Character---obsessed - Character--Obsessed

oops, I did it again

Summary: Three times Y/N saved Jesper’s life and one time he almost didn’t save hers

Jesper was regretting approximately three things: His choice of drink, his choice of game and the fact he’d pissed Y/N off enough that she wouldn’t be coming to bail him out.

“Alright, listen, I do have your money,” Jesper said, standing up and slowly backing away from the table. “It’s just not on me right now.”

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Anything: BBC Sherlock X Reader

A/N: Woo hoo, first Sherlock imagine! Let me know what you think?

WARNING(S): Sally Donovan being an idiot

You took a deep breath and walked up to your boss’ office before tentatively knocking on the door to which Greg said, “Come in!”

Opening the door, you stepped inside and your gaze immediately fell on the tall, handsome detective with his messed-up curls framing his concentrated face.

“Sherlock,” you began in a pleading sort of tone.

“Ah, Y/N,” Sherlock greeted, “The girl is up to talking, then?”

You looked at him before sighing, “Sherlock – look, this girl’s been through a kidnapping and her brother is lying unconscious at a hospital – bloody hell, she’s just seven! Just – can you – please be gentle, just this once?”

“What her point is beneath those much-too kind words,” Greg explained, “Just anything you can do to –”

“Not be myself,” Sherlock finished monotonously.

Greg awkwardly looked at him, “Well, it can’t hurt.”

You, Sherlock, Greg, John and Donovan walked together to the room where the little girl was sitting, next to a psychiatrist.

She was staring determinedly at her knees and her tiny face looked so sad that it made you hate Moriarty, if possible, even more.

Sherlock walked closer to her and said in what he hoped was an understanding voice, “Claudette, I know you’ve been through a lot –”

There was nothing left to say. Claudette took one look at Sherlock’s face and emitted a loud, piercing, bloodcurdling scream that echoed off the walls of the isolated room.

“Okay, alright,” you placed a hand on Sherlock’s arm. He was looking perplexed.

“Sherlock – let’s just leave,” you muttered, steering him out of the room and back into Greg’s office. Minutes later, the rest of them came running in.

“Makes no sense,” John frowned.

“Poor thing’s traumatised,” Greg sighed, “Something about Sherlock reminds her of the kidnapper.”

You looked at Sherlock warily, suddenly realising that he’d not uttered a single word during the conversation, but was determinedly staring out the window.

“Hey, don’t let it get to you,” Greg joked, “I always feeling like screaming when you walk into a room. In fact, a lot of us do. Come on.”

He left the room.

You threw one last furtive glance in Sherlock’s direction.

“Okay, come on,” you said gently, “You need to get home – it’s been a long day.”

As you made to steer him out of the room, Sally spoke up.

“Brilliant work you did, finding those kids with just a footprint. Really amazing –”

“Thank you,” Sherlock curtly responded.

“ – unbelievable,” Sally finished with a cold demeanour.

“Sally,” you warningly said, “Don’t listen to her – come on, let’s go.”

Not entirely convinced, Sally glared after the detective’s retreating form.

—-

“Sally, this is ridiculous, you hear me?!” you shouted, “Ridiculous.”

“Y/N – look at my position here!” Sally yelled, “He’s just absolutely – well, brilliant! It’s unrealistic! It’s not – it’s not right!”

“He’s different, is what you mean to say,” you snapped, “And that annoys you, does it? Because he’s not like you, or Andersen, or Greg – or even me?”

“I told you when I first saw him, I didn’t like the look of him –”

“So you’re saying he’s touched in the head?!” you yelled, “That he’s crazy?! Listen – to – me – Sally!” you pleaded, “Sherlock is not a lunatic, he’s not a fraud, and not a liar!”

“Then why did that little girl start screaming?” Sally asked.

“I – well,” you sputtered.

Sally smirked knowing you were lost for words.

“Girl of seven years of age, kidnapped a week ago, sees Sherlock and starts bellowing her head off – a man she’s never seen before,” Sally said, “Or has she?”

“Are you crazy?” you yelled, “Why would Sherlock do something like that?!”

“Sally, listen to me,” you said in a more pleading tone, “I know you don’t like him and I know he’s not a very open person. And I realise that you’ve not got much to go on about his personality apart from his cases. But listen to me, Sally – Sherlock is not a bad person. He would never do that to a kid! To anyone, for that matter! Don’t you see what Moriarty’s trying to do? He’s trying to sow doubt into the minds of whoever are closest to him and others as well!”

Sally scoffed, “Really, Y/N? You of all people bought into that bullshit about Moriarty?”

“Sally –”

“We don’t have time for this, Y/N, Lestrade’s already approved an arrest warrant. Now, I want you to stay away from the scene – you’ll only make it worse.”

“Make it – Sally, he’s my friend!” you yelled.

“And I’m your colleague who bears a message from your employer that you will get fired if you don’t follow instructions.”

—–

“So – he refused?” you asked in mock bedazzlement.

“What was he, some sort of private eye?” asked the superintendent.

“He was – we were,” Greg began.

“ – consulting with him, that’s what you told me,” said the superintendent, “Have you used him on any proper cases?”

“One or two, sir,” you said pleadingly.

“Or twenty or thirty,” Andersen muttered under his breath as you disbelievingly looked at him.

“What?! This – private detective, has no authorisation and you give him access to all sorts of classified information?! You’re a bloody idiot, Lestrade! Now go, fetch him in, right now!”

“Sir –” you began, “I’m not going to – arrest my own friend.”

“Safety before sentiment, L/N,” he growled, “I don’t care if he’s your boyfriend, I don’t care if you’re pregnant with his child – he’s a suspect in a case and I own this section of Scotland Yard, I can get you fired like that,” he snapped his fingers, “Clear?”

