if you weren’t pulled away, you’d most likely be hit.

“What in the…” you murmured and turned to see who saved you, only to be met with Damiano’s furious gaze.

“What were you thinking!” he shouted too loudly and you flinched. The night was so quiet, with the humming of the wind as the only source of sound, and his raised voice was almost like an explosion.

“Don’t yell,” you said and jerked your hand away. His eyes crossed your body and you unintentionally held your breath. You could hear your heart beating rapidly and your mouth got dry. You felt like kicking yourself. What about him forced your body to react this way, as its only wish was closeness to him, as it only yearned for his touch and it couldn’t focus on anything but his presence?

It was remarkably irritating, really.  

Especially now, when you didn’t even realize that he was talking to you, until his features changed into a frown.

“Are you even listening, Y/n?” he asked.

When he didn’t get a response, he heavily sighed and ran his hand through his hair. You wondered would it be like if you did the same thing.

“You are unfixable,” he said.

Thoughts about touching his hair vanished and your head suddenly cleared.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“It means, Y/n, that you can’t even not get yourself killed. You were on the middle of the fucking road! You could have died and you aren’t even bothered about it,” he said and got a step closer too you. Unlike usually, it didn’t wake a nauseous feeling, like someone removed earth under your feet. This time, it just angered you more. You knew it was stupid, but you couldn’t bottle up your feelings any more.

“Well, you wouldn’t be bothered even if that did happen, so you can stop already with that bullshit. Thank you for pulling me aside, but now we can just get back to the ignoring and not giving a fuck about each other, like recently. I assume you must miss it, after helping me and stuff. It’s a big deal, as you’re usually not able to be polite to me for a minute,” you said, surprised how steady and stony your voice sounded, despite the devouring ache in your chest. You wanted to hit him, push him, scream at him, pull him close, hold him, kiss him, but you stayed still.

“Oh, gladly! Tell me, do you want us to completely ignore each other despite being friends once, like you did for last couple of months, or do you think we could actually explain what our fucking problem is?” he said and raised his eyebrows at you mockingly.

“Don’t even try,” you said through gritted teeth. “It was you who stopped talking to me, you who pretended I’m not in the room and you who killed our friendship. Don’t blame it on me.”

He was dangerously close to you now and your brain only managed to process it when his breath fanned over your face. The realization left you breathless. It was like you couldn’t inhale properly and it made your head spin.

“Well, I do. I blame it on you, Y/n. If you weren’t- fuck,” he cut himself off and took a step back, his eyes purposely not meeting yours.

Despite air absence, you managed to crook out “What? If I weren’t what?”

Your feet twitched, begging you to run away. The way street illuminated his features, made his skin glow almost an ethereal shine and brought warmth and depth into his eyes seemed like too much. After having him so close, no matter that it was only due to a fight, you weren’t sure you could take it anymore. You needed to leave. Or you might do things you’ll regret later.

Though, your curiosity got the best of you, as it’s prone to do.

“Damiano? If I weren’t so what?” you said and now it was you who got dangerously close. You pulled his shoulder to force him to face you. When he turned, you were only inches away, but you managed to disregard the throbbing pain in your heart. If only you could lean a little closer…

“Stupid. That fucking motorcycle almost hit you! You were walking on the middle of the roadway. It could have hit you,” he first raised his voice, but then it got quieter. You could swear his face softened, but then every trace of that disappeared again.

“What were you fucking thinking? If you didn’t focus all your attention to sending messages, you would’ve heard it. Or heard me when i was calling you.”

You didn’t know how to answer him. You were already tired and this fight seemed needless.

“Look, Damiano. Can we just stop now? I was reckless, I suppose, alright. Thanks for not letting a motorcycle kill me, if that’s what you want to hear. Can we just go-“ you started but was cut off by Damiano:
“That’s not what I want to hear! How can’t you see it, Y/n?” he said and only then have you realized how tired he looked. And somehow… sad.

Last few months, something in your relationship with Damiano changed. There was that constant tension when the two of you were in the room. Gradually, you grew apart. And you hated that. It might would’ve been easier for you to bury your uninvited feelings for him, but you loved Damiano. He was your close friend and you didn’t want to lose him.

You blamed him for fall of your friendship, for the hole he left in your heart, yet it never occurred to you that it might be just as hard for him. You knew friendships sometimes fade and there in no one to blame for that. But you refused to let it happen with you and Damiano. Even if you needed to sacrifice your own feelings. Maybe, after some time, they will disappear.

“I don’t want you to thank me. I just… be more careful. I- “but he stopped. You wanted to urge him to continue. But you resisted.

“Alright,” you said. “Let’s just get back.”

You needed to fight the tears. It felt so bitter, saying goodbye. But it was better to part from your emotions than from him, right?

He grabbed your hand. You turned your head to face him again. His scent was so familiar, every little part of his face you knew better than your own. His dark eyes looked at yours, but something in them changed. His gaze wasn’t angry anymore, but some new determination found its way into it.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke quietly, almost whispered. A sad smile formed on his lips, as if every word hurt him. “I just… I don’t want you to get hurt. I got scared and… I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want you to be hit by a motorcycle.”

“I don’t want you to be hit by a motorcycle either,” you said, before you could stop yourself. You wondered why did you say something so stupid, even though it was true, but it was too late. Though, on your surprise, he lowly chuckled.

The sound was so beautiful it put you in a daze, but you soon joined him. You were laughing for some time, the sound spreading through the chilly air of the night and filling the empty street. Though, he got serious again.

“But I really am sorry, Y/n. For acting the way I did for last few months. I wish I could say I didn’t mean to push you away, but that’s exactly what I wanted. I- “

The said smile stretched his lips again. It didn’t fit him. You preferred his laughter from few moments ago.

“I suppose I care about motorcycle not hitting you more than as for the other people.”

Your heart threatened to burst out of your chest.

It maybe didn’t mean anything, of course. You were close friends, that was probably what he implied to.

Though, you could wait no longer to find out.

You leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

But he didn’t kiss you back.  

You could feel something inside of you breaking as you backed away quickly, and you knew it was something vital. You fucked this up, you just ruined…

His hands grabbed your face and pulled you to him. Your lips collided with such force it made you lose your balance. But he held you tight and you placed your arms around your neck, as in wish to pull him closer, though it was impossible.

His lips tasted of cigarettes and whiskey he had at the meeting with the photographer, his tongue fought for the dominance with your own. Your teeth clashed in the kiss so passionate and hungry, yet capable of showing how much you needed each other, to make known all of your hidden wishes and pains.

His fingers pressed your waist, so hardly you were sure you’ll wake up with bruises in the morning. Yours were pulling at his hair, which made him shiver and deepen the kiss even more. You could feel his heart beat and chest heavily ascending and descending against yours.

You slowly dragged your fingers on the back of his neck and into his t-shirt, but you needed to pull apart when you lost your breath.

It spun in front of your eyes and you couldn’t even see him clearly. But you could very well see the grin on his face and it brought the alike on your face.

You placed your head in the crook of his neck. His arms embraced you and he was about to say something when your phone buzzed.

The message was from Victoria: You will come back soon, huh? Well, I guess you and Damiano are busy

i know this went in quite different direction, but i hope you still like it<3

Love, Ri✨

P.S. imagine requests are open, so feel free to send requests, i really like getting them (and sorry if it takes me a while to answer to you!)

#maneskin #maneskin imagine #maneskin imagines #maneskin x reader #måneskin #damiano david x y/n #damiano david x you #damiano david x reader #damiano david imagine #damiano david #ethan torchio #ethan torchio imagine #ethan torchio x reader #vic de angelis #vic de angelis imagine #vic de angelis x reader #victoria de angelis x reader #victoria de angelis #thomas raggi imagine #thomas raggi x reader #thomas raggi

[mandoalorian]

hello, lovely. i'm stalking you today but not on purpose. can i pretty please request general - #12 on the prompt list with din djarin? i'm feeling soft today. 🥰 thank you.

Glittering Silver [Din Djarin x Gender Neutral!Reader]

Prompt: “Come back to bed, please.”

Summary: The Mandalorian hasn’t been sleeping much lately, and tonight is the night you find out why.

Warnings: mutual pining, soft fluff/smidge of angst. [Rated T]

Reblogs appreciated because it’s not showing up in tags🤍

It was hard to tell whether or not you were overstepping. You were, after all, only ‘crew’ on the Crest. You weren’t even sure if you could call Din a friend, really. You’d like to think he considered you a friend. You helped with his kid and he occasionally showed you sentiments of gratitude. But, he wasn’t the easiest of people to read.

The past few nights, something had been preying on his mind. Something had been keeping him awake. In the darkness of the hull, you could hear the clattering off his beskar armour as he dropped it to the ground. You usually slept on the floor, with a crocheted blanket that Din purchased especially for you, from a market in the Illenium System. “My pilot chair is a lot more comfortable,” his gruff voice would tell you, every damned night. “Or my bed.”

But you were used to sleeping on the floor; and with the blanket, it truly wasn’t so bad.

Despite it being completely pitch black, you could just about make out the glittering silver that shone by your feet. He’d discarded his plates of armour into a pile and was now wearing only his dark grey sweatshirt and black pants. He was circling around you, his footsteps heavy as he paced back and forth.

“...Din?” you rasped out, rubbing your tired eyes. There was no way of telling just how late it was.

The footsteps suddenly stopped.

“You’re awake.” Din’s voice was sweet like honey, but also, unmodulated. His words came out like a statement, rather than a question, and for a fleeting moment, you thought he sounded panicked.

You didn’t exactly want to tell him how his antics had been keeping you awake these past few nights; or how you were more than aware of his newfound habit of pacing around in anxious circles by your feet.

You knew he wasn’t wearing his helmet and so, out of respect, you closed your eyes again.

“What’s wrong?” you simply asked, tredding lightly on your words. Din was never one to open up or talk about his feelings.

“Can’t sleep.” he responded.

Go figure.

“Why?”

Another pause.

“You can’t be comfortable on the floor,” he huffed, and Maker, he sounded frustrated more than anything else. “Just— come to bed with me, please.”

It’s what he’d been asking of you for weeks now.

Was that really what had been preying on his mind? Your comfort? Surely not. You’d expressed more than enough times you were fine sleeping on the floor.

It’s not that you didn’t want to sleep with Din... you actually really liked the thought of your bodies crushed up together in such a close proximity. You liked the feeling of being snug against his chest and hearing his gentle snores. Maker, you liked him. It’s just, you didn’t want to overstep your boundaries.

“There’s not a chance the two of us will fit in that metal slab you call a bed,” you chuckled softly, dodging his request just like he’d dodged yours. “Why don’t you lay here, on the floor? There’s more than enough room.”

“I can’t.” he replied sadly. His dejected tone only confused you further.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” You padded down the floor next to you with your hand and straightened out your blanket.

“It won’t help.”

Won’t help what, exactly? You stiffened slightly. “I’m not following...”

Din sighed. “It won’t help,” he snapped again, this time his voice even more gruff and angrier than you’d ever heard him before. “You were only meant to be crew. Only meant to help with repairs on the ship and take care of the kid and— that’s it! That’s all you were supposed to be!”

“Din I don’t— I don’t understand—“

“Do you not want to sleep with me, is that it? Because I’d never force you, but just— make it clear. Be clear with me.”

“Is that what this is about?” you quizzed, completely and utterly baffled.

“I— I— agh,” Din kicked the pile of beskar armour, and cursed in a language you could only assume was Mando’a. “I have feelings for you!” He shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls in the dead of night. “And I shouldn’t! I know I shouldn’t. But listen, you always look so pretty when you’re fixing up the engine and you have grease on your cheeks and oil splatters on your clothes, and your hair is sticking up in random directions. When I see you holding Grogu, my heart melts. And I feel bad for him because he loves you so much. He’ll be broken when you eventually leave. Because everyone always leaves eventually.”

Sometime during his outburst, you had stood up and tried to make your way over to him, your eyes still shut. Your arms were extended, trying your hardest to feel the way. Your stomach burst into butterflies when Din grabbed onto your hands and steadied you.

“Who says that I want to leave?” you sniffed, feeling completely and utterly full by his revelation. “I— I have feelings for you too.”

Din made a exasperated sound and dropped one of your hands. “No,” he muttered. “You haven’t even seen my face. How can you have feelings for me? You won’t even sleep with me.”

You let go off his hands and reached up, cupping his face. In the darkness, you could feel the brassiness of his stubble and the sharpness of his jaw. No, you couldn’t see his face, and you were fine with that, but there was something so special about him letting you touch you this way. It was an intimacy you’d never experienced before.

“Come back to bed, please.” you whispered.

“I don’t want to lose you.” Din croaked, trying to fight back tears.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, softly shushing the bounty hunter. “Come back to bed with me. Let me hold you.”

He did, eventually, without any further protest.

Knowing he was comfortable in his own bed, you slipped in next to him. There was no need for any more fighting or arguing when you both felt the same way about each other. Your mind was racing a million miles an hour, in complete disbelief that he actually liked you back. It felt like a dream you were unable to even fathom.

It was cozy at least, your warm bodies pressed against each other just like you’d imagined. You wrapped a tired arm around Din’s torso and shuffled into his chest.

“I do have feelings for you, Din,” you admitted. “I have for a long time. I didn’t want to sleep with you because I was scared.”

“Scared of me?” Din asked.

“No,” you replied. “Scared of what it might do to us. I didn’t know where we stood.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

You smiled to yourself and reached down to hold his hand. “I’m just glad I know now.”

———————————————————

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal x you #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hi!! i recently got into johnlock and the universe has somehow directed me to your blog (which is an absolute godsend omfg). have you got any good possessive!john fics?

Hi Lovely!!!

AHHHH!! I’m so glad you enjoy my blog!!! <3 Thank you so much! <3

AHHH you know what??? I don’t get asked this all that much at all! I think mostly because it’s easier to find Possessive Sherlock fics and people then just... forget LOL

So guess what?? You’re the prompter for any fics I actually tagged or filed with Possessive John! <3 A pioneer you are! LOL I’m combining it with a few of the Obsessive fics as well, since I don’t have many new ones.

As usual, gang, feel free to add your own!! <3

POSSESSIVE / OBSESSIVE JOHN

See also: 

Specifically Jealous John b/c of Other People

Jealous John

Jealous John Pt. 2 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 2

Jealous John Pt 3 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 3

Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 4

Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 5

Hell or High water by bluefire301175 (E, 2,250 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Frottage, Alley Sex, First Person POV John, Case-ish Fic, Mutual Pining, Bed Sharing) – John wants. Sherlock wants. Plain and simple.

Display by 221b_hound (E, 2,377 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV, Tattoos, Public Hand Jobs, Exhibitionism, Possessive Sex, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John) – A new client has been flirting with Sherlock and, finding no joy there, with John. John seems annoyed to be second-best, Sherlock thinks, so Sherlock decides to give the departing woman (and maybe also John) a demonstration of who, exactly, John belongs to. But there's more than one level of sexual jealousy and more than one display of possession going on here, outlined in the window of 221b Baker Street. Part 2 of Lock and Key

Apodyopsis by QuinnAnderson (E, 3,347 w.,1 Ch. || PWP, Rough Sex, Table Sex, Anal, Sexual Tension) – Apodyopsis: (æpəʊdaɪˈɒpsɪs) noun. the act of mentally undressing someone. Part 2 of Undressed

Overture by Kate_Lear (M, 4,435 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Angry John, Introspection, Dev. Rel., Embarrassed / Insecure Sherlock, Morning After, Bed Sharing, Cuddles / Limpet Sherlock) – A short snippet on how John and Sherlock might have got together.

Sherlock and John Go Clubbing by wendymarlowe (E, 4,716 w., 3 Ch. || Clubbing, Dirty Talk, Dancing, Coming Untouched, Coming in Pants, Bi John, For a Case, Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Sherlock is Lost for Words, Sexy John, Mutual Pining, Possessive John, Floor Sex/Hand Job/Frottage) – John pinched the bridge of his nose - even for Sherlock, this was a new level of no bloody boundaries. “You want me to go with you to a gay club, wait around twiddling my thumbs while I let you get pawed by a criminal, then out-flirt him and talk you into coming home with me instead?” Part 32 of John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times

Caves in the Mountains Are Seldom Unoccupied by starrysummernights & TheMadKatter13 (E, 7,925 w., 1 Ch. || Were-Creatures ||  Werebear John, Pseudo Bestiality, Rimming, Heavy Dub Con, Rough Sex, Come Inflation / Eating, Size Kink, PWP, Bratty Sherlock, Rutting) – “This isn’t something to play at, Sherlock,” he snapped. “If it doesn’t work out- what you’re asking of me- we can’t shrug and say 'oh well, at least we tried'. If we do this… I could seriously hurt you. Do you understand? I could lose control. I could… I could kill you.”

My Life for His by QuinnAnderson (E, 8,816 w., 1 Ch. || Guardian/Protector, Greek Mythology || Growing Up, Sex, Religious Themes, Suicide, Minor Character Death) – It began when Sherlock was eight, and he attempted to climb all the way up to the highest branch in the old willow tree in his back garden. He'd thought he was still small enough that it could support him, but the second he'd grabbed hold of it to pull himself up, the branch snapped, and down he went, plummeting a solid twenty metres. The odd thing was, he never actually hit the ground.

