#sherlock x f!reader

[j-eryewrites]

It Was a Rainy Day

Part One of The Arbitrary Lives of the Occupants of 221 B Baker Street

Word Count: 4.9k

Thanks to @bartokthealbinobat for helping me edit this chapter!

Next 

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST 

I'm planning this to be an ongoing Sherlock x Reader series that mainly flows the plot of the BBC series. Let me know what you would like to see.

DISCLOSURE: I do not own any of the characters and plot. Those belong to BBC and Arthur Conan Doyle.

__________________________________________________________

“On behalf of our crew, we thank you again for choosing to fly with BWA Airlines. Please stay seated until the seat belt sign has been turned off. We will begin exiting the plane soon.” The speakers above chimed.

Immediately, chatter filled up the air. People were anxious to get off the plane. In all honesty, they had just endured an eight-hour international flight. Ching. The glow from the seatbelt sign flashed off, signaling for people to stand up and stretch their legs. Y/N would have taken the opportunity to stretch her legs, but she was seated next to the window towards the back of the plane. She didn’t think she would be standing up any time soon. Instead, Y/N occupied herself with the view outside of her window. 

The sky was an opaque gray. Numerous dark clouds of the same hue covered the warm light of the sun, stopping it from gracing its presence. It was raining. A typical forecast for London in September. But it wasn’t a gentle rain; the rain that tickled your skin as it fell from the sky. No, it was the rain that soaks you to the bone the minute you step outside– real rain. The best kind of rain. Y/N found the rain to be peaceful. Maybe it was the smell that came with the rain as it made the earth anew. Maybe it was the unpredictable yet consistent pattern of the pitter-patter as the water came in contact with the soil. Y/N enjoyed the view of the rain. She let her gaze flip out of focus as she watched the ripples in the puddles. Each wave moved farther away from the center.

“Pardon me, miss.” A cheery flight attendant chirped. The flight attendant’s eyes had dark circles underneath them, yet they held the most pleasant expression. “If you can exit the plane now, we need to prepare for the next flight.” 

Y/N tore her eyes away from the view and quickly apologized. Her cheeks burned red out of embarrassment as she hurriedly stood up, snatched her luggage from the overhead compartment, and exited the plane. She was glad that the plane was docked at the main section of the airport, so she didn’t have to trudge through the rain. Any other day she would have been overjoyed to be soaked to the bone, but not today. Y/N wanted to look somewhat presentable when she reunited with her aunt, Mrs. Hudson. 

Martha Louise Hudson wasn't Y/N’s aunt by blood, but she was her grandmother’s best friend. Those two were peas in a pod. After Y/N’s grandmother had suddenly passed away from a heart attack, Mrs. Hudson took it upon herself to occupy the vacant role.

 “No child should grow up without a grandparent. They need someone to spoil them rotten,” Mrs. Hudson would say. 

Despite her family’s abrupt decision to move to the United States, Mrs. Hudson continued filling that role. Occasionally, she would send postcards and presents for birthdays and Christmas detailing her adventures in London. The latest of which was a postcard describing a vacant apartment she was looking to rent. With the prospect of seeing Mrs. Hudson again, with the additional benefits of living in the United Kingdom, Y/N packed up her life and moved back across the ocean.

Baggage claim for flight AQ178. Baggage...It wasn’t hard to miss. All Y/N had to do was peer across the vast sea of people to where the crowd stood. They were all huddled around the baggage carousel. All of them dismissed the advice to stay behind the yellow and black striped line unless they were retrieving their baggage. One by one, they retrieved their bags as they moved down the line. 

Eventually, after many turns of the metallic carousel, Y/N’s bags came into view. She crossed the line and grabbed the large suitcases. It was strange to think that all her worldly possessions fit into two suitcases. The cases were covered in dust and grime from the journey despite them being brand-new. Y/N counted each suitcase, a notion in the back of her mind told her something was missing. An unholy screech rang out above the crowd. A sound that could only come from the jaws of a tiny demon–her tiny demon. Y/N winced in embarrassment as she slipped out a small sheet of paper from her pocket. The screeching continued, dragging the attention of innocent travelers. Her cheeks began to flash red as she approached a desk. 

Behind the desk there stood a poor young man who was made the unfortunate victim. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and his brows were raised impossibly high. In his shaking hands, he held a crate at arm's length, as if the brown cat inside would bust down the door and steal his soul. 

Y/N reached the desk, and coughed, “He’s mine.”  She pointed towards the cat who stilled at the sound of her voice. 

The man gulped, nodding, and asked to see her ticket to confirm ownership. She quickly presented it to him. His eyes quickly glanced over it. Then he sighed in relief and threw the crate into her hands. 

Y/N carefully peered into the crate and was met with the wide golden eyes of Bjørn. The cat stood still as his golden eyes processed what was in front of him. They narrowed slightly and he began to meow again. He was no longer screeching like a demon but singing like an angelic child for his mother had arrived. Y/N whispered words of assurance to the cat, praising him for being the best boy on the flight. He purred under her sweet words. 

Y/N’s pocket buzzed, and she carefully set Bjørn’s crate down. Her eyes quickly glanced outside to discover the rain had lightened up. Remembering someone had messaged her, she pulled out her phone and began to read. 

___________________________________________________________________

Auntie M

I’m sending one of my good friends and one of your neighbours to come and pick you up from the airport. 

His name is John Watson, blonde, and a kind man. 

(Read)

___________________________________________________________________

Y/N raised her brow at the message. She was puzzled as to why Mrs. Hudson had sent the description of “kind”. As she read the text over, the cogs in her mind began to turn. Y/N tried to conjure up an image of what a kind British man named John, who happened to be a friend of her Auntie's, looked like. 

Picking up Bjørn’s crate, she lugged her bags toward the exit. She passed by people entering and leaving the airport. Some people ran into the arms of their loved ones and others jumped into taxis that took them to their next destination. 

Her feet began to slow finally coming to a stop. She turned her head, looking around the crowd. She bit her lip, and a dazed look filled her face. A low drone crept up to her. Y/N’s eyes were immediately dragged down to the taxi in front of her. With a creak, the passenger’s window rolled down. 

“Hel’o there, how can I help you today?” inquired the taxi driver. The man wore a white and beige flat cap. He was an older-looking fellow who wore glasses. He flashed Y/N a smile that made her stomach fill with unease. 

“Oh no thank you” she quickly replied, stepping away from the car window and closer to the booming crowd outside of the airport. 

“American, eh? I’ll be able to take you where you need to go. No problem. You can trust me,” He insisted. With his hand aged with time, he took off his cap and brushed through his wispy white hair. His smile grew bigger as he faked a charming expression.

“No thanks,” answered Y/N. The alarms in her head were howling at her. “I am waiting for someone, you see, to come to pick me up.” Taking a big step back, she sank into the crowd behind her. A woman wearing all pink brushed her shoulder against Y/N. Y/N’s eyes winced at the explosion of color. Everything about this woman was pink: pink phone, pink suitcase, pink overcoat.

“Are you taking this cab?” distractedly asked the woman as she stuffed her baggage into the cab. 

“No,” replied Y/N. She wanted to warn the woman in pink, but before she could, the taxi had pulled away from the pickup station and was on its way to who knows where. A buzzing feeling came from the back pocket of her trousers. Pulling her phone out she saw another message from her aunt. 

________

Auntie M

I just realized I should probably give you John’s number. 

 Y/N

- That would actually be great.

 Auntie M

Sending it to you right now. I’ll be making a nice dinner to warm you up after all that rain. 

Also, your apartment is all set up and waiting for you. :)

 Y/N

- Great, that sounds perfect. Thanks, Auntie M

 ____________

As she waited for John’s number, Y/N thought it would be best to head back inside and find a place to sit. Hearing the ding of her phone and a number pop up she mumbled, “Remind me to thank Auntie M for that…” 

An Irish voice popped up next to her, and Y/N’s gaze rose from the screen of her phone to meet dark and mysterious chocolate eyes. “Remember to thank your aunt for that” he chuckled. 

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. Her eyes scanned the man up and down. He had an edgy and cool air to him. With his smirk, he oozed confidence. There was something about him that intrigued her. He had brown hair that was well-groomed and wore a nicely tailored suit. He reciprocated Y/N’s smile and even more of his charm showed through. “The name is Jim, '' introduced the man. He extended his hand for her to shake. 

Y/N couldn’t help but let a giggle escape her lips as she firmly shook Jim’s hand. His grip was warm and strong. “Y/N, and thank you for the reminder, Jim.” 

“Anytime.” He replied, making himself comfortable in the open seat next to her. They settled into a pleasant silence. The only sounds that occupied their ears were the wheels of rolling luggage and the light chatter of the other travellers and guests of the airport. 

“Work, family, or friends?” inquired Jim, his head tilting slightly to the right to look at Y/N. 

“Sorry?” 

“What are you here for?” Jim clarified. 

“I guess you could say work and a bit of family,” answered Y/N. She began to secretly pick at her fingers, a stim, and nervous habit of hers. Jim cocked one of his eyebrows up with curiosity. “I'm moving back to my roots.”

“From London?” Jim questioned, furthering the conversation. 

Y/N paused before answering. The encounter with the taxi driver was still fresh in her memory. She sighed and her shoulder’s relaxed. It wouldn’t hurt to have a friendly conversation, she thought. 

“Yeah.” She replied. “I was born here but after a few years my parents and I moved to the U.S.” She shrugged, “and now I’m back.”

“And now you’re back,” Jim repeated softly. There was a minute shift in his expression into something Y/N couldn’t decipher. By the time she noticed it, it was gone; leaving Y/N to wonder if she had imagined it. “Well, London is delighted to have you back,” Jim winked. Then he readjusted his seating position as he straightened his black suit jacket. 

“Well, I have to leave. Business to attend to” smiled Jim, “I bid you adieu”. Standing up from the seat next to her, he gave her one more smile. His eyes lingered on her figure. Without another word, he took a few steps, disappearing into the crowd of people. 

She sat back in her seat, the image of Jim in her mind. Her thoughts trailed from Jim to her aunt and then…Shit! Y/N realized she did not text John’s number. Immediately pulling out her phone, she sent a quick text. A little gray bubble appeared, and he responded by saying he was there at the airport with a taxi outside. Raising from her seat, she, once again, made her way out of the airport. Y/N searched the crowd, her eyes looking for a man that fit the vague description her aunt had given her.

Just then a young man with kind dark eyes, the shade of morning coffee, and blonde hair approached her. He was wearing a beige knit sweater. Hand knitted...looks like Auntie’s knitting...is this… but her thought was interrupted by his voice. “Are you Y/N? Mrs. Hudson’s niece?” he inquired. 

“Yes, that’s me, are you John?” replied Y/N. 

“Yep, John. John Watson. Can I help you with your bags?” politely asked John.  

A wave of relief fell over Y/N, “Yes, thank you, John.” 

John reached for two bags of luggage and began directing Y/N to where the cab was. “It’s no problem really, just doing a favour for Mrs. Hudson” he explained, turning his gaze back to Y/N to smile at her. It was strange to think about how there could be so many different types of smiles. John’s smile was different from Jim’s confident grin, and the eerie smirk of that taxi driver. John’s smile was kind, caring, and calm. It reminded Y/N of the smile etched onto a Teddy bear’s face. 

