#holland march x reader

[emsvertigo]

Reckless Serenade

image not mine, found on pinterest

summary & genre — fluff & nsfw. you & holland meet in a rundown bar when you order the same drink. when you find yourselves alone, your attraction towards each other becomes apparent.

warnings — sexual references, smoking, alcohol use, emily tries to write comedy (probably fails), one use of strong language.

character & pairings — holland march x fem!reader (the nice guys. 2016)

word count — 2.2k

a/n — i fucking hate writing dialogue but you need it AHHH. anyway i rewatched the nice guys and it sparked me to write this cause holy shit holland is my dream man. i’m so glad the ‘barbie’ film has opened people’s eyes to how hot ryan gosling is lmaoo. thank you so much for all the love on my seb fic since ‘barbie’ released. anyways, i have literally never been to l.a in my life, so please excuse the bad descriptions of its environment. hope you guys enjoy!

find my old fics here! ✿

You note his hands first. The way they slide up and down the bar, in a sense of nervousness that buzzes through the air. How his fingertips bounce against the wood, creating calm in his mind. The dimples and blemishes littered over his hands, creating pools of imperfections and bruises, highlighting age where his dimmed face could not. The whiteness of his knuckles when he downed a shot, the silver liquid coating his throat as his Adam’s apple bobbed. His wrist adorned a cast, bloodstained and browning from wear. You notice the way his nimble fingers balanced cigarettes between creases. The smell of smoke his figure expelled, thick yet pleasantly alluring. The same smoke combed his hair and left an addictive taste on his lips. His hair fell from its perfectly gelled structure, placed into a cascading loop of colours and strands, framing his face.

You didn't know him, but you didn’t have to. The way he had strutted into the bar with the confidence of an emperor, only to have him sit far from you and cower like a terrified mouse, had given you a strong impression. He had ordered something strong to start, blending into your assumptions of him. His sunglasses slid down his long nose, giving you a glance at his eyes which were blazing with apprehension. You knew the man was broken, and he didn’t know how to hide it, no matter how hard he tried. The dim bar lights above bled onto his figure, creating fast shadows around his fitted suit. The side of his face was left in a mist of gloom, keeping his identity hidden.

First interactions came suddenly as his hand extended into the air, raising two fingers towards the barmaid. He slurred his order into her ear, the syllables dripping off his tongue. Your eyes glanced at him as he spoke, a hint of recognition on your features.

“That’s what I drink.” You smiled towards the stranger, a hint of humour in your voice. He smirked in response, holding the glass to his lips and dripping the liquid into his mouth. Your eyes again moved to his hands, the silver rings on his fingers absentmindedly gliding over his thick moustache.

Silence blanketed you both in a cloud of drunken thoughts. The taste of your drink, which he had copied, stuck to your teeth with saccharine fuzz. Your own hands drummed the tabletop in rhythmic focus, tearing yourself away from the stranger. Sounds from the jukebox swam through your mind as you attempted to think of something else to say. But he spoke first.

“My wife used to drink them.” The statement was directed towards himself, but you couldn't help but overhear. You tucked a stray hair behind your ear, shifting your body closer to his. The man turned to you and his features were truly shown.

The sunglasses obstructing your view from his eyes slid further down his face, cornering you with seafoam colour. His eyes were decorated with dark marks which drooped into exhaustion. He was incredibly gorgeous, though something pathetic hung around his aura.

“Oh!” You said in surprise, “You’re married?”

A solitary sob left his lips, closely followed by a sigh. His head hung for a moment before he drunkenly picked it back up with a forceful swing. The motion toppled him backwards, almost crashing to the floor in a heap, but he caught himself clumsily on the bar.

“Not anymore…” He finally spoke, rubbing his fingers over his long nose, and pushing his sunglasses up his face.

“I’m sorry.” You begin, a hole forming in your heart, pushing your emotions into a tidal wave. He feebly smiled, not wanting you to persist.

“Don’t be, I shouldn't have brought it up.” He spoke, returning the awkward stillness which created hyper-awareness of your situation. You cleared your throat, bringing a hand up into the air to summon the barmaid, delivering a warm grin her way as you ordered your drink.

The sizzling air between you both didn't cease when you returned to your drink, mindlessly observing the ornate walls. Your fingers glided across the tall decorated glass, condensation cool against your fingertips. You could feel his soft eyes on you, but the intent he wished was not one of violence, it was one of comfort and care. In the electric air, you almost felt a chill travel across your spine. As you felt his eyes drifting over your face, around your body and down your legs, you couldn't help but dream of his hands doing the same. The texture of his palms, the tickle of his fingertips gliding across your frame until they reached your sensitive points.

You gasped quietly to yourself, brushing away the dirty fantasies your brain had designed. You dipped your head back and downed the rest of your drink, the liquid burning its way down your throat. You coughed at the sensation, holding your hand up, keeping your decency in front of the stranger. The scraping of a seat beside you caused your attention to divert. Boots thudded against the floor, patting loudly against the wooden surface below. You glanced up from your drink and made eye contact with the barmaid, who was wiping the bartop with a wine-stained cloth.

“Sorry, but I think you should go too, I’m about to close up.” She spoke, wiping the bar of any grease that clung to its wood. You shook away her comment in realisation, turning to each side to notice that the seats situated behind you were empty. The house lights blinded the room in white colour, contrasting with the cosy environment from earlier. Wooden chairs had been placed on tables, and another girl was sweeping up the mess made by previous customers.

“Oh shit, my bad.” You quickly apologised, fumbling around in your bag for a bill, which you placed on the bar next to your empty drink.

You strung your bag around your shoulder, letting the material ruffle your dress in the rush. Your heels clicked against the floor as you clambered off the bar stool, and staggered towards the exit. The amount of alcohol you had drunk now flooded your thoughts, and the ground started to spin slightly. Waving goodbye to the workers inside the bar you stepped outside, your face immediately hit with the humid L.A air.

The moon hung bright in the sky, illuminating the alleyway, along with large neon lights advertising different clubs which sat across the seafront. The alleyway, though small, was safe and protective from harm, the main street only being a few moments away. Puddles from an earlier rainstorm littered the ground, answering your question as to why the air was so humid. The noises of car horns and splashing puddles echoed from the distance, and the buzz from the neon signs droned lowly behind you. A large overflowing dumpster nestled in the corner created an overwhelming stench, flowing into your nostrils and out of your mouth. Leaving a horrible taste on your tongue, vomit almost rising to your throat. You reached up and pegged your nose with your fingers, any attempt to crush the smell.

“I can’t smell that.” A voice next to you whispered. You jumped, almost dropping your bag from your shoulder in surprise. The figure next to you let out a squeak, muttering the Lords name into the night, frightening himself with your reaction.

As you turned, you recognised his eyes from earlier, although now they weren’t adorned by dark glasses. The piercing blue was reflected by the purple neon lights, painting him in an oceanic glow. You noted quietly how his cheekbones dipped and sunk in the shadowing light, the stubble crowding his jaw and creating depth on his young face. You smiled with recognition, not paying any attention when your bag slipped from your shoulder to the ground.

“You startled me!” You whispered, moving your face closer to his in order to be heard. Your noses almost touching for a moment, breaths mingling until you pulled away. He giggled, alcohol buzzing off his body with heat and hysterical energy, a personality which he did not express back inside the bar.

“I’m sorry for bringing up my wife earlier.” He spoke, a flash of sadness painted across his perfect features, his hair was messier now and strands were flying out of place every which way. You held your hand out, placing it on his chest. The fabric of his tie underneath your palm, making your heart beat faster. Letting your fingertips drift absentmindedly.

“It's okay, I’m sorry for reminding you of your wife.” You smiled sympathetically at him, his cheeks red from drink and closeness. You could feel his heart beneath his clothes, fighting for its life as it thumpped twice as fast.

“That’s why I like you.” He whispered, swaying slightly from side to side. He reached one of his hands to rest behind your head, onto the wall, trapping you against the building. If you couldn't feel his heartbeat, you would think he was a natural at this.

His breath fanned onto your cheeks, the smell of scotch and beer pouring from his mouth into your nose. His scent was overpowering, cigarette smoke bloomed throughout his build, grasping onto your senses with a firm fist. You looked up into his eyes, his eyelids heavy and hooded, his lips turned into a smile.

“Is that so?” You breathed, placing your other hand onto his chest, running your palms along his body, his blue suit slightly out of place. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing his tanned skin for you to see, sweaty from the humidity. A gold chain hung from his neck, adding to his charm.

He hummed in response, looking over his shoulder for a moment. His side profile flashed before you, jawline sharp and your hands reached up to grab the sides of his face, pulling him back into reality and your deep stare.

“What’s your name?” You whispered, the buzz of the neon lights behind you both creating the only sound in the alleyway. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, heat rising to your cheeks as he looked down at you, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“Holland.” He spoke, bringing his casted hand up to rest on the wall instead, while his other hand moved to cup your jaw.

“Like the country?” You smiled, continuing to move your hands up and down his front. He chuckled in response. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his thick cast, a doodle of a goose now apparent on the strong material in the purple light.

“How’d you break your arm?” You breathe, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

His eye contact dropped before returning, a flash of light in his eyes.

“Minor workplace accident.” He replied, his fingers running their way across your jawline, keeping your face focused on him.

“Oh really?” You smiled, the intoxication evident in your voice, liquor dripping from your tongue into the air.

“Yeah. It gets tough out there.” He sighed, acting as calm as he possibly could with his body so close to yours. It was humourous, the way he shrugged off statements like they were nothing, when his body language told a different story.

“What do you work as?”

“I'm a P.I”

“Sexy.” You breathed, your eyelids heavy as you looked up at him through long lashes.

The single word dripped from your mouth, causing him to lean in even further, his breath pushing into your mouth with every exhale.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, causing you to nod, mouthing ‘yes’ without any further questions. From the moment he had walked into that bar, you had wanted to feel his lips on your skin.

Slowly he closed the gap between you both, his fingers finding their way into the back of your hair. Your lips locked with his, cementing their place together. The taste of cigarettes overwhelmed your mouth, addicted to the flavour and the sensation. Your hands wandered up his neck, delving into his hair and pushing him closer towards you, your noses meeting on each other's cheek.

You moaned as he parted your lips, gasping like he was drowning in your touch. He opened his mouth to speak but the words didn't form, you crashed your lips into his once again sighing as you felt his hands leave your face and wrap around your frame. Your heartbeats were so close, almost as one as your chests flushed against each other. You heard him moan as he slipped his tongue through your teeth, licking its way into your mouth in an attempt to become closer to you. You had only met this man, but from the way he kissed you, it felt like something you could get addicted to.

“Holland.” You breathed as his lips retracted from yours again to begin kissing at your neck, the sensitive skin now on fire. His breath was hot against you, filling your mind with lustful desires, clouding your thoughts with his name over and over. The tickle of his moustache made you even more interested in him, wanting to feel the irritation everywhere.

He paused for a minute to examine your eyes, feelings and diminutive reactions to him. When he saw your drooping eyes, surveying him in the same manner, he kissed you again. This time breathing in your scent as he did so, his smoke-flavoured tongue licking your lips carefully.

When you pulled away breathless and head spinning, he let his hands wander over the small of your back.

“What's your name?” He whispered, kissing your forehead with an intimate peck.

“Give me your number and maybe you'll find out.” You groaned, leaning yourself forward into his touch as he pushed you against the wall.

#holland march #holland march x reader #holland march fanfic #the nice guys #the nice guys fanfic #ryan gosling #ryan gosling fanfic #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling fanfiction #fanfiction #imagine #x reader #hioreh fanfictions

[ken-dom]

A Long Time

Holland March x afab!reader

Summary: Holland wants you, but he's scared to move on.