You turned faintly pink, “Y-yes sir.”

—–

You walked into 221B Baker Street straight up to Sherlock’s living room, keeping your face as impassive as possible.

“Sherlock Holmes, I’m placing you under arrest on charges of abduction,” you monotonously recited.

Though he normally would have insulted an officer in his face and told them to sod off, Sherlock took one look at your pained expression and quietly wrapped his scarf around his neck.

You extracted a pair of handcuffs and, with enormous difficulty, placed them on his wrist.

“God, I’m so sorry Sherlock,” you whispered so quietly that nobody except him heard you, “I promise this’ll be over soon, I promise.”

“ – and on charges of being involved in several other suspected cases,” you finished.

Sherlock looked at you again before saying, “Alright.”

“What – no, it’s not alright,” John sputtered, “This is ridiculous – Y/N! Y/N come on, don’t tell me you –”

“Don’t try to interfere or I’ll arrest you too,” you told John, your voice cracking with the agony the situation was causing you. John gaped at you but spoke no more.

As Sally took over Sherlock and dragged him downstairs, the chief superintendent strolled inside, taking a brief look over his apartment.

“Dottiness, that’s what he radiates,” he muttered, “Took one look at his face and knew it. He’s a bloody lunatic.”

“Apologies, sir,” you said, beginning to lose your cool, “But Sherlock Holmes seems a perfectly sane man to all of us.”

“Is that so?” he asked in a mocking way, “We’ll see what you’ve got to say when he’s convicted for all the murders he’s done just to show off –”

——

Sherlock was staring determinedly at his knees when your voice made him look up.

You were running out of his flat door as if your life depended on it.

“Hand – over – this – prisoner – to me,” you panted, coming to a halt, “Chief’s orders.”

The officers looked confused but guided Sherlock to your side.

“What are you doing?” he asked you out of the corner of his mouth.

“Getting you the hell out of here,” you answered out of the corner of yours, “Right, we’ve got around five seconds before they realise something is –”

“Stop! STOP!” the chief came running outside, his face grotesquely bloody from the punch you’d aimed at him, “STOP THAT WOMAN!”

The officers seemed to realise it was wrong to hand Sherlock over to you but they were too late. You grabbed the gun sitting in your pocket and pointed it around.

“Get on your knees! Everyone! I swear, I will shoot!” you screamed like a maniac.

“Open fire –” the chief began.

“NO, JUST DO WHAT SHE SAYS!” Greg bellowed over the commotion, “WE CAN’T AFFORD SERGEANT L/N’S DEATH IN THE CURRENT CLIMATE!”

You felt an inexplicable rush of gratitude towards Greg.

Everyone reluctantly sunk to their knees.

You menacingly made to raise the gun again to get Sherlock out of there but your hand was restrained by something. You looked down in surprise to see one of Sherlock’s hands free of handcuffs due to the reason that it had been placed onto yours, cuffing you two together.

“Don’t move!” yelled Sherlock. Nobody complied.

He raised your connected hands and shot into the air as you yelped in shock.

“Don’t move or I will kill this woman!” Sherlock pointed a gun to your head. Immediately, you caught on.

“Please, don’t move!” you said in a very convincing teary voice, “I’m his – his –”

“My hostage!” Sherlock yelled helpfully.

“Yeah, okay,” you muttered to yourself.

Sherlock’s cuffed hand dragged you gently further and further away from the scene.

“Now what?” you whispered.

“Improvisation,” Sherlock responded, “Run.”

You barely had time to register it as he took off sprinting, dragging you along with him. After a few blocks, you gained a clumsy coordination and you finally stopped at a gate with no way ahead.

Sherlock tutted in annoyance and jumped over the gate.

“What – you bloody twat, I’m not jumping off of that!” you yelled.

“No time to negotiate, Y/N!” Sherlock yelled, “Move to your right, and jump! Now!”

You shook your head but police sirens were gaining on you so you had no choice. Closing your eyes and shouting a prayer to the heavens, you jumped off and landed straight into Sherlock’s arms.

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment and you walked forward, as far away as possible. When you finally reached a secluded spot, Sherlock turned to you, both of you panting.

“You’re alright?”

“What – why, why did you do that?” you gasped, clutching a stitch in your side, “Now they’re going to think you’re a bloody psychopath, I had it under control!”

“You would have lost your job,” Sherlock snapped at you.

You scoffed, “I’d rather be unemployed than work at a place that’s trying to hurt my friend!”

Sherlock looked at you seriously, not blinking in the least.

“You would – you would be prepared to risk your job for me?” he clarified.

“Yes!” you yelled, “Of course I’d be prepared to risk my job for you!”

“Why?” Sherlock abruptly asked, “Nobody ever does anything without a reason, tell. Me. Why. This is – this is inhumane, this – this feeling I get around you these days – I don’t know if it’s you or me –”

“I think - it’s both of us,” you said quietly, “It’s called attraction, Sherlock. I think – I think you – you fancy me.”

“I’m beginning to think so too,” Sherlock muttered, messing up his hair, “But you didn’t answer my question. Why?”

You sighed.

“Sherlock.” you seriously said, “Sometimes you don’t need a reason to be nice to someone. I’d risk my life for you, Sherlock. I’d do anything for you.”

There was nothing more to be said. After staring at you in serious concentration, Sherlock inched closer to your face. You could feel his breath fanning your face and his gaze was fixed upon your lips as yours, on his. Your lips collided in a spontaneous kiss and the next moment, you were fisting his shirt and pulling him closer to you, holding on as tightly as possible.

Sure, the world was beginning to crumble around Sherlock, but that could wait.