Of Course I Forgive You by allonsys_girl (E, 10,735 w., 1 Ch. || Love Confessions, Canon Divergence, First Time, Frottage, Wall Sex, Infidelity) – What if things had gone differently on that train car?

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John,  Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending, Obsessive John) – He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't work miracles. All he'd ever been able to do was write about them.

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time, Obsessive John) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition. (PUBLISHED AS ‘The Sea Ain’t Mine Alone’)

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

Free Falling by twistedthicket1 (M, 203,574 w., 38 Ch. || Guardian Angels AU || Guardian Angel John, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Kidlock / Teenlock, Light Mystrade, Passage of Time, Possessive John, Drug Use / Overdose, Victor Trevor, Graphic Bullying, Big Brother Mycroft, Hard Drug Use, Depression, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John, Panic Attacks, Nightmares/PTSD, Pining, Healing Abilities, Kidnapping, Violence, Torture, Blow Jobs, Virgin John, Emotional Development / Attachment, Mortality, Happy Ending) – All Guardian angels are born with a Chosen human. When this child is born, the angel comes into being to protect and care for them during their life on Earth. For John Watson, all he cares about in the world revolves around his Chosen, Sherlock Holmes. Watching him grow up though, the angel soon learns that God must have had a sense of humour the day he decided to make Sherlock, as trouble seems to follow him like a magnet wherever he goes. John can't decide what's worse, the idea of losing his Chosen one, or the fact that he may be breaking the most taboo law of heaven as he disguises himself as a human to better protect and befriend the beloved detective he's always watched from afar. He was meant to care for him. But what happens when caring evolves into something more? What happens when an emotion an angel is supposed to be incapable of possessing comes to life suddenly and viciously inside John's chest?

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #possessive john #my fic recs #safebannie

[speechlessxx]

Naïveté (Ransom Drysdale x Reader)

Summary: Ransom loves control and his sweet, innocent plaything doesn’t know better. 

Warnings: DARKish Ransom with hints of soft Ransom but not really, this fic is lowkey a mess, a little uncomfortable situations, unprotected sex, implied AGE GAP, angst, mutual obsession, choking, Ransom is a little off (but what’s new), Sugar Daddy/Baby relationship, innocent reader, implied Dom/Sub dynamic, loss of virginity, poorly written attempt at SMUT

Word Count: 4.7k

Please do not read if anything makes you uncomfortable. 

READ WARNINGS

This is my first time writing smut. Please don’t hate me. 

Something a little different from what I usually write (?)

“You’re not going to see him again, are you?” your friend, Joey, asked you. Worried, judgmental lines sprinkled across his young face as he stared at you. You frowned and shook your head as you brought the straw of your iced coffee to your lips. “Good.” He muttered. “That guy was a creep.”

“He's not that bad,” you argued. 

“(Y/N), he was the worst thing that could’ve ever happened to you,” Joey scoffed as he drank his drink. “I’m just glad you kicked him to the curb before things got too intense.” 

You stayed silent and nodded, taking another sip from the straw. Joey began to talk about your friend group’s evening plans to hit up this bar, but your mind was taking you somewhere else.

You couldn’t tell Joey the truth. It’d disappoint him. It would anger him and jeopardize your friendship. 

But you couldn’t admit that Ransom Drysdale had a hold on you, and you didn’t want him to let go.

As an aspiring writer, you were interning at Blood Like Wine Publishing under Ransom’s uncle, Walt Thrombey. In a twisted turn of events, Walt took a liking to you.

Your doe-eyes and bright optimism intrigued him. He always fluttered around you like a moth to a flame and always had off-putting conversations with you.

It started with his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them in a way that made you uneasy. Then, it was pushing your hair to the side to expose the back of your neck, or his hands that would slither down to the small of your back. Everything about the man made you uncomfortable, but you’d never spoke out against it in fear of losing your internship. 

One day, Walt invited you over to his grandfather’s manor. “A family party,” he explained. And though you were afraid of accepting – calling it an intrusion – Walt insisted. “A chance to meet a world-renowned author,” he said. How could you refuse?

You met Ransom at that party. From the moment you walked through the doors, he knew he had to have you. He was a brat that way.

Walt was too preoccupied with arguing with his father to introduce you to the family. So, you kept to yourself, finding sanctuary in Harlan’s nurse, Marta, who looked just as out of place as you did. 

Unbeknownst to either of you, Ransom was listening in on your conversation – stalking you as if you were his prey.

Marta had explained to you that she was very fortunate to work with Harlan and that he was a kind man. Ransom couldn’t help but rolled his eyes when Marta had brought up how she and his grandfather were great friends. Blah, blah, blah, he thought as she droned on.

Then, he heard you open up about yourself. 

About how your scholarship was barely covering your tuition and how you were too late to apply to housing, so you had to live off campus in a ratty apartment whose rent was too much to handle on a monthly basis. You told Marta about how your part-time job at the local coffee shop next to campus was barely paying you enough for groceries, let alone the rest of your expenses.

The gears inside Ransom’s devious mind began to turn as a plan started to form in his head.

When Marta had been whisked away into a conversation about immigration with his father, Ransom found the perfect opportunity to meet you.

“I’m Ransom,” he introduced.

“(Y/N),” you greeted, offering your hand. He took it and brought it to his lips. Your cheeks flushed. Where all the Thrombey men this welcoming - this comfortable?Ransom smirked at your reaction.

Similar to his uncle, his hand found its way to the small of your back as he maneuvered you to the back door. Perhaps, it was simply a Thrombey gesture?

It was easy to navigate through a conversation with you. You were a good listener, Ransom was a great talker. The conversation went by smoothly as Ransom droned on and on about himself (something he was really good at). 

“I have too much money. I don’t know what to do with myself,” Ransom had joked, steering the conversation in his favor.

You chuckled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I wish I had that problem.” Ransom responded with a hum, encouraging you to open up about your financial troubles (though he knew it all from eavesdropping earlier).

“I think I have the perfect solution to both our troubles,” Ransom proposed. 

And the rest was history. 

-=+=-

No one close to you knew the exact extent of the relationship. You tried to create the narrative that you met Ransom through Walt and the relationship just blossomed.

You were embarrassed to admit that Ransom was paying your rent, tuition, and giving you a weekly allowance that helped you get by.

Joey had even joked that working for the Thrombeys was changing you when he noticed your sudden change in labels. You had forgone the Forever 21 sales section and wore the luxury brands that Ransom deemed worthy to be draped over his angel.

When your friends met Ransom - the man keeping you afloat by sharing his own riches – they knew something was up. Though they didn’t have a clue about the financial aspect of the relationship, they knew that Ransom was bad news.

They’d tell you he stared at you like a piece of meat. He’d watch your every move as if he were engraving your very image in his mind. Joey would tell you he didn’t like the way Ransom had a grip on you every time you were together. 

“He’s possessive and not in a cute way,” Joey warned you, but you shrugged him – and all your friends – off.

You’d tell them that Ransom loved you... But were you trying to convince them or yourself?

Your friends saw through Ransom. They saw how he was taking advantage of your innocence and your naivete.

When you told Ransom of your friends’ opinions, he told you to ignore it, so you did. But as time went on, it was clear that their reluctance to be accepting of the relationship bothered you. You blamed it on the age difference. (You were still in college and Ransom was in his mid-thirties). But it was more than that and your friends didn’t quite know how to explain it to you. You were just so in love with the guy - who were they to dictate your love life? They just cared about your well being. 

So, Ransom commanded that you lie to everyone. “Tell them we broke up,” Ransom told you. “Just a fib to get them off your back.” When you showed reluctance, Ransom said with pleading eyes, “do it because I love you.”

You were always too trusting for your own good.

But you couldn’t see that. You saw Ransom as your white knight – your savior. He made sure whatever balance your scholarship left was paid for. He even got you out of that ratty apartment and into a better one that was worth the expensive rent. It was closer to campus, too, so you didn’t have to ride the bus. He kept you fed and clothed. Ransom kept you afloat. 

You were afraid to let him go – afraid that his interest would fade, and another girl would be the apple of his eye. What would happen to you then? So, you tried to become everything Ransom wanted. You depended on him after all...

Just like he planned it.

-=+=-

The ride was silent. The text on your phone read Harlan’s manor. Need you here. NOW.

The driver asked you if you wanted him to turn on the radio. He was just as eager to ease the tension, so you gladly obliged. When he arrived at the family manor, he even told you, “good luck, miss.”

You gave him a nervous smile. What were you stepping into? (And were you prepared for the aftermath?).

You didn’t bother to knock on the door. He was already waiting outside for you. A cigarette in his hand. You frowned as he extinguished it against the brick wall.

“Ransom, hey,” you offered him a smile.

He didn’t return it. He had a scowl on his face and something on his mind. His face scrunched up in aggravation. He only gave you a hard stare. His blue eyes staring at you in the dark night.

He eyed you up and down. You wore a white lace dress from whatever designer (he didn’t care). He liked white on you and you knew that. It made you look like an angel – his angel. A symbol of purity – something you naturally were.

“You’re late,” he said. His voice was hard, matching the expression etched on his face. Hard and disapproving.

“I… I was with Joey,” you explained. “He was getting suspicious, so we went on a coffee date – “

“Did I ask?” Ransom snapped. “It’s part of the agreement. You make yourself available to me 24/7. That’s why I pay you so much.” You gulped as you adverted your eyes, unable to hold his angry glare for too long. He let out a sigh and held out his hand. You glanced at him, uncertainty written all over your face. “I’m not going to wait forever, (Y/N).”

“Sorry,” you muttered and took his hand. Ransom pulled you to him. His lips smashed against yours and you cringed at the faint smell of smoke.

You put your hands on his shoulders, trying to push him away – trying to catch your breath. But his grip tightened. “Kiss back,” he muttered into the kiss, growing impatience at your insubordination. Reluctantly, you did as you were told. After long minutes of the uncomfortable session, he pulled away and eyed you again. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice hushed. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “Why’d you asked me to come?”

“I was bored,” he shrugged. What he didn’t say was, there’s a situation I can’t handle, so I need something I can control around me or else I’ll lose my mind.

“So, I’m entertainment?” you joked, nervously. He laughed a bit. You looked into the house through the windows. You could hear faint chatter and cheers of happy birthday. “It’s someone’s birthday?” you asked.

“Harlan’s,” Ransom nodded.

“Oh, I should probably pop in and – “you began walking towards the door.

“Don’t,” Ransom ordered through clenched teeth, and you froze in your tracks. Your hand was grazing the cool metal of the doorknob. You pulled your hand away and walked back to stand in front of Ransom. “Good girl,” he muttered, an arm slinging itself around your waist. “We should get out of here.” He whispered, stealing another kiss from your sweet lips.

“My friends are at this bar tonight,” you offered. “We could stop by.”

“And let them know we’re seeing each other again?” Ransom laughed, dryly. “I’d rather not let them turn you against me.”

“No one could ever do that,” you assured him.

“Let’s go to my place,” Ransom muttered. “Something I want to show you.” He said as he nipped at the exposed skin of your neck. You yelped in surprise as a strange feeling shot through you.

Ransom has invited you over once or twice before. Most of your outings usually ended with him dropping you off at your apartment. He didn’t normally offer to take you to his place or swing by. The offer was spontaneous – different.

You smiled and nodded, not wanting to piss him off more than he already was.

He led you to his Beamer. The ride was silent, and Ransom didn’t bother to try to ease the tension. No music. No conversation. Just a hand that rubbed the inside of your thigh in a manner that unsettled you.

Sure, Ransom was handsy at times, but he kept his distance from your most intimate areas. He’d always had to have a hand on your waist or your hand gripped in his. The most he’s ever done to make you uncomfortable was when he wrapped his hand around your neck to keep you from turning away when he kissed you. That was it.

In truth, Ransom saw you like a delicate doll. Such purity and innocence should be maintained. But tonight, Ransom was losing control – his chat with Harlan left him spiraling. 

The only thing he still had control over was sitting in the passenger seat of his car.

-=+=-

His home was just as you remembered it. Large windows, large spaces, large rooms. It was clean, for the most part. A few clothing items discarded on the floor, some hung on chairs. He shrugged off his dark grey cardigan and hung it on one of the chairs, joining the other clothes.

Ransom led you straight into his kitchen. He fetched a beer and a bottle of water. You were never much of a drinker. Ransom knew that. He stared at you as you wrapped your lips around the bottle’s opening and drank it carefully. He was still deciding – trying to make up his mind.

Should he ruin his little plaything now? Or shall he wait?

“You said you wanted to show me something?” You asked.

He nodded. “It can wait.” He walked over to you. You were leaning against his kitchen island. He plucked the bottle from your hand, placing it to the side along with his beer, and brought his hands to your hips.

“Rans – umph!” You yelped as he effortlessly lifted you up onto the counter. “What are you doing?” You asked him with a small, nervous laugh. Your face heated up as each of his hands settled to both of your knees and spread them. When you tried to fight against his grips, Ransom just slotted his waist between your legs. “Ransom?” You asked as he placed one hand on your waist and the other at the back of your neck. He hummed quietly. His eyes didn’t meet yours. They simply stared are your lips. “What cha doin’ there?”

He didn’t respond. He captured your lips with his and you were too stunned to react, so you simply mirrored his actions.

Sometimes Ransom got like this. Sometimes he wouldn’t talk and he’d just assume you’d read his mind. But tonight, your minds weren’t in unison.

You were under the impression he just needed physical contact (which was true). You thought he just needed comfort and you were more than willing to give it to him.

But tonight, Ransom wanted something much more than simple kisses and a few touches.

You tried to pull away to catch your breath, but Ransom pulled you back. He licked at your bottom lip, wanting entrance, but you refused him. So, in retaliation, Ransom yanked your hair which made you yelp. He took the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. He didn’t need to fight for dominance. You just sat there with your mouth open, unsure of what to do – unsure of how to react. He had never been physical with you – he had never tried to hurt you.

The kiss was heated. You wished it were passionate or loving, but it wasn’t that. It was something else entirely.

Desperate to catch your breath, you bit on his tongue. It was a mistake. One that you’d pay for. But you were desperate.

He pulled away suddenly. “What the fuck!” He snapped.

“I’m – I’m sorry, Ransom – I just,” you stammered, unable to explain yourself. “I – I couldn’t breathe. I’m sorry, Ransom.”

Your eyes finally met. His bright blue eyes were dark like the night sky. And it was then you understood what Joey and all your friends told you. He stared at you like he was starved and you were the only thing on the menu.

“You little, ungrateful bitch,” Ransom spat. One of his hands wrapped firmly around your throat, tightening slightly and cutting off your oxygen. “You breathe when I let you. You live because I let you. The clothes you wear, the food you eat, the fucking apartment you live in – it’s all because I gave it to you. You could at least show some appreciation.” 

His grip tightened until you could see tiny black dots peppering your vision. And then suddenly, Ransom let go.

You fell forward into Ransom. Your head in the crook of his neck and hands on his shoulder. You were coughing and sputtering out apologizes, unsure of what else to tell him.

“You’re gonna show me some appreciation, baby,” he cooed but his voice was nowhere near comforting. It was taunting. “Alright?” You nodded. “Okay, c’mon,” he hoisted you up. Panicked, you wrapped your arms around him and your legs around his torso, afraid he would drop you. “I got you, sweet angel… I got you.”

You weren’t sure where he was taking you until you were laid on soft, satin sheets. You opened your eyes and saw Ransom standing at the foot of the bed. He pulled his sweater from his body and you felt your jaw drop. Why would he hide his toned physique beneath sweaters? It was a mystery to you.

He smirked when he caught you ogling him. He was always so cocky.

“How?” you murmured. He cocked an eyebrow up at you. “How am I going to show you?”

Ransom’s smirk widened as he reached down for you. His fingers lightly traced the neckline of the dress. “I think you know,” he muttered. 

Your heart thudded against your chest in realization. You tried to scoot away from him, but Ransom leaned his body forward, encaging you.

“You don’t want to make me mad, baby, do you?” He whispered, his tone still taunting. His hot breath against your ear. You closed your eyes and shook your head. “Good. Because I don’t think you want me to take away all the nice things I’ve given you, right?” You nodded. “Take off the dress for me.” He ordered, releasing you.

You did as you were told, not wanting to make him angry. His breath hitched when you revealed yourself to him. He always knew you were beautiful. The idea of you being untouched – unclaimed – made blood flow straight to his member.

His expert fingers made quick work of your bra clasp. He discarded your brassiere along with his sweater and tutted at you when your hands instinctively went to cover yourself up. He pried your hands away from your chest. 

“Don’t cover yourself up, angel,” he told you, leaning forward and leaving a trail of sloppy, wet kisses down your neck. He kissed the bruises that were forming from his grip moments ago. He scolded himself for damaging the delicate skin of his angel.

He kissed down your collarbones and found his way to your breasts. He took his time worshiping your body. There was no rush (the night was still young). 

As his lips worked on one of your mounds, his fingertips toyed with the other. You couldn’t hold back the moans that were escaping you and the heat that presented itself in between your legs. 

Everything was so foreign to you. All you could do was toy with the hair on the back of Ransom’s head and moan his name.

He moved one of his hands to cup your clothed sex. He felt the increasingly dampening spot through the delicate material and moaned against your nipple. He stared up at you as he continued his assault. Your eyes were closed tightly and your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as you continued to let out soft moans. The sound going straight to his crotch.