Warnings/content: nsfw, reader has a vagina, fingering, hand job, angst, mentions of Holland's wife, crying, praise, alcohol and smoking mention

The record comes to a crackling end, but Holland carries on swaying with you, snaking his lithe arms ever tighter around your waist, holding you impossibly closer.

He presses your bodies flush as though he's worried that the end of the last song means the end of your arms around him, but he wants to stay here forever, head dropped to bury his face against your neck, your arms reaching up around his shoulders.

'Mmh. You feel so fucking good,' he mumbles against your shoulder, his voice weak and cracking halfway.

He shifts his hips and you feel his hard cock brushing against your stomach through the layers of your clothing.

'Holland...' you breathe, pulling back to encourage him to face you.

Your gaze flicks down to his lips and back up to meet his eyes. They’re shining, full of adoration and sleepiness and just a touch too much alcohol. And something else. A sadness you can't quite place.

His shaky breath fills the inch between you.

'It's been a long time... I-' he hesitates, almost too whispered to hear.

His eyes follow the same pattern yours just did, and he doesn't flinch when you edge toward his lips, testing the waters.

He pushes forward too, lips crashing onto yours, and it's tingly and soft and hot, and he’s overcome with a sensation of drowning in you. He hasn't felt like this since... well, since-

All the wonder he felt from slow dancing with you amplifies until an all-encompassing wave engulfs him in the most comforting way, pulling his soul clean from his body and proceeding to carefully piece it back together until he feels almost whole again.

Your tongue slips between his lips for a moment and you taste the liquor he’s been sipping all night and the cigarette he smoked immediately after dinner.

His tongue brushes against yours, playful and excited.

When the kiss slows to a natural end, you drop back.

'Jesus!' He exclaims through a heavy exhale. 'Can we do that again?!'

You chuckle as your hand slides down from his shoulder, biting your lip mischievously when your fingers reach the waistband of his trousers.

Holland freezes. 'Oh, I- uh-'

You drop your hand to your side while your heart sinks, heavy and . You think he'll ask you to leave so he can wallow in unhappiness all while you taste him for days, feel him pressed against you for days, wishing he would finally open up to you.

But he hasn't let go yet.

'When I said it had been a long time... I meant, it's been a really long time... Jesus, I’ll probably cum before you even touch me.'

You take a deep breath and smile up at him, core clenching at hearing him talk about cumming so openly, watching the way his long eyelashes close over his eyes and his cheeks glow with the prickling heat of shame he feels at admitting it.

'I'm trying to be romantic and I already said the word cum,' he huffs, annoyed with himself.

'You have been romantic. All night.' Your hand comes back up, softly cupping his cheek this time so your thumb can stroke gently at the corner of his moustache.

'And I don't care when you cum.' - His eyes widen in surprose at hearing you say it - 'We can just carry on dancing, or we could kiss again, if you'd like.'

'No, no, I want to- I... fuck-' he growls in frustration.

'It's alright,' you soothe, gesturing to the sofa.

He loosens his arms and drops down onto it, spinning the both of you around and unintentionally pulling you on top of him in the process, so that you end up sitting sideways in his lap, legs stretched across the seats and Holland’s arms still around you, as if he's carried you here bridal style.

He gasps when you shift to get comfortable and unintentionally rub against his aching length, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment to compose himself.

'It's ok if you want to take it slow. I can wait for you, as long as you need... Dinner with me was a big step… why don't we aim to start off with something you feel comfortable doing?'

Your simple suggestion seems to spark something in him; his face lights up and he licks his lips in thought. It's kind of silly and yet somehow seductive, and it makes your core clench.

'Well... my wife always said I was good with my hands...' he drawls, considering the tattoo across the top of his right hand and wondering if perhaps it would be an untrue statement tonight. He felt happy when you ate dinner by candlelight, and then while he was dancing with you. He was sure of it.

'She used to say a lot of shit I didn't understand. You know she was British? But I know one thing I could start with that she used to really like... something that drove her wild. Maybe you'll like it too?'

There's a touch of heartbreak in his voice and it crushes the fluttering butterflies in your stomach for a moment. You're overcome with wanting to hold him, to help him through his pain, but even he doesn't know where to begin with that.

Whatever he wants right now, though, you know you'll do for him. That would be a start, at least.

'Show me,' you request simply, expecting him to hold your hand while he kisses you, push his fingers up to bunch in your hair, maybe even massage your shoulders a little.

But as the arm beneath you moves to cradle your neck, his other hand slides down, cupping your slightly bent knee.

'Spread your legs for me,' he says softly, pulling at the knee he's caressing.

It's so unexpected, so throwaway, that you almost miss what he's asking of you.

'Holland? Are you sur-ohhh- mmh...'

His fingertips trail up your thigh as he watches your face intently, sparks shooting up to your core as his fingers drag ever closer. It already feels electric, and he hasn't even started touching you yet. At least, not where you're already aching for him to.

'H-Holland, are you sure you- w-want to-' you try again, breathless.

'Shhh,' he smiles, fingers finally toying with the elastic of your underwear. 'I want to do this more than anything... god I've missed this...'

He slides your underwear aside with ease, dipping his middle finger inside to collect your slick, spreading it through your folds and up to massage your throbbing clit.

You jolt upward as he circles your sensitive nub with incredibly delicate precision, his elegant fingers dancing in perfect time with the needs your body, as though he can read your mind and predict what you'll need next.

As much as you've daydreamed about his long fingers playing with you just like this, you never thought he'd actually be any good at it. Holland isn't elegant, precise, delicate... he's klutzy, kind of dumb... often drunk. You half expected he would rub at you fiercely without skill or thought, but this? This feels like he knows your body better than you know your own.

'Jesus, you're so wet...' he coos delightedly through smirking lips, pushing his finger back inside and curling it perfectly against your sweet spot while you moan and writhe in his lap.

Your back arches and he pumps faster, holding you tight with his other arm to keep you from sliding off his long legs in your throes of ecstasy.

His own arousal is killing him, simmering beneath his desire to bring you off spectacularly. He needs to see your pleasure before he can focus on his own, needs something to think about instead of how his wife used to feel.

He can hold off, he's sure of it, but it's getting harder to ignore now that precum is steadily leaking from his throbbing tip, and you're squirming across his lap with your legs spread wide, eyes squeezed shut, mouth dropped open, a never-ending string of desperate cries echoing around his house from the pleasure he's bringing you.

You wrap your fingers around his tie, pulling him down, and scream his name as your climax finally hits, his finger buried inside you and his thumb pressed to your clit, fucking you mercilessly with his unexpectedly clever fingers.

When you come to, blurred vision clearing and the ringing of pleasure in your ears subsiding, you look up to see him sucking his fingers clean. You almost pass out at the sight.

'Fuck, Holland. I wasn't expecting that... I can see why your wife was such a fan.'

You slide yourself up to straddle him, adjusting your underwear as you settle above him.

'I think I'm pretty good with my hands too, you know... do you think you're ready for me to show you?'

Holland's face crinkles in confusion. 'Aren't you spent?' he asks incredulously.

'No, Holland, I mean on you.'

His eyes widen in realisation, and he nods.

Without hesitation, you pop his trousers open and slip a hand inside, humming at the copious amount of precum coating his thick, throbbing length.

'I don't know how your wife would do it,' you whisper carefully, 'but I hope you like it the way I do.'

Holland whines and buries his face into the crook of your neck, a tear slipping from his glistening eyes, wetting your cool flesh. You wrap your other arm around his shoulders when you feel it, holding him close to you.

'Just relax, ok? Focus on my touch, on my voice. I've got you... you're so hard... you need this, baby. It doesn't matter if you cum-'

'UGH! Jesus! Fuck!' he cries, muffled against your throat, voice cracking into a high pitched whine.

He shudders through his release, safe in your arms, trembling as the last of his seed spills inside his underwear and over your hand, thick and hot. There's so much of it you wonder when was the last time he came.

You lean forward to place him against the back of the sofa again, and he shakes, tears pouring down his face. You brush his mussed hair away from his forehead and loosen his tie enough to remove it, tossing it behind you.

'Shhh, baby, it's alright.' You wipe the tears from his cheeks with your clean hand, and he leans into your touch. 'You did so well for me. I know it's been a while.'

'Please... kiss me again,' he breathes helplessly, reaching up to push his fingers into your hair and pull you closer.

It's not as heated as your last kiss. It's slow, languid, needy but without the sexual tension. A different kind of need.

You feel him relax beneath you and pull away to catch your breath, opening your eyes to see Holland fast asleep. Smiling.

#not s f w 💀 #holland march #holland march x reader #holland march x you #holland march x y/n #holland march smut #holland march fic #the nice guys #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling x you #ryan gosling x y/n #ryan gosling fic #ryan gosling smut #ryan gosling #the nice guys 2016 #the nice guys fic #ken-dom writes

[xtrokeme]

I am on my knees for Holland March or Driver content

Could be anything!

Ruined the moment

A/N: i wanted to make it longer but got excited to post something !! for context let's say you're at a party like in the movie but not in the movie... small trigger warning for vomit and mentions of alcohol. another trigger warning is that i feel like i could've wrote this better

He didn't want you to stop, he really didn't.

The sweetness of your last drink lingering in your mouth and the softness of your red lips crushing against his. But oh, boy, he needed a break.

"Gi- give me a second, darling" he slightly pushed your body by your shoulders.

"What's wrong?" your eyes sleepy with alcohol like his, he took you by surprise.

"I'm having the time of my life but-" he tried to not close his eyes as you looked at Holland confused, worried, "I'd rather die than puke on your face" he jolted from the bathroom floor, trying his best to not knock you out and made his way (not worried if he tripped) to the toilet and emptied his stomach.

You sat down where he was a moment ago and fixed your dress that got up when you got in his lap, chuckling at the scene in front of you "I thought you thought you were making a mistake".

Holland kept throwing his insides before sitting on his knees, wiping his mouth with his sleeve he send her a dreamy smile "the mistake was drinking so much, I ruined the moment" his face hung by the toilet seat in case another round of alcohol started to leave his insides.

He felt so nauseous and oddly nervous. Nauseous: he had many drinks to relax and.. well, how could he say no to a whiskey? And nervous: earlier when you catched his eyes and made a move on him, he didn't think someone like you would start a conversation with him (not that he believes he doesn't have a chance), you are stunning but you took him by surprise.

"You haven't ruined anything, this situation is quite funny" few seconds passed and you made your way next to him "tell me if you need something" you made sure to express he wasn't alone.

"Water" you grabbed your drink by the floor and throw it, cleaned the inside in the sink and poured water. He drank it by short sips and some he spitted it out so his throat stopped burning, "you're so nice and pretty and I look awful... at least you're having fun" he chuckled starting to straighten, your hand went to his head and stroked his hair softly, "wait, that makes me dizzy" he pointed his face to the toilet seat and you pulled your hand away.

"my bad" he didn't throw up but kept his face there in case, "you're also nice and pretty, Holland" you sat behind him against the wall and he did the same, captivated by his name with the sound of your voice.

"Thanks for not leaving, that says a lot about you" he looked at you with a smile, he felt slightly fresh after that interlude to take some alcohol out.

"If I were you I'd like someone do the same for me" showing empathy reassured him and a spontaneous though formed; he wanted to stand by your side forever. It was a familiar feeling, one that once broke him, but god, it felt so good that jiggly bubble in his chest.

"Should I say what I'm thinking now that I have the courage?" courage= he's not fully sober.

"As long as it's something good" you grinned and nudged him trying to look cool, trying to forget how fast your heart was beating.