All that mattered in that moment, was you and the feeling of your body pressed up against his on the cold winter’s night.

A/N: So do you think Sherlock is a field I should write more fanfics in?

Idiot - Stiles Stilinski x gn!reader

Warnings: kissing, play fighting, major cliché coming-of-age teen movie vibes

Summary: You and Stiles have been best friends your entire lives, and you two having plans to study just so happened to be the turning point in that relationship.

A/N: I kind of hate this, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it when I found this gif.

Stiles had a tendency to blow out the speakers in his jeep whenever he had the chance, and you being his best friend, knew that more than anyone.

One of those times was happening at this exact moment, the both of you flying down the road after school, screaming to the music playing from his iPod and having the time of your lives. It took a few bumps from the bass for the speakers to go out, and Stiles was slamming his palms against the wheel and swearing under his breath.

“Stiles, it’s fine. You can just tweak them a bit like you usually do, and they’ll be fine again.” You said as you shut off his iPod, Stiles grumbling some more as he pulled into his driveway. “I know you’re right, but I don’t like it.” He replied, you laughing and opening the door to step out. “You’re so dramatic; come on, the econ exam is tomorrow and I haven’t the slightest clue what Coach has been spouting off in class.”

The two of you headed into Stiles’ house, Stiles pouting like a kicked puppy the entire way up the stairs and into his room. “Hey, is everything okay with Scott? He’s been acting really strange lately,” you ask, Stiles dropping his bag on the ground and sitting at his desk chair. “Yeah, just your typical teenage werewolf things. Derek isn’t helping anything either.” You hum, sitting on his bed and unzipping your bag to pull out your econ notes.

“Makes sense,” you reply, staring down at your notebook and trying your hardest to understand the gibberish sprawled across it. You groan, flopping backwards on his bad and pressing a pillow into your face. “Do me a favor,” you mumble through the fabric. You hear Stiles’s chuckle, one of the few sounds that can make your stomach erupt in butterflies. “What would that be?” He asked. “Smother me so I don’t have to endure another moment of economics.”

Stiles laughed, standing from his desk chair and plopping down on the bed next to you. You tried to ignore the way your heart raced at the feel of his leg brushing against yours. “Well considering my dad has caught me at multiple crime scenes the last few weeks, I don’t think I’m going to give him a reason to actually suspect me.” The pillow was pulled from your face and you were met with a light whack with it. You gasped playfully, sitting up and grabbing another pillow to hit him back.

“Hey now!” He laughed, holding his empty hand out in defense, your attack still going strong as he attempted to evade each whack. Suddenly, the pillow is ripped from your hands and both are dropped to the floor. You laugh loudly, gripping his wrists and shoving at him, Stiles’ smile radiating pure joy as he lightly pushed back.

He pulled back, your grip loosening enough for him to escape and grab your wrists in return. “Stiles, this isn’t fair!” You cackled as you pushed against his grip, Stiles scrunching his face and pushing back. You really should have known it was a bad idea, but you tried taking a step back to balance yourself, but your knee buckled and the both of you toppled onto the bed.

Of course, Stiles landed on top of you, and the both of your laughing ceased immediately. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you stared into his eyes, both of your breathing labored from the laughing and play-fighting that had occurred before. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” You whispered, worried because Stiles still hadn’t said anything. “D-Don’t be,” he whispered back, his eyes not leaving yours.

He wasn’t moving from his position on top of you, his hands still gripped around your wrists and pinning them lightly to the bed. He started to move, and your brain was in panic mode because this had never happened before, and you didn’t want him to move. Instead of moving off of you, he adjusted himself and rested his knee in between your legs.

“Stiles,” you whispered, noticing the way his eyes never left your face. “Y/N,” he whispered back, his eyes flickering to your lips for a split second. You couldn’t believe this was happening, the boy you’ve had the biggest crush on for your entire lives was hovering over you, breathing as heavily as you were, and stealing glimpses of your lips. “Kiss me,” you breathed, your voice almost completely inaudible.

He stared back down at you, his breath stuttering for just a moment before he leaned down and kissed you, his lips barely grazing yours in the process. When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but chuckle. “What?” He asked, a small smile forming on his face. “You call that a kiss?” You teased, Stiles biting his lip before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours firmly.

It was at this exact moment, you knew you were screwed. The way your body felt as if it were immediately bursting into flames wasn’t even the half of it. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and if you had any chance of getting your hands out of his tightening grip, you’d be gripping his hair so tight it’d probably hurt.

Finally, he pulled his hands from your wrists and placed one on your waist and the other on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. You immediately gripped the back of his flannel and pulled him down. At this point, the two of you were pressed against each other, your lips never ceasing their movements. You gripped his shoulders and pushed, successfully flipping him onto his back and causing him to pull away from you as you straddled him.

He stared up at you, his eyes wide and lips swollen and slightly parted. “Truce?” he whispered, your laugh enveloping you in pure joy. “For being as smart as you are, Stilinksi, you’re kind of an idiot.” You said, Stiles grinning back up at you before sitting up and resting his hands on your hips. “Just shut up and kiss me, Y/N.” He replied, your heart beating the slightest bit faster as you leaned in and pressed your lips to his once more.

Maze runner ~ Sleepover with the boys ~ Part 1

Want more take a look at my masterlist

Masterlist here

Alby: I got the goods * walks in holding multiple bags of chips*

Newt: *follow behind Alby holding alcohol and fizzy drinks.*

Chuck: Yaayyaa *so happy right now*

Minho: Oi chuckas one!

Thomas: *Brings out a bunch of pillow and dragging sleeping bags into the homestead*

Gally: *also helping Thomas set up beds for everyone*

Newt: Hey did anyone invite Y/N?