John carefully placed Y/N’s luggage in the trunk. Afterward, he held the door open for Y/N to enter the back seat. John sat down after her, closing the door behind him. “221 B Baker Street” instructed John. The driver nodded and drove off, the station growing smaller and smaller behind them. 

After a few moments of silence, John peered at the crate on Y/N’s lap. “You have a cat,” stated John with a questioning tone to his voice. 

“Yes, his name is Bjørn.” Bjørn happily meowed in response to his name. 

“Didn’t know Mrs. Hudson allowed pets in the apartment,” replied John. He lowered his head to get a good look at Bjørn’s yellow eyes. He smiled at the cat which was reciprocated by a purr.

“Oh, I think he likes you!” Y/N beamed.

John raised his brows flattered by the obvious complement of the cat. He cautiously reached a hand out to pet Bjørn through the crate, his eyes glancing up at Y/N. She nodded and he proceeded to pet the cat. Bjørn’s purrs rumbled the cage as he brushed his neck eagerly against John’s fingers. 

“Bjørn, you attention whore,” laughed Y/N. She watched as John’s eyes widened at the cat’s affection. It was as if he was a child who’d been handed an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day. 

“I’m sure Mrs. Hudson would approve of you getting a pet for your flat,” stated Y/N. Her eyes reflected John’s adoration for the cat. 

“Oh god no!” Exclaimed John withdrawing his hand from Bjørn. “My flat mate is enough of an animal as it is.” He chuckled. “I don’t need another one.” His voice turned quieter towards the end, creating an awkward air between the two in the back of the cab. 

“...You have a flat mate?” Y/N asked. 

“Yeah.” Responded John. 

Y/N awkwardly nodded her head and then moved her gaze to the window. 

By now, the sky was the textbook definition of gray. The dark rain cloud from before had fled, leaving the sky empty and barren. Everything seemed dulled by the gray tint the sky cast down. Even the brightly colored leaves and the shimmering lights of the city seemed to fall victim to the solemness. 

Eventually, the cab began to decrease in speed as it approached 221 B Baker Street, slowly coming to a halt. 

“We’re here” stated John as he paid for the cab before exiting onto Baker Street. He then made his way around the car to Y/N’s side and opened the door for her. He eagerly took Bjørn’s crate from her hands.

Y/N stepped onto the black pavement of Baker Street and took a moment to process her new environment. Then she made her way to the trunk of the cab to retrieve her luggage. John had taken the liberty of placing Bjørn inside 221 and let Mrs. Hudson know that they had arrived back from the airport. He then walked back outside to help Y/N with her luggage. Mrs. Hudson followed suit to greet her grandniece. 

“N/N, welcome home!” exclaimed Mrs. Hudson as she made her way to Y/N. Y/N turned toward her aunt. She had a gleeful smile on her face as she reunited with her aunt. Mrs. Hudson opened her arms wide beckoning Y/N in for a hug. As soon as her niece was in arms reach, Mrs. Hudson yanked the young woman into her arms and gave her a tight squeeze. She slightly rocked Y/N back and forth. A large smile erupted on Mrs. Hudson’s face, and she became overjoyed. “Let’s have a look at you, shall we?” she said, pulling away from the hug to place her hands on Y/N’s face and tugging at her cheeks. “My you have grown up to be so beautiful! Just like your mum!” 

“Thanks, auntie” sheepishly replied Y/N. Her cheeks turned pink from all the attention she was receiving. 

“Oh, it’s so good to have you home. We have some catching up to do!” cheered Mrs. Hudson as she led the way inside 221. 

John was patiently waiting by the bottom of the stairs inside the building. Her eyes ran up the steps which Y/N assumed, led up to John’s apartment. “Need anything else Y/N?” inquired John, giving a cheerful smile. 

“No, I don’t need anything else.” Y/N gratefully replied. “But if you want to take Bjørn out of his carrier and meet him properly, you are more than welcome to.” 

John’s eyes widened with delight as he crouched down toward the crate. With a twang, he released the cat from its confines. Bjørn paraded around. His brown furry head was held high as explored his new kingdom. He then noticed John beside him, quickly bringing head to butt against John’s leg. 

A loud creaking came from the upstairs flat, scaring Bjørn. He dashed from John’s side toward his mother. She picked him up and cradled him in her arms. His tail swished around as his golden eyes narrowed in the direction of the noise. Distaste eminent in his tiny figure. 

John took that as his cue to leave. “Alright then, welcome to London.” He said before making his way up the stairs to his apartment. 

A sigh escaped Mrs. Hudson's lips, “I’m so glad that you’ve moved in. At least, I’ll have a bit more normalcy with you here.” She moved her gaze upstairs to where muffled voices were coming from. Y/N could make out two voices. One belonged to John and the other to, who she assumed was, his flatmate. The flatmate’s voice was baritone and clear. 

“Well dear, dinner will be ready soon. Why don’t you go on into your new apartment and get settled? I got it all checked out and even got rid of Sherlock's mold experiment.” 

Y/N widened her eyes and opened her mouth to ask but was drowned out by her aunt's continued explanation. 

“I had to replace the wallpaper, but I think you’ll like the paint I chose,” explained Mrs. Hudson. “I’ll come and get you when dinner’s done.” She then grabbed a pair of keys out of her pocket and handed them to Y/N. “This key is for entering the building,” she pointed to the brass key and then moved her finger towards a thin black key that looked quite old, “and this key is to your apartment.” Then she patted Y/N’s back sending her in the direction of her new apartment. 

The apartment was located on the same floor as Mrs. Hudson’s apartment. Just underneath John’s apartment. The walls were covered in beautiful dark green paint. The curtains looked a bit worn around the edges, but overall, it was cozy. Mrs. Hudson had allowed Y/N to decorate and improve the apartment to her liking, which is something she was very grateful for. But first, she needed time to unpack everything. She placed Bjørn down once the door had been closed. The brown cat immediately gave a big stretch and yawned. Bjørn then looked up towards Y/N as if he was saying he would be exploring now and took off. Chuckling, Y/N brought her luggage to her room and began the time-consuming process of unpacking. 

It wasn’t long before Mrs. Hudson entered her niece’s apartment to notify her that dinner was ready. When the elderly lady entered, she was met with open boxes scattered everywhere and loud music playing from the Y/N’s phone. 

“Y/N, dear…” grabbing Y/N’s attention, “dinner is ready”. 

Moving towards the phone, Y/N let the music die down. “I’ll be there in a minute, just let me finish unpacking this one thing.” 

“Of course, dear” replied Mrs. Hudson. “Oh!” Mrs. Hudson chuckled as Bjørn rubbed up against her. “What a good boy.” She reached down to pet the cat.  Standing up she brushed her hands off and made her way back out the door, slowly and carefully closing it behind her. 

Y/N placed the last book on the shelf and smacked her hands together in a wiping motion. “Right then, dinner.” She carefully stepped over the numerous cardboard boxes lying around the apartment. Eventually, she reached her door. Bjørn’s head peaked up in interest as the knob of the door turned. “No, Bjørn. I’ll be back”. The cat seemed to acknowledge her statement and jumped on the couch. After a few customary circles, he was satisfied and collapsed down to the soft surface. 

Upon closing the door, Y/N heard two pairs of footsteps making their way down the stairs. She stood still listening to them.

“No John, I do not intend on greeting the new neighbor.” There was that baritone voice again. John’s flat mate. 

“Come on Sherlock. She’s Mrs. Hudson’s niece, at least do it for her.” pleaded John. 

The footsteps had ceased, and a deafening silence had filled the air. “For the last time, John. I do not intend to meet this new neighbor. I guarantee you that she will have moved out by the end of the week. As most of the other tenants of 221 do.” Then a tall man wearing a long black trench coat appeared and then quickly disappeared as he slammed the door to Baker Street. 

“For heaven’s sake, Sherlock,” yelled John as he followed his flat mate out the door. 

 Y/N huffed in anger, as she made her way to her aunt’s flat.  I don’t want to meet you too, Sherlock, she thought. Y/N didn’t even have to knock on the door for Mrs. Hudson to state that she could come in. “Door’s open, come on in”. 

Mrs. Hudson was finishing placing the dishware on the table. “Sounds like you just missed John and Sherlock” chimed Mrs. Hudson. 

“And a good thing too,” muttered Y/N, causing Mrs. Hudson to ask her to repeat, “Oh nothing.”

“Alright then. Let’s not let dinner get cold,” Mrs. Hudson said as she motioned to the seats signaling Y/N to sit down for dinner. 

They chatted amongst themselves. Y/N relayed all the latest detail of her life to her surrogate grandmother: who she was friends with, her job, past relationships, how her family was, the whole lot. As they shared the meal, Y/N felt her bond with Mrs. Hudson restore as if she never moved away in the first place. 

Now, it was Y/N’s turn to ask a question. “Who is John’s flat mate?,” Y/N pondered. 

“That’ll be Sherlock.” Mrs. Hudson crinkled her eyes and nose with fondness. “He’s a consulting detective.”

“A consulting detective? Never heard of it,” Y/N mentioned. 

“Consults on difficult criminal cases. He helps Scotland Yard solves crimes and murders. He’s the one who got my husband the death sentence” explained Mrs. Hudson. Her eyes widened at the statement. “Any tea, Y/N?”

Glancing up from the now empty plate, Y/N replied, “Oh, no thanks”. 

Mrs. Hudson then nodded her head and continued to talk about Sherlock, bringing a hand to her heart. She talked about all the strange people who came to visit him. Often relaying stories that would make Y/N raise her brows in concern. Mrs. Hudson’s face contorted as she mentioned his strange and disturbing experiments, one of which was the mold that used to occupy Y/N’s flat. Switching back to her cheerful smile, she began proudly explaining Sherlock’s gift of being able to tell almost everything about a person. 

Y/N’s head began pounding as it filled up with all the compliments her aunt had to say about Sherlock. She chuckled trying to hide a wince from the pain in her head. Y/N placed down her fork and knife and leaned in slightly toward her aunt. “Auntie M, thank you for dinner, but…” she trailed off.  “I’m feeling tired, and I think that the jet lag is getting to me.”

Looking up in concern, Mrs. Hudson rose from her seat, “Of course, N/N.” She gave Y/N a soft smile and headed towards the door, opening it to let her niece out.  “Goodnight, sleep well.” She reached out a hand to pat her niece’s shoulder.

“Goodnight” replied Y/N. 

As Mrs. Hudson closed the door, Y/N brought a hand to her temple massaging it. It was still pounding. She trudged to her flat and opened it. With little effort, she crawled into bed. Bjørn hopped up next to her. He snuggled up close purring loudly as she lazily pet him. Her hand slowly fell limp on top of Bjørn’s brown fur. His deep purrs slowly guided his owner gently to sleep. 

_____________________________________________________________

Comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Next

____________________________________________________________

#bbc sherlock #sherlock x you #fanfic #mysteries #sherlock holmes #john watson #sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x you #bbc sherlock x reader #sherlock reader insert #sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock fandom #sherlock fanfic #benedict!sherlock #slow burn #bbc sherlock imagine #three patch problem #american reader #sherlock x fem!reader #sherlock x f!reader #reader x sherlock #you x sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #greg lestrade #mrs hudson #slow burn romance #asexual #sherlock is confusing

[sherlocksoft]

The Experiment pt. 2

Sherlock Holmes x reader

The Experiment pt. 1 // Masterlist

Summary: Sherlock needs something new to keep him occupied. You have the perfect answer to his problems.