In one swift motion, Ransom was able to pull your underwear down your legs. The material fell to the floor and he kicked it to join the rest of the discarded clothing. He pulled away from you to admire your body, splayed out on his bed like an offering. Your cunt glistening in the pale moonlight, calling his name. He fumbled with his belt as he shoved his slacks along with his boxer briefs down.

Your eyes finally opened and were met with the intimidating appendage. Long and thick. Fear suddenly flooded through you. It wouldn’t fit. Was this worth it? Was surrendering your virginity to Ransom – your white knight, your savior – worth the luxury? Worth the money?

“Don’t be scared, angel,” Ransom muttered as he leaned over you. You were shaking. He shushed you as you thrashed around. “I give you so many things, baby girl,” he said lowly, his voice turning into a growl. “At least give me this in return.”

You sniffled before nodding. You were afraid though you weren’t sure what frightened you more. The menacing crazed look on Ransom’s beautiful face or the fear that you were about to lose your virginity.

Ransom’s hands traced the curves of your body, leaving goosebumps all over your skin. And then one of his hands carefully rubbed against your folds, finding your clit expertly. You felt your muscles clench. He rubbed it in tight circles, causing electricity to run through you. 

As much as Ransom was eager to be inside of you, he didn’t want to hurt his angel. He had to prep his sweet, innocent angel. He wanted his angel to enjoy this.

Your breathing was shaky as you slowly gave into the feeling. He shifted in his position and carefully thrusted two fingers into your cunt. You gasped at the sudden intrusion. You threw your head back as he stroked your inner walls, exploring your untried canal.

“You’re wet, angel, and we barely begun,” Ransom said ever so cockily. You moaned in response. No words could form. You tried to bite onto your bottom lip, trying to silence yourself. But Ransom tutted at you. He slapped your clit and you yelped in surprise. “I want to hear every sound.” He ordered before scissoring your opening, attempting to stretch you open. The wet, slick sounds accompanied by your moans were all too addicting to the man that hovered over you.

You felt helpless and pathetic. You were putty in his hands. He felt you clench around his fingers when he curled them, brushing against a certain spot. He smirked as he continued to play with that spot and thrusted a third finger into you. You mewled against him as your hands fisted the satin sheets.

“Ran – Ransom,” you panted, eyes watery. “Something’s – something’s happening…” you moaned as you felt a coil within your stomach snap. You screamed as your orgasm crashed through you. Ransom smirked watched you drip around his hand. He pulled away from your pussy and your eyes widened as he slowly brought his fingers to his lips and sucked away your juices.

“Want a taste?” he asked you. You didn’t respond as he brought one of his fingers and brushed it against your lips. He then leaned down and stole another hungry kiss, sharing your taste.

While you were distracted from your previous orgasm and from the kiss, Ransom pumped his member and lined it up with you.

Catching you off guard, he pushed in. You shuddered in pain, pulling your lips away from him as your eyes widened in pain. The stretch itself was unbearable.

He pushed his tip in and you nearly shrieked. “Ransom – “you whimpered. “It hurts – It hurts!”

Ransom simply shushed you and kissed your lips. “Relax, angel… just relax for me.” You tried to do as you were told but found it quite difficult. He continued to push in inch by inch and you were afraid he was never-ending. “You’re so tight,” he murmured against your lips. You bit your lip as tears started to prick in your eyes.

And finally, he bottomed out. You had never felt so full. You swore you could feel him in your stomach. 

Ransom looked down to where you were both connected and groaned. He loomed over your body as you willed your muscles to relax around him. “Hey, hey,” he said, softly, using one of his hands to turn you to face him. “You’re doing so good for me, baby,” he praised and began to pull out.

His strokes were gentle. Pulling out only a few inches before thrusting back in. Only when the pain begun to dull and your whimpers turned into moans again, did Ransom pick up the pace. The slapping of skin and his groans. Everything started to feel cloudy. You felt as if he were tearing you apart, but your body welcomed the pain that was turning into pleasure.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you hung onto him as he ravaged you. You continued to mewl and moan into his neck as you felt the same coil in your stomach tighten. Your walls clenched around Ransom and he knew you were close again. He reached back down to your clit and rubbed it again.

“C’mon, baby, come for me,” Ransom urged you as he thrusted. He thrusted all the way in and grinded against your sex. You moaned as you tensed, the coil bursting once again. Ransom groaned as you tightened around him like a vice, milking him and throwing him off the edge with you. He filled you up with his thick cum, but he continued to pump into you, painting your walls – marking you as his.

You were a breathless, sweaty mess as he pushed you into another orgasm with his thrusts. You were convulsing and twitching underneath him, fighting to stay conscious. You felt Ransom pull out completely and felt your mixed juices drip from your pussy. Your vision was hazy as your head turned to the side, eyes fluttering close.

Ransom winced when he looked down. Your blood covered his length and was splattered all over your lower body. He sighed and looked at the clock. It was late, but he knew that there would still be guests over at the house. It was the perfect time, especially with you falling asleep.

“You did so good for me, angel,” he whispered to your sleeping body as he wiped your blood away with his sweater. He decided that he’d deal with the bloodstained sheets when he returned. You were most likely still going to be knocked out. 

He pressed a kiss to your lips and smiled. Even in sleep – even after being fucked – you still looked like an angel.

When you awoke, the sheets had been changed but you were still stark naked. Daylight was trickling through the windows. Ransom emerged from the bathroom door. “You’re awake,” he smiled wickedly at you. You returned a shy smile when you realized he was only in a towel with water droplets painting his Adonis-like body. You looked away as he dressed himself. He smirked. You were still bashful as if the night before he wasn’t buried deep inside of you.

“Did you leave?” you ask. Your heart dropped at the thought.

He shook his head and relief washed over you as he sat next to you on the bed. His finger gently traced your jaw before leaning in to give you a kiss. “I was here all night, all morning, too,” Ransom lied. “You’ll attest to that right?”

“What?”

“I cleaned you up after we had sex,” Ransom told you. “Changed the sheets and then held you throughout the night. I told you I loved you and I thanked you for allowing me to be the first - and only - man inside of you .”

“Right.” You nodded, blushing at his words.

“I didn’t leave you, angel.” Ransom promised. “I was with you all night, all morning.”

-=+=-

“Where was Mr. Drysdale the night of his grandfather’s death?” the prosecutor asked you.

You looked around the courtroom and met Ransom’s blue eyes. He gave you a small nod, knowing you won’t let him down. He did this all for you – so that he can continue taking care of you – after all.

“Uh,” you muttered into the microphone, “he was with me… at his house.”

“Mr. Drysdale’s statement says that he asked you to join him at the manor the night of Harlan Thrombey’s birthday party, yet no one in the family saw you?”

You nodded. “Ransom – Hugh – was already outside when I arrived. I wanted to go inside, but he told me not to and he asked if I’d accompany him to his house.”

“So, you can account to Mr. Drysdale’s whereabouts the whole night?” The prosecutor prompted. “There were no times that he stepped out? Even when you were asleep?”

You nodded. “He was with me all night, all morning, too.”

Ransom smiled at you when you met his eyes. Good girl. He thought. His sweet little angel still under his control.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale smut #chris evans smut #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #ransom drysdale #steve rogers smut #dark fic #dark ransom drysdale #dark steve rogers #dark ransom drysdale smut #dark steve rogers smut #naivete

[iamverysmall-andihavenomoney]

Hi I just found your account and I enjoy your writing a lot the flow of it is refreshing that’s besides the point though 😤✋I was wondering if you would write a street racing AU where Kenma and Kouroo are interested in someone from a rival group

Street Racer Rivalries

Haikyū!! Masterlist

Pairings: Street Racer! Mechanic! Kozume Kenma x Mechanic! Street Racer! Gender Neutral! Reader, Street Racer! Kuroo Tetsurō x Street Racer! Mechanic! Gender Neutral! Reader

Warnings: Street Racing AUs, Saffron shows off their lack of car knowledge, illegal street racing, rivalries, strong language, talk of racing injuries.

A/N: Hi there! Thank you, I'm glad you enjoy it! ☺️ But umm -- yes? I live for this idea (i might even make a series out of it, if anyone wants 🤷) but thank you for the request!

Kenma Kozume

He really doesn't like racing, let's be honest.

If he could, Kenma would stay in his shop all day long.

Hell, it's not like he needs the money.

He's such a well-known mechanic in the underground racing scene, he easily makes all of the money he could ever need.

His only real competition is Akaashi Keiji and someone named L/N Y/N?

Akaashi he could deal with, as Fukurōdani's group was rather well acquainted with Nekoma, hell, the held practice races all of the time.

But whoever this other up-and-coming mechanic was, was seriously pissing him off.

It wasn't that they were stealing all of his customers, he still had a lot of business.

It was that they just had to be with Karasuno.

The one group Kuroo was obsessed with besting - in everything.

Plus, who could have such a reputation for someone who'd only just joined the scene?

They, along with Karasuno's newest racers had put the group on a fast-track to the top.

They hadn't surpassed Karasuno.

Yet.

He wasn't sure why hearing your name pissed him off as much as it did.

But here he was, ranting to Kuroo as he worked on one of the group's main racing vehicles.

"Why won't Shōyō tell me anything about them either? They're so secretive about this new mechanic - all of them. Are they waiting for a fucking debut, here?"

"It took years for Nekoma to get the reputation it has, same for everyone else. Why does someone with no prior affiliation with any group, so easily surpass so many people?"

Then Kuroo worsens it by teasing Kenma.

"Are you sure this isn't just because Hinata is keeping a secret from you, for once?"

Now, it's a month later - the first big race in a while.

Lately, the cops had been far too aware of where the groups would be for anyone's comfort, so they collectively decided to lay low for a while.

And he's finally getting to see Karasuno in a big race.

He wasn't sure of everyone's official racers - but you usually weren't, until they lined themselves up.

Kenma wasn't particularly invested in the race, more here to finally see if you were all everyone talked you up to be.

"Are you really trying to 'wow' them in a tank top and coveralls?" Bokuto turns his nose up as he looks over Kenma's choice in clothing.

A black tank covered Kenma's chest, while his navy coveralls covered him from the waist-down, sleeves knotted together, around his waist to hold them up. His hands and arms are still stained dark from his work this morning and he's not quite sure on the status of his face, with the lack of looking in a mirror today. With a shrug, Kenma brings another chip to his mouth.

After a moment of silence, a scoff leaves his lips, "I'm not trying to 'wow' anyone. I'm scoping out the new competition, at most."

"I thought you said, just yesterday, they weren't worth your time?" Kuroo smirks at his smaller friend. Despite Kenma acting so peeved with your presence, he knew that it was all a front. He knew his best friend better than anyone end he could tell that his interest in you was just being covered up by feigned annoyance.

Kenma rolls his eyes, "I mean, you aren't either, but here we are."

Akaashi lets a breath escape him, before glancing over as he sees a flash of several headlights, looking over at the orange and black themed cars rolling in. "Looks like you have your chance to... Scope out your competition. Won't be long until Itachiyama and Shiratorizawa start arriving, as well."

Bokuto claps a large hand on Kenma's tattooed shoulder, making the faux-blonde cringe at the contact. "Go on, Ken! We'll catch up with you, soon!"

Kenma doesn't hesitate to step away from the other three, taking easy strides on his way over to where the vehicles were now parked, scattered around one another. The first to take notice of him, Shōyō, lights up, straightening from his position, previously leaning against the hood of his car. Though, seeing that he wasn't moving to greet Kenma, they cat-eyed male look at who he was talking to.

Finally laying eyes on the person he'd found himself 'hating' for the past few nights, any insults he had for you left him. Seeing you reclined against the hood of one of Karasuno's best cars, looking like you'd just come from the shop, much like him.

When your eyes found his, he notices that whatever you had been saying slowly faded out while you focused on him. And oversized orange and black jacket adorned your figure, keeping you away from the crisp breeze. He wondered if it was yours by the way or enveloped you, though on the arm, your last name shown clear, orange lettering bold against the black.

You slide from the good of the vehicle, your jacket falling from your body so you can tuck it in through the open window of what he guessed to be your car. You were dressed in nearly the same thing as him, black coveralls tied up around your waist and a large black shirt that seemed too big for you, as well, tucked into it. Not hesitating to step forward, Hinata finds himself falling back, wanting to bare witness from afar.

The smug grin tugging at the edges of your lips makes Kenma narrow his eyes further, "This is the great Kozume Kenma? Wow, no one really did you any justice, now did they?"

Of course you would be the smug type. Though, he supposed you had every right to be. You were an impressive individual. "And you're L/N Y/N... For someone who wanted to be so mysterious, you sure weren't hiding."

"I can't take credit for that idea. It was all Suga. Said we needed an ace up our sleeve." Shrugging nonchalantly, you flash Kenma a lazy grin. Mainly because it was oh-so obvious it was getting under his skin. "Though I have heard someone has been a bit obsessed with me, recently."

Kenma finally lets out something near a laugh, "You would be so lucky. Are you racing tonight?"

Hearing the rumble of other engines, the both of you realize that it wouldn't be long before you would both have to walk away to be with your separate groups. "Wouldn't you like to know," Kenma turns his head back towards you, raising an eyebrow. "I guess you'll just have to keep an eye out for me, won't you, Kozume?"

You take an easy step back, before turning to walk away, "I look forward to racing you, one day, Kozume."

"Likewise..." Kenma finds himself staring at you as you walk away from him, impressed by how bold you are, despite himself. Belying his previous 'hate' towards you, a slight smile pulls at the corners of his lips.

Much as Kenma found himself excited whenever he raced or encountered Shōyō, even his three friends could tell that he was intrigued, from their distance.

Kuroo Tetsurō

He, unlike Kenma, loves the thrill of racing.

Even if he doesn't do it as often now, he still manages to love when he does race.

Now, Nekoma doesn't have much real competition.

They've been among the top racing groups for year now and not even up-and-comers like Karasuno were going to change that.

Despite Kuroo's reassurance in the stability of his position as best racer and 'leader' of Nekoma's group, there were certain other groups that managed to get under his skin.

Groups like Daishō Suguru's group, Nohebi.

The group who'd been giving him more trouble than anyone else, since they'd gotten started.

He hated Daishō.

He hated Nohebi.

Nohebi played dirty and had injured multiple of his racers.

Most recently injured had been Yaku.

He wasn't sure who had been driving, but he remembered the person who had stepped up to reprimand the driver for the blatant foul play.

Acting like you were going to veer into another car and doing it were two different things.

He wasn't sure if it was because you were the one who had to fix your own vehicle or because you were worried about the opposing driver.

But he was intrigued.

Especially when you slapped Daishō for trying to "calm you down" by grabbing your wrist.

You had such an attitude and were so independent.

You caught his attention awfully quick.

After that, he kept an eye out for you.

He was whipped from day one.

Now normally, it takes forever for him to develop feelings for someone, but you were such a strong individual, he was whipped.

Though what sealed the deal for him was when you would tease him back and flirt with him.

At first he thought it was just because you wanted to piss off Daishō, but when he noticed that you seemed to enjoy it just as much as he did, he really was whipped.

You spotted him before he spotted you. As per usual when it came to you. You were good and sneaking up on him. It should have been more concerning to him than it was when a hand came to cover his eyes, your voice crooning in his ear playfully, "Guess who."

He knew you, quite easily, by your voice. You'd become well acquainted with sneaking up on him.

After all, it had been what? Two years since this mutual bantering and rivalry had started. By this point, both of your respective groups were getting a little tired of constantly having to be a witness to all of the flirting that was done.

"L/N, I think I'd recognize the strong smell of motor oil anywhere." Kuroo turns around to face you, hands tucked in the pockets of the red and black jacket he wore. The same one that matched the jackets of the rest of his group.

"Well, unlike someone, I've been working pretty hard, y'know?" Your own hands drift to your pockets, "Not all of us have minions doing all of our work, for us."

One of Kuroo's eyebrows shoot up, "Oh? Last I heard was that someone in particular had a whole shop of people working for them."

A light laugh escapes you, the air fogging up a bit in front of your face as your warm breath met the crisp air surrounding you both. "Yeah? Who told you that? The same asshole that's trying to drag other unfortunate souls into working with him?"

Heaving out a deep, faux sigh, Kuroo tilts his head. "The position with me is still open." His cooing voice almost makes you forget how he'd opted to phrase it. Almost.

"As much as I hate the snaky bastard, the money is too good to pass up." You lean yourself back, making contact with the hood of Kuroo's car. His favorite and ace vehicle, in fact.

"You know I could easily pay you twice what he does," he leans in and places a hand on either side of the hood, next to you. "So what's it going to take to convince you I'm a better choice than him?"

You cross your arms, a smug look crossing your face. "Why do I think this has less and less to do with your need for a mechanic?.. I think you might be a little obsessed with me, there, Kuroo."

A smirk matching your own crosses his lips. "Maybe I am, L/N. What are you going to do about it?"

"Well, there are a few things-" You find yourself cut off as you note Daishō's shouts from across the way. A sigh escapes you and you bring a hand to Kuroo's chest, pushing a finger into his shoulder and making him lean back. "Looks like I've got to go. Until next time, Kuroo."

"Keep my offer in mind," The tall man lets out a sigh as he watches you walk away from him. He glances over his shoulder as he feels a hand there, seeing his faux-blonde friend. "They'll be working for me one day. Just you wait."