Thomas: Yeah but she's coming later..

Minho: What why!?!

Gally: So we actually talk instead of watching you desperately trying to flirt with her!

Minho: What you jell Gally *smirks*

Gally: No....

Minho: I mean Y/N's quite the girl!

Thomas: Oh yeah and she's gonna be mine *smuggle smirks*

Newt: Oh no Thomas, you just wait and see

Alby: Alright quit it you lot your bugging me..

Chuck: Yeah y'all all gross

Thomas: Admit it chuck! I see you throwing googlie eyes at her!

Newt: So have you Thomas!!

Thomas: Have not!

Alby:.....why am i here

Chuck: to supervise??!!

Gally: Hey guys Y/N's here early...

Newt: What!!!

Thomas: She's here like right now!

Minho: Well bring the baby girl in don't leave her waiting! I know she misses me *smirks*

Thomas: How about we make a little bet *whispers so Alby doesn't hear*

Minho: Your on Thomas!

Newt: Minho!!! NO!

Thomas: What do you say eyebrows?

Gally: Heck yeah

Thomas: Come on blondie it will be fun!!

Newt:Fine!

Like for part 2

Things ill start to get pretty heated *wink* *wink*

Intrusion - Sheldon Cooper

Pairing: Sheldon Cooper x Reader

Characters: Sheldon Cooper, Leonard Hofstadter, Penny, Howard Wolowitz

Warnings: N/A

Request: Anon: “Could you do a Sheldon cooper imagine where the reader is like apart of the fbi(or cia smithing cool like that) and he texts her saying it’s an emergency and she thinks the worst so she like busts down the door with her gun up and the group is there just like ‘ what the heck’ and he’s like ‘you came’ and she like ‘yeah you said it was an emergency !?!?’”

Word Count: 594

Author: Hannah

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What do you think about dad's best friend Steve and innocent reader? Like Steve's kinda manipulative and hot and reader's too naive and he tricks her into having sex with her, she's reluctant at first but lowkey was always attracted to him so gives in and that results in smutty goodness. Also umm can you throw in daddy kink in the mix as I can't seem to send any requests without including it?😅🤭❤️ I hope it is not too much.🥺 Thank you and loveeeeeeeee you sweetie!!!❤️💞💓

dad’s best friend

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap, softdark!Steve, possessive!Steve, reader is in her twenties, daddy kink, dirty talk, curse words, smut, come play, unprotected sex

I am about to run wild with this and I love you!!

________________

Warily you eyed the clock on the wall. The mug in your hands had long since gone cold. It was still half full. The liquid sloshed in the cup with every twitch or awkward shift and there were many. Your father was meant to pick you up from Steve’s almost an hour ago and he still hadn't shown.

“Um,” you called out, “maybe we should text him?”

“We can do,” Steve replied, his voice floating from the kitchen, “but I don’t think it’ll be much use - oh, damn!”

Steve appeared in the doorway, dish cloth thrown over his shoulder and phone in hand. “I asked him to come at eight instead of six. My bad.”

You checked the clock again. It had only just gone ten to seven. You sighed and relaxed back into the sofa. “It’s fine. Do you want help with those dishes?”

You followed Steve back into his kitchen and settled into an easy rhythm; he washed and you dried. The silence was welcome and it was easy to get yourself lost in such a simple task.

Steve had saved your ass today. The rain had been torrential and Steve lived close to your college, almost an entire hour closer than your family. The wasn't normally an issue but it was a weekend and you’d been looking forward to spending it with them. 

Steve’s elbow brushed your arm. “Alright there, doll?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nodded, “just looking forward to spending the weekend with family.”

Steve’s lips quirked up as he nudged you again. “Am I not family enough for you, doll?”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. The blue eyes, dark blonde hair. Broad shoulders and a beard that you wanted to slide your fingers into...sigh. You shook your head. “Sure you are.” and that was the problem.

Steve stared at you for a moment longer. Sometimes it felt as if he was looking right into you, peeling your brain open like a diary and flicking through all your dirtiest thoughts. A shudder ran down your spine and you looked away, embarrassed. God forbid. 

Eventually the sink was clean of dishes. A glance at the clock told you it had only even ten minutes. Taking in a deep breath, you moved to sink back into the couch. 

“Wait a minute,” Steve said, “I’ve got something I want you to take a look at.”

Steve was waiting at the bottom of the stairs and began heading up once you reached him. The walls were devoid of any kind of picture, though there was a chest in the upstairs hall that had a framed photo of him and your father. Steve had always been a great family friend and had spent many a weekend young your house. Now you were wondering what that might have cost him. Had he ever been lonely?

Steve led you into his bedroom and you followed without question. Your cheeks flared at the rumbled bed sheets and you averted your eyes. You felt like a pervert. Steve was stood by the side of his bed. He picked something off of the bedside table and when he turned to show you, your lips parred.

“You remember this?” he said. “Only a year or so old, I think. I’m not usually one for photos but I saw this and - you just looked so beautiful.”

The light gleamed off of the photo, illuminating your grin immortalised by the camera. Steve was right; it was only a year old. You’d been embarrassed and had stopped your family from ordering the photo once the sample had been sent out. Your hair looked a little too frazzled, your grin a little too wide. Apparently that hadn’t mattered to Steve.

“Why do you have that?” you asked. The question sat heavy in the air, weighing you down. You swallowed and your tongue felt clumsy in your mouth.

Steve hummed thoughtfully, turning the photo back to himself and stroking a thumb down the side. The silence was heavy. Then, a slight tilt of his head, and he was looking back at you. “I think you know why, doll.”

A shaky breath shoved its way past your lips and you took a step back. Never had you - there had been looks but - he was your father’s best friend. 