"I feel like you're made for me"

A/N²: requests are open, if you give me prompts the better, maybe you noticed english is not my native language but i try anyway<3

#holland march x reader #holland march #the nice guys #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling #blurb i guess #send me requests #the shortest tag list lol #the nice guys x reader #just making shit up at this point

[lifeiskentastic]

gn!Reader in one car with Holland March in the middle of a traffic jam

Gif by @adoresbenho

A/N: Tell me, would you read a fanfic about Ryan Gosling's five-minute role as a lecherous elf on snl New Year's episode? (this sounds so crazy, but Ryan is so cute with the pointy ears, bangs, and tall hat... I just need to write it.)

Summary: Agency partner Reader once again gets stuck in a traffic jam with Holland;

Song I recommend: Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen was just made ror Holland;

Word count: 724 words;

Nice reading!

It was just another morning as the third member (counting from the moment of join, although Holland always argued with Hilly to take over as "second" as if it were something really important) of the detective agency. It was just another morning traffic jam in Los Angeles, the only advantage of which was extra time to shave or drink a cup of coffee. After all, as it turned out, working as a detective requires punctuality, which in the case of Holland March was a big problem. So from the very beginning of the day, you were in a hurry, rushing to get things done, and only during irreparable traffic jams could you afford to exhale.

Holland could finally shave, and you could have a cup of strong coffee instead of breakfast.

For such occasions, Holland even kept a thermos of coffee and mountains of plastic cups in the car. No matter how many times you persuaded him to get rid of at least half of them, he categorically refused, calling it a "necessity of life." Well, given that he also used them to drink his liter-long supply of alcohol, it's not surprising.

The only thing that remained a mystery even to the three detectives was why a jar of whipped cream kept appearing in the glove compartment of his car. Although you had a bold guess that after you told Holland that you loved whipped cream coffee, he took it too much to heart.

"Do you think Healy is there yet?"

You asked, sipping from your cup.

"Oh, yeah, Mr.I'm-right-on-time-because-this-is-an-important-job has been there since sunrise."

You couldn't help but laugh out loud at that. The special relationship between your two partners couldn't help but make you laugh, literally, every day.

Holland beamed with pride when he managed to make you laugh.

"Oh, and also..."

But another laugh from you didn't let March finish his sentence. But what could you do? Still, the naive look on Holland's face with a piece of shaving foam on his cheek was more amusing than you could have imagined.

"Pfft... Ha-ha, wait..."

You reached for his cheek to brush away the remaining lather as Holland watched you in pure embarrassment. His eyes looked even more confused when you were a few millimeters away from his face.

However, you quickly returned to your seat, showing traces of white, puffy foam on your palm.

"Is that what made you giggle so much?"

This made you think back to that unsuspecting look on March's face, caught up in his own joke, and made you laugh uncontrollably again.

"I'm sorry... You just looked so cute."

"Did I?"

Holland leaned closer to your seat, scrutinizing every part of your face. You were about to ask what he was going to do, but...

"Aha! Found it!"

His head came as close to yours as possible, and he touched something near the tips of your lips with a triumphant exclamation.

"Is that cream? You're such a sloven."

Holland's finger did indeed show traces of cream from your coffee. And your partner seemed to be expecting some kind of funny reaction from you, looking expectantly into your soul, but you were honestly not in the mood for it... Still, your heart was still racing from being so close to Holland. For some reason, when there were so small distance between the two of you, you began to feel strange jolts inside your chest.

When you barely regained consciousness, the only thing you could do was to move your whole body as close to Holland as possible, making your partner's eyes widen in surprise once again. You didn't know what was driving you at that moment, but you knew you had to work, and you were within a pinkie nail's distance of March's face.

"You're one to talk..."

You ran your fingers through Holland's mustache, wiping away the subtle streaks of shaving foam that had started this whole thing.

Although you wanted something like this, you hadn't expected Holland to do it first. That he would push forward, quickly crossing the short distance between you, and confidently touch your lips. Of course, you immediately returned his kiss.

It seems that car horns were already blaring behind you and angry drivers were furious, but for now you were too busy with each other to pay attention to such trifles.

#holland march #holland march x reader #holland march fluff #holland march x you #the nice guys #the nice guys not the fall guy alright #ryan gosling fanfiction #ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader #fanfiction #fluff fic #nice guys #gn reader #x you #x reader #the nice guys fanfiction #ryan gosling imagine

[mi6kan]

WHY IS NO ONE WRITING FOR HOLLAND MARCH PLEASE I THINK I ALREADY READ THEM ALL ON HERE and i need more, i desperately need more (also more smut ofc) LIKE,, LOOK AT HIM. IF YOU LOVED TANGERINE FROM BULLET TRAIN YOU MUST LOVE HOLLAND

like ???? i cannot

#holland march #holland march x reader #WAITING #the nice guys #ryan gosling

[ilovebladerunners]

Holland March Body Worshipping (18+)

pairing: Holland March x gender neutral!reader

genre: small smutty blurb

summary/request: (I couldn’t find the request I’m so sorry!!) ‘hi, currently thinking abt holland march being his usual drunk self hooking up with reader. he’s like so drunk so he gets emotional and starts body worshipping you. would really like to see what you add on to this 👀

warning/contents: holland is a drunk mess but also babygirl, holland giving you oral, he’s so pathetic for you but it’s hot, major body worship kink, some praise kink, marking kink mention, crying/tearing up, he’s actually drooling for you, pussy/dick/ass mention.

additional notes: I can’t believe this is my first request and I’m already super feral 😵‍💫 holland body worshipping you sounds so hot… I might just make this into an actual fic 🤭🤭 !

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drunk!Holland body worshipping you is definitely something he does. as soon as you two get into the bedroom, he’s kissing you all over, sloppy, wet kisses covering every inch of your face. he wants you— needs you— so much, and the emotions are rushing through him like crazy. he pushes you against the wall a bit more rougher than he thought, and he’s taking you all in. slightly calloused hands are trying to undo your shirt and pants and any undergarments, all while his nose is buried in your sweet neck as he trails wet kisses. he grasps at your curves and anything he can, and you can feel his hard boner against your thigh.

it takes so long to get to the bed because he simply can’t move, you feel too good, smell so intoxicating, his drunken brain is barely registering his actions yet they seem oddly coordinated. he whines when you push him to actually get on the bed, muttering out a small “w—wait….m’not done..” at the small loss of touch. of course, he really needs to see your body, so he pins you down the bed. eyes glow with awe and lust, admiring just how perfect you are despite barely knowing you. how is an angel like you in his bed?

he moves down to your bare thighs, his hands grasping at your hips. you let him do his own thing, because fuck, it feels great to be wanted like this. the thumbs digging into your skin are making small circles, wet lips kissing and biting at your thighs. he’s gentle with the bites though, he doesn’t want to mark the perfect skin and mess it up, maybe later. the words he’s whispering bring tingles up your back, his voice is low but whiny “so fuckin’ pretty… I can’t believe you’re real… I wan’ you to be mine..”

whatever plans you had that night to get fucked were quickly dismissed, because the thoughts took over and now he was going down on you. he’s a pure fucking mess, working his tongue the best his fuzzy mind can. he’s slobbering over your crotch, almost— and maybe— fully pathetic for you. the way his mouth works at you is like heaven, because he’s desperately trying to get you off and succeeding. his puppy eyes are filled with tears, you couldn’t tell if it was from the actions he was doing or the emotions flowing, looking up at you so dearly.

he wasn’t even trying to work on himself, focusing on you and only you. he was doing so well, so of course you would voice that. “fuck, holland, keep doing that. doing so good..” you moan, and he somehow intensifies his actions. “mmphfg…” he can only say back, his mouth full of pussy/dick/ass. he starts to grind his hips down the bed, now finally trying to relieve himself. he wants you to cum before he does, so he sets an unbearable slow pace.

he looks so pretty between your legs.

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#holland march x reader #holland march x reader smut #holland march x fem!reader #holland march x fem!reader smut #holland march x male!reader #holland march x male!reader smut #holland march x gn!reader #holland march x gn!reader smut #the nice guys #ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader #smut #— adrian blurbs

[wiidvw]

Please

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝐻𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ 𝑥 𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 ! 𝐹𝑒𝑚 ! 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟.

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐻𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑡 𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑡 𝑎 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑'𝑠 ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒. 𝐻𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟, 𝐻𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑖𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑠 ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑦.

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. 𝑆𝑚𝑢𝑡—𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑒𝑥(𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔), 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒-𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑖-𝑝𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑐 𝑠𝑒𝑥.

“𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄, 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘,” Holland begged, whispering into your ear.

Somehow over the span of the ten minutes you two were at your friend's party, Holland had become incredibly horny; his way of telling you was walking behind you and pressing himself against you, his growing bulge poking into your ass.

Your eyes widened, you quickly turned around to face him. "Holland," you started, "we just got here—you can't"—you lowered your voice—"be this horny."

His hands traveled down to your ass, his fingers digging into the fabric covered skin. You gasped softly. "Fuck, Holl—"

"Come on, baby," he leaned in to kiss you, but the hand resting on his chest pushed him away.

"If we do this . . . we have to be quick," you looked up at Holland. "Can you do that?"

He nodded; you grabbed the hands squeezing your ass and quickly led him to the bathroom. You closed the door and locked before he pushed you against it and kissed roughly, a surprised and muffled yelp escaping your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

One of his hands grabbed your thigh, squeezing the flesh in his palm, and wrapped your leg around him as the other reached under your dress and pushed passed the waistband of your underwear. His fingers brushed your clit, making you gasp against his lips before pulling away, gasping for air and leaning your head against the wooden door. Two long, thick fingers entered your dripping cunt, and you bit your lip, holding back a moan. Holland's lips trailed down to your neck, sucking slightly on the brown skin.

His fingers moved at a fast pace as his thumb started to rub rough circles on your clit. He wanted you to cum before he worried about his release. "Oh, fuck," you moaned as Holland kissed your collar bone, his free hand pushing the strap of your dress down your shoulder.

You felt your body tense up as you got closer and closer to your climax. Typically, you don't cum this fast, but at the pace Holland's going, it was only going to take a minute—or a couple of seconds—to cum.

"Holland," you groaned as he removed one of your breasts from your dress, his lips wrapped around your brown nipple, "m'close."

He didn't let up; instead, he curled his fingers inside your cunt, and you let out an embarrassingly loud moan as you came, your eyes squeezed shut, head pressed against the door, and your nails digging into his shoulders.

His fingers finally slowed their pace as you gradually opened your eyes. He removed his fingers, and you immediately got down on your knees, your hands unbuckling his belt.

"What are you doing?" he asked, letting out a groan as you slid his trousers and boxers down, his hard cock springing out. His dick was undeniably thick and long and his tip had started to become red.

You wrapped a hand around his cock. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Your tongue circled his tip, licking the pre-cum from it. You wrapped your plump lips around his cock and slowly moved down the base of it until his tip hit the back of your throat. You hollowed your cheeks and wrapped your hand around what couldn't fit inside your mouth.

You didn't your best not to gag, breathing in and out your nose, as his hips bucked up into your mouth. You swallowed around him, and Holland moaned loudly, the noise going straight to your cunt. Your other hand rested on his thigh, squeezing the pale flesh as he placed his hand on your head, holding it in place. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, causing you to pray that you don't mess up your make-up—you know you will though.

You swallowed around his length again, groans and whimpers escaping his lips.

"Fuck, Baby, you're gonna make me cum," Holland groaned.

You removed your other hand around his cock and rest it on his thigh, letting him fuck your mouth until he came. Gray tears fell down your cheeks as thick ropes of cum shot down your throat.

Holland removed his hand from your head, and you released his cock with a plop, panting. You wiped the tears on your face with the back of your hands. You stood up from the floor, and he kissed you, resting his hands on your waist.

"You made me ruin my make-up."

"M'sorry, baby," Holland murmured against your lips. He pulled away slightly, resting his forehead on yours. "Jump."

"Why?"