Bokuto lets out a hearty laugh, causing people to look in the direction of the two tall men. "You've been saying that for how long, now?"

A scoff comes from behind them, causing them to turn around, "About two years, now. He's a little desperate, don't you think?"

Kuroo rolls his eyes at his friends' teasing, head turning in your direction just in time to catch you quickly farting your own gaze away.

You'd be a lot more to him than just another person in his racing group, one day.

General Taglist:

@thathoneybee3 @bratkugo

#🤍.suna #🤍.works #haikyū!! #haikyū!! x reader #kenma x reader #kenma kozume #kuroo x reader #kenma kozume x reader #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kenma fluff #kuroo fluff #haikyū!! fluff

[velvetmel0n]

No More Than a Name For Yearning

Summary: It’s a late night at the office when the tension becomes too much.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 6.5k+

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, vaginal fingering, a threesome (tag teaming?? idk man they take turns), Javier and Carrillo being competitive? penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, egregious use of italics and em dashes, exhibitionism and voyeurism? little bit of dom!Carrillo, Javier smoking as per usual, mutual pining, angst 

A/N: let’s hope I didn’t overhype this lmao. Special thanks to @tintinwrites and her knowledge of musicals for the title💕

@damerondjarin @mandoplease @tintinwrites @poeticandors @darksideofclarke @futzingorchids @pascalplease @glowingpena @ollypopp @yougottakeeponkeepinon @bisexual-space-slut @agentpike @mylifeliterally @pedropasscals @huliabitch @winters-buck @hystericalmedicine @watsonwise @1zashreena1 @chelsfic @halfwaythereroyal @leahsafae @qveenbvtch @maxlordd @acomplicatedprofession @bobafvtt @propertyofdindjarin @milleniumvalcon @the-bird-suit @girlpornparadise @okay-murdocks @slfreya @aellynera @duamuteffe @ah-callie @bookshelvesandteacups @woakiees @himbopoes @shadow-assassin-blix @thedevilwearsvibranium @littleferal @veuliee2 @mserynlarsen @lesqui @softpedropascal @writefightandflightclub @catfishingmorales​

“I’m done.” Steve’s voice, all Southern hospitality and exhaustion, breaks you out of the haze you’re in and have been in for the last two hours, English and Spanish swimming before your eyes and you smile up at him reflexively, grateful for the distraction, however small it is. It had been a bad day for everyone, bad intel and a bad raid and now you’re stuck shifting through mountains of files, looking for where you went wrong and the next plan of attack. “Do you want a ride?”

“I’m good, I want to work on this a bit more,” You say confidently, trying for a tone and an expression that says ‘I’m staying because I want to finish this, not because I don’t want to be alone yet’ while his blonde eyebrows knit together high on his forehead. Your smile doesn’t crack under the weight of the energy he’s putting out, brotherly and almost concerned as his eyes flick towards the only other people in the office with you; Javier and Carrillo. 

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” You snort when Javier waggles his eyebrows dramatically at you over a stack of his own files to go through. “Javi’ll take me home,” You say because he will. You don’t have a car, having wanted to save money and not fully grasping the inherent dangers of being a DEA agent who relies on public transport in the middle of Escobar’s territory before you had moved here. 

You’d started saving the second week of living in Colombia, but somewhere along the way it had become less of a pressing issue and more of an afterthought as you fell into the rhythm of jumping into Steve’s car as he swung by on his way into work or pounding on Javier’s door, just down the hall from your own with some sort of baked good in your hands as the customary bribe. 

“You sure?” He’s giving you another chance, another out, because it’s late and it’s hot and his nerves are probably still frayed just like everyone else’s who aren’t showing it and he no doubt thinks you need a break just as much as he does.

“I’m a big girl, Steve. I’ll be fine,” You turn a page, sending him the message that yes, you’re staying. You’ll wait Javier out, promising him some muffin or cookie you’d picked up from the store, crumbly and too sweet but he gobbles them down anyways.

“Oh—kay,” He drawls out, sounding unconvinced but he’s picking his jacket up from where it’s been laying on his desk. “You crazy kids don’t have too much fun now,” He digs his keys from his pocket as he walks out and the hollow slam of the door shutting behind him doesn’t shake anyone.

And it takes a moment for the gravity of what you’ve just done to sink into you, how you’ve just stranded yourself on a desert island of paperwork and intel. How you’re trapped between the two men you think about late at night when you’re alone and hungry, now hunched over one singular desk with them and your mouth goes dry.

Your skin prickles and some part of you thinks that this might be better; better than the stress of the day and the frustration that rises in your blood every time you have to ask one of them to translate for you because cartel slang isn’t taught in any class and at least Carrillo tells you. You’ll tilt the paper at him and point and he leans close, brows heavy over his sharp eyes and he’ll say it once in English, only once and his tone is equal parts exhaustion and frustration but it’s enough.

Javier is more of a bastard about it. The way he smirks every time you ask him for anything, smooth and suggestive and asking what you’ll do for him as payment and as much as it gets on your nerves you can’t help but rise to it, batting your eyelashes and threatening to do one thing or another which of course never fazes him. It helps soothe the more ragged edges of your nerves, falling back on the familiar rhythm of your friendship, the push and pull wrapping around your shoulders like a security blanket.

You both know that you’ll each fall apart in your own way as soon as goodnights have been said and your apartment doors have closed, but that’s a problem still hours away. It’s a problem you’ll deal with alone in your bed, hugging your pillow and wishing you had someone warm and solid sharing your bed because you could attach yourself to them somehow you think. Anchor your body to theirs, to reality, so you don’t float off into nightmares.

Carrillo seethes beside you, quiet and his mouth set in a hard line but you still find yourself wanting to reach out to him. It’s stupid but you want to reach out and smooth your hands over him, want to bleed the tension form his body because he carries too much of it and he can’t bury it under innuendos and harmless flirting like Javier can, like you’ve learned to. 

You think about it sometimes, what might happen if you acted on your desires with the Colonel. You know what will happen with Javier if you ever take him up on the offer, one that’s stood since your first week here. You’ll know that he’ll treat you right, that he’ll take you out of your head and take you apart piece by piece. Maybe he’ll even put you back together again and you can’t deny that you’ve been thinking about it more and more lately. 

But Carrillo is a puzzle and maybe that’s why you keep thinking about him as much as you do, maybe you want to take him apart just as much as you want Javier to do the same to you. You want to know what it’s like to have all that energy focused on you, intense and bordering on obsessive. All consuming. 

The next exhale is shaky and you realize you need to stop before you start staring at them, at the way Carrillo’s shoulders fill out his uniform or catch Javier’s profile out of the corner of your vision, the way his mouth twists with displeasure underneath his mustache. You need to stop before you start thinking about what that mustache will feel like against your skin or how tight Carrillo’s grip on you would be. 

You try to bury yourself back in the files and grainy photographs, trying to ignore the ache between your thighs and you realize that you were wrong, that this is worse.

The next hour passes in a haze, steeped in frustrations and stress and an insidious kind of tension, the air plucked taut like a bow string. You’ve untucked your blouse and have already undone the first button but you’re reaching for the next two barely ten minutes later and you don’t know if you’re overheated from the weather or the look you’d seen Javier give you when you reached for your collar the first time, thick eyes slid over to you and following the motions of your fingers. You think Carrillo might be watching you, too— see his head tilt from the corner of your eye, see his fingers still as they turn a page. You keep going, slipping the buttons from their closures and maybe you make more of a show than you should of opening your collar. Of fanning yourself and slipping your hand underneath your shirt to rub your shoulder.

No one says a word and you keep your eyes fixed on the ones in front of you, absently kneading your own shoulder as you wait for their eyes to slide away, for the moment to pass because it feels like it’s clogging your throat. 

“Need a hand?” Javier raises his eyebrows, points his chin at the one you have stuck up your shirt, your fingers squeezing at the knot that’s formed and you snort. It splinters the tension enough that you can breathe.

“In your dreams, Peña,” Because the last thing you need right now is for him to touch you, the rasp of his fingers over your smooth skin with Carrillo watching the entire thing, less than three feet away. Your stomach clenches at the thought, a traitorous thrill forcing its way up your spine and you dig just a little too far into the tendon and a noise slips from your lips. 

You expect Javier to call you out on it, on the way the sound just...flows out, low and keening but pitched up towards the end and you don’t breathe. You don’t know if anyone breathes because it’s like you’re the only three people awake right now. The only three people alive and the glow of the streetlights outside is pulsing and hazy as it slips through the cracks in the blinds and it’s making you feel like you’re in a fever dream, like suddenly all the consequences of bad decisions, of feeding the monster in your gut are going up in the smoke that bleeds from Javier’s cigarette.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t and neither does Carrillo and your breath shakes itself out of you, your fingers smoothing over the tendon you had just curled into and you have half a mind to go home, to try and call Javier off the hunt so you can curl up in your own bed and try to sleep off the stress and the heat, the thoughts that keep rising to the surface.

The sound of Carrillo yanking a drawer open drags you out of the daydream that’s trying to coalesce and you see him pull the bottle out; think that the frustration must be getting to him. You can’t blame him for it.

“I hope you’re planning on sharing, Carrillo,” 

Because there’s something to be said for warm alcohol and the way it burns the whole way down like it’s holding a grudge. You don’t know what it is— it’s something clear and biting that smells like window cleaner when Carrillo unscrews the cap and passes it to you, the bottle half drunk already and the thought is dim in the back of your mind that the Colonel himself must’ve done this dozens of times before, that your lips are wrapping around the very same rim as his must have as you swallow a mouthful and try your best not to grimace. Your lips tingle on contact and you know whatever it is it’s strong, probably enough to fuzz your better judgement.

You’re already passing it to Javier when you see him reaching for it, fingers hungry in the way they wrap around the bottle. He gulps, bares his teeth at the taste and holds it out to Carrillo who swallows a mouthful of what you suspect to actually be paint stripper without blinking. Rinse, repeat.

The alcohol loosens your tongues and before you know it Javier is cluing you in on the things that are said behind your back, when you’re not in the room. Warning you about a young agent who’s been making noise about asking you out, maybe getting you in bed and you can’t help it.

You chuckle and the words rise unbidden to your tongue, spurred on by a combination of alcohol and stress, of sleep deprivation and the oppressive heat. You don’t realize your mistake until a second after the words are out of your mouth and you can feel your stomach drop to the floor.

“I’d rather fuck you grumpy bastards,”

Because it’s just as much about the wording, how you said it as much as it’s about the fact that you said anything at all. You’d rather fuck them. Not either, not one of. You’d rather fuck them.

“What was that?” There’s a change in Javier’s voice, some new chord resonating in the air and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Carrillo drinks slowly from the bottle and you can see his throat working, his Adam’s apple bobbing and he’s looking at you with intent. It makes you want to squirm. 

“I— I just mean if I had to choose, between you and Miller I mean, I’d— I would choose you,” You fumble it and you know it. You’re not looking at either of them, eyes staring down at the files still on the desk because you feel warm and prickly all over, trying to keep your breathing even because you’re spiraling. You’re afraid; afraid of their reactions, if they’ll snort and reject you after all and afraid of what will happen if word gets out. The fear tangles with arousal in your gut, as exhilarating as it is confusing and no one is saying anything.

You see motion out of the corner of your eye, a large hand gripping the back of your neck a moment later and he almost pulls you out of the chair with his urgency to crash your lips against his own— Carrillo. You melt into the kiss, welcome his tongue into your mouth and you’re abundantly aware of the fact that Javier is just on the other side of you, that you’re being watched.

Your breathing shallows and it’s like you have a fever you’re so hot, drinking down every bit of attention that’s being lavished on you between Carrillo’s mouth on yours and Javier’s hands, sliding around your middle and squeezing your sides before you feel him crowding further into your personal space. It’s already verging on too much for you, too many things happening at once and not going to stop until you’re boiled down to a creature of lust and sensation and nothing else. 

Carrillo keeps one hand in your hair while he eats at your mouth, keeping you in place for him while his other drops to your thigh, palming it before he slides his hand down to your knee and holds, stopping you from creating any friction for yourself before you could even try. You whine and Javier’s even closer than before, covering your neck with kisses now and his mustache tickles enough to have you trying to recoil from it, chills sweeping throughout your body and his chuckle dark in your ears. 

Carrillo’s teeth drag over your bottom lip at the same time Javier starts to unbutton the rest of your shirt, his hand deft and seeking as it slips underneath the fabric, his other mirroring Carrillo with the way it grips the meat of your thigh. You whine, trying to grasp Javier’s shirt in an effort to ground yourself or to pull him closer you aren’t entirely sure because all you know is their hands on you and the ache that’s burning you up inside, the taste of the alcohol on Carrillo’s tongue as it sweeps through your mouth. 

Your shirt flutters to the floor in a soft heap and Javier’s attention stays on your chest for what feels like ages, palming your breasts through your bra while Carrillo’s head dips, mouthing along your jawline and down your throat, and in that moment you want nothing more than to feel his teeth. To have him suck marks into the fragile skin that you can look at in the morning to make sure this isn’t some fever dream brought on by the heat and frustration because you feel like you’re being melted down between the two of them and reshaped into something new, something hungry and aching and empty.

A hand trails from your chest and down your stomach while teeth scrape along your neck, your shoulder, and you almost hold your breath when you feel the button of your jeans being fiddled with. A whine builds in your throat, a sharp sound undercutting it and sending a jolt through your body when the Colonel smacks Javier’s hand away before he could slip it inside your pants. Your eyes flutter open for the first time since this all started, just in time to see the way Carrillo’s jaw clenches, hostility or just plain competitiveness you can’t be sure belying the heat in his eyes as he glares at the other man.

It shouldn’t turn you on— you know it shouldn’t, having him snapping over you like that, like you’re a new favorite toy he’s loathe to hand over but you can’t deny the way you squirmed, either, heat curling in your gut at the thunderous look on his face. And then Javier is huffing and for one insane moment you’re afraid that he’s going to give up without a fight, that he’s going to stop.

But then he’s turning your head towards him, wrenching you away from Carrillo so your chest is pressed against his own and he can have his fill of your lips. His kiss is different from Carrillo’s— the bristles of his mustache tickle and it’s less like an onslaught but no less heated, his groan sinking right down into your bones.

Carrillo’s fingers make quick work of your jeans and you almost leap out of your skin at the first touch, thick fingers slipping underneath the band of your underwear and dragging through your soaked folds. 

You moan into Javier’s mouth, the sound ripped from the back of your throat and you hear one of them chuckle— self satisfied and almost mocking and you want to snap at them and call them names, want to regain the edge you maintain so carefully in this line of work but you can’t. You can’t because Javier’s teeth are scraping along your jawline now and his hand is working its way underneath your bra to start thumbing over your nipple, the edge of his nail against the sensitive skin making a chill skate through your body and Carrillo— he’s— he’s rolling the rough pads of his fingers over your clit, using enough pressure to make your thighs jerk and the insults wither on your tongue.

Then it’s your hands that are moving, unclenching from their shoulders to follow the lines of their torsos down, down, down and the scrape of chairs across the floor is loud and disjointed as they’re yanked closer. Half of you wants to take your time, to explore the both of them at your leisure and finally have your fill of each, to run your hands along their bodies and kiss each of their scars but the other half of you is louder. The other half of you is greedy. Impatient. 

You smooth your palms along the front of their pants, reveling in the feel of their cocks twitching through the fabric and how Javier’s breath hisses through his teeth, how Carrillo drops his head to your shoulder and squeezes the inside of your knee, his fingers stuttering against you. It’s heady, knowing that they both want you like this and holding evidence of their arousal in your hands and you can’t help but stroke them, biting down on a grin when a moan works itself from Carrillo’s chest. 

Javier recovers first and pulls you until your body is fully facing him, hunching over you with his fingers working at the closure of your bra, mouth trailing down your throat. Carrillo huffs behind you but he doesn’t pull you away, not yet. Instead he shifts closer, close enough for you to sag into the solid mass of his chest because his fingers are moving again, slipping lower and teasing your entrance, circling and only barely dipping the tip of one inside. At the same time Javier’s mouth is engulfing one of your nipples and sucking, teeth glancing off of it and you don’t know whose name to moan, writhing between the two of them and trying to get a grip on Javier’s hair. 

Your other hand is still over Carrillo’s cock and you squeeze, a whine bursting from your lips because of course the bastard was waiting for that, waiting for just the right moment to slide one of his thick fingers home while Javier laves across your chest, licking and sucking at your tender flesh. “Fuck,” Your voice is high and reedy and you feel like you can’t breathe. It’s the first word you’ve spoken during this entire thing, whatever it is, whatever it’s going to turn into, and you think you feel Carrillo’s lips pull into something sharp that might be a grin against your cheek when he starts to move.

The angle means the heel of his hand is bumping into your clit and his pace is a cruel thing; dark and twisting and somehow it’s too much and not enough all at once and your head is spinning from it. You hear him in your ear, speaking low and soft and his praises are clogging your throat. Encouragements, teasing when he asks you if you want more, can take more because he knows you can, that you want it because you’re good for him, aren’t you? For them?

And Javier is murmuring his agreements against the pillow of your breast, dragging his teeth along your nipple and you think if it’s possible for a human being to go up in flames you would right at this moment, trapped between the two of them with no buffer, with nowhere to go. 