You shook your head. “No, Steve. I - no. It’s just a silly crush --”

“Maybe to you,” Steve interrupted. He discarded the picture on the bed and you watched it bounce. “But not for me. I have loved you for years. Do you know how it felt when - finally - one day you looked at me and it just clicked? You could never have hid how you felt. Not from me.”

“Steve, my dad --”

“Doesn’t have to know,” he spoke quickly. He reached out and his hand brushed your face. At some point he’d cornered you, and now he was the only thing between you and the door. “I’ve thought about it. I - we can do this. You spend a lot of time here all ready so he won’t bat an eye --”

“Steve, no.”

It was hard to watch. Steve flinched suddenly, as if he’d been hit. The hand by your face was shaking badly and the urge to reach out and take was a strong one. 

You’d lied to him. It was more than a crush. But hiding something of this extent from your parents? You’d never done anything of the sort before, didn’t know if you could start doing it now.

Steve’s hands suddenly cupped your face, angling it up toward his. You opened your mouth to speak but he silenced you with a kiss. You’d like to say that you struggled but - you didn’t. It was disturbingly easy to melt into the affection, open your mouth under his tongue and let his it sweep in. You went limp and surrendered yourself to it. 

Steve parted from you but not for long. He had you pinned to the wall with his body as his lips were caressing your gave and moving down your neck. “Don’t say that to me, doll. I’ve waited for so long and - I have to have you.”

The heat in his tone made you whimper and he swallowed the sound with his own mouth, ensuring your attention remained solely on him. It’s yours, you wanted to say, has been yours for so long.

An exhale shakily parted your lips when you felt the line of his cock press into your stomach. Your pussy clenched automatically at the thought of it, at the thought of Steve fucking you and slowly taking you apart with it. You dug your fingers into Steve's hair, tugging when he bit particularly hard at the long line of your neck.

The room swirled around you as Steve pulled you from the wall and to the direction of his bed. You went willingly, whimpering when the heat of his hands and mouth left you for too long. It was finally happening and you were desperate for it. If he stopped now or turned away you felt as if you'd die. A fire had started in your core and was steadily working its way through your body, trails of it left wherever Steve’s hands went.

“Don’t stop,” you managed, your voice ragged to your own ears. “Touch me, Steve.”

“Won’t,” Steve bit back, “can’t. Not Steve, darling girl. Daddy.”

Daddy. Now you were considering if Steve really had peeked inside your head at some point. 

Your pussy was pulsing along with your heartbeat, desperate for touch. You arched your back and pressed your breasts into Steve’s hands. Steve tweaked at your nipples through the fabric and then pulled it down, freeing your breasts. The urge to cover yourself came and went as Steve enveloped your nipples in his hot mouth, sucking hard enough to have you crying out. Your body was writing underneath his.

He parted from your breast with a ‘pop’ and his hands went to your jeans. The sound of your zipper coming down had your nerves flaring but then he was yanking them from your body hard enough to leave red marks and your panties were quick to follow.

Steve’s eyes fixated on the space between your legs and he inhaled noisily, sweeping a trembling hand across his mouth. “Fuck, doll. You want Daddy to touch your pretty cunt?”

“Daddy, yes,” you answered frantically. Burning up.

Despite the hunger in his gaze, Steve’s fingers trailed languidly across your pussty. His thumb swiped your clit and you shook. He used two fingers to part your lips, opening you to his careful gaze. The urge to rush him was strong, but you also understood. Steve was an artist. He’d want to see it all, take it in, tuck the details to this back of his mind for later. 

Your body flared up again at the thought of later. The image of Steve laid in this very bed, naked, hand around his cock, almost had you coming spontaneously. “Daddy, I can’t wait much longer.”

Steve hummed, eyes flickering back up to your face. They stayed that way, darting between your pussy and your face as he slid two fingers in to the knuckle. They went smoothly and you felt your arousal leaking around them. The thought of it pooling on the bed made you hotter and you felt almost dizzy.

Steve lazily fucked you open with them, humming appreciatively at the wet sound that soon came every time they pushed in. He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your belly, inhaling deeply. 

“Feels good, doll? My fingers in your pretty cunt?” he purred.

“Oh, God, yes,” you breathed, hips stuttering on the bed. “Need more.”

You cried out when his fingers pulled out and didn’t return. Pink lips parted and you watched as he took his fingers into his own mouth, sucking hungrily at your arousal. Then he was reaching for his shirt and tearing it off to join your jeans in the corner. His own followed and you gasped when his cock sprang up and brushed his belly button.

The head was an angry red and was damp with precum. Your mouth watered and the urge to taste rose up but you pushed it aside for another time. Steve fisted his cock and pumped it a few times, eyes more black than blue. He looked starved. 

“Gonna let me slide into that pretty cunt?” he rasped. The bed dipped as he got on, getting on his knees in front of you. “Fuck you stupid?”

“Yes,” you cooed, “anything, Daddy.”

Your legs jolted when Steve grabbed them and used them to pull you closer. His cock bobbed against his thigh and brushed against yours. It made you embarrassingly close to begging. Fast was not fast enough. You wanted to feel it all and you wanted to feel it now. 

The head of his cock caressed your clit and you sighed, relaxing into Steve’s hold. He had one hand at your hip and the other was guiding his cock to your pussy. The sight was more erotic that you’d been prepared for and he cooed when your pussy clenched again around nothing.

“Gonna get you nice and full,” he promised, “watch me leaking out of you.”

The stretch was welcome, and God, it was a stretch. Steve pushed forward until his hips were flush against yours. There was no pain, only a distinct feeling of being deliciously and utterly full. Just like he’d promised.