Author’s notes: couldn’t resist writing part 2, which was also requested after I wrote part 1. In my Victorian dirty talk research I discovered that the term ‘blow job’ comes from the Victorian term for cum: ‘blow,’ and how could I not make the most of that information??

Warnings/content: nsfw - smut, f!reader, blow job, hand job, marriage, first times (Sherlock’s first blow job), discussion of safe word, sub!Sherlock vibes if you squint

Upon returning to 221B, you found Sherlock barely out of bed; half-dressed and dropped down onto the nearest armchair, hair mussed from sleep and face sullen.

He hadn’t had a case for over a week, and whilst at first he had taken to spending his free time gladly tending to your desires, you did need to leave the house from time to time to run errands and see to your other commitments.

It was moments such as these that the ennui really set in. Sherlock needed something to occupy him, and if he couldn't have you, he needed something new to excite him, but whatever that would be hadn't yet arrived on his doorstep.

‘Sherlock, darling, I’m home,’ you chimed carefully, not wanting to startle him out of his melancholy.

His eyes lit up for a moment before he saw that you were already busy with the books you’d collected, and he dropped back into the chair.

You were eyeing him, though, surreptitiously as you flicked through one of your new novels pretending to admire the illustrations while really you were admiring him.

‘Remember our wedding night?’ you mused, attempting to sound entirely casual.

‘Fondly,’ he sighed dreamily. If only he could feel the excitement of that night anew, the thrill of learning your exquisite body for the first time.

‘I’ve been doing some research,’ you went on, finally snapping shut your book.

'Oh?' An eyebrow raised, interest piqued.

‘There was something you mentioned that night that I read up on since I’ve been wholly unable to distract my mind away… it's something I rather fancy I’d like to try.’

Your voice had turned sultry, immediately capturing Sherlock’s attention, his head snapping up so that he could examine your current state and gather your precise intentions.

Pupils dilated, cheeks flushed, breath quickening, he thought, and at that, heat stirred in his belly, coursing to his core.

‘You told me you would like to experiment with your own orgasms.’ Shivers crept up your neck, not yet quite used to speaking in such a way in the company of a gentleman. ‘Do you remember? You wondered how it might feel to climax in my hand... or my mouth…’ your tongue advanced slowly around your parted lips rather pointedly, eyes locked on his.

‘And how do you propose we conduct this experiment?’ he panted, beginning to tremble.

‘Sherlock… I'll need to taste you.’

His heart began to race and his eyelashes fluttered, unsure where to look. Your lust for him often threw him from his place of comfort. To him, it was ever an unexpected thrill to be the object of your desire, but never an unwelcome one.

‘Where… how do I-’ he started, cheeks flushing with shame at how utterly libidinous he felt for you.

‘Lay down for me, here, on the chaise,’ you beamed, thrilled that he was ready for a new experience with you.

As he peeled himself from the little armchair to stretch his long body out, he propped himself up on a cushion so he could observe what you would do to him.

You knelt between his ankles to slide your fingers up past his knees and over his strong thighs. ‘Spread your legs a little more… that’s it,’ you encouraged as he settled into position, one foot landing firmly on the floor, grounding him. From what you'd read, you supposed he may need it.

‘I’m going to unfasten your breeches and take you in my hand first,’ you said softly as your fingers got to work on unfastening the buttons keeping him decent. ‘Only briefly, though, for this time, I would like to suck your manhood and have you spill every last drop of your blow down my throat until you’re left limp.’

Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat.

‘Remember the code word?’ you breathed, eyes growing wide with wonder, ever fascinated with his size as your fingers released his already throbbing arousal and wrapped delicately around him, pumping lazily.

Sherlock nodded quickly, eager to begin. ‘Mycroft,’ he uttered breathily, ‘if I don’t enjoy the sensation, or it becomes too much, I say it once, and you'll stop.’

‘Precisely. And if you do enjoy it?’ you smirked up at him, gripping a little more firmly as you stroked him, lips now so close to the tip of his length he could feel the warmth of your breath against it.

‘Oh-ah-mmh… then I… ah- I will cry your name… over and over until I have- mmh!- no breath left in my… oh!- body.’

‘Understood.’

Your delightfully plump, wet lips finally brushed against the flesh of his tip, parting to suckle at the precum that oozed steadily out onto your lapping tongue.

Sherlock cried out, his body jolting at the overwhelming fever that spread rapidly through his body at the heat of your mouth on him. He tried to think through it, tried to memorise the sensations, but nothing had quite come close to this when it came to his pleasure.

He'd fucked you every which way one could imagine, finding easy release in the depths of your own pleasure just by knowing that he was the one to cause it. But this, entirely focussed on his needs, was a whole other game.

He couldn't grasp any of the thoughts swirling around his pleasure-addled mind, couldn't focus on anything but how you felt, wet and warm around his root, devouring him like a starved woman presented with a delicious meal.

And a delicious meal, he was. His cock swelled within the passion of your mouth as you took him in further still, your massaging fingers at the base, compensating for what you couldn’t fit. Remembering what you’d read in that filthy little book you'd been keeping secret, you bobbed your head and hollowed your cheeks, and you sucked, gently at first but slowly building to something more intense that made it harder and harder for him to find any semblance of focus.

You gazed up at him, eyes sparkling with your own arousal, to see him completely lost in pleasure, one elegant hand pressed to his forehead in delightful despair, the other gripping the edge of the cushion he laid back on so firmly that his knuckles had long since turned white.

You hummed, appreciating his weight of his heavy cock against your tongue as you felt a wetness grow between your thighs. The vibration your dirty little sound sent down his shaft caused him to whine out a string of incomprehensible obscenities, and his hips to buck up involuntarily as he fought to keep his eyes open and his head lifted enough to see you.

He’d never felt so safe with such a lack of control over his body, every nerve alight with passion and every muscle weak with complete pleasure. He couldn't think, but he didn't need to. He knew somewhere in the depths of this rapture that you would take good care of him, think through his pleasure for him, and finish him spectacularly. There was one other thing he knew for certain - one thought that pierced the haze of euphoria clouding his every thought - that his peak would come all too soon.

He couldn't fight it, he felt too week with imminent satisfaction to try to last any longer. He wanted this feeling to last forever, but also to explode between your lips and reach paradise all at once.

He released his grip on the seat cushion, and reached, trembling, for the nape of your neck. If his eyes must insist on clenching shut in unfathomable pleasure, he could at least follow your movements with touch, perhaps that would be just as enjoyable as watching.

It was.

At the exact moment that his fingers connected with your neck and slid up into your hair, he erupted with a shout, emptying his seed into your mouth and down your throat while your tongue circled his sensitive tip each time you moved upwards, and massaged his shaft as you slid back down.

Your name tore from his lips, a guttural cry that rang in your ears as he came down from his climax, breathless and groaning in exertion.

With a final lap to clean up the last traces of his peak, you sat back on your heels and smiled, proud of yourself for getting him off with such excellent results on your first attempt.

Sherlock was still very much floating on another plane of existence as his length twitched with aftershocks and softened upon your palm. You pushed up so settle over him on the chaise, appreciating his post-orgasm glow from a few inches above his handsome face.

‘A success?’ you chuckled, connecting your lips to his so he could taste himself upon them.

He nodded, opening his eyes slightly with an uneven smile meant as a silent thank you. ‘But I… I couldn’t focus on a thing. Nothing, that is, except for your mouth being stuffed full of me. Tell me you-’

Pride swelled in your chest. ‘I memorised every minute reaction.’

‘That’s my girl,’ he breathed. ‘You should write it down.’

‘Oh, I will,’ you promised, ‘in great, explicit detail. But first, another?’

His head fell back as you moved your hand gently over his sex, feeling it grow with arousal once again, and with that, a knock sounded at the door.

Disappointment flooded you. ‘You'll probably want to get that. It could be a case-’

‘They can wait,’ Sherlock whispered, waving his hand lazily. ‘I'm in the middle of a very important experiment for which we need more data...’

#not s f w 💀 #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock x reader #sherlock smut #henry cavill sherlock holmes #victorian sherlock #henry cavill #sherlocksoft writes

[i-have-a-wonky-eye-too]

A Sherlock Holmes story... Y/n Y/l/n unintentionally proves to the great Detective that soul mates are real.

A Chance Encounter... Part 1

You hummed a happy little melody to yourself as you breathed in the intoxicating scent of your recently purchased flowers. Flowers always made you smile, so this morning you decided you would treat yourself. You were so busy thinking of the perfect place to put the flowers, that you didn't hear the commotion coming up behind you as you began to cross the road.

"STOP!"

A startled scream left you as a man grabbed you from behind and dragged you backwards, tossing you into the middle of the road like you were a sack of rubbish before darting off in the opposite direction.

Eventhough the market street was busy, no one offered to help you up. Typical London, you thought as you sat in the mud. Everyone far too busy to be polite... except for one.

"Miss?" You raised your head and looked up into a pair piercing blue eyes. For a moment you were stund into silence as you stared at the man crouched before you. His unruly curls falling forwards as he stared back at you. He hesitated for a moment before carefully brushing some of your own hair backwards from your face. "Are you harmed?" He asked, his tone filled with concern and his brow furrowed, giving your face a once over. "I must apologise, this was entirely my fault."

"I-" You looked down at where your hands still rested on the ground and nodded. "I'm... Bleeding." You whispered, raising your grazed palms that were covered in mud and gravel.

The man looked down at your hands and let out a frustrated sigh, "Oh dear, I truly am sorry for causing you pain... For, bruising such a... Beautiful flower." He offered you a soft, yet shy smile as he brushed a splattering of mud from your cheek.

You lowered your face to hide your blush. "It's quite alright. You weren't the oaf that did this." You scrunched your face up in annoyance.

The man chuckled softly, certain you were the cutest little thing he'd ever seen. "No, but I was chasing the oaf." He smiled warmly as he held his hands out to you. "Detective Sherlock Holmes." Of course, you thought as you took his hands and allowed him to help you up.

"Y/n Y/l/n." You smiled. You looked down at the state of your clothing and the mess your flowers had made. "Oh heavens, my father will have a heart attack wondering what happened... And what a mess." You pouted.

Sherlock waved his hand, "Food for the horse." He reasured you. "And, allow me to patch you up before escorting you home. Perhaps I can put your father at ease if I explain what unfortunately happened to you because of my doing."

You smiled, "That's awfully kind, Detective but I'm sure you're far too busy for that." You whispered.

Sherlock shook his head. "Never too busy to help a beautiful flower," He smiled at you. "And this was my fault..." He held his arm out to you. "My home isn't too far. I have the necessary supplies there to fix you up, I assure you."

You considered his words for moment, looking down at your grazed hands before nodding. "Thank you, Detective." You smiled politely at him and slipped your arm through his. "Would it be awfully rude of me to ask, what was your reason for chasing that man in the first place?" You asked him.

Sherlock hummed, "Not at all. I do owe you an explanation as to why you were caught up in the whole ordeal..." He stopped a passing carriage and opened the door for you. He helped you inside before joining you and closing the door after him.