Holland dug his fingers into your waist as you felt his cock poking your stomach. "Holland—"

"Two minutes, please," he pleaded as he slid your underwear down.

You bit your lip. "I'm gonna kill you."

He discarded your statement and smashed his lips against yours.

You better pray that no one noticed how long the two of you were gone.

#ryan gosling x black!reader #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling #ryan gosling smut #holland march x black!reader #holland march smut #holland march x reader #holland march #black!reader

[stupidfuckingwindow]

Noise // Holland March

Tw: NSFW, Holland gets a handjob in a public place.

Notes; I'd meant to properly write this a while ago as my first post on here. Writing Cable Knit Sweater gave me the inspiration to do this.

Word count: 184

Holland isn't a quiet person. He screams like a motherfucker at the lightest surprise touch. He's louder when he's drunk off his ass, and somehow even noisier when he's messily fucking into your hand.

One can only imagine how he sounds when both of those things are happening all at once.

While you're sure everyone just outside can hear everything, Holland can't be bothered to care. The cigarette between his lips is slowly burning closer to the filter, half falling out of his mouth.

"Oh, fuck-" Holland groans, eyes rolling back. A strangled whine leaves the man, his thrusts slowly starting to get slower and sloppy. His hips stutter, legs starting to shake and the cigarette dropping from his mouth. Pre-cum leaks out of the tip of his cock, coating your fingers and knuckles. "Jesus fucking Christ!"

Holland doesn't last all that long after that, and his release splatters onto your face and chest, making you groan. There wasn't any coming out of this clean either way. Holland cums far too fucking much, and it gets everywhere.

"Fuck.." March mumbles, body falling limp.

#ryan gosling #n.sfw. #ryan gosling x reader #holland march #holland march smut #holland march x reader #the nice guys #the nice guys 2016

[hoppingonjim]

Venturing- Holland March

summary: with a suddenly boring sex life, holland decides to spice it up with anal!

cw: i forgot about the cast first of all. other than that there's anal, lube, afab!reader, cum kink (?) , mocking/degrading it's very soft, teasing, spanking, praising and implied that holland eats the reader out after. (not the ass!!!)

all of it had begun with a quick tap to your ass. the newspaper consumed you that morning and the detective could feel jealousy writhe within him. a heart pierced and a cock needy. o forgetting the suppleness of your curves and flesh. all of it had begun when he slammed himself with the realization he couldn’t withdraw from the sweet saccharine of your pleasure.

boredom had seeped through the gates of your relationship. the moat once shielding you two from sighs and wandering eyes suddenly blunt. level to the ground. making love to you, although ravishing, had become routine. holland was never a man for routines and he expected you to be educated on that matter.

experimental. the word thrilled him as his eyes ventured towards the curvature of your clothed ass. hips protected by cheaply sewn denim with embroidered silver pockets. the swirls stamped his mind and served his cock with ideas. the routine of slamming himself into you, reeling in your mewls and screams, all of it remained exciting. your tightness never faltered for his cock. the warmth and compactness of your pussy satisfying as ever to the detective. change was needed to keep staleness only something out of an imagination.

magazines fell into his possession. hot pink words plastered on creamy paper, educating him on expeditions to embark on in the seclusion of his bedroom. your bedroom. ideas sprung into his mind, a hand falling to relieve the sudden spring in his crotch. was this it? had he finally found the cure to boredom?

the bedroom that night became a jungle. the adventure he’d partake in new territory for you and him. again, he’d be stealing your virginity for his own possession. the way he liked it.

all these ideas came into conversation when you were lulled by humming in his arms. the melancholic tattoo adorning his hand becoming a tracer for the daintiness of your fingertip. the voice speaking was one that climbed towards persuasive, falling into its clutz shape. with a politician's lip he articulated his desires. the blandness of your intimacy was dulling him. there needed to be a liveliness again, he recommended. for him the apex of the discussion drew when you could nod your head, eyes directing him to the nightstand. carefully placing you aside, he'd reach for the silver curved handle, pulling it out softly. the contents inside were enough to satisfy him, a hand proudly obtaining the lube. the pop of the cap rang throughout the room and a cheeky grin was thrown your way. you could've swooned.

crawling towards him from your once fetal position, your fingers curled over the hem of his sweatpants. only a tug would suffice to bring the thick cloth to the root of his leg. which, he'd kick away to the floor below. it the span of seconds you were able to note how the topic of anal aroused him already- you two had barely even begun. the only starting point was him holding the lube mischievously in his fingers.

the world seemed to halt when he witnessed you slide down your thick white gown. the milky fabric slinking off to collet in the swamp of clothing beneath. the breath he needed was lodged in his throat, his hardness speaking speeches for him. upon seeing him desperate your tongue would swipe over your bottom lip. wetting the once dry surface, eyes stayed pasted to him.

the squirting of the bottle lingered in the room. the nodding of his head escorting you to arrange on all fours. there was no thong blocking his view nor a bra to hold your breasts, it was a sight he knew would play in his mind for ages. you, so obedient, patiently exposing yourself to him. waiting. surely in agony- at least he hoped so. his hand adorned his cock in strokes, applying the slick substance. the leftover liquid on his fingertips was used for another purpose, you. his index finger, oiled in lube, traced your puckered asshole. the timid hole he was so excited to ruin.

“can you handle it, princess? me inside your ass?”

you can only answer with a nod.

the position you're in remains too upright for his liking. a hand swoops down, slamming your back flat (as flat as it could go), relishing in new arch your stature provides, with your pussy glistening in need, he can only put those thoughts on the backburner in his mind, “looks like you like the idea a lot, huh baby?”

with a grip jailing your hips, he works to prevent tiring squirming. your wiggling, although arousing, would chip away his concentration. indentations of fingernails were already littered deep into your gentle skin as his free hand circled his tip over your asshole. it's annoying, the tedium lurking in his actions. the all knowing grin you can hear through his little tsks.

but your jaw drops when you finally can feel his tip inside of you. a groan erupts from his lips within seconds. you're tight, clenching around his hard cock, “how's it feel, princess? can i keep going?”

“y-yeah.” your words are chopped and thrown out. loops swarm your head as you already feel dazed with the new sensation. a quarter filled with cock, and half full of lube, you're already aching for more. the assurance you gift is brought with a seemingly pauperized nod.

more of him is slid inside of you. his thrusts are choppy, the groans mirroring the ruggedness. your tightness isn't comparable to your pussy, it's beyond that. the sensations already begin to seclude him. losing himself in your clenched ass, his thrusts grow harder. pleasure conceives restless strings of rubble groans. savagely he makes sure you feel all of him. the pain transcends into something enjoyable, at least for you. the adventure of a puckered entrance seeps into your own conscience. finally you can understand the craze. the mad man behind you bottoms himself out, heavy balls slapping your weeping slit below. each time moans slide from your lips. whines follow when he pulls himself out- he teases you, “you need it baby? beg for it sweetie, c'mon.” and like the good girl you are, you oblige. obliging means he slams himself into you again. ramming his cock as far as he can in pure desperation. sweat drips from his dusted gold tresses that grow tousled with every energized plunge. his words harmonize a sweet melody for you, having your edge creep closer and closer. in the frenzy, the hand keeping your back down migrates to land a coarse blow onto your ass.

a squeal rips from your mouth. the smirk tugging his lips only stretches, “yeah? does my dirty girl like that? fuckin nasty, say it. you love me spanking you.” his demands reign true.

“fuck yeah, holland, keep spanking me- please . need it, need you so bad-” you're cut off by another smack. the print plastered on your ass screams in rouge while the abdomen of his fingers scream in slight pain. your words only egg him on further. the animalistic thrusts only grow increasingly coarse, you feel his fat cock twitch in your ass. it's too much, for both of you. another thrust, your eyes squeeze shut. your pussy welcomes another wreck of his balls, hitting your sopping hole hard.

it's only a few more seconds until you can feel his hot load shoot into you. just not the familiar way. your own release follows suit and of course holland notices. the cracked moans you mewl, the way your body flinches and almost falls limp. yet once he pulls out, you finally give in to complete limpness. he's slow in his movements, eyes glued to the way his cum leaks from the security of your forbidden hole. proudly, he still watches. his chest puffed outwards in complete confidence. the mattress sucks him in once he decides to fall beside you, tapping your ass for good measure. except the tap is soft and gentle.

“how was that baby, i can clean you up, if you want.” the scorching thought of his mouth lapping up your own cum, swallowing it all, is one that pleases you.

again, you give him a nod. the words are too late to arrive.

“i'll go gentle sweetheart, i promise.”

#holland march #holland march smut #holland march x reader #holland march x you #holland march x y/n #holland march fic #the nice guys #the nice guys fic #ryan gosling smut #ryan gosling fic #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling x you #ryan gosling x y/n #nasty smut #excuse me for this ty

[drivinmeinsane]

Thoughts on Holland March as a romantic partner

He's constantly joking around. There's rarely a serious moment with him. He is a total smartass and showoff for you and Holly. He would use the most godawful pickup lines. He's fond of dramatically swooping your hand to his lips and giving it the wettest kiss he can manage. It's a little gross but it makes you laugh when he makes eye contact with you and waggles his eyebrows while he does it. He's a total sweetheart and always means well (unless, of course, you're trash talking someone together). He enthusiastically supports you in any of your endeavors. He's your biggest cheerleader. Holland wants your affection all the time. He wants you to look at him and touch him as much as possible. He's always pulling some ridiculous stunt or making wild conclusions about cases to get your attention and hopefully impress you. You'll never be able to get him out of the bathroom. He practically lives there. Need to take a bath or shower? Too bad, you'll just have to climb right in there with him even if he's wearing a full suit and shoes. Dramatically whiny. He's a total disaster of a human. Overly theatrical. If he stubs his toe or knocks his head on something you'll hear a long, drawn out shriek. He's an absolute diva when he's sick. He constantly claims he's dying at the smallest discomfort. You lose count of how many times you've had to hold his hand in the urgent care, he's that clumsy. On a case or at home, he always manages to find a way to hurt himself. He always looks at you with dazed, helpless eyes while you reassure him that he's just fine. His anxiety would sometimes really show. He's so worried that he's not going to notice something and you or Holly would get injured or killed. His inability to smell anything bothers him. He's worried about another catastrophe happening because of it. He lives and breathes for validation. There's a lot of self-doubt and loneliness riding on his shoulders. A little bit of reassurance and positive words goes a long ways with him. He's proud of his work as a PI and shines like the sun whenever you tell him he's done a good job. He would start to drink less with you around. He wouldn't have as much persistent sadness to numb. You make him happy. He's more present and attentive. Holly no longer has to drive him to and from the bar. He doesn't get blackout drunk anymore with you in the picture. He's still a dysfunctional human being, but your companionship gives him someone to rely on. There's no one he would rather be the nosiest neighbors and judgiest parents with than with you. He is a devoted partner and father. You and Holly would never be left behind. He's as loyal as they come.

18+ thoughts below the cut

He's always eager in bed. He's always so loud and vocal that you have to shush him because the entire neighborhood is going to hear what exactly is going on in the March household if he doesn't quiet down. He has a fondness for getting bent over and fucked. He's the loudest on those occasions. He runs his mouth incoherently until he's left whimpering from overstimulation. He doesn't have a praise kink himself (despite peacocking for attention and desperately needing reassurance) but loves dealing out compliments and encouragements any time things get hot and heavy. He's not opposed to being bound with his own necktie when you want him to keep his hands to himself so you play with him undistracted by his wandering touch. He can be a bit bratty sometimes. He's prone to petulant whines whenever he's made to wait. He respects boundaries but damn if he isn't insatiably horny for you.