You rolled your hips experimentally and let your head fall back at the sensation. Still not enough. When both of Steve’s hands came to push your legs further apart and then cup your hips you shuddered in relief. 

“Been thinking about this so long,” he bit out. “Never gonna get enough of this cunt. Mine.”

Steve slid away until only the tip was remaining and then pulled your hips down at the same time he pushed forward. He sank you down onto his cock and watched as he disappeared inside of you and your arousal leaked out around his cock. It was a sight he’d never get enough of.

The pace didn’t remain slow for long. Soon the room was loud with the sound of his hips snapping together with yours and the soft appreciative coos he gave every time you moaned for him. He set a rhythm that allowed you no respite and made you take everything he was giving you, made you feel it all.

“Say it,” he urged. “say you’re mine. Tell me who this cunt belongs to.”

“Yours, Daddy,” you cried out, “’m yours.”

“Fucking right,” he groaned as he altered the position, leaning down until he was held up by his forearms around you. Your breasts pressed into his chest and when your nipples brushed against his you almost sobbed. 

Your orgasm didn’t creep up on you, it was loud and left trails of fire in its wake as it thoroughly ravaged you and left you limp beneath Steve. His pace stuttered at the sensations of your nails digging crescent shapes into his back and your pussy clenching wildly around his cock. Hips pressed tight to yours, cock seated deep, he let himself go. The feel of his release inside of you had him twitching already and you moaned. 

“Good girl,” he purred, “been so good for me. Was always meant to be like this.”

Steve didn’t pull out, only rolled to his side and manoeuvred your limbs until you were lying quite comfortably beside him. You caught a glimpse of the clock beside him and suddenly went cold. “Steve, my dad.”

“It’s okay, doll,” he spoke through a yawn, “he’s not coming till tomorrow.”

Too tired to argue, you let yourself relax back into his arms. Something sharp was poking your thigh and you swept your arm out, knocking the picture onto the floor. As you stared at the path it had taken, you knew Steve was right. It was always meant to be like this.

behind enemy lines - k. brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x reader.

genre/warning: just fluff!

words: 1.3k.

summary: in which to anyone else, you are supposed to be enemies. however, behind closed doors, it is with you that he feels the safest.

“Fraternizing with the enemy, Brekker?” Per Haskell’s voice ran through the office as he stared down at Kaz. Somehow word had gotten out about the little visit he had paid you, and if there was one thing that moved quickly through Ketterdam, it was rumors. Well, that and stray bullets.

To be honest, Kaz hadn’t exactly been trying to hide, and he didn’t feel like he owed anyone an explanation, especially Per Haskell. However, the old man liked to feel like he could still control Kaz and he figured he could grant him one lecture to make him feel better about himself. He knew there wouldn’t be consequences for him, anyway.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but want to laugh every time someone referred to you as the enemy, or a target, or -his personal favorite- dangerous. Don’t get him wrong, he was well aware of the fact that you were one of the deadliest criminals currently roaming the city, but you weren’t a lost cause. Not like he was, anyway.

He hated it when people compared you to him, you weren't unhinged, you weren’t evil, you were just… self-serving. Yeah, he decided, that was the best way to describe you. You didn’t really follow a moral code, you just did what benefited you the most, and while sometimes you had to do things that most people would consider amoral, no one could blame you for trying to make a living in the hell hole that was Ketterdam.

“I wouldn’t call it fraternizing, I was just conversing.” he wasn't. He was definitely not just conversing.

“I don’t give a shit what you were doing, I want the threat gone.” Kaz almost snorted at that.

Sure, you could kill a man in less than five seconds using no more than just your bare hands, but he wouldn’t consider you a threat, not to his gang anyway. You were more of an annoyance, a rock stuck in one’s shoe that you couldn’t really shake and remained there the whole time you walked, but never a threat. You actually were the person he felt the safest around, and while that did make you a threat, it didn’t make you the kind of threat everyone thought you were.

Kaz didn’t say all this, for obvious reasons, and instead settled for a simple: “Of course, sir.”

The old man waves a hand at that, and Kaz took it as a sign of dismissal. Without wasting a single second, Kaz was out of there as quickly as his leg allowed him to, and as he slammed the door, he used a bit more force than he usually would.

The only person who had noticed he wasn’t spending as much time in his office anymore was Inej, and if anyone else had, they didn’t dare ask him why.

It hadn’t been that difficult to convince him to stay with you, the office held nothing but bad memories and it was rarely quiet. Kaz used to think he liked the noise, he liked hearing the screaming from downstairs and feeling like the city never slept, he thought it granted him a sense of comfort - until he met you. With you, he realized he didn’t need outside noise to distract him from the mess inside his head, he just needed your laugh and a smart comment that forced him to suppress a smile of his own right after. He didn’t need to keep up an act to make him feel like he was in control, he could let his guard down and he could share the control of the situation, knowing you wouldn’t take advantage of his vulnerability.

Most importantly, he felt like he could actually be himself around you, never on edge and actually relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever.

He quickly came to realize he didn’t just like your apartment because of its location, it’s height or it’s view, he didn’t care about the building or where it was located, he liked it because he liked you, and he was sure any room you set foot in would immediately become his favorite room in the city.

As he stepped into the apartment, he couldn’t smell the scent of freshly baked cookies, he couldn’t hear the sound of music coming from any room, and he couldn’t find you reading on the couch like he had heard most people found their significant others when they stepped into their homes. Instead, Kaz could see dirty knives on top of the kitchen table, previously blood stained clothes that had been recently washed hanging from the closest window, and an old ripped vest of his disregarded on top of the couch.