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

After a short carriage ride and an awkward walk past Sherlock's landlady (whom wasn't best pleased with him), you entered Sherlock's extremely hectic flat, a small smile curling at your lips as he guided you over to the chaise lounge. He took your coat and told you to make yourself comfortable as he gathered the necessary items to clean your grazed palms.

You could hear Sherlock at the other end of thr flat, clanging around and muttering to himself making you smile. You took the opportunity to take in Sherlock's home. To say he was well put together in his appearance, his home wasn't the same, but you guess with a mind as busy as his, he didn't have time to keep things in order.

You looked down at the papers that sat on top of the table close to where you sat, spotting something interesting. You stood up and walked over, picking up what was a police report for a recent murder down by the dock. Your father had mentioned the murder to you a few days ago. You also picked up a picture of a young man, he couldn't have been any older than twenty or so.

"That young man is the reason for your grazed palms." Sherlock said over your shoulder startling you. A smile curled at his lips, "My apologies."

You shook your head, "No, it's quite alright," You took a deep breath and let out a small giggle. "I was the one being nosy."

Sherlock hummed, "I don't call it being, nosy." He grabbed the chair that sat beside his desk and placed it in front of the chaise lounge as you took a seat.

"What do you call it?" You asked looking up at him.

"Human nature." He sat down. "It's in our nature to know things. You saw something interesting and you wanted to know more. It's only natural."

You nodded, "I guess you're right." You looked over to the table as Sherlock began to clean your wounds, letting out a slight hiss as it stung. "So, the boy you were chasing, he has something to do with the dock murder?" You asked.

Sherlock hummed. "He was friends with the victim. Worked along side him too. Thick as thieves, according to their boss."

Your brow stayed furrowed as you watched Sherlock work. "I see... Is he your suspect?"

"Not sure," He murmured. "Although his lack of cooperation, does make him look some what guilty."

"Perhaps... But what if the reason wasn't guilt but fear instead?" You asked looking up at him. "What if, he feared for his own life? And been seen talking to you, would look bad for him."

Sherlock opened his mouth but nothing came out as he pondered what you had said. "Perhaps." He nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But I still need answers, Miss Y/l/n."

"How will you get them?"

Sherlock sat back in his chair and exhaled a long breath through his nose. "My next step would be to visit the young man's home. Hopefully I can catch him their and ask my questions."

You hummed, "Don't you think he'll be expecting you to show up there?"

Sherlock hummed. "The thought had crossed my mind."

"If I were him, I'd avoid going home as long as I could." You said as you watched him clean your left palm.

Sherlock chuckled. "He'll have to return at some point."

"True... But, I think he's more likely to hide out somewhere you wouldn't think of going." You said ad a matter if fact.

Sherlock raised his eyebrow at you, "And where do you think this place would be, Miss Y/l/n?" He asked with a hint of amusement.

You began grinning at him. "Well, he's a young man... And a dock worker, which means he's most likely down at 'The Anker and Rope', a public house close to the dock, one the dock workers prefer... Plus, there's a brothel not far from there... I'd say that's probably a good place to look too." You smiled at him.

Sherlock's mouth fell open as he stared at you. "How do you know that, Miss Y/l/n?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, hm, well..." You quickly lowered your head as you began to blush with embarrassment. You gave him a small nervous smile. "You could say, being the daughter of a Brewery owner, I've learnt one or two things." You blushed even more as Sherlock chuckled. You dipped your head feeling ridiculous, why you thought you'd be helpful was silly.

Sherlock watched you for a moment in silence. He spotted your flushed cheeks and lack of eye contact. He might not be very good at identifying the difference between a woman being friendly and one being flirty, but he knew when a woman was embarrassed, he witnessed Enola being it a few times.

"I must thank you, Miss Y/l/n." Sherlock gave you a reassuring smile.

Your brow furrowed, "For what?" You asked in confusion.

"For your useful information." Sherlock paused, "I have a feeling it's going to prove quite useful to me."

Your brow furrowed, "Don't be ridiculous, Detective. Nothing I said is going to be of any use to you."

"On the contrary, Miss Y/l/n. I feel I may solve the case a lot sooner with your help."

Very unladylike, you scoffed abd rolled your eyes. "You believe what you will, I know I've been nothing but a nuisance to you."

Sherlock frowned. He didn't like the way you were dismissing yourself. It wasn't often Sherlock got to bounce ideas of someone else and hearing what you has to say was proving useful already to him. "Miss Y/l/n, I believe you are being too harsh on yourself. It was my fault you were dragged into this and the information you have unintentionally provided me will be useful." He began smiling to himself. "I'm so confident that it will be, I'm willing to place a wager." The corner of his mouth curled up slightly as you narrowed your gaze at him.

"A wager?" You asked with a raised eyebrow. He had you.

Sherlock hummed as he sat back in his chair. "Intrested?"

You chew the inside if your lip as you thought about his offer. Your mother would be scolding you for even considering it, whereas your father would be patting you on the back proudly as he gave you pointers on how to win. "Very well..." You smiled at him and moved forwards. "What's your wager, Detective?"

Sherlock's smile widened. He sat up and leaned closer to you as he rested his right elbow on his knee. His eyes flicked down to your lips momentarily as you stared up at him, your eyes wide and bright with excitement. "If the information you have given does turn out to be anything but useful like you believe it to be, then I will purchase a bunch of flowers for every day it takes me to solve the case."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, "Detective, that could become quite costly for you." You teased making him chuckle.

"I'm prepared to pay whatever it costs." He smirked as he winked at you making you blush.

"And... hmm, if you're right?" You asked.

"You say yes." His smile softened as he took your left hand in his.

Your eyes widened, "Detective, what are you saying?"

Sherlock began grinning, "You'll have to wait until I've solved the case, my dear." He winked again before standing. "We best be returning you to your father, Miss Y/l/n."

#Sherlock Holmes #Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill! Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock Holmes x reader #henry cavill x reader #Cavil!Sherlock Holmes x f/reader #Enola Holmes

[espinosaurusrexex]

Writing Bingo Masterlist

for my 1k follower celebration

! BINGO: this challenge is complete !

The Bingo Challenge is officially finished! Thank you all for participating. Here you can find all the requested fics in order:

secret relationship (Bucky)

period cramps (Steve)

presumed dead (Bucky) part two (protective)

one saves the other (Bucky)

cheesy pick-up line (College!Henry!Sherlock)

convincing to adopt animal (Steve)

secret admirer (College!Steve)

“Who did this to you?” (College!Roommate!Bucky - enemies to lovers)

touch starved (Ari)

tending to wounds after a fight (Bucky)

protective (Bucky) part one (presumed dead)

verbal fight (Bucky)

mind reader (Bucky x Enhanced!Reader)

miscommunication (Bucky x Enhanced!Reader)

#1k follower celebration #writing challenge #bucky barnes #steve rogers #henry cavill sherlock #ari levinson #enola holmes imagine #steve rogers imagine #henry cavill imagine #sherlock holmes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #winter soldier #steve rogers fanfiction #ari levinson au #ari levinson x f!reader #captain america imagine

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Oblivious Pain

MAIN MASTERLIST

RDJ!Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,910ish

Summary: You’re keeping a secret from your flatmate, Sherlock Holmes. It honestly is embarrassing that he hasn’t figured it out sooner.

Notes: I hope that this isn’t total trash, sorry if it is…. This is kind of based off of my own chronic illnesses. This has nothing do to with my RDJ!Sherlock Holmes series In The Game of Love. If you haven’t read it yet, it can be found on my masterlist link above. (This was also not edited… so sorry for any of the mistakes…)

Your flatmate was a very brilliant man. His brilliance was half of why you were in love with him. And yet, he could be so oblivious. Sherlock Holmes was oblivious about two things: your love for him and your health.

You often joined the detective on his cases, more than not having to run away and fight off the people he was chasing. So it was surprising to you that Sherlock hadn’t noticed when you were in pain. Admittedly, you had become very good at hiding it after living with this pain for year, but still. Sherlock Holmes was known to know every detail of a person’s life just by a mere glance in their direction. Yet he couldn’t tell that you were limping from the pain or that, upon returning back to the flat from a day of work, you went straight to bed. It continued to shock you that he couldn’t hear you get dressed or undressed on your bad days, it being so painful.

“Wake up!” Sherlock shouted as he burst into your room. “We must get going.” You groaned, both in annoyance and pain. “We have a long day ahead of us today.” 

You sighed as Sherlock waltzed out of your room and back into his. You stayed laying down as you took a silent inventory on where the pain was located today in your body. 

“Shoulders, lower back, and ankles,” you whispered to yourself.

“What was that?” Sherlock peered into your room. “Why are you not up yet, woman?”

“Since you decided to play your violin at all hours last night, I did not get rest.”

“Oh,” for a moment there you thought that he might actually apologize, “well, get up. I expect you by the door in ten.” Then he disappeared again.

You bit down on your bottom lip and closed your eyes and you pushed yourself up to a sitting position. You took a deep breath as you moved over to the edge of your bed. Your head was hanging low as Mrs. Hudson came in with a tray of fresh tea. She shut your door as she entered.

“You should not join him today,” Mrs. Hudson said. She set the tray down on your desk before heading to your wardrobe. “You clearly are unwell.”

“You know Sherlock, he will not take no for an answer.”

“Y/N,” she sighed as she pulled a dress out for you and came over to you. “If you would just be honest with you, he listens to you. Shockingly. He also clearly cares.”

“I am fine, Mrs. Hudson. Thank you for the tea and picking my dress for the day.”

“Do you need anymore help getting ready?”

“I am good. Thank you.”

Mrs. Hudson didn’t look convinced but left your room anyway. You took another deep breath before standing up and slowly going over to your desk and pouring yourself a cup of tea. Bringing up to your nose, you took a deep inhale before taking a sip. Mrs. Hudson clearly knew that it was going to be a rough day because the tea she had thrown together had the herbs you would usually use for pain. That woman may not like Sherlock very much, but she was sure going to take care of you.

You pushed through the pain, actually making it worse, in order to be dressed on time for Sherlock. He was by the front door already when you headed down the stairs. 

“Good, you’re ready,” he commented, opening the front door. “Let us go.”

~~~

The day was exhausting. Sherlock was never one to slow down and that was catching up with you. By the time that you two arrived back at the flat, it was close to midnight and everything in your body was on fire. You were sure that Sherlock was saying something but you couldn’t focus on his voice as you used the railing to pull yourself up the stairs. You flinched as a large, rough hand found your lower back. You turned to see Sherlock studying you.

“Are you alright, darling?” He asked.

Your heart swooned at the nickname. “I’m fine,” you said quietly.

“Alright. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Sherlock.”

You slipped into your room and failed to make it to your bed. Instead, you collapsed on the floor. You didn’t have the energy to call for help or anything, so you stayed on the floor, quickly falling asleep.

~~~

The morning came with light slowly trickling into your window, waking you. You groaned as you realized that, one, you were still on the ground and, two, you were in a lot more pain than you were in the day before. It took you about fifteen minutes before you peeled yourself off the floor and began to clean yourself up. About an hour later, you found yourself down in the kitchen, searching for some tea.

“Mrs. Hudson!” You called as you searched the shelves. “Mrs. Hudson, where did you put the herbs for the tea?”