@danime25

#holland march #the nice guys #Holland March headcanons #If this character was your partner #reader x holland march #holland march x reader #my work #self insert #my posts

[mlmxreader]

Tell Me One Thing | Holland March x gn!reader

anonymous asked: hello hello i hope you’re doing as well as you can :) i was wondering if i could request some holland march x gn!reader with the prompts: “hey, hey, look at me c’mon” and “for what it’s worth, i’m proud of you”. where basically holland’s on a case and someone recognises him as the reader’s boyfriend but they have some very strong opinions about them being together and say kinda nasty things. he gets home before the reader and the latter finds him curled in upon himself like overthinking and stuff and comforts him. thank you! :)

summary: March has a habit of letting certain things get under his skin a bit too much, but thankfully, his partner comforts him when he needs it.

tws: swearing, alcohol consumption, smoking, mentions of injury, mentions of alcoholism

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

It seemed like a normal enough day.

Healy was chatting to people in the busy street while Holland waited by the car and smoked; they were just looking for some old lady's lost dog, but money was money, and private investigators like Healy and March couldn't afford to turn down a job.

Holland did think, though, that he might be able to escape to the nearest payphone and call you; Holly was at school - hopefully - by now, which meant that the chances were, you were at home for a little while before your shift started.

He debated it, and when he saw that Healy was still chatting, he made his mind up; his bandaged fingers thumbled with the numbers, but he got there in the end and lit another cigarette.

But as it was ringing, someone knocked on the booth. Figuring that they probably just wanted to use it, he opened the door, and clenched his jaw.

"Can't you fucking see it's in use?"

The stranger looked him up and down for a moment. "Aren't you dating the person that used to live on Foxtrot Street?"

Holland quirked a brow. "Y/N?"

"Yeah," they nodded. "You're the new boyfriend, right?"

Holland shrugged as he scoffed. "The fuck do you wanna know for? Go on, get lost, pal."

The stranger didn't budge, folding their arms across their chest. "Y'know, I think it's absolutely sickening. A nice person like that, with scum like you - it's a surprise they haven't crawled into the bottom of a bottle, as well."

He rolled his eyes, attempting to close the door on them, but they put their hand on the frame. "Just fucking let me make a call."

"Please," they huffed. "Leave them alone. They deserve better than some P.I who drinks too much to even care about his own kid. You're gonna fuck them over, just like you fuck everybody else over. Leave them alone."

They only backed off once Healy approached, and although he wanted to talk about it, Holland couldn't find the energy to do so; he got in the car, hardly spoke but swigged from his flask like there was no tomorrow.

When Healy dropped him off, Holland had only one thing in mind: bed.

He flopped down onto the soft mattress, face buried against the pillows as he closed his eyes; maybe they were right. They did have a point, but he had been working on his drinking. But he was also useless - he fell off of several balconies that day, all on the ground floor at least unlike last time.

Maybe he would fuck you over. He didn't want to, but maybe he would. He spent what felt like eternity laid there, but eventually moved onto his side, cuddling into a pillow as he brought his knees to his chest, staring out at nothing.

He hoped Holly wouldn't be home any time soon, she didn't need to see her father worrying so badly about something that a stranger had said.

But Holly didn't come home first.

Holland knew it wasn't her when he heard the door lock from the inside, a muttering voice listing out all the chores to do throughout the house; familiar footprints slowly approaching along with the scent of his cologne, like the wearer had stolen one of his shirts.

He usually smiled, but not today. He just sighed and cuddled into the pillow even more.

"Hey, baby," you hummed, not thinking much at first as you shrugged your jacket off and hung it up on the corner of the wardrobe. Sweat trickling down your back and clinging to your forehead. "How was your day?"

Holland grumbled. "Why are you still here?"

You furrowed your brows as you turned around, shoving your hands into your pockets. "What do you mean?"

"I'm just gonna fuck you up," he sighed. "I fuck everything up and you… deserve better."

"Oh, Holland," you sighed, squatting down so that your eyes were on the same level as his. "Holland, Holland, Holland… you're not gonna fuck me up. I mean, you do give me really bad fright every time you go out, but that's because I know you - I know you're not exactly great with balconies."

Holland sighed.

But you wouldn't relent. "Hey, hey, look at me, c'mon… atta boy. Listen to me, baby - do you really think I'd leave?"

He shrugged. "You should."

"I'm not going to," you said softly. "No one, and I mean no one, has made me laugh as much as you can. You think I'd give all that up?"

"I make you laugh?"

"Yes," you leaned forward, gently kissing his forehead. "And that means everything to me, you know that… you wanna tell me what happened?"

"Someone approached me while we were working," he said quietly. "Said some pretty shitty things."

"And you let them get under your skin," you hummed, nodding. "Y'know, this is only like the window incident."

Usually, he smiled at the reminder.

When he had been playfully bickering with you at a party and he had thought that a window was shut, only to lean back and fall right through it, landing on a buffet table crowded by people.You laughed the entire way to the hospital, and he had never heard something so wonderful.

But he had allowed one of the doctors comments about you to get under his skin, just as he had now.

"Y'know, for what it's worth, I'm proud of you," you told him. "I really am."

Slowly, Holland dared to sit upright, spreading his legs so that you were between them, looking up at him with your head leaning on his thigh, a small smile on your lips. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you confirmed, gently pushing him back until his back hit the mattress, straddling his waist. "You gonna let go of the pillow?"

He threw it, and ignored whatever went crashing down with it as he eagerly gripped at your sides. "Better?"

"Much," you nodded. laughing loudly when he moved to pin you onto your back beneath him, your wrists in his hands as he pinned them above your head. "Don't start something that you can't finish, mind, March."

"I can finish it," he murmured. "Just… tell me one thing."

"Anything."

"Tell me you love me."

#mlem writes #holland march x reader #holland march imagine #holland march #the nice guys #the nice guys x reader #the nice guys fanfiction #the nice guys imagine #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling imagine #ryan gosling

[ken-dom]

March Magic

Holland March x afab!reader

4k words

∘₊✧ Summary: Three times Holland March couldn't get it up, and one time he could.

∘₊✧ Authors’s notes: I've missed Holland, but upon a rewatch of The Nice Guys, he crashed my doors down and proceeded to experience erectile dysfunction in my living room so. Here you have it. Thank you to the wonderful K for beta reading and being the best as usual!! The warnings are pretty wild on this one so... strap in.

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: NSFW, erectile dysfunction, crying, passing out, smoking, oral sex, shotgun kissing (both the pussy and the mouth), mention of bee mating rituals/bee death, hand job, blow job, premature ejaculation, Holland having hyperspermia as usual, kind of established relationship, general wet cat pathetic energy

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

‘Mmh- I uh- I’ll be right back,’ Holland mumbled against your kiss-swollen lips, ‘wait there- don’t move-’

His body clumsily moved off the bed until he was stood, stooped over you with lips still attached to yours until you dropped back onto the bed and finally freed him.

‘Don’t be too long, sexy,’ you winked at him as he slinked off toward his adjoining bathroom, and he huffed a faux coy laugh.

What the fuck did he need to go to the bathroom for at this late stage? Maybe it’s where he keeps the condoms, you thought, relaxing against his luxuriously soft pillows. Makes sense, he probably hasn’t used one for a while, what would be the use of keeping them by the bed?

Meanwhile, Holland let out a long, steadying exhale. You hadn’t noticed. Jesus. How he’d got this far without you trying to grope him and realising what was going on (or not going on), he’d no idea, but he’d managed to distract you long enough by pressing his thigh between your legs while kissing you sloppily and needily, and you seemed to drink it up, moaning into his mouth and writhing against him.

Hell, he could feel your heat through his trousers and wondered with a smirk whether he’d need to get this suit dry cleaned and make up an excuse about the mysterious wet patch just above the knee.

Your fingers in his hair were sending shivers down his spine, and heat was pooling in his lower belly, and you kept breathing his name, and it was all so incredibly fucking hot, but for reasons he didn’t want to acknowledge, his dick just wouldn’t respond.

He slipped into the bathroom and clicked the door shut behind him, collapsing against it and closing his eyes. He didn’t bother to switch on the light; he could feel the room spinning, he didn’t need to see it too.

His hand slid down over his flaccid cock, and for a moment, he thought, Pathetic, but then he tried to focus his thoughts back to you. Back to the way your body felt pressed against his, the way you uttered his name like a desperate, horny prayer, how good you’d feel when he finally managed to get it up and bury himself inside you.

He palmed himself over his trousers halfheartedly, knowing deep down it was a lost cause, and with his voice lower than a whisper, he uttered a shaky, ‘March, March, he’s our man! If he can’t do it, no one can. Maaaarch!’

Not even a twitch.

He slid down to the floor and sobbed, banging his head back against the door, and the darkened room turned suddenly darker.

Until the morning, when he found you asleep on the bed, clutching his pillow in lieu of the man himself.

****

‘Wanna taste you-’ Holland slurred against your throat. He wished he could smell you, smell the perfume he could taste, bitter against his tongue, but at least he could bury his face between your thighs and intoxicate himself in you that way.

There was also the small problem of his cock not playing ball again, despite tearing your clothes off, his hands exploring every inch of you, despite you telling him you needed him in that sultry, seductive voice that drove him wild.

He wasn’t going to leave you dissatisfied and alone again, no matter how far gone he was. Not this time. Come on, March.

He felt you nod, heard the desperation in your whine of agreement, and slipped lower, realising as he gripped your thighs to spread them apart that he still had an unlit cigarette propped between his fingers from when you’d kissed him while trying to light said cigarette. Who could blame you for getting distracted by those gorgeous, sparklingly sad eyes and pressing your lips to his instead?

‘Oh shit- give me a second-’ he mumbled, more to himself than to you, but as he moved to drop the cigarette, you grabbed and held his hands firmly against your thighs to stop him moving it away. When he looked up at you, questioning, you reached for the lighter on the nightstand and lit it for him.

‘Carry on,’ you smirked.

Holland swallowed hard. That was the hottest thing you’d ever done. Well, the second hottest, besides actually letting him eat you out whilst smoking, which was about to take first place.

‘Jesus…’

He took a long drag, partly a need, since he hadn’t smoked in a hot fifteen minutes, partly a show for you. He relished in the way you bit your lip as you watched his eyes sliding shut at the brief satisfaction at the nicotine hit. He exhaled slowly too, relishing in it as though it were giving him the pleasure he should be feeling from you.

Fuck. He shouldn't be focusing on that right now. He dragged a soft fingertip through your slick folds and felt you shudder. Taking another drag, he exhaled right at the moment he dove down to wrap his lips around your swollen clit, smoke spreading a tingling warmth around your exposed core.

Somewhere between lapping at your folds and devouring your clit, Holland realised he’d neglected his cigarette and the consequences could be… fuck, stop thinking- just-

Feeling your thighs clench around him, he half-reluctantly pulled back for another drag, and to flick some loose ash into the ashtray by the bed, and you whined in protest, already so close you could feel your bundle of nerves throbbing in the absence of his tongue. Holland sure worked fast, but he was easily distracted, too, and you couldn’t even blame him for this since this was technically your idea.

This time, as he exhaled, his tongue dipped inside, the smoke hot against your cooling slick as it swirled back out of your entrance and up around your folds, and, admiring the combination for moment, Holland licked a stripe right up to your clit to start right back where he’d left off.

He carefully slid a finger inside this time, too, surprisingly delicate in his movements as he beckoned, stroking that spot inside you that made your toes curl so precisely as his mouth took care of the rest.

Jesus, he sure knows his way around down there- 

‘Fuck- f-fuck- Holland-!’

Your climax was so close you could practically taste it, and so could he, but there was the small complication of his cigarette still burning by your thigh.

Hips rolling to rut against his tongue as he lapped eagerly, fingerfucking you with enthusiastic vigour, your back arched off the bed and your fingers found their way into his messy sun-kissed hair, and just as your breath turned ragged, he pulled away again for another nicotine hit.