The only light shining on the apartment was the soft glow of the moon that painted shadows on the walls, and the only sound that resonated through the house were his own words once he spoke them. “Honey, I'm home.” His words were laced with sarcasm and they received no response from you. At this, he checked the main room and there he found you, asleep with one of his old shirts on, sleeping on his side of his bed like you always did when he hadn’t been home in a while. Looking at you, he couldn’t believe anyone would ever consider you a threat. The thought almost made him laugh: the most dangerous criminal in Ketterdam, wearing his shirt to bed and hugging his pillow.

He went to the closet first and opened the drawer in which you had told him to put his clothes, and changed into something more comfortable than his armor before slipping into the bed beside you, still keeping a distance.

You felt the bed sink beside you, and spoke to him without opening your eyes. “You’re late.” you said.

“Sorry ma’am.” he replied and you smiled, opening only one eye to take a look at his handsome face framed by messy hair.

“Was it the visit you paid me at work last week?” you said knowingly, he nodded. “I warned you.”

“Couldn’t help myself.” he shrugged. “Missed you too much.” you actually opened your eyes fully at the sound of that

“You big softie. What would the city say if they knew the bastard of the barrel had such a soft side?” you smiled.

“Thankfully, they won’t find out.” he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Maybe I'll tell them.” you teased.

“I won’t let you.”

“You can’t beat me in a fight.” you challenged, knowing that would get a rise out of him.

“Wanna bet?” He raised his eyebrows, almost smiling at you.

“I would, but you have nothing to offer me, I already have all I want.” you shrugged, as if what you said carried no real meaning behind it, but he knew better.

“Now who’s the one going soft" he said, as one of the corners of his mouth quirked upwards.

“Oh, shut up.” you say with a smile, closing your eyes and missing his own smile just by a second.

Moments later, he felt your pinky finger wrap around his own. Kaz’s aversion to touch hadn’t completely healed, for it was not something that would just go away overnight, no matter how much you meant to him. You didn’t mind, and you both had come up with ways of feeling close to each other without actually having to show physical affection.

However, one thing he found he was okay with, was you hooking one of your fingers around one of his own. In his mind, it was a child-like action, it made him feel like a little boy again and he hated that he couldn’t do more, but you loved the little tradition you had created, and you planned to carry on doing it until he was ready for more, not caring when that would be.

You had time, and you had each other. Everything else could wait.

a/n: requests are open for any soc character (and some s&b characters)!

Barrel's Goddess 2

{Kaz Brekker x reader}

Summary: After Y/n stays for some time, she decides to take a new job. Kaz doesn't want her to leave.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, the plague.

Part 1: https://alcottsangel.tumblr.com/post/650830178156724224/barrels-goddess

@amwitherspoon @kaitlyn2907 @emil7y @thedelusionreaderbitch all asked for a second part, so here it is <3

Kaz offered her a room in the Slat. There was no point in hiding Y/n anymore, since the word already went around that they associated with one another. In the past few weeks, Y/n befriended all the Crows. She was charming, as always. That was her way, looking innocent, pretty, pure. That's how she got the people, how she earned her title. But she meant all the nice words she offered to the Crows.

The Slat was surprisingly homey. It felt good, to have a room to return to. A proper bed, warmth, everything she wasn't used to.

Yet, it also settled her in that place. That did not feel good. It scared her, the thought of being stuck somewhere.

Kaz gave her work, he always would. But it felt so wrong, absolutely against her mindset.

So while the Crows adored the seemingly pure woman, she proofed them that she had earned her title of a Saint. On every single mission, she was completely in control. Kaz trusted here more than any of the others, her word mattered as much as his.

She helped him with paperwork, with planning. The Dregs learned to listen to her within a few days.

As Y/n sat on the floor reading, Kaz sat on his desk scribbling down endless numbers.

"Kaz?" She suddenly asked into the calmness, which caused the bastard of the Barrel to look up to her. "Yes?"

"I found work." She told him, so he raised his brow. Kaz knew what that meant. It wasn't the first time, they had this conversation multiple times throughout the years they've known each other. Each time, it was a painful realisation.

"So you intend to leave." "I do." She nodded in agreement. Kaz looked back to the documents before him, only to look up again.

"Why?" He asked.

Y/n shrugged, closing her book.

"Because that's my way." Kaz scoffed.

"You could stay. Everyone loves you, they would be devastated if you would leave again for an eternity. We took you along on missions, we will continue with that. There is work for you here. There's also a room, food. People that care for you. Why do you always leave?"

She smiled at him. Why the hell did she smile at him? Kaz was mad, he wanted her to take this seriously. But she simply smiled, as softly as always. "Why do you never touch anyone?" She asked the counter question and Kaz remained silent.

"There is nothing that scares me more than settling down. Than stripping myself from the ability to leave whenever I feel like it, to go wherever I want. Kaz, you always forget that I've known you your entire life. That I've been there, that I saw Kaz Rietveld and Jordie Rietveld, that I saw both of them die. That I know why you can't endure to be touched. You were there too, when they hit me. When they abused and used me, without giving me a chance to leave. You were there when the plague killed my family, and when I thanked the Saints for that.

You saw the last time I prayed to someone but myself and you heard me promising myself to never depend on anyone but me. To make my freedom my highest value."

Dirtyhands knew she was right. Every door in the entire Barrel, all of Ketterdam, stood open for the Goddess. She would be a fool to give that chance up only to stay by his side. Still, it pained him. She was the only person he fully lend on, trusted. The only one that always had a role in his life, always would.

His counterpart.

He loved her, and if he could, he would admit it. But he was Kaz Brekker, and Kaz Brekker was an unlovable bastard, damaged, broken.

Kaz knew he should just drop the conversation, but he couldn't.

"Have you never even considered to stay?"