“The nanny is out today,” Sherlock said, coming into the room. 

You winced slightly, surprised at his entrance. “Great,” you mumbled. 

You closed your eyes as you tried to not to get emotional. Sherlock’s eyes grew concerned as he studied you. Something was wrong, he just couldn’t put a finger on what. You let out a deep breath as you opened up your eyes and took a few trembling steps toward the stairs. Sherlock hurried over to your side, setting a hand on your back. You flinched away while you bit down a whimper.

“Something’s not right,” he stated, his voice firm.

“I’m fine,” you tried to match his firmness but your voice betrayed you.

“Do lie to me, darling. It’s not a good look on you.”

“I’ll be fine, Sherlock.” You patted his chest lightly, immediately regretting it due to the pain. “I think that I’ll just go back upstairs and rest.”

You walked away, unsteadily so, under the careful watch of Sherlock. He watched as you used the railing to pull yourself up to the next step and the next. When you reached the landing, he went back into the kitchen to try and put together some tea for you. Sherlock was grabbing the kettle for water when he heard a crash. He rushed out to see that you had fallen down the last few steps and back onto the landing.

“Y/N!” Sherlock exclaimed. He rushed up to you, gently getting you into his arms. “Come on, darling.” You whimpered. “Focus on my voice. What hurts?” 

You just whimpered again as you were unable to focus or speak. He fixed his arms to be underneath you better and stood up with you in them. For someone who always could put together a plan, Sherlock didn’t know what to do. He could run through the streets with you in his arms in search for Watson, he could get you to bed then go out searching for Watson himself, or he could get you to bed then wait by your side until Mrs. Hudson came back. 

Looking down at you, Sherlock knew he couldn’t leave you. Running through the streets with you was also not a possibility due to the pain it would clearly cause you. So carefully, he climbed up the stairs with you in his arms and headed straight for your room. He set you down and gently ran his hand across your forehead to check your temperature. 

Sherlock straightened up as the front door opened and then closed.

“Holmes! Y/N!” John called. “I came for a visit. To see how—“

“Watson!” Sherlock rushed out to the stairs, panicked. “I don’t know—I can’t deduce what happened.”

“What are you talking about, Holmes?” 

“Y/N. She collapsed. I can’t get her to focus or respond.”

John ran up the stairs, following Sherlock into your room. The doctor when to work, quickly realizing that every movement that he was forcing you to make caused you to whimper or cry out.

“There’s bruises forming,” John noted.

“She fell down the stairs,” Sherlock quickly replied. “She was trembling and told me that she just needed rest. I turned my back and then she fell.”

“We should get her to the hospital. She needs to be properly examined and given medication.”

Sherlock’s heart clenched. He knew that he was never good with feelings and relationships, but the thought of something being seriously wrong with you worried him.

“Sherlock,” John called for the detective’s attention. The man glanced up at the doctor. “We’re going to figure this out.”

~~~

Thankfully, John had taken his own carriage to the Baker Street flat so it was easier to get you to the hospital. Sherlock did not let you go throughout the whole ride there. John watched curiously as his old friend showed more emotion and care than John had ever seen from the man before. Sherlock carried you into the hospital, John doing the talking to the worried nurses. 

Sherlock stayed by your side until a doctor came over and told Sherlock that he needed to leave so that they could do a check up. John was already tugging him away before Sherlock could fight. John led Sherlock into the waiting area. The two men sat down with a sigh. John reached over and took the paper from the table in front of him.

“Let’s see what’s going on out in the world, shall we?” John commented as he opened the paper. “Well it seems Scotland Yard still can’t do their job without you.” Silence. “She’s going to be fine, old—“ John stopped himself as he folded the paper to look at Sherlock. Except, Sherlock wasn’t there. “Great.”

~~~

You groaned as you slowly began to come to. Just by the smell, you knew that you were no longer at home. You went to try and find a more comfortable position, still keeping your eyes closed, when a pair of hands gently found your shoulders. 

“Don’t move,” a man’s voice with a clearly fake German accent said. “Your body needs to stay still.”

You blinked your eyes open, focusing on the man above you. He had grey hair and a large beard. He was dressed up like a doctor, but it was his large brown eyes that gave him away.

“Sherlock,” you rasped.

“You had me worried there, darling,” he whispered, sitting on your bedside you.

“What happened?”

“You fell down the stairs. Do you not remember?”

“Not really. I… I just remember a lot of pain.”

“Yes… it seems like you’ve been in pain for a while. You’ve been hiding it from me.”

“You were just oblivious to my pain, Sherlock. For someone so brilliant, you sure miss the obvious.”

“I do not.”

“You do.” Sherlock huffed. “How long am I here for?”

“Until the doctor’s find something to help you.”

You sighed, looking away from Sherlock. “They won’t find anything. People have already tried. I’m just stuck with living like this for the rest of my life.” Tears pricked your eyes as you closed them. “I… I understand if you no longer wish me to be your flatmate. This can be a lot and it will out get worse.”

“Stop that.” Sherlock’s hands came up to held your face. “You are staying at the flat.”

You opened your eyes to see how sincere he was being. It surprised you slightly. “Are you sure?��

“Positive, love.”

~~~

Sherlock’s arm would not leave your waist after he helped you up the front steps of your shared flat. The door opened before he could do it for you and Mrs. Hudson appeared.

“Y/N! I was so worried,” she said, coming in to hug you. “I am so glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson,” you replied as you hugged her back.

“Okay, that’s enough, nanny,” Sherlock scolded as he pushed her away from you.

“Sherlock,” you reprimanded. “It’s fine. It’s just a hug.”

“A hug that could cause you pain.”

“The medication the doctor’s gave me is working. I’m fine.”

Sherlock didn’t responded, but he didn’t care if you said you were fine. He was going to do his best to help you. Even if he was never good with emotions, his own or others, Sherlock was going to try for you.

“I will go put some tea on and bring it up to you,” Mrs. Hudson said.

“Thank you,” you replied as you continued inside. 

Sherlock kept his arm around you as he clenched his jaw tightly while helping you up the stairs. He was trying to resist the urge just to sweep you off your feet and carrying you up the stairs. He knew that you wouldn’t be alright with it and wanted to do what you could, even if it took all your energy. By the time you made it to the top of the staircase, you were tired and you were leaning more into Sherlock. He took on more of your weight with ease and hurried you into your room. He helped you onto the bed.

“I have a few things to do, but I will be around,” Sherlock said softly.

“The case,” you gasped. “You haven’t been able to solve the case because of me.”

“I solved the case while waiting for you to wake. It was the wife, clearly.”

“Clearly,” you chuckled, tiredly. “What do you need to do? Can I help with anything?”

Sherlock pressed out a smile. “You need to rest. That’s what you can help with.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Call for me if you need anything.”

~~~

Sherlock played his violin as you slept, thinking about how to handle his emotions towards you. He was also thinking about ways he could help ease your pain.

“Sherlock,” your whimper made him pause his playing. “Sherlock.” He set down his instrument and rushed out of his room. “Sherlock.” He entered your room to see you laying in bed, clearly in pain. “Sherlock.”

“I’m here, darling,” he whispered as he grabbed the medicine bottle and syringe from your side table.

“It hurts… it hurts…”

“Almost there, love. Almost there.” Sherlock gently took your arm and injected the contains of the syringe into it. You gasped as it filled you. “There you go.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, darling.” He pulled a chair up to the side of your bed. “I’ll be right here when you need something.”

~~~

It became routine for Sherlock to sleep in the chair besides your bed. Even as your body began to bounce back. As you began to feel better, you longed to do more than just stay around the flat. Sherlock was not allowing you to join him on cases, which he only started taking again at your insistence. 

It was now six weeks since your hospital stay, your doctors and John had approved you for more strenuous activities as the medication you were on was working.

“Come on, Sherlock, please,” you begged as you followed him down the stairs. “Let me come. I’m feeling better! I can—“

“No,” his voice was firm as he continued towards the front door.

“John and my other doctors said that I am good. Why can’t you—“

“I said no!” He yelled. You flinched back. Sherlock had never raised his voice at you like that before. “I will see you later.”

He slipped out of the front door, leaving you stunned inside. Sherlock regretting his tone, having sensed your flinch. But he had other things to worry about like the case he was currently trying to solve. Annoyingly so, Sherlock couldn’t get you out of his head the whole day. The man he was casing after almost alluded him because of it. He was coming home late, frustrated at the whole situation.

You had a similar, frustrating day. Unable to do anything without thinking about how Sherlock had treated you that morning. It was not okay and you were determined to let him know that. You waited in his room; going from reading to pacing and then repeating it all. You heard the front door slam and you knew he was home. 

Sherlock’s steps were quick up the stairs. He paused in front of your room, unable to tell if you were sleeping or just not in there. He huffed as he marched into his room. You stood up as he entered. He froze as he saw you there waiting for him.

“What you did this morning was not okay, Holmes,” you told him angrily. “I am not a fragile doll! This is why I didn’t want to tell you about my health because I knew you would never let me do anything again. I am not okay with that! I am not useless! I—“

You were cut off by Sherlock’s lips over yours. He was hungry for you and you quickly reciprocated it, grabbing at him the way he was grabbing at you.

“You’re not fragile,” he whispered against your lips. “And I’ll show you that I believe that, if you’d let me.”

You responded with another eager kiss, allowing him to begin taking off your layers of clothing.

~~~

Sherlock kissed your bare shoulder as you slept against him. He had spent a good portion of the night showing you that he knew that you were not fragile. When you finally fell asleep against him, Sherlock promised himself that he would never be oblivious to your pain—or love—again.

#Sherlock Holmes #sherlock holmes 2009 #Sherlock Holmes fanfiction #RDJ Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock Holmes A Game Of Shadows #RDJ!sherlock holmes #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #rdj sherlock holmes x reader #rdj!sherlock holmes x reader #rdj sherlock holmes x fem!reader #rdj!sherlock holmes x fem!reader #sherlock holmes x female!reader #Sherlock Holmes x f!reader #sherlock holmes imagine #rdj sherlock holmes imagine #rdj!sherlock holmes imagine #rdj x reader #Robert Downey jr x reader #ritchieverse #ritchie holmes

[whorekneecentral]

Snow Storm

Pato O'Ward x Fem!Reader

Warnings: pato doesn't listen, snow storms, getting stranded, car troubles, reader's mad at him and will lowkey let him freeze, teasing, it's giving dom!pato for like 0.2 seconds, oral (f!receiving), lowkey blackmail, penetrative sex (P in V), creampie.

Word Count: 1,729

Author's Note: this is for the six pato fans out there, I hope y'all like this one :)

merry smutmas series

--

Your boyfriend insists the roads are fine to drive despite the massive incoming snow storm; as someone who grew up in cold weather, you knew better. yet, there you were stuck on the side of the road with him in the snow. 

"Do you seriously have to go right now?" You asked him, leaning over from your spot on the bed.

Your boyfriend nods, "yes, because if I leave it back - I won't finish wrapping it. Plus, it's a week before Christmas, the wrapping paper might be sold out."

Rolling your eyes, you sit up properly. "Pato, don't be ridiculous. They're not gonna run out of wrapping paper."

"You never know!" He huffed, arms flung in the air like a child.