“Need more already?” Javier’s voice is thick like honey, almost gloating as he picks his head up from your chest, taking in how it rises and falls in time with your rapid breaths, shining from his mouth underneath the fluorescent lights. His eyes drop lower and he can’t see you, not with Carrillo’s hand in the way and the thick denim of your jeans still biting into your thighs, but he can hear you, slick and obscene with little whimpers falling from your lips like you’re trying to stay quiet because you are. It’s not working, but you’re trying.

“Javi—” Your voice tilts up at the end, high and whining and you don’t know how much more of this you can take. You feel like you’re melting down, burning up from the inside out and you can’t remember if you’ve ever felt like this before. If you’ve ever felt this on edge, coiled up tight and vibrating with this much tension, if it’s because you’ve been wanting each of them for months now, if it’s because they’re both here with you. Both watching you, both stringing you out further and further and pulling you in different directions. Each trying to get their fill of you before the other. 

And maybe you’re asking for Javier because Carrillo is cruel, working you with his fingers but never giving you quite enough, working you up and up and up. Like he wants to see how far can push you, if he can make the need swallow you whole. You know he can, that for all your wanting to take him apart piece by piece he can do the same to you, is doing the same to you just as you know Javier will show you more mercy.

Javier reaches for you, curls his hands in your jeans and pulls them down over your knees and maybe he meant to pull them off, to get you naked in the middle of the office but his eyes catch on the way Carrillo’s finger is sinking into you over and over again. The way he gives you another and how you still when he does, your breath stuttering.

You almost don’t feel the way Carrillo hooks his chin over your shoulder to watch for himself because you can’t think over how his fingers feel, thick and heavy and buried up to the knuckle and you whine. You whine because he’s just holding them there, seemingly content to just feel the way your cunt is squeezing around them, the way your thighs are shaking and listening to you crying in his ear. 

You hand fists in the material of his pants, your other digging your nails into Javier’s shoulder and you use them for leverage, rolling your hips on Carrillo’s fingers. Someone groans, ragged and strung out and for terrifying seconds you think that they’re going to leave you like this. Leave you to fuck yourself on his fingers without any help.

But Javier doesn’t last that long.

Javier doesn’t last that long before he’s reaching for you all over again, pulling you away from Carrillo and you almost protest, almost call him a bastard for cutting off what little stimulation you’re managing to eek out for yourself but then he’s pressing you up against the desk and you forgive him.

You try to brace yourself on the desk, hands slipping on file folders and you look back, over your shoulder because you can hear his belt jangling, loud against the background of hurried breathing and arousal-softened voices. You don’t see it but Carrillo leans back in his chair, sucking your slick off his fingers and thinking about eating you alive even while he watches Javier line himself up with your weeping cunt, the way his head leans back as he pushes in, the way you go still. The way your chin drops to your chest and how you rock your weight onto your hands, spine curving when his hips meet yours. 

Javier isn’t moving, not yet, and Carrillo almost feels sorry for you because another of those whines is falling out of your mouth, soft and needy and you lick your lips before you speak, begging him to move and so he does. They both do. 

Javier’s hands curl around your hips and he starts to thrust as Carrillo stands, rounding the desk and his lips might pull into something crueler than a smile but pleased nonetheless when you reach for him, a moan on your lips. He lets you fumble with his belt and untuck his shirt with shaking hands and his chest swells with a twisted pride, that you can be filled with another man’s cock and still reach for him.

It goes to his head a little bit while he watches you, glassy eyes fluttering and your hands slipping. Your head drops to his shoulder with a high pitched moan, your hips rolling back, and that’s when he grabs your face, his fingers pressing into your jaw, lifting your head and forcing you to look at him. 

It’s too much, you realize, trying to remember how to breathe while you stare into Carrillo’s face. His nostrils are flared and his eyes are swallowed up by his pupils, and he’s not looking away. Your breath is puffing into his face and you’re trying to keep your eyes open, you are— but Javier’s cock keeps dragging through your walls, catching on something bright and sharp and it’s almost enough. 

You don’t realize that you keep closing your eyes until Carrillo is almost throttling you, tightening his fingers on either side of your jaw, the meat of his palm pressing against your windpipe and tomorrow you’ll feel embarrassed at the pathetic sound that leaves your throat. How you sway towards him, his "look at me” ringing in your ears, soft and biting all at once.

Javier hunches over you then and you feel his teeth in your shoulder, feel the rasp of his mustache on your skin. Carrillo’s shoulders move but you don’t look, don’t let yourself get distracted from the way he’s looking at you like— like—

You don’t know because Javier’s hand is moving, slapping Carrillo’s away before he can touch you and you see the muscle in his jaw tick before you crumple, would have spilled across the desk if his grip wasn’t holding you up because Javier is slipping his hand between your shaking thighs.

Your hands fist in the material of Carrillo’s shirt, your quest to get his belt undone long since falling by the wayside and being replaced by focusing on the way your nerve endings are lighting up under Javier’s fingers, buzzing and firing and the knot in your belly bursts, thick and sweet like syrup. You sob into Carrillo’s shoulder, bearing down on Javier’s cock and he groans behind you, ragged and grating. 

But he doesn’t let you enjoy it, not really. Because the next moment he’s pulling away from you and you feel so empty you could almost cry, shaking yourself apart against Carrillo’s chest, dense and warm and the part of your brain that’s still functioning wishes you could feel his skin on your own. You don’t get the chance to dwell on it, on Carrillo’s hands and his arms, the feel of his torso through his shirt because the next thing you know liquid is splashing across your lower back, hot and dripping and you shudder right down to your bones.

“Fuck,” Javier sounds as wrecked as you feel and you can hear him pant, the air whistling over his teeth but the ache between your thighs isn’t fading away. If anything it’s getting worse as you try to pull yourself back together, trembling against Carrillo’s body because you don’t necessarily trust yourself to stand on your own quite yet and apparently neither does Javier, rolling his forehead on the space between your shoulder blades. 

After a few moments he straightens and you feel his eyes on you as clearly as you do his hand, stroking down your side and squeezing your hip. He starts digging through the desk then, opening and shutting drawers until he finds what he’s looking for, wiping his cum from your skin with what you assume to be an extra shirt Carrillo keeps in his desk, always prepared.

Your fingers unclench from the shirt he’s wearing, sliding over his stomach to pull on his belt because you aren’t satisfied, won’t be until you know what it feels like to make him fall apart right along with you. You mouth at his neck, slipping your palm into the front of his khakis after you conquer the buckle and zipper. 

“You’re breaking my heart, baby,” Javier sits back in one of the abandoned chairs, his voice hoarse and colored with exertion, and if you didn’t know any better you might think he’s serious, that his feelings are well and truly bruising with your efforts to get in Carrillo’s pants, still greedy for more after he had his turn with you. 

“Fuck off, Javier,” You say it without any real venom against Carrillo’s skin and the other man might have barked out a chuckle, bared in his teeth in something that might have been a grin, but the only thing you can focus on is the way Carrillo groans when you close your fingers around his cock and stroke. You want to hear it again and again, want to have it vibrate through you while he’s pressed impossibly close. 

He’s a sight as he pulls himself away from you, his uniform shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, unbuttoned now and his undershirt wrinkled from your fingers, his jaw set and you have to turn, all loose limbed and soft as you seat yourself on the desk, able to finally peel your jeans the rest of the way off and spreading your thighs in blatant invitation. He takes it, slotting his hips between your knees and wrenching you to him and you’re able to wind your arms around his wide shoulders like you’ve been craving to.

You rub yourself against him, your breath catching in your throat from how your sensitized cunt slips across the coarse fabric and it almost hurts, sharp and corrosive in the way it floods through you, dissolving in its wake. But you can’t stop, chasing after the pleasure with a whining moan because he’s just watching you, eyeing the slowly growing wet spot on the front of his underwear because of it and you squeeze your thighs around him, trying to spur him on. 

"Horacio,” The name slips out unbidden, tinged with something you can’t describe and it’s the magic word. He huffs as if he’s coming back to himself, as if he’s realized that he can move, that you really do want this despite the circumstances. Despite Javier watching with rapt attention and a fresh cigarette.

He doesn’t make you let go of him, doesn’t make you pull him out because you’re clinging to him so sweet and nice and purring for him that he can’t imagine it and you’re grateful. Actually grateful that you can keep yourself wound around him, touching and tasting like you’ve thought about for months now, raking your fingers through his short hair and arching against him until you’re balancing on the very edge of the desk, his arms the only things keeping you from slipping right off.

And then you’re being split open. 

You warble something that might have been his name, choking on it and you scramble at his shoulders for a better grip. He groans deep in his chest, rough and filthy as his head drops to your neck and it’s overwhelming. You want to blame it on the fact you’ve already cum, that you’re still overly sensitive from Javier because he’s making you feel better than he has any right to as harsh as he is, as stone faced. As mean.

But then his hand is slipping between your thrusting bodies and he’s anything but, unerringly finding your clit and it’s almost embarrassing. It’s almost embarrassing how hard your body jerks, grinding into his calloused fingers while he breaks you apart, your cunt pulsing around him as he keeps up the onslaught, hips snapping into yours. 

You cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders, his back, as the pleasure sweeps through you, glimmering and razor sharp and you say his name again, only this time mewling and shattered. And it’s the combination of everything that does him in; your cunt fluttering around his cock, your voice in his ear saying his name like that, you trying to pull him infinitely closer. He grunts as he spills himself within you, the sound strangled and you can’t help but gather his face in your hands to pull it to your own, slanting your lips against his and drinking it down.

Your thighs are quivering as you pant into each other’s mouths, Carrillo almost languidly stirring his cock in you as you both come down. You didn’t expect it— didn’t expect any of this to actually come to fruition, to exist somewhere outside of your mind and the four walls of your bedroom but here you are. The smoke from Javier’s cigarette hangs in the air and Carrillo— Horacio, now, is nosing underneath your jaw, staying right where he is and kissing the salt from your skin. If an ache wasn’t blooming between your legs, in your thighs and your hips you don’t know if you’d believe it happened at all, letting the memories turn hazy in the sunlight that’s only a few short hours away.

But it is and when you blink your eyes open you see Javier looking at you with an unreadable expression, flicking his eyes to Horacio and back again and a different heat starts to suffuse your body, this one prickling and bordering on uncomfortable. That’s when you unlock your ankles from behind Horacio’s back, your heart slipping into a nervous rhythm and you don’t want to press your palms into his shoulders and apply pressure, telling him to move without so many words but you do because you can’t take it.

Can’t take the way Javier is looking at you, can’t take how much you want Horacio to stay, to wonder and find out if he stays as gentle as this when the fog clears from his head. 

You can’t take the way he’s looking at you either as he shifts, following the directive of your hands and you swallow the gasp that tries to burst from your mouth when his cock slips from you. You weren’t expecting this either, how bereft you feel without him filling you up, without him in your arms if you’re being honest with yourself. You can’t even blame it on the alcohol, not really. None of you had drank that much, the bottle still not empty after being passed between the three of you and now on its side, knocked over at some point from your combined haste but miraculously unbroken as it lays there on the corner of the desk, liquid pooling on the linoleum below.

Javier is the one who sees it first and throws Horacio’s crumpled, used shirt on the caustic puddle while you’re pulling your jeans up, dressing as if your clothes could become your shield from the emotions that are trying to flay you alive.

“Are you okay?” It’s Horacio who asks how you are while you button your blouse, his voice gruff and threaded with something that’s going to haunt you.

“I’m good, I promise,” You try for a light smile, like you’re not turned inside out, like you won’t keep thinking about this for the rest of the night and maybe into the day when you have to pretend like everything is fine, that nothing has changed. 

Javier throws the shirt onto the desk then and it hits with a wet plop that makes you cringe. You see Horacio’s mouth thin, any traces of the softness from just moments ago bleeding away and you want it back. 

But it will have to wait for another time, maybe a better time or none at all because Javier is crushing the end of his cigarette into an ashtray and picking his leather jacket off the back of a chair, looking at you expectantly because he knows you can’t refuse him, not without revealing anything. “Ready to go?” And maybe Horacio has some inkling about the arrangement, gleaned from comments that have piled up over the weeks and months but maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he thinks you’re going home with the agent, not bumming a ride to the same apartment building because you were naïve and are now complacent.

You nod, looking again at Horacio and running your eyes over him, as if you don’t want to forget how he looks in this moment despite everything. His uniform a mess, cock tucked back into his pants but his belt staying unbuckled for the moment and for one second, one harebrained second, you think about kissing him. Just kissing him, just a peck— just enough for him to maybe know.

But you don’t. 

“Goodnight, Horacio,” Your lips wrap around the syllables, turning his name into something gentle as you drift towards the door after Javier.

The Colonel nods and you think you might see his lips part but the shadows make it impossible to tell and you don’t know what’s in his eyes either, just know that they feel heavy on your skin. Javier calls your name and you finally look away before you do something even more stupid than anything else you’d done tonight.

The door closes behind you and he knows you can’t hear him but he says it anyways, alone and looking at the door like you’re going to walk back in.

“Goodnight.”

#javier pena x reader #horacio carrillo x reader #javier pena x reader x horacio carrillo #javier pena x you #narcos smut #narcos fic #horacio carrillo x you #if you listen closely you can hear my hs english teacher screaming at all the run on sentences

[pedropascalssimp]

Feisty dala

Boba fett x fem reader

Summary: din djarin and you have been traveling together since you had both met that day you two had discovered Grogu, now on a mission to find a jedi seeing stone, only you find a certain mandalorian who seems to like getting on your nerve.

Warnings: language. Violence. Mentions death. Blood is mentioned. Boba being grumpy. Fluff because Im obsessed with soft old Boba 🤧💕 and lastly (gasps) IT'S LONG!?

No one asked for this I just wrote it because I was bored and finally had free time.

*not my gif*

The razor crest was submerged In silence, Grogu in the seat beside your mandalorian friend while you was in the one behind the little green boy.

The stars whizzing by in white blurs while you simply tap your fingers against the leather chair arm as you boredly look around at the ship. You was told by din to be quiet, your constant talking about various things had irked him, he claimed you couldn't be quiet for even five minutes. ever so eager to prove him wrong you decided to bet on it, telling him that you was capable of being quiet for ten minutes to up the stakes of the bet, so he threw fifty credits on the table and you agreed. But damn was it hard to keep quiet, especially whenever the urge to tease the mandalorian about how he just spoke to his son in a baby voice was so strong.

But you bite your tongue and ignore it, ignore how he puts the ship into autopilot so he can hold Grogu and continue to baby him. "are you hungry kid? You haven't eaten in nearly two hours... Surely you must be hungry little womp rat" din tickles his side making the child giggle. It was then you knew din was purposely trying to make you tease him, trying to make you lose the bet. But you stubborn and determined to win, so you cross your arms and lean back in the seat comfortably.

"lucky for you... I managed to get you some more cookies while we were on Trask, want some?" he asks the green child who nods eagerly, din proceeds to retrieve the promised cookies and soon let's Grogu dig in. Standing up from his seat, his visor falls on you.

"one more minute until the bets up, I'm actually surprised you haven't spoke yet" he said with amusement, watching how you grin at him with a cocky expression. "but I do dread when it's over... Because I'll never be able to shut you up" he jokes while patting your shoulder, walking out of the cockpit to eat you assumed. Once he was gone and the minute was up, you let out a deep sigh, smiling over at Grogu who had cookie crumbs all over his face.

"that man spoils you kid, but judging by the smile on you're face you don't seem to mind" you stand up and plop down in the pilot seat to see Grogu better, "can I have one?" you ask, eyeing a cookie. Grogu looks at you, down at the cookies then sighs deeply before handing you one, as if he was opposed to giving you one. You take it with a grateful nod, saying thanks while munching on the cookie.

The sound of the door opening makes you look back, seeing din walk in and motioning you to get out of his seat, doing so you outstretched a hand, looking at him with a smirk. "I do believe you owe me fifty credits Mando" you enjoyed the huff that escaped his modulater as he practically throws the money at you.

"I hate you, you know that right?" he said, the playful tone giving away his words was nothing but playful banter.

"the feeling is mutual buckethead" you laugh while sitting back in your usual seat, looking at the credits with a proud smirk. "can you believe that you lost to me? That is just so surprising" you sarcastically say, remembering how you always win bets, but din hasn't learnt his lesson on how not to gamble with you.... The muttered curse word's from din only make you laugh more.

"Grogu, remind me next time not to indulge her when she places a dumb bet" Grogu coos and looks out the window, "it won't take long before we land on tython" din announced after a few moments of silence.

"oh maker, everyone prepare yourselves! Mando is about to land the ship!" you giggle after you buckled in, "try and not wreck this time captain" you tease him while you watch him buckle Grogu in.

Whenever his visor falls on you, you can feel the glare fixated on you, burning holes through your head. But you offer him a innocent look. "next words that leave you're mouth will be you're last, because I'm taping you're mouth shut" he spoke while turning back to focus on flying.

"oh, kinky" you joke with a grin. That made him snap his head around.