He instead asked, causing her gaze to get lost in the nowhere, considering her answer carefully. She was good at lying, keeping the words flow until the story worked out perfectly. It was her backup out of conversations like this one, but it felt wrong and not fair to simply cut him off with untrue words.

"I have. I had many dreams where I got everything I wanted. Where I saw the world, with enough money in my pockets. But when I wake up I instead see you with me. That's when I think that staying won't harm me. I often considered how beautiful it would be to return to a proper home, only to realise that I do. That you mean home to me."

Not only Kaz expression, also his heart dropped. He could feel the air stuck in his throat, trying hard to swallow the lump inside of it. He wanted to touch her, to feel her, to tell her how he returned that feeling. That each time she left, he felt unsteady. How much he needed her by his side to function. But Kaz didn't, and for a brief moment he felt as cowardly as only Kaz Rietveld did.

But Y/n didn't need to hear him say it. One look into his eyes was enough to be certain of all the untold truths. She was for a long time. So was he. They were fully aware of how much they loved each other, but they were both scared of all the things a confession would cause them. Y/n dropped her book to the floor, standing up to walk over to Kaz. He turned in his chair, facing her. Only a few inches separated them. She carefully raised her hand to brush over his face.

Kaz closed his eyes. They did this often. It was a touch he could bear, that didn't scare him. That reminded him that she was there, that she always would be in some way. That he had a home. She held her breath, as Kaz placed his gloved hand over hers, taking it from his cheek to place a soft kiss on her palm.

"I love you, Kaz. So much." She confessed, her voice nothing more than a whisper vanishing in the dark. He swallowed loudly, still holding her hand with his, still having his eyes closed.

"I love you, Y/n. You are the only God I would ever pray to. They only God I believe in, that has ever saved me." Dirtyhands told her, finally opening his eyes to look into hers.

"How often you may leave, every time that you return a home is waiting for you. A room, a bed, friends. I am waiting for you, because without you I'm not complete."

She could feel her eyes tear up. These words took so many years to finally be confessed.

"And I will always return to you. I promise, with all that I have, all that I am, that one day I will be brave enough to stay by your side."

"You always will be by my side."

It was an unspoken 'I promise'.

Because they belonged together, the bastard of the Barrel and the Barrel's Goddess.

The most powerful people in Ketterdam.

@renataligorio @kaqua @magravenwrites @corpsebasil @for-bebbanburg

ways kaz brekker shows affection

request: kaz headcanons where he tries to kinda show affection towards the reader? that would be awesome

a/n: i did it in heacanon form so i could do a bunch of different ways i hope you don’t mind <3 and im not just making it physical affection mwah 

affection was something you and kaz worked on consistently 

physical affection was an obstacle for multiple reasons 

but even other things were a challenge 

but kaz wasn’t about to lose you 

he tried so hard everyday to be the man you deserved 

and to show you, even through the little things, that he loved you 

kaz’s affection wasn’t obvious 

it wasn’t a wet kiss on the cheek like nina gave matthias 

or jesper’s very public teasing that always made wylan red 

his love for you was subtle and it was personal 

it was something the two of you shared 

he showed his affection through novels he left on your nightstand 

he never mentioned leaving them 

never told you where he found them or what he thought of them

one minute the book wasn’t there and the next it was

you suspected inej helped with this particular task

you’d read the book 

and you always loved it 

without fail 

and you’d come into his room and sit on his bed 

he ignored you and waited for you to speak 

when you didn’t he’d go 

“well?”

“i loved it” you said before leaving the book on his desk 

he didn’t answer but his lip quirked to one side 

he also let you hold his cane 

and you knew 

everyone knew 

this wasn’t a random act 

this was an act of total intimacy for kaz

he’d hand it to you when he didn’t need it at the moment 

or let you borrow if you hurt your leg during a job 

it was the same situation with his gloves 

when ketterdam got cold

and you forgot your winter gear 

he’d grab your shaking freezing hands and slip his own gloves on them 

“it’s no big deal,” he rolled his eyes. “can’t let my girl freeze” he’d whisper, hoping you hadn’t heard 

he learned your favourite flower 

very quickly 

kaz brekker noticed everything 

so he notices the way you lingered at the smell of roses 

and when he knew this information he made sure to order a whole bunch of them 

for the slat 

for the crow club 

for the little desk in your room

everyone was confused at the sudden excess of flower 

“god it smells like cupid threw up in here” jesper had commented 

wylan punched him in the arm for that 

“do you like them?” he’d asked you one day out of the blue 

“yeah” you smiled, you already knew he was referring to the flowers 

he seemed pleased with himself the rest of the day 

even though physical contact was difficult it wasn’t impossible 

it was easier for kaz when he could control the movement control the touch

so it was easier for him to touch you than for him to have you touch him 

he almost never wore his gloves around you 

the two of you would be sharing an intimate bit of eye contact 

and he would cup your cheek 

and rub your cheekbone lovingly 

his touch was sometimes so rare that you shivered under his hand 

and though he was shaky afterwards he was also grinning

“happiness looks good on you kaz” 

“shut up y/n” 

and he’d learned to love sitting close to you 

when he didn’t feel like touching explicitly 

he would press his shoulder against yours 

or bump his foot against yours when the two of you were sat at the table 

he held your pinkie a lot 

it was less intense as full on hand holding 

once he kissed your forehead and you almost passed out from happiness 

when he wants to be close to you without holding you 

he grabs your jacket sleeves 

or the pocket of your pants 

to get your attention of course 

not because he wants to be close to you or anything 

everything kaz did to show you he loved you

you appreciated with every fiber of your being 

Fighter (TMR)

Request: snapping at a glader, fighting Gally and flirting

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