You and Pato had returned to your home town to spend Christmas with your family before heading up to Mexico to join his family for New Year. It had been snowing on and off since you got home a few days ago but it really came down last night. Most of the roads were a disaster but Pato was insistent on getting this stupid wrapping paper.

"The roads are going to be a mess, babe. Can we not just go tomorrow?" You asked him but the man was already getting up, grabbing his hoodie off the end of your bed.

"Please," he shrugs you off, "I drive race cars, a little snow ain't nothing to a driver like me."

You can't help but laugh at his dramatics; you grew up in the snow, you know how brutal it can be to get stuck out there and yet, you stupidly follow him down the staircase and to the car.

Pato takes the side street the two of you had taken many times before. See, you lived in a small town in the middle of basically nowhere. When it snowed, people tended to stay indoors but they did plow the roads, but only the main ones took priority. This meant that the road you were on was one of the last to be plowed yesterday and had yet to be plowed today.

With the snow coming down on top of what had already fallen that morning, the mountain of snow piled up along the sides of the road. Pato's focused on the road but as he turns to go over the hill before getting into town, the wheel stops moving. He can hear the grinding, the wheels spinning but it's stuck in something.

You look over at the man, "are you kidding me right now?"

"Wha-" he sighs, "I'll go check." He tells you, pulling the hood over his head as he steps out of the car.

When he opens the door, you shiver. You had not only followed him out of the house but you were wearing sweats and a hoodie, that was nowhere close to enough to keep you warm.

"So," he says as he gets back into the car, looking over at you with a tight lipped smile. "We're stuck."

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock." You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Okay, so I can push the car out-" he says but you stop him, waving him off. "There's no point, you won't make it over the hill and there's too much snow to make it back to the house right now."

His brows furrow, looking over at you. "So what? We're just stuck here?"

"Yeah, for now at least." You pick up your phone and text your sister, letting her know you two are stuck and if she could please call the roadside assistance. Pato sat quietly, not wanting to annoy you further; after all, you did suggest to wait until tomorrow.

"We're here for at least another 3 hours," you tell him, "she says they're gonna clear the roads and then come this way."

The man nods, staring out the window as you unbuckled, shifting in your seat to climb into the back. He looks at you, confused and you pat the spot next to you. "If we're gonna be stuck for 3 hours, we can at least be warm. Come cuddle."

He climbs over the seat, clinging to you the moment he gets into the backseat. While you were cold, you were used to this weather so it wasn't so bad but for Pato, it was as if you had shipped him off to Antarctica. He's shivering, trying to get as close to you as possible; he wonders if you'd let him get into your sweater with you.

You can't help but laugh at the sight of your boyfriend. He huffs, looking up at you. "What?"

"I told you not to come out today." You laughed and he rolled his eyes. "How rude? Don't roll your eyes at me."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll move and let you freeze to death." You tell him and Pato smiles, sitting up a bit. "You won't."

It's your turn to roll your eyes now, moving away from your boyfriend towards the door. Pato ignores your theatrics and moves closer to you again, cuddling into your side. You don't move nor do you react, you simply ignore the man.

Pato holds back the urge to roll his eyes, his lips pressed to your jaw and moves down to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses behind. "C'mon mi amor, I'm sorry."

You ignore the man, not answering him. You'd move away again but if you move another further, you'd end up outside of the car.

He huffs, "fine, if you won't help me warm up, I'll warm myself up." His hand moves from your thigh to the hem of your sweats, shoving his hand down the front.

"Pato!" You laughed, grabbing his wrist. He smiles, "oh so that got your attention?"

"You mean you shoving your freezing hand down my pants? Yeah," you laughed but the man doesn't move his hand- at least not in the way you meant. His fingers rubbed over your panties, he can feel how warm you are, how wet you were.

"Something's got you worked up?" He asks and you ignore him question, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you try not to moan.

Pato's fingers worked slowly, pulling your panties to the side to rub on your clit and you let out a little whimper - by accident of course.

He figured there had to be a fast way to get you to forgive him. He moves his hand away and you give him a look, one he knows too well - why'd you do that. "I know," he tells you, "I'm sorry babe, one second." He pulls you by your hips to lay on the bed seat, your Uggs on the floor as he reaches for your sweats, pulling them off.

"How is this gonna make me warm?" You grumbled, an arm over your face.

"Shut up, will you?" He glances up to you, repositioning himself between your legs.

His hands rub over your thighs and despite his hands being freezing, it felt like every nerve in your body was on fire. Eventually, his hand ends up right where it previously was - exactly where you wanted it.

You let out a breath when you feel his lips on your thigh, soft kisses being peppered across the surface of your inner thigh. Your head falls back against the seat when you feel his tongue on you, he’s yet to move your panties and you're already a mess.

He finally does, smiling to himself “Fuck-” you breathe, fingers tangled in his hair.

Pato glances up at you, his nose brushes against your clit and he doesn't miss the sound coming out of your mouth or the way your hips jut towards him.

"Pato," you whined, pulling on his hair when he stopped for a moment. He chuckles, "do you forgive me?" He asked, a hand running up the side of your thigh.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking at the man. "What?"

"Say you forgive me and I'll give you whatever you want, corazón."

"Fine," you huffed, "I forgive you." You tell him quickly, pulling him back to you. Pato laughs, his face buried between your legs once again.

Your thighs squeeze around his face; he'd die a happy man right there.

You can't wait any longer, you need him in every sense of the word. Pulling your boyfriend up, he kisses you when he meets your face and you can taste yourself on him, the two of you shuffling around a bit. Pato's sitting now, his own pants pulled down half over his thighs and you're on top of him, straddling him.

He lets you sink down onto his cock. Both of you letting out a satisfied sigh, your hands gripping on his shoulders as you set the pace.

He lets out a groan when you clench around him, his hands squeezing your bare thighs, red finger prints on your skin. Pato's face buried in the crook of your neck.

Your hand tangles in his hair, pulling his head back so you can kiss him. You kiss all over his face, Pato cheeks red from the blush forming on his cheeks.

He loves when you love on him like that.  

“You’re so good for me,” you mumble against his cheek, rocking your hips back and forth. “Mmm there,” you breathe, chest pressed to his. His lips find the base of your neck, he bites down softly before kissing up to your jaw.

Pato's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you bounced on his lap. The two of you are tangled together, not sure where one of you ends and the other starts. The windows are steamy, you're no longer freezing but instead, you were sweating.

"C'mon, just like that pretty girl," he edges you on, lifting his hips to meet you halfway.

“My pretty girl, so good for me.” He whispers into the silence.

You pull him down onto you, his chest pressed to yours and your hand rests on his cheek. Your boyfriend kissing you and with a few sloppy thrusts, you feel yourself being pushed over the edge.

He groans, feeling you clench around him and he follows behind you, now coming down from his own high.

The two of you clinging onto each other, his hands slip under the back of your sweater and you giggle, bucking forward on his lap which makes him groan.

"Don't do that," he tells you and you roll your eyes, "then don't tickle me!"

Pato laughs, pulling you in for a kiss. "Warm now?"

"Sweating," you huffed, smiling against his lips.

--

taglist: @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr  @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

#pato o'ward #pato o'ward x reader #pato o'ward smut #f1 #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 smut #f1 x reader #merry smutmas xoxo

[princessaxoxo]

Strangers to lovers Part 6

Sherlock x reader

Summary: Being Enola’s sitter was an adventure, but not as much as falling for her brother, Sherlock.

Warnings: 18+ Only, NSFW, fluff, unprotected sex (p in v), oral (f receiving), vulgar language, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of birth

Word Count: 523

“I now pronounce you man and wife; you may kiss the bride.” Sherlock kissed you with passion after the bishop made his announcement. Claps echoed throughout the room as your family and Sherlock's stood together. There would be a surprise that evening, one that you could not wait to tell your now-husband. “I love you, Mrs. Holmes,” Sherlock said with significance.

Sherlock took you to bed in a bridal fashion. The day of your wedding was filled with little touches to private areas of your bodies. In a manner unbelievably timely, you witnessed him strip off his clothing. The urge to have his body near yours—closer than ever—consumed Sherlock. He was exceptionally tough and passionate tonight. Sherlock looked at you and stated, "I have the most beautiful wife," as he assisted you in taking off your clothes.

His lips didn’t leave an inch of your body untouched. Eventually, his face landed between your thighs, and his soft lips made love to your cunt. His tongue swirled and sucked on your clit repeatedly until his name fell from your lips in whimpers and your orgasm took over your body.

In one quick thrust, his cock stretches your cunt as his body covers yours. There was hunger and yearning in the way he moved. With your palm firmly clutching his locks, Sherlock's head was nestled in the hollow of your neck. Sherlock's enlarged length brushed against your g-spot with every snap of his hips.

He kissed his way up to your lips while your nails scratched across his back. Your body experienced a familiar sensation, alerting you to your approaching orgasm. Sherlock felt your legs start to tremble as your walls tightened around him and his name slipped from your lips.

His seed filled you to the brim, and he groaned deeply. Before he could catch his breath, you said, “I’m pregnant, honey.” Sherlock just stared at you, unable to speak. “Not too long ago, my courses ended, and I saw a doctor. I'm definitely with child."

His face lit up with a smile as he placed his palm on your belly. “Our child, you mean.”

Nine months later, you were giving birth to your baby. Sherlock was by your side, holding your hand. “You’re doing fantastic, sweetheart," he said, then kissed your hand. “One more push, miss!” the doctor said aloud.

With all your might, you gave Sherlock's hand a strong squeeze. Abruptly, a cry filled the room. "Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, congratulations; it's a boy." They handed you your son. Upon holding your son for the first time, happy tears obscured your vision. “Hi, little one," you said as you brushed the side of his tiny head.

Sherlock had the biggest smile you've ever seen on his face as you turned to face him. His eyes were glossy. "Would you like to take him in your arms?"

"Yes, absolutely." With gentle care, you handed Sherlock his son. "He's gorgeous, isn't he?" Sherlock asked, glancing at you. 

You beamed and said to him, "He resembles his father." After exchanging quick glances and kisses, you both turned to face your son and looked forward to what lay ahead.

Taglist: @shellyshellshell @identity2212 @chloe92 @juliaorpll78 @nighttimestan @ellethespaceunicorn @armystay89

#henry cavill #first post #henry cavill smut #smutty #henry cavill x reader #fluff #henry cavill fanfic #sherlock holmes #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x you #enola and sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock fanfic #sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill characters

[wakeenkitten]

Pearl Necklace♡

Warnings/Prompt : ⚠️Smut, Sherlock x wife! Reader, kinda sub! Sherlock, necklace play (very quickly), very loving smut

Summary: just Sherlock and his wife having a nice loving evening together.

Notes: not the best writer I did this during maths class because I was bored! Leave a comment it’s always nice to make me progress! Love love love! ❤️

Sherlock was so soft tonight. It was one of those nights in which he just wanted to be loved fondly and most of all, wanted to show how much he loved his dear wife.

After dinner, on the couch, he pulled her on his lap while she was reading before to go to bed upstairs. He tenderly plunged his face in her neck, breathed her sweet perfume and left a trail of wet kisses, feeling the cold touch of her pearl necklace against his lips. She was humming in response to his loving touch, his hands wandering and gripping her thighs through the light fabric of her dress. She finally closed her book and shoved it aside.