Not only did he leave you exposed to the cold air without his mouth covering you, but his finger apparently couldn’t continue to fuck into you while he was focussing on the cigarette, either. He’d never been great at multitasking and obviously the Camel was just too delicious to try. Fucking hell.

‘Tease,’ you groaned weakly, and Holland, sobering slightly (only very slightly, and very, very briefly) finally realised what this was doing to you and shoved the end of the cigarette into the ashtray, diving back down to finish the job properly, almost choking on the combination of smoke and pussy in the process. God, it tasted incredible together and he was so into it that it took no time at all for you to get that simmering feeling right back.

He felt your orgasm approach, and then shake through your body, felt you turn limp after the high subsided, and carried on for a while, softer and slower, until your thighs were clamping around his head again with oversensitivity and he ate you like a man possessed once again.

Just as your second orgasm approached, Holland seemed to slow, so you jerked your hips to spur him on, but suddenly he felt heavier too, and when you called his name in frustration, he didn’t answer.

You guessed he’d finally passed out, and propped yourself up on your elbows. You inadvertently slid your folds over his handsome nose as you manoeuvred, gasping at the sensation which, although subtle, tipped you over the edge. Your breath caught and your blood boiled and every fibre of you trembled with pleasure you hadn’t expected. 

His finger, although still, was still firmly thrust inside you and your walls clenched hard around it as you slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from yelling out and waking him.

Jesus… I’m gonna have to ride that nose for real, you mused when your thoughts turned coherent again, and then you began the process of sliding out from beneath him and dragging his messy, half-dressed form further up the bed and onto his pillow for some rest.

You cleaned yourself up before sinking into bed beside him to sleep, but you left his moustache soaked with your essence. You knew it would drive him wild in the morning, and maybe it would be the push he needed to finally chase his own pleasure.

****

It wasn’t.

He woke to you suckling at his neck, your arm thrown around his waist from behind, fingers toying with the waistband of his trousers.

His head was pounding when he woke, and with just one eye half open, he turned into you, a big dumb smile pulling at his lips.

His lips felt dry so without even thinking he licked them, tasting you immediately and groaning.

‘You taste incredible, you know that?’ he croaked, your fingers now working on the button of his fly.

Holland had absolutely no recollection of how last night ended. He could taste you, sure, but he barely remembered how he’d ended up in bed with you this time. He was a detective after all, though, and what kind of lousy detective would wake up with their lover wrapped around them, fingers teasing at their belly, their taste fresh on his lips, and not put together that he must have spent some time downtown? 

And you did taste delicious. Fuck, he really wished he could smell you.

He wanted you. He needed you. Since the moment you’d laid eyes on one another. And right now, he was so thankful to wake up with you already trying to satisfy him despite what a mess he probably looked. And yet, as usual, he couldn’t perform. 

‘Wait-’ he breathed, hand flying down to wrap around your wrist and gently ease you out of his trousers before you actually felt how soft he was.

‘What’s wrong, baby?’

Holland’s eyes snapped shut, his hand dropping yours to press his fingers into his eyelids instead.

He knew this would be it. 

‘I- I can’t-’ he tried, gesturing vaguely to his cock. ‘It’s not your fault. I just- I can’t-’

He cut himself off with a dramatic, choked out sob, and scrambled for a cigarette on the nightstand. There was only an empty packet and he dropped himself back onto the bed, whimpering, shoulders shaking as tears began to roll down his cheeks.

‘Fuck! I’m pathetic, I’m-’

He felt the mattress bounce as you moved away and whimpered, knowing he’d likely never see you again.

He did, though. A split second later when you sat cross legged beside him and popped a cigarette between his lips, offering a light, which he gratefully accepted.

The first inhale relaxed him more than he could comprehend, and he shuffled up to sit against the headboard, trying to steady his breathing.

‘Thank you,’ he said huskily. He meant it as gratitude for not leaving, but you handing him a cigarette masked thay enough for him not to feel more pathetic than he already did.

You placed a hand on his thigh. It wasn’t suggestive of anything other than comfort, and he appreciated that.

‘Take your time, ok?’

His brow furrowed, but he nodded anyway. Why would you wait for him?

‘Besides, when you eat me out like that, I’m hardly in a rush,’ you smiled, playfully.

Holland managed a small smile at that too.

‘That’s the March Magic,’ he muttered.

‘Oh, so that’s what you call it?’

‘Call what?’

‘Shotgun kissing my-’ you pointed between your legs.

‘I did what?!’

‘You don’t remember? Jesus. It was good, anyway. You’re good, March. And I’m sure when you’re ready, your cock will be just as delicious.’ 

He turned weak at your choice of words, turning temporarily dizzy as you absentmindedly licked your lips.

‘Wanna kiss me? Just kissing. Nothing else this time, ok?’

He whined and nodded again, leaning forward to enjoy the most tender kiss he could remember since- well. For a while.

You could taste yourself on him, but not for long as your mouth filled with his second hand smoke and you choked a little. You kept your lips pressed to his, though, tongues sliding together sweetly, with no expectations beyond this simple affection.

You felt your own cheeks grow damp and knew he was crying again. But you didn’t stop. He needed this, you realised, and you were more than willing to give him whatever he needed right now.

‘March,’ you whispered when you eventually pulled back for breath.

‘Mmh?’

‘How about you get yourself cleaned up while I run out to grab us some lunch? I can run you a bath?’

‘Yeah,’ he sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Yeah that would be really fucking good actually.’

****

‘That one’s a keeper.’

‘Huh?’ March was trying to get to sleep, but his mind was whirring with thoughts of how you’d cared for him today.

How you’d washed his hair after he sunk into the warm water, covered by bubbles, laid him some fresh clothes out for him, shared a nice lunch together, and spent the afternoon watching a movie and laughing and kissing. 

He hadn’t thought about his little problem all night, and you were to thank for that. 

He was pretty sure he was falling in love actually, and his thoughts were so occupied with the joy and despair that came along with that old, familiar feeling reigniting inside him, that he couldn’t fall asleep. The fact that he’d barely drank a thing today probably contributed to that too.

Maybe he should-

‘Don’t even think about it.’

That voice again. Who the fuck-

Holland turned, frowning to find his old pal, Bumble wedged right between you and him, hogging the covers.

‘Bumble. What do you want?’

Bumble took a long drag of his cigarette. 

‘Listen, I’m telling you — that one’s a keeper.’

‘Yeah, that’s what I’ve been stuck on. You really think so?’

‘You can’t even fuck and you’ve got room service and cigarettes being lit for you and kisses on tap. Yeah I think so.’

‘That’s not why I lov- I mean-’

Bumble chuckled. Holland frowned.

‘You worked the March Magic, huh?’

‘How do you know about- what? No. I mean. I- yeah but that’s not-’

‘Look, March, when killer bees fuck, the bee with the dick usually dies. You get to cum and live to tell the tale! You’ll be fine. You just gotta relax.’

Holland felt hazy. This was almost too much information to take in. But he remembered the relaxing part. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. Just take it easy. Your dick’ll be hard in no time. Night.’ 

‘Night, Bumble. Thanks for the pep talk.’

Holland yawned, and Bumble was gone.

****

Holland shifted in the warmth of the morning light. Something was off.

He stretched his legs and rolled onto his back to look at you, see if you were awake yet, see if he could figure out why he felt kind of… weird.

You were sleeping soundly beside him, your arm still draped over his middle beneath the sheets. Nothing unusual there, over the last couple of months you’d come to stay over with him more nights than not when he wasn’t working a case, and even then he’d sometimes find you in his bed when he returned home, and thanks to this he’d actually slept in his bed instead of finding a spot somewhere he felt safe. You’d made bed safe. You’d made him feel safe.

He smiled at the thought, and tried to shift his focus onto this feeling he was trying to place. It must be early – he’d not woken up before 10am for as long as he could remember and the clock on the dresser said 08:07.

He propped himself up to take a look around the room and actually screamed when he saw the huge tent formed in the sheets between his legs.

Jaw dropping, Holland fell back onto his pillow, muttering wildly, ‘Am I dreaming? Jesus, am I actually hard? Is this real?!’ 

He poised his thumb and forefinger over his other forearm and laughed, loudly and heartily, pinching his arm so hard he hurt himself and let out a little yelp mid giggle. It was real! He was awake, and he was hard.

Head spinning, Holland called your name in an excited whisper at first, turning himself to lay face to face with you and careful not to accidentally prod you with his raging hard on. What a nice problem to have to worry about! He let out a little, ‘Ha!’ at the thought.

He called your name again, louder this time, gently gripping your shoulder in sheer excitement. He hadn’t even considered yet that you’d want to actually do anything with his boner. He was just so thrilled that his dick still worked, he wanted to share it with the whole world. There was even a fleeting moment that he considered calling Healy, but he shook the thought from his head and tried to focus.

When your eyes blinked open, although taken aback that he was awake before you, you automatically smiled at his gleeful face and leant forward to kiss him, but in the buzz of excitement, he completely missed his cue and rolled away to demonstrate the tent in the sheets once again.

‘Look! It works! Ha! It really works!’

‘Jesus…’ you breathed, propping yourself up to get a good look at the size of him. ‘Holland… that’s so great, baby, I knew you could do it!’

‘It’s all thanks to Bumble!’ he smiled like an idiot. You didn’t ask.

Giddy, you sang out his little mantra; ‘March, March, he’s our man! If he can’t do it no one can! Maaaarch-mmh!’

His lips joined with yours then, cutting you off until he pulled back to get another look at the magnificent sight of his dick in full working order.

‘Holland…’ you started, and he hummed in your direction. ‘May I… touch you?’

All of the breath seemed to exit his body like a juice box being crushed underfoot. He wheezed out a, ‘Yes- please!’ followed by a slightly more coherent, ‘Touch- lick- anything. Go nuts!’

You slipped your hand back to his stomach, gradually pushing lower until you reached the waistband of his pyjamas (another new development; he wasn’t sleeping in his suits nearly as much these days).

‘Holland, are you sure you’re ready?’

‘I’ve been ready for months,’ he sighed, ‘it’s just a shame my schwanz has taken this long to catch up. Listen, I-’

‘It’s alright,’ you stopped him, feeling his body tense up, knowing where his thoughts were going. ‘I know it might be… quick. I don’t mind. Actually it’s kind of hot…’

Holland relaxed. Jesus, why did you have to be so understanding – and in such a sexy way? It was jarring. It felt nice. It made him fall for you all the more, and knew then that Bumble had been right about you. Holland had no intention of losing you.

Your fingers ghosted over his tip, and your palm slid down to feel out the length of him before you wrapped your fingers carefully around the base and pumped slowly. You planned to learn his body like he was learning yours, to memorise every response your touch elicited, know every trick in the book to drive him wild.

You glanced up from the hypnotising view of your hand stroking him beneath the sheets to see his face already slack with pleasure, mouth agape and eyes shut in bliss. Jesus, he was receptive. Delicious.

You moved your hand up to swipe your thumb over the tip, and discovered that not only did it cause his hips to buck, but there was already a thick bead of precum waiting for you there. 

He was moaning almost nonstop at this point. Your fist moved faster and Holland began to writhe. Actually writhe beneath you – legs trembling, toes curling, didn’t have a clue what to do with his limbs, or his hands; other than try and grasp at the bedding.

‘Jesus! F-fuck! Oh!’ he cried, loud and desperate, and you were so tempted to bring him off like this, to pump him furiously until he stained the sheets, but equally you craved more.

You wouldn’t ever say this to him, but the thought wouldn’t leave you alone; what if he couldn’t get it up again for a good couple of months and you’d passed up the chance to taste him when it was given so beautifully to you? No. You had to grasp this opportunity with both hands. Or, as the case may be, with one hand and your mouth.