"what!? No - no I didn't mean like -

"it's just a joke Mando, calm down" you laugh, his stuttering at a simple joke letting you know it embarrassed him. He was definitely a innocent soul, even though his line of work put blood on his hands, he was somehow still a kind person, but damned if you ever got on his bad side, because that's when the cold blooded bounty hunter comes out. Hint why you befriended him that day you and him met, you was after the same bounty, along with a Droid. You, din and the Droid made your way to the bounty and your heart dropped when you saw Grogu, innocent wide eye's looking up at the three of you. The Droid, ever so heartless, was going to kill the kid, but din killed the Droid and you and him made a promise to protect Grogu. From that bloomed your friendship.

"let's just get to this jedi rock thing" din mumbled while you chuckle behind him from your seat. Maker was he clueless about the jedi, you wasn't that educated on them either but knew more about them then him.

Din flies around in search of the right location, green mountains and blue skies a beautiful contrast to what you've usually been seeing lately. Tython wasn't much, but it was still beautiful. You watched with adoring eye's as Grogu looks around with fascinated eye's.

"Looks like that’s the magic rock I’m supposed to take you to down there" din spoke while he slows down to fly around the rock in the middle of a clearing on the mountain. "Sorry, buddy. I can’t land on the top. Too small. We’re gonna have to travel the last stretch with the windows down" you looked out the window at the seeing stone with amazement, it was definitely something new to you. But after a few moments you take in din's words.

"wait, you're gonna use the jetpack? What about me? What am I supposed to do walk?" you questioned while looking at the mandalorian.

"either walk or stay on the ship" he shrugs while finding a place to land, surprising you by how smoothly he landed the razor crest. "me and him will be back after we figure out whatever it is this jedi thing does" he picks Grogu up and holds him tightly while looking down at you. "don't destroy my ship out of boredom, I know how you get when you're bored" he points a finger at you like a dad scolding his kid.

"I'm not gonna destroy you're ship Mando, besides... Now with you gone I can finally take a peaceful nap, you're snoring won't bother me now" you lean back in your seat and spare a glance at his void visor.

"whatever, I gotta get Grogu to the jedi rock thing" he leaves without another word, taking little Grogu with as you sigh. What the hell was you supposed to do? Actually sleep? As much as you really wanted to, you found yourself to wired to sleep, so you stand up and explore the ship, descending the ladder to the cockpit. You look around at everything boredly, finding a crate to seat on while looking over your blaster. It was what felt like hours later, but really more like fifteen minutes, when you heard the landing of another ship, this made you jump up and holster your blaster while opening the ramp of the crest, looking for the mysterious ship you heard. Out in the distance, you spot a ship, it was rusted and old looking from what you could gather, but you didn't see anything. Walking back into the crest while the door closed with a hiss, you grab the com din gave you and activated it.

"Mando is everything okay?" you ask, hoping he'd respond, hell he probably didn't even have his com on him.

Crackling was heard before the sound of din's voice comes in, "yeah...sort of..." he muttered back, making you lift a brow in confusion.

"sort of!? What's happening? Who's ship just landed!?" you rushed out while pacing the floor, worried things might be going south out there while your in this ship doing nothing to help.

Din detected the concern and stress in your voice and sighs, "I'm fine, Grogu is doing his jedi thing and I'm talking with this guy -

"guy!? What guy? What the hell is happening out there din!?" you used his real name making him turn the com off. Great now your clueless as to what is exactly happening while your stuck on this ship. Perfect.

Laying the com down, more like slamming it, you let out a angry huff. Running a hand down your face while deciding if you should stay on the crest or leave. About ready to make your mind up your almost out the door, but before you could open it, the sound of yet more ships landing was heard, that's when you take out your blaster and open the crests door. Walking outside only to spot stormtroopers.

"oh you have to be kidding me!" you angry growl out while spotting din fighting stormtroopers off alongside two other people, din tries making towards Grogu who was at the top of the hill. But of course you can't focus on that now considering a few troopers spot you, rising your blaster up fast you shoot at them, hitting one in the leg while the other in the chest, taking another shot you take the last one out easily.

Running towards the hill while taking out troopers your almost toward din, but a familiar face stops you, "Fennec!?" you ask, looking the woman over, she shoots you a small smile before shooting a trooper who was behind you.

"you sound surprised to see me y/n!" she shoot another trooper while you start aiding her in taking down the damned men.

"well considering the last time I saw you, you was dead" you quickly dodged a blaster shot before looking at her again, "yes, I'm a little surprised to see you" you offer her a smile before parting ways. Trying to help your partner out, but din was already so far up the hill. That's when you spare a glance at the crest and spot a man going inside. This intrigued you and your quick to race back down the hill to see what the hell that was about.

Running inside the ship you hold your blaster up, spotting a older man putting on din's hard earned beskar. "and what do you think you're doing with my friends beskar?" you ask him, looking over his face. Although scarred greatly from what you could only assume a life threatening experience, he was quite handsome. Dark eye's and a ever present scowl on his face.

He hums before looking away and continues putting the beskar on, placing the chest piece on. "this armor belongs to me" he grunts out with a gruff voice, a accent leaking through his voice. It was beautiful, rough but still a sound you find yourself yearning to hear again. "and don't point that thing at me unless you plan on using it princess" he spoke while putting the leg pieces on now.

Holding it more firm you walk closer to him, not liking his attitude. "and who says I won't use it? Now put my friends armor back before I decide to drop you old man" you say, deciding if he wanted to call you princess, something you really didn't mind but hating how it made your heart feel weird, you'd call him old man.

Ignoring you, something that really pissed you off, he places the helmet on and pushes past you. "I knew you wouldn't pull the trigger, now either help take some of these troopers out or stay put princess, wouldn't want you to break a nail" he walks off after that, leaving your blood boiling and jaw clenched.

Oh he was definitely going to pay for that, because you don't let anyone get away with such shit like that. Practically in a fit of rage you help Fennec, asshole, and din take out the troopers, fighting your way back up the hill as you switch between using your blaster and blade. You felt his lingering gaze on you as you fought, but ignored him, to focused on killing those jerks. And finally you succeeded and stood by din as you both watched the other mandalorians shoot the ships that held the remaining, fleeing troopers. The shot hit one ship making it fall and crash into the other.

"nice shot" din said while you roll your eye's and glare at the mandalorian in green chipped and beat armor.

He turns around, visor fixated on you two. "I was aiming for the other one" he spoke and this time you found his beautiful voice annoying.

You hated the man already, yet... Why the hell did he make your belly flip and heart flutter?

Oh maker...at the realization you was falling for the stranger you hate him even more.

It all happened in a blur, one moment Grogu's in his protective blue force field thing, the next his not and some rather lethal looking droids are taking. And the crest? It's gone, blown into dust. You couldn't do anything but watch your friends world crumble before him. No matter what you said it wouldn't make him feel better you knew, but once you heard the anger in his voice and determination, you knew he would stop at nothing to get his son back.

And so that's where you was now, all on the slave I while boba, you found out the assholes name finally, paints his armor, you watched him with crossed arms and a glare. You was still angry from his earlier words and attitude, but also still hypnotized by his face, the scars looked like they had to have been deep painful wounds once upon a time. But his beauty in them was something that really drawn your attention, his dark brown eye's held this new special glent in them as he looks at his armor, painting it with care while the smallest of smiles tugs at his lips whenever his paint brush comes across a certain deep mark or dent in the armor. It was stunning.

But like hell your gonna let his good looks capture you, draw you in like some lovestruck puppy. Because you didn't like him, no, that would just be obserd, idiotic even. He was a smug, grumpy jerk, he was even a bit older then you.... But maker was his voice something else, something you could never tire of.

"like what you see princess?" he spoke up, gruff voice startling you out of your thoughts. Scoffing at him you look away, trying to glare at the wall without letting your blush creep up your cheeks at being caught staring.

"can't say I do" you retort while glaring at him again, his smug amused face making your skin burn with frustration at the man. "and stop calling me that fett, unless you want me to kick you're ass?" you offer him a little smirk this time and he chuckles, focusing back on his work.

"oh, a feisty dala eh?" he doesn't even look up to see your reaction, he didn't even know if you spoke mando'a or not. "I like that" he adds with smug smirk, this time catching the red painting your cheeks.

"I don't even know what the hell dala means" you shake your head and glare at him again, his eye's now glued to yours, the intensity of his eye contact enough to have your skin burning for other reasons besides anger.

"I see you're little boyfriend doesn't teach you his own people's language?" he hoped that din wasn't really your boyfriend, for whenever he said that you was a feisty dala and he liked it, he meant it.

"okay for one thing, that idiot is not my boyfriend, and another no, he hardly even speaks to me unless it's absolutely crucial" you chuckle at the thought and watch how boba let's a little smirk tug at his lips while he works.

"dala means woman, therefore I called you a feisty woman...which you are"

"and you like it?" you tease him with a prideful smirk, standing up and walking over to only sit back down beside him. He looks down at you with confusion and a little skeptical look.

"what are you planning little girl" he grumbled as he puts his paint brush aside and turns his attention on you.

Shrugging you simply gaze up at him, loving how he keeps flickering his gaze over your face, obviously taking in every detail. "well it's kind of boring just sitting around doing nothing so I thought you'd like some help?" you point at the extra brush and his eye's look down at it, then back up at you.

"sure, just don't mess it up" he grunts out while handing you the brush and instructing you what to do. After he explained how he wanted it, you began helping him silently, your mind souly focused on the even slow strokes of the brush, turning the beskar a deep green. While you was lost in painting the man beside you watched with the smallest of smiles, boba found himself lost in the soft expression on your angelic face, the way your brows slightly lift up when you come across a dent, the way your lips slowly tug up when you triumphantly finish and admire your handy work. Boba fett wasn't one for being all sappy or overly lovey dovey. But he couldn't help but note how his eye's was practically glued to you, because he thought you was absolutely beautiful, an angel among the galaxy he had the privilege of meeting. Looking away from you he wipes any trace of affection off his face and starts painting the more detailed red and oranges onto the beskar.

It was ever since that day spent on the older bounty hunters ship, you and him sat and painted in a comfortable silence. And although he seemed like a grumpy and cold person of few words, you couldn't help but enjoy his company. After you had both finished your work you started small talk that soon led to you befriending the man.

Walking into the cantina with boba close by your side and din taking the lead, you follow the man in silver beskar to a table where two mandalorian women sit, eating while their helmets are discarded on the table. As you approached them, they stare up at you, boba and din. The red head eyeing din, the one you knew as bo-katan, having met her back on trask, while her friend simply pays you no mind, the one who's name you have yet to learn, not that you really cared honestly.

"I need you're help" din spoke, bo doesn't bother to look at din.

"Not all Mandalorians are bounty hunters. Some of us serve a higher purpose" she tells him, making you scoff quietly and look away from them, arms crossed across your chest, eye's focused on your shoes. After that you zooned her out, not really caring what she had to say, you wasn't her biggest fan after all, she didn't really make a good first impression.

But when she starts speaking to boba? That's when you really start listening. And at first, although angry, you let her insult slide.

"You are not a Mandalorian"

Not wanting to start a fight with someone din was speaking help from. And then the one you soon discovered to be koska reeves spoke up with a jab.

"I didn’t know sidekicks were allowed to talk"

Making your blood boil, but you bite your tongue and ball your fists up by your side, boba saw you growing angry and that sparked his interest, but din also knew and you could read him like a book, you knew he was pleading you to stay calm, and you honestly tried, but then....

"You are a disgrace to your armor" bo said, while standing up. You instantly scoot closer to boba and the anger was like fire in your eyes as you glared at the red head.

"it belonged to my father" boba spoke, and you remember how he told you the stories of his father jango that one night on his ship, how his eyes would light up fondly at certain memories he told you, that same light turning to a dark look of what one could only describe as grief as he then told that jango was taken from him by the hands of a jedi...you felt sad for boba, wrapping a arm around him, and if it was any other being boba would have chopped their arm off for touching him, but he couldn't deny how nice it felt whenever you held him. Boba grew quite fond of you, that scared him in a way, but he'd be damned if he ever pushed you away, so he embraced the feeling and finds himself falling harder for you each passing day, only hoping you felt the same.

"Don’t you mean your donor?" that hung thick in the air and you couldn't take it anymore. Din noticed that your calm composer had faded into nothing and was replaced by rage.

Pushing past boba you glare at bo-katan and now stand in front of the man, "watch you're tongue bo before I cut it out" you emphasis your threat by retrieving your blade, holding it in your hand casually. Boba smiles beneath the helmet at your words, but din was shaking his head knowing that your threats was never empty.

"this isn't you're place to talk sunshine so why don't you continue being quiet and hiding behind you're Clone friend?" she takes a step closer to you, tempting your patience.

"unless you want you're ass kicked I'd suggest you shut up" you almost growled the words out, your hands twitching to just punch her in the face. You hated the disrespect she was giving boba, he was a tough man, had a tough life ever since his father was taken from him at such a young age, he deserves better then bo-katan and her little friends insults.

"y/n... Not now" din warns in a sad attempt to make you back down. But once bo opens her mouth and let's her words fly out... Din knew there was no way that would happen.

"like you could do anything" she mused while eyeing you. That's what made you throw the first punch with your left hand, the blade you carried still in your right. That made din nervous, he didn't want you to kill the people he was seeking help from. He needed them.

Bo dodged your punch and lands a kick to your leg, almost making you fall but your quick to throw yourself at her and manage to grab both her arms and forcing them behind her back while kicking the backs of her knees causing her to fall, you held the blade against her throat and force her to look at you.

"I do believe you owe my friend an apology" you pant out, having lost your breath during your brawl. Bo glares at you hard, her own pants huffing out from the fight.

"dank farrik y/n! Stop!" din snaps, hand on his blaster making you gap at the man. Boba held his blaster as well but his visor wasn't on you.

"are you seriously going to shoot me?!" you exclaim making him shake his head.

"no but if you haven't noticed there is a blaster held at the back of you're head" he seethes prompting you to peek over your shoulder and spot koska behind you with a blaster. Rolling your eye's you retract your blade from bo's neck and push her forward. She stumbled but soon stands up shooting daggers into your skull. Before you could move past her she punched you in the face making you stumble backwards with a grunt, grabbing your now bleeding nose.

This made boba step forward now, grabbing your arms and ushering closer to din. "I'm sure you can handle the rest by yourself mandalorian, we'll meet at the ship" boba told din before leaving the cantina, hold firm on your upper arm as he practically drags you away.

"you're something else dala, we didn't need you starting a fight" boba tried to scold you, but his amusement was clear as day in his voice.

Scoffing at him you shake your head. "they were disrespecting you, someone needed to put them in their place" you say while your eyes squeezed shut. The pain now slowing creeping up on you, the blood still flowing from your nose.

"that wasn't you're battle to fight, you should have kept you're mouth shut and let me handle it" boba grunts while stopping to look over your nose, it was most likely broken. "does it feel as bad as it looks?" he teased while slowly using his thumb to wipe away the blood, only to have it replaced by more.

"I'd be lying if I said no" you offer him a smile, looking up into his visor void of any signs of those brown eye's.

"well once we're back on the ship I'll fix you up, it's the least I could do after you defended my honor" he muttered and the smirk in his voice was heard. You only smile and start walking, his hold on your arm loosened up, slowly sliding down, past your elbow, fingers covered in leather do to the gloves he wore danced across the skin of your wrist. For a brief moment you thought he'd hold your hand, the thought making your heart flip in a way you've never experienced. But... He drops his hand and instead walks a little bit ahead of you, disappointment setting in deeply in your chest. Perhaps he only saw you as a friend, that thought makes you sigh softly and look at the back of his helmet. Perhaps you was ignorant for thinking a man like him could think more of you then a friend.

Boba wanted to hold your hand through, the mere thought of it appealing to him. But boba fett doesn't hold hands, he doesn't display any sort of affection, especially not publicly like hand holding.

It didn't take long for you both to arrive at his ship, Slave I. Once on the ship your met with Fennec and Cara casually talking amongst each other, both pairs of eyes falling on you and boba. Fennec takes one look at your face and gives boba a lifted brow.

"what happened?" she asks as cara shakes her head, already knowing that you most likely started a fight, you and here having met during a fight against each other along with din actually. She had a smirk and you chuckle at her lowly.

"she couldn't control her temper and feisty nature and it got her a broken nose" boba takes his helmet off and starts looking for his med supplies.

Fennec looks over your nose with a grimace, "it's broken alright. Where's the mandalorian?" she proceeded to ask boba questions as you surprisingly wait patiently for boba to get the med kit.

Finding it he walks back over to you, making you sit on a crate while he kneels in front of you, elbows resting on your knees as he wipes away the blood. The closeness almost made you blush, but you managed to compose yourself.

"he's most likely trying to salvage enough trust from his two friends to help him on his rescue, although this feisty dala here probably stomped that hope out the moment she held a knife to bo-katan's throat" boba explained and now with the helmet off, you could see the proud smile on his face, more like a smirk actually.

"what made you do that?" Cara laughs while cleaning her blaster rifle. Giving you a amused look.

Rolling your eye's you wince when boba starts putting bacta spray on the gash across the bridge of your nose. "they were being rude, so I taught them some manners.... Sort of" you wince again making boba mutter a apology. Cara chuckles and stands up, heading somewhere amongst the ship, Fennec saying something to boba you didn't quite hear as she walks off and out of the hull of the ship as well.

Boba sighs and stands up, adding the bandage to protect your new wound. Then he starts putting away the kit. "you really shouldn't have done that back there princess" he spoke while turning to look at you, arms crossed while leaning against the wall of the ship.