« Yes? » she asked with her eyes closed, as if she ignored her husband’s growing desire.

« Please…oh please please please… » Sherlock repeated, murmuring against his love’s neck. She simply loved when he was like this, her strong genius of a man was turning in such a desperate puppy when he wanted to be hers. She could feel his strong heartbeat pressed against her small shoulder.

She took his face in her hands and caressed his cheeks with the soft pads of her fingers. Sherlock closed his eyes and let out what could be called a purr. She giggled at his craving attitude. She peppered his face with kisses, each touch of the soft pillow of her lips owed her a moan from him.

« My beautiful man.. » she told him « I love you… ».

He grinned happily at her words, desire burning in his deep blue eyes: « oh I love you too, please love, please take me. »

She quickly got up and lifted her skirts, getting rid of her underwear. Sherlock’s large chest heaving at this. She straddled his lap keeping her hips up, not making him feel her warm core yet. She unbuttoned his vest and shirt, finally letting herself taking in the sight of his glorious hairy chest. He disrobed her of her blouse back while she was kissing his chest and giving innocent licks to his turned on nipples. He finally got access to her lacy bra that he threw away with no shame, and rubbed his nose against her soft breasts as a cuddly cat would do against a hand.

Kissing them, pinching her pink nipples and sucking them.

« Oh Sherlock, baby wait. Just… let me.. »

She looked at him with thrilled loving eyes. He just let his hands fall aside and suddenly felt the warm spot between her legs pressed against his tree trunk thigh. He let out a groan.

She opened his pants, his erect shaft almost springing out, it was becoming impatient. She rubbed it slowly making Sherlock’s head rest against the back of the couch and breath heavily, a few moans coming out. Precum pearling at the pink tip, she wanted to lick it off so badly but she just readjusted herself to rub his pretty cock against her slit.

« Oh god you’re so wet, ugh baby keep going. Fuck I love to feel you like this, your perfect pussy… f-fuck i love it so much, Cmon love, ride your Sherlock, oh my pretty girl, I love when you’re so initiative… ». Sherlock almost looked drunk saying these words, so lost in her scent, in her soft skin, hair and touch, feeling her so well.

She shifted and pushed his large member against her entrance, and he entered her gently, filling her completely. She shut her eyes and cries out, gripping his shoulders. Sherlock’s eyes rolled back in his head and he let out a high pitched and desperate cry from the great pleasure.

His hands found the of her round hips and he dug them into her plump skin. His strong grip was following her movements.

« Ooofffuuck!… oh keep going. Oh my beautiful love don’t stop. Oh my god I love being inside you so much, you feel exceptional.. » his heavy breath making him meowl his words. Her hips rolling and snapping against his skin at a certain pace, just what they needed for the moment.

« mmmhmm Sherlock! I feel you… s-so deep! »

« Oh yes baby… »

She lifted her arms, moved her hair aside and grabbed her pearl necklace. She got to take it off and she placed it around Sherlock’s neck, giving it a turn and gently pulled on it. He could still breath and cry out but the pressure was enough to be pleasurable. She let one of her hands wander in his hair, gripping at it to accelerate the movement of her hips. Her perky breasts rubbing against his hard chest. The clapping of their skin and their throaty moans filling the room. He wanted to feel her exquisite scent on his body for weeks.

He wrapped his strong arms around her and hold her close to him.

« Oh l-love, I’m getting closer. Your tight cunt just cannot make me last… ».

His large tip hitting against her g spot again and again was driving her on the edge too, and when he hugged her closer, his pelvis started to rub against her clit. She was a true moaning mess.

« Oh f-fuck love, I-I want to cum with you, I want us to cum together so tell me I-I’ll wait-»

« It’s okay Sherlock I-I’m close too… »

« Oh love, you’re so beautiful! I-I want to see your gorgeous face when you cum… »

She pulled one last time on the pearl necklace before it snapped, little pearls peppering their naked bodies. She gripped his shoulders tightly and came, her head shot back: « oh Sherlock! ».

Sherlock gets a few more jumps from his beauty before to join her in her orgasm, crying out loudly: « oh holy f-fuck love!! Oh my g-uuuugh ! ». His cries were so pretty. She was feeling him filling her insides. The rhythm slowly faded, she stopped the movement of her hips and rested on her husband’s thigh, still filled by his cock. She let herself fall on her lover’s sweaty, hairy chest, cuddling against it.

He was almost inconscient, brows furrowed, eyes closed, panting heavily.

She got up, almost missing the feeling of fullness already, to grab onto a wet tissue to clean themselves. She brushed aside a few sweaty locks of Sherlock’s forehead, giggling at his still blissed out state.

« Sherlock? » she says softly.

« Mmmm » he grabs onto her hips and sits her on his lap, he buries his nose into her hair, smelling her.

« Im the luckiest man in the world ».

She caresses his face and kisses him deeply.

« My wonderful man, I love you. »

« I love You too Mrs Holmes ».

He encircles her with his huge arms, carries her to their bedroom and keeps her warm against him all night. She felt so loved and he felt in heaven, just holding her, his everything, forever. He holds her tight against him, already thinking about the new necklace he is gonna get her.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x wife! reader #sherlock holmes #henry! Sherlock Holmes

[trinittyy]

fic recs

just a little assortment of my favorite works to keep track of them and also show love to the respective writers.

note - a majority, if not all, of the following works contain dark content that some could find triggering. tread carefully.

divider by @firefly-graphics

toxic affection - @love-toxin

warnings: harassment, bullying, some violence, forced relationship

pairing: yandere!bakugou x reader

literally unashamed to say that BNHA fanfiction is what brought me to Tumblr

but this was one of the first I found and it's epic

what's your escape - @gotnofucks

warnings: obsession, possessive behavior, non-con

pairing: dark!sherlock holmes x reader

the man is disastrously down bad for the poor reader

she was so witty and clever but in the end, he got what he wanted in the most satisfying way

infatuation - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor - masterlist

warnings: mentions of stalking, obsession, non-con

pairing: dark!clark kent x reader

poor girl didn't have a clue or a chance in the world to escape this man

sidenote: I can't add Roo to the recs without mentioning just how talented she is. She was the first proper introduction to dark fics in the Marvel fandom and I've been hooked ever since. The amount of detail and dedication that goes into her work is noticeable and she's a talent that deserves recognition. It's one thing to make me like a fic or two of my favorite Marvel men but another to have me thirst over shit I didn't think I'd like.

naughty ransom holiday tales - @jtargaryen18

warnings: kidnapping, non-con, dub-con

pairing: dark!ransom drysdale x reader

guilty pleasure series

hate to love ransom but I can't help it

what the king has - @sincerelythedarkside

warnings: dub-con, character death

pairing: soft!dark steve rogers x reader

royal au

love me a good jealous steve

plot twist shocked the shit outta me

smut was out of this fucking world

love bites - @cherienymphe - masterlist

warnings: character death, jealousy, non-con

pairing: dark!steve rogers x reader, peter parker x reader

modern vampire au (what's not to love there)

this actually made me cry like a bitch

ongoing series

sidenote: Seeing as Cherie will be on this list many times, I have to say it's difficult not to add every piece of work on this list because while some writers have a magnum opus, everything she writes is a work of art. Her range and the backstory she puts in her characters make each story feel like a movie I just can't get enough of. Will forever love her writing.

kryptonite - @cherienymphe

warnings: non-con, obsession

pairing: dark!bruce wayne x reader

the build-up and tension gave me actual chills

trailer park babydoll - @mypoisonedvine

warnings: dub-con, infidelity, age gap

pairing: wayne munson x reader

guilty pleasure fic

absolute filthy smut

wrath of the dragon - @straywords

warnings: non-con, chasing

pairing: dark!daemon targaryen x reader

yet another down bad man

overdue - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

warnings: creepy curtis, non-con, obsessive behavior

pairing: dark!curtis everett x reader

there's little to nothing i love more than a good ole broody man with attachment issues

anxious - @syntheticavenger

warnings: stalking, kidnapping

pairing: dark!peter parker x reader

tasm peter

cutest in a way lol little fic

the dream that got away - @dotieeee

there's not nearly enough dark fics ft my fave peter so I love this one

warnings: dub-con, non-con, manipulation, controlling behavior, obsession

pairing: dark!morpheus x oc!mera

probably the first dark fic about morpheus

each chapter was a masterpiece

and i still haven't seen the show lol

thanks for the invite - @syntheticavenger

warnings: non-con, bitchy friend behavior, implied drugging (i think), oral (f receiving), slight bondage

pairing: dark!lloyd hansen x reader

a funny little unhinged lloyd fic

rsvp - @syntheticavenger

warnings: dub-con, hide and seek, exasperated bodyguard, exhibitionism (a bit)

sequel to the fic listed above

lloyd is still unhinged and reader is still suffering

#fic rec #dark fic #dark!clark kent #dark!peter parker #dark!steve rogers #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!morpheus #dark!curtis everett #dark!sherlock holmes #dark!daemon targaryen #dark!bruce wayne #dark!bakugou #dark!ransom drysdale #x reader

[roses-r-rosie3]

Bad Idea Right?

Jason Todd x M!Reader

[Spill Ur Guts MasterList]

Warnings: Implied sex, Reader sleeping with his ex (aka Jason)🫢, Swearing, drinking, Fluff-ish??

Summary: After partying a bit too hard, the reader wakes up in his bed, and finds Jason (HIS EX) laying right next to him naked

F/n = Friend’s Name

Quote: “Yeah, like I would want everyone to know that I put my dick inside of my ex"

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You woke up with a jolt, and immediately got a major headache. You plopped on your bed with a groan, but something felt off… YOU WERE FUCKING NAKED?!

What the hell happened?!

Oh right, you threw a party at your house because your parents were out of town. But what happened afterwards? Great, now you have to try and piece together what happened.

First, you were setting up with your friends, people started showing up… what the hell happened after that though?

Flashback

“Hey y/n! Look who it is!” Your friend laughed.

You looked up and WHAT THE HELL?! Why the fuck was Jason there?! You didn’t even invite him! You were about to go confront him but your friends held you back.

“He’s not worth it y/n, he probably just got invited by someone else, don’t focus on him, just have fun” your friend reassured.

“Fine” you grumbled.

Next thing you knew, you drank at least not one not two not three, but four drinks! You were drunk out of your mind and you were about to go get your fifth one.

“Y/n, are you sure you should be drinking this much? I know your parents are out of town and all, but this is getting pretty concerning” your friend asked.

“It’s fine f/n! Another drink wouldn’t hurt!” You slurred.

You made your way towards the drink area, and low and behold, Jason was there. You ignored him the best you could, even as a drunk idiot. But as you were done pouring your drink into your cup, you bumped into Jason, spilling your drink on both you and him.

“What the fuck is your problem dude!” You yelled at him.

“Me?! You spilled your drink onto me!” Jason shouted defensively, obviously also a bit drunk.

You looked to the ground, knowing you were somewhat in the wrong.

“So are you just gonna stand there and look dumb or are you gonna show me where the towels are?” Jason said.

“Shut up” you murmured as you lead him to the restroom.

You opened the door and picked up a towel for you and him and started to wipe your clothes. It was silent for a good 5 minutes until you spoke up.

“Why are you even at this party to begin with” you said as you rolled your eyes.