Keeping your movements steady, you shuffled down, pushing the covers lower, too, and got your first proper look at his hard cock. It was quite the sight; as long and thick as it felt, handsome, steadily leaking – fit to burst actually. 

You wasted no more time, carefully kissing his tip first, slowing your hand a little to test the waters without overwhelming him, and he whimpered so prettily you almost lost composure.

As your lips wrapped around his tip and you sank down lower, sucking, swirling your tongue, keeping your hand pumping fast where he wouldn’t fit, you suddenly felt bitter heat coating your tongue.

Not just coating your tongue, filling your mouth. You did your best to keep going, to suck and lap and massage him through his peak, but it wasn’t just his drawn out screech of pleasure that was distracting you, it was the amount of cum he was still spilling all the while. Despite swallowing down what you could of the never ending hot rope, choking a little on the sheer volume, it still dribbled out past your lips, dripping onto his legs and stomach and the surrounding sheets that he was balling into tight fists.

When you emerged from the mess to crawl up over him and check he was doing ok, you were faced with the most blissed out, fucked out, sated, dumb smile you’d ever seen on his handsome face. He’s never looked more peaceful, and, as much as your core was throbbing after what you’d just done, you wanted more than anything to let him rest.

So you did. You settled on his chest, not caring about the stickiness drying between your flush bodies or around your lips, and listened to his heart, steady in his chest.

‘Fuck,’ he whispered after a long pause. ‘That was- fuck…’

You smiled to yourself, sure that after so long, anything he could get would have felt incredible, but you still took a little pride in the fact that you were the one to experience it with him.

‘You want me to make breakfast?’ you offered gently.

‘I want you to be my breakfast, does that count?’ he smirked.

‘No, Holland, I just want you to enjoy the moment. Don’t worry about me.’

‘Oh, I’m not worried.’

Holland shifted beneath you and you felt the beginnings of another erection stiffening his cock.

Your eyes widened as his opened, and your gazes locked.

‘You fixed it.’

‘Holland, please,’ you laughed. ‘I did not fix your dick.’

‘Of course you did, it’s the only explanation! Anyway, look, do you want to fix its current problem?’ His hips thrust upwards to nudge his now rock hard cock against your thigh to make sure you felt it.

‘Holland, if you’re not fucking me the March way within the next minute, I’m out of here.’

He laughed again and it occurred to you that you’d never spoken to him this early, or heard him laugh so much in a morning.

‘The March way?’ he raised an amused eyebrow at you.

‘Yeah.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I’m hoping you’re about to show me.’

And show you, he most certainly did.

#not s f w 💀 #holland march #holland march smut #holland march x reader #holland march x you #holland march x y/n #holland march fic #the nice guys 2016 #the nice guys #the nice guys fic #ryan gosling smut #ryan gosling #ryan gosling fic #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling x you #ryan gosling x y/n #ken-dom writes

[xtrokeme]

i'm taking one-shot requests for ryan gosling and jake gyllenhaal characters x reader if you are interested, i'm not a pro but i want to give it a try !!

ryan gosling's characters i can write:

holland march (the nice guys)*

sebastian wilder (la la land)*

driver (drive)*

sierra six (the gray man)

officer k (blade runner 2049)

henry letham (stay)

jerry wooters (gangster squad)

dean (blue valentine)

jake gyllenhaal's characters i can write:

detective loki (prisoners)*

billy hope (southpaw)

donnie (donnie darko)

-----

* means that they're my favs

don't hesitate to send a request please !!!

#holland march #holland march x reader #drive 2011 #drive 2011 x reader #sebastian wilder #sebastian wilder x reader #officer k x reader #la la land #jerry wooters x reader #gangster squad #blade runner 2049 #henry letham x reader #detective loki x reader #prisoners #billy hope x reader #southpaw #donnie darko x reader #donnie darko #the nice guys #requests #one shot #x reader #ryan gosling x reader #jake gyllenhaal x reader #ryan gosling #jake gyllenhaal

[lifeiskentastic]

Masterlist

My own masterlist of Ryan Gosling's characters.

Ken

Ken makes a gift to the gn!Reader

The first kiss of gn!Reader and Ken

gn!Reader begs Ken not to brainwash dolls. Ken doesn't listen.

Ken is jealous of gn!Reader (but for absolutely no reason)

Ken plays Cowboy, and gn!Reader helps him with it

Ken plays board games with gn!Reader

Ken tastes Real World ice cream with gn!Reader

Ken flirts (albeit not very successfully) with a officer gn!Reader

Ken x gn!Reader as friends to lovers story

Sebastian Wilder

Sebastian plays a lullaby on the piano for the gn!Reader

Sebastian visits the bartender gn!Reader

gn!Reader leads a drunken Seb out of his bar

Holland March

gn!Reader in one car with Holland March in the middle of a traffic jam

SNL Elf

gn!Reader conducts a "purely friendly" introduce of the Elf with human relations (including practice)

Luke Glanton

Dan Dunne

gn!Reader and Luke agree to quit smoking (at least one of them)

Flirting Luke and gn!Reader

First meeting of gn!Reeder and Dan (photoshoot included)

Dan makes a marriage proposal to gn!Reader

Noah Calhoun

young!Noah wakes the gn!Reader

Richard Haywood

Richard Haywood and gn!Reader as friends to lovers story

If you want, you can give me a request. I accept anything and everything, so feel free to do so.

#masterlist #phew I finally made it #ryan gosling #ken x reader #luke glanton x reader #sebastian wilder x reader #ryan gosling x reader #holland march x reader #dan dunne x reader #noah calhoun x reader

[bisexual-magnus-bane]

Tears of Pleasure

NSFW, crying, angst, smut

Holland March was the biggest mess you have ever had the chance to meet.

The grip on your hips burned like a harsh bug bite. Teeth clashing into lips and fumbling with clothing.

“God you’re gonna be the death of me.” Holland moans into your mouth.

He was drinking everything in sight at the party and now you know why, the ring hanging around his beautiful neck.

Not to complicate matters anymore but as he laid you down on the bed it swung and hit you in the face, giggling you told him it was okay no need to be upset. Now with tears already in his eyes, he slowly pulled at his own clothes. Ring now hiding under his wife beater.

“Hey listen you don’t have to take it off, you look sexy just the way you are!” You exclaimed to him. He had a small smile on his face as he took his hands off himself and put them to work on getting the rest of your clothes off.

When his pants were finally off and you were fully naked is when you realized how big he was, in fact huge. With a condom on he proceeded to thrust into and all was going well, your moans filled the air and it was great until you felt water on your boobs and didn’t know what the fuck was happening.

Holland kept repeating the same thing over and over again.

“You’re the best thing I’ve ever felt. The best thing I’ve ever felt. The best.”

You didn’t know why and where the tears were coming from so you grabbed at his face and the look you got made you want to swaddle him in a blanket and never let this man go.

“Hey hey it’s okay why are you so upset talk to me!” You managed to get out through the moans, oh yes he didn’t stop fucking.

“It’s so wrong to say but I never felt anyone better than you.” He sputtered out and with a sharp thrust and a long, low moan he was cumming and you didn’t even get the chance. But here was this man who was crying on your chest and trying to explain and you just didn’t have the heart to get upset with him.

Sliding him out of you and taking off the condom you’re shocked with how much cum is in the condom. Regardless you throw it in the trash and turn back around to his sobbing frame. Wrapping him up under the covers you crawl in naked, snuggling into his large body. You slowly lull him to sleep with words of kindness and he finally stopped crying. You hummed to yourself as you slowly breathed him in.

Holland March was the biggest mess you have ever had the chance to meet. But you feel for him even more that he needed someone around.

#pinterest #aesthetic #ryan gosling #the nice guys #holland march #holland march x reader #holland march x you #holland March fanfic #holland march smut #ryan gosling x reader

[elusivewildflower]

Just Another Case | Holland March x Reader

Pairings: Holland March x F! Reader

Summary: You and Holland have been partners for the last year, solving case after ridiculous case together. Even though you’ve been mistaken as a couple countless times while working, the two of you are simply close friends. You might have feelings for him, but you’re sure he doesn’t feel the same. That is, until one particular case comes along on your laundry day, where you’re down to your last piece of clean clothing---a dress and no underwear. 

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of sex, the case is about catching a husband cheating. Mostly turns out to be pretty sweet. 

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve written or posted anything, but I hope I’ll be able to get back on track soon! Work and life has been pretty busy lately. I know in the movie Holland mentions that a “no-fault” law ended a lot of his cases like this, but let’s just say one pops up every now and then. (Because let’s be honest, even if I could divorce with no fault, I’d still like to have proof my spouse is cheating). Thank you to @ninjathrowingstork & another friend for beta-ing this for me! Based on the scene idea I had last week and the request I had sitting in my inbox by @wndawtch​.

You press your back against the wall in your kitchen, holding the phone to your ear as your fingers twirl the cord impatiently. The line rang once, twice, and then a third time before you cursed under your breath. If he hadn’t answered by the third ring, you knew he wasn’t going to. It rang two more times before you were greeted with the familiar message of Holland’s answering machine. 

“You have reached March & Co Investigations. This machine records messages. Wait for the tone and speak clearly.” 

The answering machine beeps and you begin speaking. 

“Holland, did you forget you’re supposed to be working today? We were scheduled to meet Mrs. Jenkins at noon and you never showed.” You paused, heaving a sigh. “I swear, if you’re fully dressed and asleep in the tub again—“

The other line picked up and Holland’s groggy voice reached your ears, cutting you off. “What’s so bad about sleeping in the tub?” 

“Aside from the chance of drowning?” You asked rhetorically before continuing, “because you think that sitting in a tub full of water washes both you and what you’re wearing. Which is so not true, by the way.” 

“Oh yeah, says who?” He retorted defiantly.

“I do—and probably a lot of other people if we asked.” You responded quickly, not even waiting for Holland to come up with a response before you began speaking once more. “Get yourself dried off and ready to go. I’ll pick you up in an hour so we can actually start working—I’ve got a lead.” 

Holland gave a grumble of agreement and you slammed the receiver back onto the base to hang up. Sometimes you couldn’t understand why you had agreed to be Holland’s partner over a year ago. He had a serious drinking problem and always seemed to get himself into trouble. On the other hand, he was also extremely intelligent—one of the best private investigator’s you had ever seen on his good days—and he was quite attractive. Throw in his sob story about being a single father to a teenage daughter who lost his wife in a house fire and you were hooked. 

Not that the two of you had ever crossed over the line of being business partners and friends aside from a few flirtatious remarks, but honestly you wouldn’t mind it. You had grown rather close to the young widower and his daughter, Holly, over the last year. Hell, when Holly started her period a few months ago, she called and told you first before mentioning it to her father. You spent more time at their rental home than at your own, and you honestly lost count of the times people had mistaken you for a couple when you were on a case.

You glanced up at the clock on the wall before heaving a sigh and pushing yourself from the wall you were leaning against to call Holland. There was enough time to start a load of laundry, but it wouldn’t finish drying before you had to leave. As you rounded up the hamper from your bedroom filled to the brim with dirty clothes, you cursed yourself for not waking up earlier in the morning—and also cursed your past self for not doing laundry sooner. You had donned your last piece of clean clothing this morning before meeting Mrs. Jenkins, which was a knee-length floral dress. Its color complimented your skin tone nicely, and the deeply cut neckline made your breasts look fantastic. It wasn't exactly what you'd wear on a normal day of work---unless the day consisted of trying to catch a man cheating on his wife. Which, technically you were, but today's lead included the address of his supposed mistress. You and Holland would simply need to do a bit of a stake out to see if you could catch Mrs. Jenkins' husband coming or going from the property, and the dress was definitely not needed.