You sigh and start picking at the forming hole in your pants on your knee. You didn't regret what you did, you'd even do it again if it was to ever happen, but you didn't want to look boba in the eye's, you didn't want to see the angry or disappointed look he'd most likely have. So you picked at your pants, "I wasn't just going to sit there and listen to them basically trash talk you boba... You deserve better" you muttered the last part and can't help the little smile that tugs at your lips, you found it quite funny actually, hilarious that you had the upper hand in the fight and almost put her in her place.

"I don't deserve anything" he spoke gruffly. That made you snap your head up to give him a confused look. Eye's taking in every detail and scar on his face, you hated the look in his eye, the sight of self loathing. You stand up quickly and waltz over to the man and ever so cautiously placed a hand on his armored chest.

"you deserve more then what the galaxy has given you boba fett, you deserve a easier life. A damn break for once, from the stories you've told me... I know for sure you deserve only the greatest things in the galaxy. Especially after this" you trail your hand up his chest and ever so gently trace his scar's adorning his face with a look of admiration, a look boba didn't expect to see.

He grasps your wrist and holds your hand against his face. "I've been dealt with some tough obstacles in my life mesh'la, but the galaxy has finally took some pitty on me and gifted me a angel" he whispers gruffly, making sure only your ears heard the sappy words that left his mouth, he'd never live it down if Fennec heard him, she'd tease him up until he finally snapped and either killed her or glued her mouth shut. And have to settle on the last option because he would never kill the woman.

You smile at him, the sight one boba would store away in his mind forever, it was a beautiful sight. "surely you're not talking about me?" you mused, trying to hide the blush but boba saw the slight tent of your cheeks.

"who else would I be talking about?"

"well din is a absolute innocent angel under all that beskar" you joke making boba huff and give you his scowl. "but since you're obviously talking about me -

Boba rolls his eyes at your talking and grabs the back of your head and smashes his lips against yours, making you gasp in surprise but eagerly respond and kiss him back, eye's fluttering close as you cup his jaw now. Chest flush against his as his other hand grasps and squeezes at your hip. You've never felt more intoxicated by anything else in the galaxy then now, the man definitely knew how to kiss, no doubt highly experienced. His lips was chapped but addicting as yours moved against them roughly, his pace he set for the rude interruption of your words, but your not complaining.

That is until he pulls away with a smirk, making you pout up at him. "I don't expect a yes to come after this, but once I help you're mandalorian friend retrieve his kid me and Fennec are going to tatooine... Would you be willing to tag along with me?" he asked lowly, hushed almost as he cradles your face.

"you kiss me like that and expect me to say no? Of course I'm going with you boba, I don't plan on leaving you're side any time soon" you say, gazing up into those brown eye's of his. A smirk tugs at his lips. "who else would defend you're honor?" you add playfully, but a truth was laced in them.

Boba rests his forehead against yours before pulling away. "well then after this little rescue I'll give you enough time to bid you're friends goodbye and we'll make our way to tatooine" he gives you one last peck, it was rare of boba to do so, let his lips gently press against another's with such delicacy, but he liked the feeling of your soft lips in such a way. Almost tempted enough to do it again but you spoke up making him shrug that off for now.

"what are you going to do there?" you ask curiously, catching the smirk on his lips as he hums in thought.

"take what's mine... Perhaps even do what you said, take a little break" he starts walking to the cockpit with you hot on his heels, waiting for din's arrival.

Plopping down in a seat beside him, you lift a curious brow at his words, wondering what it is he'd be taking. But you decide not to pry any more. You'd figure out over time. "do you think bo and her friends will help us?" you stifle a laugh at the memory of the fight.

"if she's smart she'd stay far away from you princess, you had a murderous look in those pretty eye's of yours" he spoke with amusement.

"then she'll help us" you snort at your joke as boba shakes his head. A little blush on your cheeks from his compliment.

"I'm the luckiest man in the galaxy to have found someone like you, my feisty dala" he looks over at you from where he sat in the pilot seat.

It didn't take long after that for din to arrive, announcing bo and her friends would help. Later that night you told din that your and his ways would part as your path was wherever boba leads you. Din agreed with your decision and even felt happy for you, and after saving Grogu and bidding him goodbye as din allowed Luke to take him... You, Fennec and boba made your way to tatooine, where Boba had taken the throne that once belonged to jabba and Fortuna and given you a home. Your relationship bloomed from there and that's when you knew what you felt for him was love....

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#pedro pascal #din djarin #the mandalorian #star wars #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #baby yoda #mando x reader #grogu #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #Din djarin #boba fett x y/n #boba fett imagine #boba fett x reader #boba fett #temuera morrison

[wrctings]

just some (slightly angsty) eruri fluff for you all because i miss them 🥰

“And so when I snapped my fingers right beside him, I got his attention. Actually got it! I’ve never had a titan stare at me like this, so intensely,” Hanji’s eyes sparkled, aglow with both irrepressible enthusiasm and the warm reflection from the room’s candle light, her fingers eagerly curled around the handle of a cup. “If only you’d seen it... I think he may have finally recognised me, given all the time we spent together... But we have to wait and see. And there’s also that plant we brought back from the last expedition! It’s growing! We put it in a more humid zone, like where we found it, and it’s actually growing.”

Levi had always known Hanji was a little excessive. Well, really excessive for the most part - especially when she’d get into one of her endless tirades about titans, marvelling over their monstrous abilities and curious shape and reflexes and whatnot... Sometimes, it drove Levi up to the wall to watch their scientist go into raptures over the senseless beasts that had crushed or torn apart so many of their fallen comrades. Though, to be fair, he could hardly blame Hanji - she was with them, after all; among the first ranks during expeditions, flanked by the officers’ side. That titan-loving thing was just a quirk of hers, just like Levi’s own cleaning thing, which he suspected many of their subordinates looked upon as a curious and slightly frightening obsession.

So, more often than not, Levi patiently kept his mouth shut, listening to Hanji’s passionate rants and picking out the useful information only, letting the rest slide into oblivion. But tonight, Levi’s usual self-control act had been getting pushed toward its limit, a disgruntled frown hidden behind his cup of tea. And the reason? Always the same golden-haired bastard.

White sleeves rolled up to the elbows, torso leaning over the wooden table, his blue eyes bright and animated by the same radiant shimmer of curiosity as in Hanji’s gaze, Erwin was hanging onto his friend’s every word.

“So, if some plants can only survive in a special kind of climate, the outside world must be...”

“Full of plants yet unknown to us! And of landscapes we can’t even imagine! And if that plant we brought back can only thrive in a wet kind of environment...”

“...Maybe there’s a large pool of water somewhere further away, beyond the limit we stopped at last time!”

Levi cursed Hanji from the bottom of his heart. Erwin’s entire attention seemed to be focused on the subject, blind to the rest of the room.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, we’re not quite sure of anything yet,” Moblit put his hands up with a sheepish smile, cooling off some of Hanji’s building elation. “First, let’s see how our titan and our plants fare in the upcoming weeks...”

“Our titan and our plants!” Hanji happily cried out, squeezing Moblit’s hand, cheeks burning red from excitement.

“Even if it’s only guesses, the captive titans and those plants can still provide precious information. It takes us one step closer to knowing the truth of the world,” Erwin’s hopeful and determined gaze met Hanji’s, both bound by a mutual fervour.

Levi silently watched them from the side, scowling. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t give a lesser shit about all of this - he wanted to rid the world of titans, to keep tightening until the last monster fell under their blades. Not bustle about captured titans in wonderment or waste time growing plants... In that moment, he resent their joy; joy sprung from the bloody cadavres of their comrades. Was this what they dedicated their heart for? Part of Levi knew perfectly well that, of course, all Hanji and Erwin gushed over was important to some degree. But he couldn’t quite share in their foolishness.

“Well, here’s to another step then,” Moblit raised his glass, smiling fondly when he caught a glimpse of the earnest exhilaration radiating off Hanji’s face. She did more often than not put him through the mill, but that’s also why he liked her, wasn’t it?

The other two officers followed Moblit’s lead, lifting their glasses up into the air, but before clinking them together Erwin shot a lighthearted look at Levi, raising his eyebrows as if asking the Captain to join in. With a muffled sigh, Levi shook his head reluctantly.

“Teacups aren’t meant for your drunken shit.”

He got away with a small movement of the hand, slowly shooting it upward in a way that made it seem he took part in the toast.

Erwin, Hanji, and Moblit drank on cordially, indulging in one of the rare merry celebrations they’d allow themselves to enjoy - the last expedition had been a success after all, with no casualties and only two superficially hurt soldiers! Such victories did truly raise the troops’ morale, so, in addition to the dinner feast everybody got to delight in, Erwin wanted to also congratulate the officers who had been working had on the expedition. Hence the wine. 

Only when the crepuscular haze of the night sky hovered over the barracks did the party begin to retire, tired grins and slightly dizzy heads wishing each other goodnight with remains of gaiety seeping through their lips; such a carefree, congenial time would probably be long to come again, so they had drunk from the brimming glass of furtive bliss until the very last honeyed drop dried out on their tongue. Waving Erwin and Levi goodnight, Hanji - held up by Moblit, bless his soul - stumbled around the corner of the corridor leading to her quarters, relying on the loyal shoulder that would help her get to her room safe and sound and not accidentally crash someplace else and carelessly pass out for the night. 

Much like Moblit, Levi had taken up the habit of bringing Erwin to his room after another day of exhausting work or a festive evening, watching the commander’s ever steady pace out of the corner of his attentive eye and listening to him jabber about whatever occupied his mind on that day, barely responding himself, but always paying silent attention to Erwin’s words. Although he didn’t admit it to his own self at first - he liked it. Liked having Erwin stroll beside him, his deep and slightly fatigued voice untangling the knots in Levi’s own head, keeping everything at bay but an inexplicable wave of... comfort. And, soon enough, the comfort had even turned into something more. 

“Did you enjoy the night, Levi?” Erwin inquired in his usual late-night chattery fashion, fingers already working the top buttons of his white shirt as the commander’s quarters arose in their field of vision.

The only answer he got out of Levi was a grunt, the short Captain pushing the door before them open. It slammed against the wall a little too harshly.

“Something on your mind?” Erwin persevered, trying to read the other man’s crossed features. 

“Alright.” Levi ended up conceding, a resigned sigh escaping the vexed line of his mouth. “Erwin, I can’t seem to give the slightest crap about those shitty plants.”

“Ah, Hanji may convince you they’re—” Erwin started again, smiling at what he thought was just a heedless comment of Levi’s, but the way he was interrupted soon let him guess otherwise.

“No, you don’t understand. I don’t get excited like you brats. I just... Don’t. I can’t bring myself to care about shitty glasses’ experiments. Or even... That stuff you talked about,” Levi waved his hand vaguely, hoping it was allusive enough.

A thoughtful moment’s silence passed, Erwin considering what Levi had just admitted - he began to recall now how retiring Levi had indeed seemed during tonight’s celebration, quietly grumbling by himself and even cutting short on the playful insults he would usually hand out.

“I’m sorry that you didn’t have fun tonight, Levi.”

“Feel sorry for yourself. You’re the one stuck with a killjoy of a brat,” Levi attempted a sarcastic smile, but it came out distorted by a hint of sad resignation. Ever since he and Erwin had... this - whatever it was called - Levi didn’t hold back as much as he used to anymore; something about Erwin’s kind understanding, no matter the slander ghosts clouding the Captain’s mind, put him at ease. So Levi spoke his mind.

“Sorry?”

Erwin’s reassuring arms twined around Levi’s torso, the commander’s head settling on top of his - the height difference, Levi had to admit, was convenient -, and he planted a long kiss on top of his head; the first real one of the day, after the hasty pecks he had stolen from Levi in between tasks. For Levi, those intimate hours were dreams he’d never wish to wake up from. “Why should I feel sorry, when I can’t believe my luck?”

“I’m not exactly the funniest person you can find, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“And so what? I, for one thing, think you are funny. Your dark humour may take some getting used to at first, but afterwards, you crack me up, my dear,” Erwin mused, littering Levi’s neck with sloppy kisses. “I love you.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Erwin.”

However, Levi’s heavy heart did feel lighter already; to feel Erwin’s lips on his skin, his warm hands fiddling with Levi’s uniform to help him take it off, his precious words whispered against his ear - for Levi, and Levi only, to hear and treasure and greedily take for himself - soothes the Captain’s unexpected rush of self-depreciation. But seeing how happy Erwin had looked while talking to Hanji and Moblit had left a painful imprint Levi struggled to erase from his memory. What if... what if he’d never make Erwin this happy?

“Levi, I don’t care that you don’t get excited over shitty plants. You and I can care about different things and still care about each other too, yeah?” Levi felt the nuzzle in his neck send shivers down his spine, another one of Erwin’s kisses mending the cracks in his heart one by one. “I know you press my shirts whenever they get too creased. You bring coffee and food to my office when I’m working too much. You take Hanji’s laundry into her room when she forgets it. You help the recruits who fall behind in training...” Erwin kept on talking, going around Levi to face him in the candlelit room, until his nose gently bumped against his, and their lips met in what Levi could only describe as solace. “The list goes on and on. These are all the things you care about. And I love you for it.”

“...It seems your sappy stuff still gets me. You shitty, sentimental brat,” Levi drowned a teary chuckle in Erwin’s chest, clutching the fabric of the commander’s uniform in his fist. Then, he retired in his cat-like fashion, starting to ondo the buttons Erwin had started to work on. “I had no idea you were fucking spying on me the entire time.”

“Your fault.” Erwin followed Levi’s lead, getting rid of his own uniform before he slipped into bed, a tired look softening his features, and loose strands of hair falling out of place upon his forehead.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Levi joined him, huddling beneath the clean and cosy bedsheets, and brushed the hair away from Erwin’s face, savouring its end-of-the-day softness between his fingers.

“It’s your fault for having such a beautiful soul.”

“A beautiful soul?” Levi scoffed gently, pressing his shoulder against Erwin’s. “Never heard anything this stupid before.”

“It’s true. You may not believe me yet, but I’ll keep doing this” Erwin took Levi’s hand in his, kissing his calloused knuckles - “and this” -, then wrist - “and this”, then forearm, “and this, until you do.”

“I’m no sap like you, so it might take a while...,” Levi murmured in return, pressing a kiss into Erwin’s neck. A beautiful soul? Never before had Levi heard such words - and never before had his heart skipped a beat like it did when they struck him.

“It’s okay,” Erwin cuddled up to Levi, not suppressing a deep contented sigh when the other man’s nails gently raked his scalp, playing with his hair. “I won’t quit.”

#levi ackerman #erwin smith #eruri #eruri fluff #eruri fanfiction #levi ackerman x erwin smith #levi ackerman x erwin smith fanfiction #levi ackerman fluff #erwin smith fluff #aot fluff #aot fanfiction #snk fluff #snk fanficition #writing #my writing #eruri one shots #attack on titan fanfiction

[zillennial97]

Friends to Lovers | Larry Fanfic Recs

Hiding Place by alivingfire | 365k | Explicit

Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. Meanwhile, Harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. All he has to do now is convince Louis to give them a chance.

Or, the canon compliant Harry and Louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

And Then a Bit by infinitelymint | 158k | Explicit

“We’d like to give the fans what they want.” Magee states, placing his hand on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “We want to give them Larry Stylinson.”

Or, take a parallel universe where Louis and Harry were never together, mix in a two year hiatus and an impending comeback, pour in a dash of lost fans, two tablespoons of strong friendship and a Modest! employee with a good idea. Add a squeeze of pretending to be a couple, lots of kisses and a tattoo or two. Stir. Serve: the mother of all publicity stunts.

(aka Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.)

Wild Love by purpledaisy | 130k | Explicit

“Good,” Julia says, clearly pleased to have them both uncomfortable and unable to look at each other. “Now, I only have one more question before you can go. What are you planning to do when this experiment ruins your friendship?”

“We said we’d stay friends no matter what,” Harry says smoothly, his chin lifting in defense.

“That was our one thing going into it,” Louis agrees. “Stay friends no matter what.”

Julia raises a perfectly manicured brow, “That’s all fine and good. But I hope you realize your emotions aren’t going to realize this is an experiment in the end. If one of you falls for the other and finds out those feelings are not reciprocated, you’re not going to be able to laugh it off as a social experiment. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this, I’m just hoping you’ve considered all of the possible outcomes.”

- AU: Two best friends try to date each other for forty days. It's supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated.

California Sold by isthatyoularry | 123k | Mature

Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.

Tired Tired Sea by MediaWhore | 113k | Mature

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

Like a Bullet in the Dark by Vurdoc | 99k | Explicit

Prince Harold Edward Styles Lancaster is second in line to the throne of Great Britain. He is also your average Uni student- or he tries to be, anyway.

With a promise from the press (and his father) that they'll leave him alone for four years, he sets out to be a student at Cambridge, when he meets his very normal, very working class, very handsome suite-mate, Louis Tomlinson.

Louis makes Harry feel more like a person than he ever has before, which might cause some issues later on- 'cause Harry has a secret that he's only told his sister Gemma about.

Little does he know though, that Louis has some secrets of his own.

A Will & Kate Au- with a twist.

Christmas-ing With You by dolce_piccante | 65k | Mature

Two writers from Loving Heart Television, the premiere network for holiday romance films, find that, sometimes, love is not only in their works of fiction.