Before you knew it, an hour had ticked by. You grabbed your purse, slid your heels back on, and locked the door behind you as you exited your house. You told Holland you’d pick him up in an hour, but you only lived a few streets away and he was never ready on time, so you didn’t care that you were late. Honestly, you weren’t the best with time management either, so you were thankful you had a partner that ran late. A few minutes later, and you were pulling into March's driveway, honking your horn to announce your arrival.

About ten minutes later, Holland finally emerges from his home, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. As he climbs into the passenger seat he glances over at you, doing a double take as he realizes what you’re wearing. “What bar or club are we going to?” He questions curiously.

You shake your head as you reverse out of his driveway. “We’re not going to a bar or club.” 

Holland’s brows furrowed in confusion as he ashes his cigarette out the window. “But you’re wearing the dress.” 

You should have known he’d recognize the dress. “I have the address to the alleged mistress, we don’t need to go to a bar. We’re gonna do a stake out.” You explained.

Holland still seemed confused, a frown forming on his face as he eyed you over. “What, do you have a hot date after this or something?” 

He was clearly not letting this go, and did he seem a bit upset at the thought of you having a hot date? You had to be imagining that. 

“No, no hot date. I just felt like wearing a dress,” You gave a shrug as you lied. After criticizing his method of laundry—the thought of sitting fully dressed in a tub still made you shudder—you didn’t feel like admitting that you didn’t have anything else clean. 

Holland must’ve believed you, because he stopped badgering you with questions about it. He did, however, start asking about the case. You spent the rest of the drive filling him in on the details he missed when he overslept the meeting you had with your client.

As you pulled off to the side of the road to park, your heart dropped to your stomach. Your client neglected to mention that the mistress’s house had a seven-foot tall fence all of the way around and a gated driveway. You could feel Holland’s eyes boring into the side of your head. Ignoring him, you grabbed the binoculars from the back seats and simply exited the car. You walked up to the gate at the driveway, double checking that you had the right address. Your shoulders slumped when you realized that you were at the correct address. This was going to make capturing photos for proof of his cheating more difficult. 

You heard the passenger side door slam shut as Holland joined you. “Well, this is great.” He deadpanned, placing his hands upon his hips as he surveyed the fence. 

You sighed, nodding your head in agreement. “Yep.” 

A moment of silence passed between you until Holland broke it with a click of his tongue. “Alright, come on. I’ve got an idea.” He ushered, moving to kneel down beside the fence.

Your brows furrowed as you watched him, unsure of what he was planning. 

He noticed your look of confusion and sighed, beckoning you closer. “Come on, I’m gonna lift you up there.” 

“What?” The question tumbled out of your lips before you realized it, your heart rate rising as fear coursed through you. Holland wasn’t exactly the strongest man in the world, and he tended to be clumsy. You trusted him with a lot of things, but being capable of not dropping you wasn’t one of them. Not to mention that you ran out of clean underwear this morning and were currently going commando under your dress. You swore to yourself that this was the last time you’d ever wait so long to wash clothes.

“Well, I don’t see you lifting me, and someone needs to be able to see over the fence.” He explained as if his idea made perfect sense. Which, in fairness, it did. Except for the two things you were currently worried about; Holland dropping you and seeing up your dress. 

You remained still for a few more moments, your feet refusing to move from where you stood as you mulled over your options—or lack thereof. 

Holland rolled his eyes at you as he grew impatient. “Oh, come on.” He beckoned you again, “before someone sees us!” 

Taking a deep breath, you finally agreed. “Fine,” you began, “But do not look up my dress, Holland.” You warned him sternly, pointing a finger at him. 

Holland looked insulted. “Why would I look up your dress?” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, your finger now wagging at him. “Because I know you.” 

Holland raised his hands in surrender, dropping his insulted act. “Alright, alright, I won’t look up your dress.” 

Appeased by his answer, you close the distance between you. Holland laces his fingers together, giving you a spot to place your foot. You hold onto his shoulder as you step into his hands, and he lifts you up as he moves to stand. He lifts you a bit too high too fast and you’re suddenly scrambling to grab hold of the fence so you don’t fall. 

“Jesus! Not that high!” You scold him as you struggle to find your balance. 

Holland mutters out an apology and lowers you slightly. 

Leaning yourself against the fence, you raise your binoculars to your eyes. You scan the windows of the house, starting with the first floor. Disappointment flooded your veins as you were coming up empty-handed, that is until you panned to the last window on the second floor. A nude woman was pressed against the window getting railed from behind. You couldn’t tell by who, but you assumed it was your client’s husband. You let out a gasp. Jesus Christ. That must be nice. Just as you opened your mouth to tell Holland what you had found, you heard his voice below you. 

“Holy fuck—You’re not wearing any underwear!” 

Holland’s words caused you to release your grip on the fence in a panic, snapping your attention towards him. You find him still staring up your dress in shock, his jaw dropped open. You reach out to swat at him, shouting his name in an annoyed tone. “I told you not to look!”

Your words seemed to shake Holland out of his stupor, but your swat only backfired on you. Holland tried to dodge your hand out of instinct, which only served to make him lose his balance and send the both of you toppling to the ground. It happened so quickly you don’t even remember falling, but you definitely felt the pain of the impact. Every part of your body ached, but it didn’t feel like you had broken or sprained anything, so that was good. Your head may have been pounding from smacking the ground, but it was better than your skull being cracked open by the sidewalk. You had missed that by just a few inches, you realized as you rolled onto your side. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you lift me,” you groaned out, looking over at Holland.

Clearly, you had taken the brunt of the fall, as Holland was already sitting up and staring at you. “Why aren’t you wearing any underwear?!” He asked incredulously, ignoring your previous comment.

“It’s laundry day and I didn’t have any clean!” You admitted.

Holland shook his head unbelievingly. “Jesus Christ, I need a cigarette…” He spoke as he reached into his jacket, pulling out his lighter and a cigarette just a moment later. After pulling the first drag, he regarded you once more. This time it seemed like he was checking you for any injuries, rather than staring at you like a deer in headlights. “I’m sorry for dropping you. Are you alright?” He asked sincerely, gesturing towards you with his hand.

You nodded and moved to sit up, another groan tumbled from your lips as your body ached in protest. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” You assured him. You may wind up with several bruises and have a hard time getting out of bed tomorrow, but you’d survive. 

A comfortable silence fell between you once more as Holland smoked and you let the pounding in your head subside. After a few moments, Holland snuffed out his cigarette in the grass. “That’s why you’re wearing the dress,” he announced, having put together that you lied to him earlier. “You didn’t want to wear that, you just didn’t have anything else to wear today.” 

Your eyes snapped up from the grass to meet his as he broke the silence, but you didn’t bother giving him a response, your facial expression was enough. He was right and he knew it, you didn’t need to confirm it with words. 

“I may bathe in my clothes, but at least I always have clean underwear.” He spoke in a chastising tone that had you rolling your eyes. “So, did you see anything?” He asked after a moment, gesturing towards the binoculars that were lying on the grass. 

As you glanced at where he gestured, you remembered what you had witnessed right before Holland dropped you. “Yeah, I saw a naked woman being railed against her bedroom window.” You shrugged and continued speaking as Holland reached for the binoculars. “I couldn’t see by who, though, so we’ll just have to wait until he leaves.” 

Springing up to his feet, Holland tried his best to see over the fence, hoping to catch a glimpse of the action. It was no use, though, as he wasn’t tall enough to see over it unless he backed all of the way up into the street—and then he’d likely be hit by a car. He sighed defeatedly and turned back to you. “When does Mrs. Jenkins say her husband comes home after this?” 

You looked down at your watch, your eyes widening as you realized what time it was. 1:54 p.m. Mrs. Jenkins said her husband usually got home around 2:30 p.m. and you were about thirty minutes away from where she lived. As if on cue, you hear the sound of an engine starting up in the driveway. Your attention turns back to Holland, his blue eyes connecting with yours. “Right now.” You spoke hurriedly, rushing to get yourself up from the ground. Like the gentleman he is, Holland helped you to your feet and the two of you took off running towards your car. 

“Why is our timing always so terrible?” Holland asked exasperatedly as you ran. 

“I don’t know, but I blame you.” You replied, slamming the door shut behind you as you hopped into the car. 

Holland’s door slammed shut right after yours. “You blame me? Why?” 

You’re digging around in the backseat for your camera, not even looking at Holland as you respond. “Because you distract me,” you admit carelessly, not paying attention to the words that fall from your mouth until it’s too late. The car in the driveway is growing closer to the gate, and if it was your client’s husband that was leaving, you needed to capture a picture of it in order to be paid. As you return to your seat, fiddling with the camera to turn it on, you realize what you just said to Holland and your heart hammers in your chest. 

Holland shakes his head in disbelief. “I distract you? No, no, it’s you who distracts me.” 

Your brows furrow as you glance over at him . “How do I distract you?”

“Are you kidding me? Did you forget what happened not even fifteen minutes ago?” Holland gestures towards the spot the two of you were standing previously. “I just saw up your dress and you’re not wearing any fucking underwear! Do you know what that did to me?”

His question seemed rhetorical, or maybe you had just lost all function in your brain at the implication of his words. 

“And don’t even get me started on that dress. You look so god damn sexy in that, and I hate that you only wear it to lure married men into flirting with you for a case.” Holland admitted, only pausing long enough to suck in a breath of air before he continued. “I get so fucking jealous watching those men think they have a chance with you, and you don’t even notice!” Holland stares at you as he finishes, waiting for a response as your brain tries to wrap around what he just confessed. 

Your thoughts are running a mile a minute, trying to remember every time you’ve had to flirt with a married man for a case. Did you really not notice that Holland was jealous? Or did you just try to shrug it off because you didn’t believe he could ever feel that way for you? Your mouth suddenly feels dry at the realization, but eventually you speak. “I didn’t realize you felt that way about me….” 

“Of course I do, how couldn’t I?” Holland spoke as if he couldn’t believe you didn’t notice sooner. “You’re gorgeous, extremely smart,” he then gestured towards himself, “you put up with my bullshit, and you’re so good to Holly.” A small smile spread across his face as he spoke of his daughter. “She loves you, you know?”  

You returned his smile and nodded, leaning in closer to the center console. “Yeah, I know.” 

Holland closed the short distance between you, his face mere inches from yours as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, hesitatingly whispering his confession. “And I love you, too.” 

Gazing into his cool blue eyes, you couldn’t help the blinding smile that grew on your face. “I love you, too, Holland.” You admitted before capturing his lips. Holland’s hand rose to your neck, gripping the back of it as he locked you in a passionate kiss. His tongue prodded against your lips for entrance, but the sound of a gate opening made him pull away. 

“Mrs. Jenkin’s husband, Mrs. Jenkin’s husband!” He cried out, pointing at the car that was pulling out of the driveway right in front of you.

“Oh, shit!” You exclaimed, pulling yourself away from Holland and quickly grabbing the camera from your lap. You raised it to your eye and managed to snap a few incriminating photos of the man who matched the description of your client’s husband driving away. 

You placed the camera back into the floor of the back seat and turned towards Holland with a grin. “Well, let’s go get paid.” 

Holland leaned over, gently grabbing your jaw and pulling your lips to meet his. “As soon as the check’s in the bank, I’m taking you on a date.” He promised, his thumb softly rubbing your cheek.

“I’m looking forward to it. I’ll even buy a new dress.” You spoke softly, nuzzling your nose against his before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. 

A smirk spread across Holland’s face. “Any chance you won’t be wearing any underwear then, too?” 

You scoff and swat at his chest with a laugh. “Holland!” You shout his name in a scolding tone, turning back to face the steering wheel as you turn the keys in the ignition. 

“Well, that’s not a no….” He trails off as you start the drive back to your client’s home, eliciting a giggle from you. 

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