Faking It by TheCellarDoor | 46k | Mature

A uni AU in which Louis has been Harry’s best friend since he offered him cubed fruit on the playground, and they spend more time cuddling in their dorm beds than they do apart, but it’s not like that. Or is it?

Aka Harry pretends to date his best friend to escape unwanted attention from a too insistent classmate and hopes it won’t blow up in his face. Featuring embarrassing dildo accidents, awkward boners, longing, first times, late night conversations, emotional discoveries and Niall as the exasperated friend with bad advice.

if the sun don't shine by falsegoodnight | 36k | Explicit

Louis finds himself struck frozen, fingers stuck in place where he’s flattened them against the cold railing. It takes every bit of his remaining strength to pull them away, sliding them under his shirt and pressing them to his stomach to leech some of the warmth. He hardly pays attention to the bite of the wind and air on his shivering body. He can only pay attention to the music.

The music that is undoubtedly new to Louis’ ears, yet listening to it is the most familiar thing Louis has ever experienced. An inexplicable rush of emotions flood his mind and body, rendering him speechless and hollow. It’s a call of loneliness. It rings of everything Louis’ been feeling.

And the pure yearning - the intense longing for something and someone - tears through straight to Louis’ heart. The desperation feels all too intimate, all too real. It makes Louis think of what he yearns for more than anything. It makes him think of his soulmate.

-

In a world where you meet your soulmates in dreams, Louis has spent the last three years going to bed hoping to finally meet his, only to end up disappointed time and time again. It all changes with a violin.

From the Start by allwaswell16 | 32k | Explicit

Louis has no idea that one act of kindness will cause his life to spiral out of control. But that's what happens when his new friend fake proposes to him and a video of it goes viral.

Barefoot in Blue Jeans by indiaalphawhiskey | 24k | Explicit

AU. Louis Tomlinson is trying desperately hard not to fall for his son’s au pair, but he can’t, for the life of him, remember why.

475. The hope that this fear is unfounded.

In Dreams by dolce_piccante | 23k | Mature

AU. When Harry moves to a new city, his new flat come with a number of sweet, anonymous gifts and surprises that brighten his days. Could it be a friendly ghost? Another friendly presence in his new building is his tattooed neighbor, Louis, who seems determined to put a smile back on his face.

You're Writing Verses About Me by Rearviewdreamer | 23k | Teen And Up Audiences

Everybody knows that Louis has never been one for serious boyfriends. His reputation around campus precedes him, which is why he doesn't think twice before proudly telling his mother about his new and completely fabricated relationship with his oddly quiet and completely

And I Will Hold On To You by darkmarkburning, staybeautiful | 23k | Mature

“I can’t believe my best friend is about to be Prime Minister of Canada,” Harry whispered in his ear, his arms tight around Louis’ shoulders. “Who decided it was a good idea to let some brash kid from Doncaster run a country?”

“I don’t know,” Louis laughed into his shoulder, “but if you promise not to tell them they’ve made a mistake I’ll give you a posh office.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Tomlinson.” Harry pulled away and smacked a kiss onto Louis’ cheek. “I’m proud of you, Lou, I can’t fucking believe it, but I’m proud of you.”

or Louis has just been elected Prime Minister of Canada and Harry is his best friend since childhood.

the way the storms blow by rbbsbb | 21k | Explicit

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick.

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.

Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea.

Autumn At My Window by TheCellarDoor | 20k | Mature

A canon-compliant AU, in which Harry and Louis are both in the band and have been sharing flats and hotel rooms for nearly five years, but never made the leap past 'friends who are too close for comfort'.

Featuring a lot of pining, Louis' addiction to Harry's scent, and a whole lot of sexual tension that might just snap loose when they decide to spend some time together all on their own.

The Sex Methods by Alice_Novelland | 19k | Explicit

Harry and Louis explore alternative methods aka sex methods to help each other out.

once bitten and twice shy by pinkcords | 19k | Mature

This time as his stomach rolls, there’s no doubt about it. He’s going to vomit. And if he does, it’ll be on Louis’ shoes, a nice little parting gift to go with the embarrassment he’s caused the both of them. “I’m gonna throw up,” he says just as Louis turns to look at him, blue eyes swimming with shock and confusion, and asks, “Is that true?”

Or, in a rush of bravery only senior year can bring, Harry confesses his feelings in a letter to his neighbor and best friend, Louis, only for the entire school to hear it and laugh him out of their small town in Wisconsin. Ten years later, Harry's a successful lawyer at Columbia Records, coming home for Christmas for the first time since he departed for college. He plans to work his way through the trip, eat his mom's cooking, and avoid everyone from his past for as long as possible. The only problem is best laid plans hardly ever go as intended.

Oblivious by Speechless | 19k | Explicit

"You say it's nothing serious after you've been obsessing over it for months," Liam observes, pausing their videogame. "But now you barely talk about it-" "You guys fucking ignore me whenever I try!" Louis shouts, bumping his shoulder against Liam's and hurting himself in the process. "You're postponing sex, when it's obvious that Luke's up for it at this point." Liam ignores him. "For some reason you've left Harry in the dark about it-" "What?!" Louis snaps, banging his controller against the coffee table. "I have not!" "And no matter how blatant it is, no matter how fucking ridiculous you both get when it comes to it-" "Shut your hole." Louis urges, pinching his thigh, as soon as Harry enters the room. "Shush."

* Where Louis gets a little crush on Luke and for some reason Harry starts acting weird *

searching for a sweet surrender (but this is not the end) by feelslikehxme | 18k | Teen And Up Audiences

Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles, the two most loved coaches on The Voice UK known for their banter on the show and best friendship off. Louis’s determined to win and finally end Harry’s winning streak with Zayn Malik on his team, but Harry’s flirting and Liam Payne have different plans.

— Or an AU based off the Voice where Louis’s Adam, Harry’s Blake, Niall’s Shakira, Zayn and Liam have a cliche Romeo/Juliet love story and Louis’s too old for pathetic pining.

Can I bother you for a sex? by perfectdagger (sincerelyste) | 16k | Explicit

Reason #40 – Called/texted the wrong person, but he was into it anyway

“So, this isn’t really an invite for a sex, I see,” Louis spoke, not missing the chance. There was a teasing smile on his lips as he turned around to face Harry again after he had just closed the door.

Harry let out a laugh as he closed his eyes and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh for fuck's sake, Louis,” he looked back at Louis, “this will haunt me forever now, won’t it?”

Louis shrugged. “Not my fault some people manage to mistext and sext others at the same time.”

When Harry mistexts Louis, Louis realises that he wouldn't mind Harry bothering him with anything, especially not with sex.

You'll Be Home For Christmas by 2tiedships2 | 15k | Not Rated

“Honesty, Lou, just ask Harry for help.”

Louis remained silent as he continued to scowl at the Christmas calendar Niall had hung on their refrigerator.

“And be nice to my calendar filled with holiday cheer,” Niall instructed. “You’re going to burn a fucking hole in it from the way you’re glaring at the innocent thing. It’s not the calendar’s fault that your heat is starting so close to Christmas.”

You're The One That I Want by spacecakesandmilkshakes | 15k | Explicit

Harry had always been Louis' best friend and...well...his baby, until one day he realized that his baby was all grown up.

show you the stars in the daylight by bruisedhoney | 13k | Explicit

Louis laughed, the sound loud and borderline obnoxious. Harry winced. “Are you kidding, Haz? I wouldn’t even look twice at someone that couldn’t pick me up.”

And, well. That was new information to Harry. It’s not like Louis had ever mentioned to him that he was his type in any way, shape, or form. Harry shifted closer into the space between Louis’s legs, even more intrigued than before. “Why not?” he asked curiously, all pink lips and big curls. Louis smiled.

“Tiny, innocent, little Harold. Need someone that can pick me up, don’t I? I like being tossed around a little. You know, pinned down and made to take it. Lifted up like I’m nothing,” Louis said it all with a confident smile, his sharp little teeth tugging at his bottom lip as he locked eyes with the jock across the kitchen. “Think he might come over here. Move over. I don’t want him to think we’re together.”

Or, the one where Louis has a type and at sixteen and scrawy, it's definitely not his best friend's little brother Harry...ten years later, he changes his mind.

when everybody wants you by nightwideopen | 11k | Mature

Harry nearly faints on the spot. He got the job. He’s going to be on Saturday Night Live.

Three of Harry's dreams come true, then one of them falls apart.

or

the SNL au that no one asked for

Shape of You by Only_angel_28 | 11k | Explicit

“Seriously?” Surely, Harry must be joking. Louis arches a skeptical brow and snaps the waistband of Harry’s joggers playfully. “What exactly do you have down there, Styles? I know you’ve got four nipples, d’ya have a couple extra bollocks as well or summat?”

“No!” Harry shrieks, his voice bordering on shrill. “No,” He repeats a little quieter, calmer, “I just—I’m, er, kinda…big, I guess.”

Louis rolls his eyes in fond exasperation. “That’s hardly a problem, curly.”

*Or Harry is insecure about a certain rather large part of his anatomy that is apparently intimidating to the point where it has actually scared off potential shags. When he ends up confessing this to his best friend and roommate, Louis takes it upon himself to prove that Harry’s size doesn't have to be a curse, and decides to help show him just how perfect he is.

Waiting by allwaswell16 for LadyLondonderry | 10k | Explicit

Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s omega, of this Harry had always been sure. Unfortunately for Harry, Louis seemed to think they were just best friends. The six weeks that Harry has to live with Louis were going to be rough.

You Give Me Fever (What A Lovely Way To Burn) by my_fandom_OTPs | 10k | Explicit

Louis walks in on Harry jerking off in the shower. What happens after is just… Impulsive and spontaneous.

the value of this moment lives in metaphor by clicheanna for hattalove | 10k | Teen And Up Audiences

Louis and Harry are best friends and absolutely nothing more. It’s a bit strange that, suddenly, everyone thinks they’re dating.

Or the one where they’re all teachers at a high school and students are more invested in their lives than normally expected.

trusting things beyond mistake by sarcasticfluentry | 9k | Explicit

"Is that even possible?" asks Harry.

All of them stare at him for several seconds, and then Louis says, "What, coming untouched?"

"Christ," Zayn mutters, throwing his hands up. “This fucking band, I swear.”

...or, Harry wants to see if he can come without touching his cock and ends up getting more than he bargained for.

And I Will Steady Your Hand by kiwikero | 9k | Explicit

All first year university students who had not yet presented were strongly advised to join the Fire Away meetings, a support group for so-called 'late bloomers.'

They were not, however, advised to fall in love with someone else at the meetings without knowing what they might eventually present as.

A Christmas Wish by Snowy38 | 8k | Mature

"So when are you going to tell him?"

Louis pursed his lips at his sister, his Skype video call relaying his thoughts on that subject perfectly.

"Next question," he mused.

Lottie rolled her eyes.

"It's your birthday in four days, Louis."

"What difference does that make?" He scoffed.

She shrugged.

"You can get drunk and confess how you feel and take it back afterwards if he doesn't feel the same."

That might work if Louis wasn't in love with Harry. But Lottie didn't know that and she didn't need to find out.

"Thanks Lots," he said anyway.

"Seriously Lou what's stopping you?"

Louis sighed.

"Fear mostly."

Under that Damn Mistletoe by hickeystyles | 7k | Mature

Louis' heart froze when he looked over and saw Liam whispering in Harry’s ear and nodding towards the mistletoe. Louis’ eyes widened comically before he dove out of sight so Harry couldn’t see him standing under the mistletoe like an idiot, or worse, like he was part of Liam’s plan to have Harry kiss him.

Or a Christmas Party AU where Louis is in love with his best friend Harry and everyone else is trying to force the two of them under the mistletoe together

We Could Be A Dream by Bearandleonardwrite | 7k | Explicit

“So, I’ve never seen you at one of these parties before,” Harry says as he hands Louis his drink. “Who’re you here for?”

Well, shit. Louis was definitely not expecting that. He sips on his drink to give him a few moments to think of an answer and then, “Oh, y’know. I’m dating the host’s brother. What about you?” He’s quite pleased with himself. Great answer. He takes another drink as a reward.

Harry grins at him, eyes bright, and shrugs. “Gemma’s my sister.” Louis hums around the rim of his cup waiting for him to elaborate. “She’s the host,” he tacks on, smug smile on his face. Louis chokes on his drink and tries his best to glare at Harry while he coughs. Harry rubs at his back until he can breathe properly again, which is actually really not that helpful. “Didn’t realize we were dating, Lou. I’m flattered.”

(Basically; Louis meets Harry at a party that he wasn't invited to. He ends up asking Harry to tutor him so he can keep seeing him. Featuring a bit of pining and a tea party.)

Mission Fucking Impossible by orphan_account | 7k | Mature

“Are you and Louis fucking?”

Harry nearly spits out his drink as he tries to communicate a "what the ever living fuck" to Niall with his eyes.

Niall takes another casual sip of his beer “Not like I’m the only one thinking it mate, I’m just the only one saying it out loud.”

- Harry is in love with Louis, and he is almost positive Louis is in love with him too. Naturally, Harry deals with this by trying to get Louis horny and hope for the best.

Things don't exactly work out how he plans.

One day to believe in you by mediaville | 7k | Explicit

A mysterious force compels Louis to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Even when it's really inconvenient.

Harry blinks and has the nerve to look surprised. "You think about me when you get off?"

"Yes," Louis says. He wonders how hard he'd need to punch himself in the face to knock himself out.

"Often?"

"Yes, Christ, Harry," Louis groans. "Probably eight times a week for going on six years now. On average, you know. More when we were touring, less when I've been visiting family. Anything else you'd like to know?"

Fake It Till We Make It by whileatwiltshire | 7k | General Audiences

#33- Keeping up with the Neighbors

“We can fake it.”

What?

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“No I did not. Say it again.”

“I said” Harry started slowly, “We can fake having sex to teach them a lesson.”

It was clear to say that Louis's mouth went a little dry at the suggestion.

Or ,

Their neighbours were a bit too loud during their bedroom activities and Harry comes up with the worst plan to shut them up. Louis agrees anyways.

Web Me Harder by iwillpaintasongforlou | 6k | Explicit

Louis Tomlinson, otherwise known as London's masked hero Spiderman, finds himself crashing through the window of Harry Styles one night after a particularly nasty fight with a villain. Luckily Harry is a nursing student with a soft spot for caped crusaders who's more than happy to tend to all of Louis' wounds, no matter how many times he swings by.

candy in your mouth (i know you love me) by embodied | 6k | Explicit

“You’re wrong,” Harry says, jaw clenched tight. “Because if all I wanted was a fuck, I’ve got at least three willing parties a phone call and a five minute drive away. What I want is you. I want us, I want it to be normal again -”

“What the fuck is normal?” Louis yells, much too loudly, and has to pause to consciously lower his voice before he speaks again. “Because a year ago, normal was eating too much takeaway and watching B-movies on Netflix in your room, and then normal was me choking on your cock at half past two in the morning, and I don’t know about you, but as of the past few weeks, normal is not seeing or talking to you at all, because I’ve all but admitted that I’m fucking crazy for you and you don’t know what to say to that.” Louis’ chest heaves, his breath coming out short. He hears his own throat stick when he swallows, and his voice is decidedly weaker when he asks, “So which one is it, Harry?”

AU. Things have shifted since last Christmas.

Running Through a Cloud of Steam by allwaswell16 | 5k | Mature

As Harry’s long anticipated twenty-first birthday approaches, he anxiously awaits the moment when he finally meets his soulmate. He’s not even sure he believes in soulmates, but at the very least, he hopes to prove to his best friend that nothing can come between their friendship--not even a soulmate.

You Can't Blame Me For Tryin' by lululawrence | 5k | Mature

Reason # 38 - Because He Is From One of the Countries You Haven't Had Sex With a Person From Yet.

Louis had been accepted into the study abroad program through his uni back home and therefore got to spend a year in rural Minnesota, of all places, but he wasn’t going to complain. It was still a pretty cool experience, even if it was far different from what he had been expecting. And besides, if he’d been sent to literally any other university, he’d never have met Harry.

If It's Meant To Be (It'll Be, It'll Be) by lululawrence | 4k | Not Rated

“So, anyway. I’m done here and on my way to the airport. I think I’m expected to be there in the morning, around ten. I’ll let you know when I’m getting close.”

“Sounds good.” Harry pulled back from the window and threw himself onto one of the beds. Once he got comfortable, he steeled himself and then went for it. “It’s been too long this time, Lou,” he finally whispered. He watched as Louis bit his lip and nodded slowly.

“I know,” Louis agreed, just as quiet in return. “We have to swear to never go this long without seeing each other again. Two months is just...unacceptable. I’m gonna go now, but I’ll see you soon. ‘Kay?”

“Yeah. See you. Be safe,” Harry said, far too fondly for his best friend. He couldn’t help it though. It was how he always had been and probably always would be.

They hung up and Harry threw his arm over his face.

“I am so in love with him,” he whined to himself. “Fuck.”

Satisfaction by iwillpaintasongforlou | 2k | Teen And Up Audiences

Louis and Harry have known each other since before they could remember and been in love with one another for about as long, even though both steadfastly refuse to admit it. When Louis starts dating other people, it is only to help himself move on and not at all to make Harry jealous. And the sulking sort of anger Harry feels when he watches Louis kiss other people is completely irrelevant anyways.

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