“Did you forget that I have friends too or something?” Jason chuckled.

“So you didn’t know that the party was coincidentally held at my place, the place that you visited for more than 10 times?” You questioned.

“I just read that it was a party okay?!” Jason grumbled.

“Oh sure” you said sarcastically.

That just lead to a heated argument between the two of you. Things got heated and the next thing you knew, Jason was pinning you onto the bathroom wall and you two were sloppily making out.

"For the record this doesn't mean we're back together" You panted as you both pulled away.

"Well no shit sherlock" Jason mumbled before pulling you back in for another kiss.

After what was 8 minutes of making out, you finally broke the kiss.

"Let's finish this in my room yeah?" you smirked.

Jason just nodded before the two of you came into your room, locked the door and did stuff that required you not being seen at the party for the rest of the night.

End of flashback

Did you just sleep with your ex?! Wait.. you never remembered Jason leaving to go back at his place which meant.. wait.. no.. it couldn't be. You turned around and faced a figure, maybe this isn't him, maybe it's another guy you slept with after Jason, but you knew those tattoos from anywhere.

"HOLY SHIT!" You yelled out unintentionally.

Needless to say, that woke up Jason for sure. Jason rubbed his eyes sleepily, readjusting his vision to see where he was. He immediately recognized the room and hoped that you weren't the one who woke him up. But hope could only go so far, and he was met with your shocked/disgusted face.

"We're not telling ANYONE about this. You understand?" you threatened.

"Yeah, like I would want everyone to know that I put my dick inside of my ex" Jason said sarcastically as both you and him got out of your bed to change.

"How do you know I wasn't the top?! Hell we were both drunk!" you said defensively.

"I'm not the one with the limp" Jason smirked.

"You know what... uhh.. j-just get out!" you shouted.

#male x male #malexmale #male reader #mxm #mlm #gay #jason todd x you #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x male reader smut #jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #jason robin #jason todd x oc #rosesrrosie3 #red hood x gender neutral reader #red hood x male reader #red hood x you #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x y/n #red hood x oc #Spotify

[j-eryewrites]

A Study in Pink (II)

Part Two of The Arbitrary Lives of the Occupants of 221 B Baker Street.

Previous | Next​

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Word Count: 5. k

Trigger Warning: Mention of Suicides, Gunshots, and Sherlock being Sherlock. 

Y/N finally has her first interaction with Sherlock!!

_______________________________________________________________

It’s an odd feeling to be woken up with a furry weapon of destruction lying on top of one’s face. However, Y/N was used to it. She was used to her tiny devil gently suffocating her as a memo to feed and worship him. By the time that appeared on her phone, it was clear to her that Bjørn had not adjusted to the new time zone–neither had she. The two of them rose very early in the morning when not a single soul was out. The sky was still dark with the remnants of the night as Y/N made her way to make herself a cup of coffee. She groaned realising it was still safely tucked away in the cardboard boxes she had shipped from home. This is my home now, Y/N corrected. 

She wrapped her shawl close to her body. She mentally scolded herself for not unpacking any kitchen gear. A decision which she is now paying the consequences for. She rummaged through the boxes looking for the familiar label of KITCHEN STUFF. Finally, she found it and tore open the top. By now Bjørn had begun to meow. 

“I know,” Y/N reassured. “Just give me a second Bjørn.”

The cat strolled up next to her, sitting down. His yellow eyes peered up at her through. They glowed underneath the dimly lit lights. His fluffy tail flopped around as he patiently waited for his food. After a few minutes, the familiar crack of the can’s seal was heard. Y/N dumped the canned cat food into Bjørn’s bowl. The cat’s ears perked up in interest. He headbutted her legs before jumping up on the counter to dig into his food. 

While Bjørn was occupied eating his breakfast, Y/N turned on her favourite tunes and began to unpack. The comforting voice of her favourite artist guided her hand as placed the dishes and kitchen tools into their new homes. Her tired mind turned into music, allowing her body to work away, unpacking and making her new flat a home. 

It was when she heard creaking from above that she snapped out of her daze. The sun was now above the horizon. Its warm rays lit up the streets as people went about their business. Her stomach grumbled; her kitchen was now unpacked. Finally, she could eat, except…She cracked open her fridge and pantry to find it completely empty. A groan escaped her mouth as she blamed all her problems on the jet lag. She turned away from the cold buzzing refrigerator to take in the view of her new flat. 

Y/N had rearranged the furniture as best she could without disturbing the others in their slumber. The apartment had never looked better and had never been more of a home. On the walls there hung precious memories: her family’s smiles, friends from college, and Bjørn as a kitten. Besides the pictures hung works of art that she had collected throughout the years. In the center of the living room sat a large velvet green couch. One of which Bjørn made himself comfortable, taking his second nap of the day. Beside the couch sat two chairs both made of dark wood cushioned with matching burnt pink pillows. On the mantle, she placed mementoes from her travels and small pictures filled with more memories.

She sighed and placed her hands on her hips. Slowly she made her way over to the curtains. She pulled them back to reveal a bright and bustling street. London was very much awake. Y/N decided to get a start on the day.

Her stomach practically yelled at her. She needed to eat soon. She quickly got changed for the day and offered Bjørn a quick and subtle pat on his furry head. 

“Alright Bjørn, I’m off. See you when I get home”. 

Then checking herself in the mirror to make sure she looked alright, she grabbed her coat and made her way out the door. 

As she closed her door, the sound of creaking followed by a thud could be heard. It was John. He wore a brown overcoat, and, in his hands, he held two paper bags. 

“Good morning!” Waved Y/N as she walked down the hall. 

“Morning, Y/N,” smiled John. “How was your first night in London?” He asked.

“Oh, it was alright. Bjørn loves it though,” she commented. John smiled at the mention of the cat. “Whatcha got there?” She pointed towards the bags in his hand. 

“Oh, just some breakfast from Speedy’s” he replied, lifting up the brown paper bags. 

“Speedy’s?” asked Y/N, her stomach grumbling again. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.  

“It’s a cafe just down the street,” John explained. 

“Really?” questioned Y/N and John nodded his head in confirmation. “I’ll have to check it out.” She quickly waved goodbye to John as she reached for the doorknob.  

John took that as his cue to leave. His steps climb up the stairs. “Later” He muttered, but Y/N had already stepped out onto the street. 

The morning chill hit her, and she shivered. Her head turned up and down the street looking for the cafe. Her eyes gave her no clues, so she did what all people do when they are in need of direction–pulled out her phone. Her shaking fingers typed in the name of the cafe, and she was immediately shown where it was located. 

The wonders of technology, she chuckled to herself.  

She walked in the direction of Speedy’s. Her hair picked up in the wind. The breeze carried the delicious smell of coffee and freshly baked goods to her nose. The sky was a faint shade of blue. Her eyes scanned the street as cabs and cars drove by. There were buses that stopped to pick up passengers and people who flashed by as they walked to work. 

Reaching the cafe was easier than Y/N expected. It wasn’t hard to miss the big red sign adorned with the words SPEEDY’S Sandwich Bar & Cafe. There was a bit of a line in the cafe, but Y/N didn’t mind. Right now her thoughts were being controlled by her stomach. As she waited in line, she noticed the three employees behind the counter. They seemed scrambled as they fulfilled their customer’s orders. 

Maybe they need an extra hand? Y/N pondered. After all, she did need a job to keep her life and Bjørn’s life afloat here in London. 

The line began to diminish, and she finally stepped up to the counter. Placing her order, she moved to the side to wait. A voice called out her name and Y/N retrieved her breakfast. She muttered a quick thanks and walked through the crowd to the door. 

This time the cool breeze was combatted by the warm coffee cup in her hand. Steam rose from the tiny hole in the lid as she strolled back to her flat. Occasionally took sips of her drink, but quickly pulled back when the hot drink scorched her lips. Coming to the ebony door labelled 221 B, Y/N grabbed the shiny new set of keys out from her pocket and put them in the keyhole. She turned the key and opened the door to the building. A few moments later doing the same for her flat. She entered her home and was immediately greeted by Bjørn. She greeted the cat and set down her breakfast on the counter. Bjørn eagerly jumped up on the counter and sniffed her bag. 

“Not for you,” Y/N chuckled as she snatched the bag away. She picked up Bjørn and placed him on the ground beside her. Afterwards, she opened the bag and began to dive into her breakfast. A moan escaped her mouth as the cheesy goodness of the breakfast sandwich entered her mouth. 

Soon after, she cleaned up breakfast. She grabbed her computer and hopped down on the couch. Bjørn climbed up and curled up in her lap as she cracked the computer open. Creating a new tab, she began to type in the search bar. With her free hand, she pets Bjørn. His sweet purr filled Y/N’s ears as she set off into the deep net in search of a job. 

Her bottom began to ache from sitting too long. She brought a hand to rub the itch from her eyes from staring at the screen too long. She closed the laptop and placed it to the side. The room was now dimly lit as the sun sank in the sky, starting to retire for the night.  A loud rumbling shook Bjørn awake. He jumped off her lap and meowed in protest. She really did need to eat, so it was decided. She would take a trip to the grocery store. 

________________________________________________________________

Y/N entered the grocery store and was disappointed. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but she wasn’t expecting this. Growing up in the United States with humongous grocery stores that are filled to the brim with anything you could possibly need with prices that end with the glorious -.99. The grocery store in which she found herself was a mouse compared to the giant chain stores she was used to. She’d also never seen a grocery store this empty. She was quite sure as looked around the building, that she was one of three customers. The squeaky wheels of the cart groaned, screeched, and whistled in the most annoying manner possible. Y/N already felt herself going crazy. She had to get what she needed and get out of there fast. 

Her shoes clacked along the black and white checkered floor. Her feet stepped over the numerous muddy footprints that stained the floor. Y/N began to miss the music played in the grocery stores back home. The music that was two decades too old would faintly play from speakers around the building. Here, in London, Y/N was left alone to her thoughts and the squeaking of the cart’s wheels as she meandered around the store finding what she needed. 

To make matters worse, Y/N’s brain had taken the three-customer hypothesis to heart. She peered down at her list of groceries. Closely examining each material as her hand took a pencil to cross it off. She dragged her hand against the paper and suddenly her hand shot up, ruining her perfect straight line. The handle of her cart jutted into her stomach, and she yelped. She had knocked into something. Quickly, she began to apologize, whether it be to an inanimate object or not. A shadow of dread fell over her body, as a voice responded to her apology. 

The man she had hit, had rebounded from the impact of the cart and fell into the shelf beside him. A wave of tin cans fell to the floor like dominos. Their clanging echoing off of the floor grasped the attention of every soul in the grocery store. 

The man sheepishly waved at the employees and other customers whose stares bore into him. He reached down to pick up one of the cans that had fallen, placing it back on the shelf. 

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” apologized Y/N. She began helping the man place the cans back on the shelf. 

“Don’t worry about me, I’m quite sturdy.” He replied. His voice sounded familiar in Y/N’s ears. She glanced up from the cans and looked at the man. He was crouched over, picking up can after can. She caught sight of his short blonde hair. The man sensed someone looking at him. He peered up from the cans and had to do a double take. 

“John?” and “Y/N?” the two of them said at the same time. If Y/N wasn’t embarrassed before, now she was completely mortified. Of all people to run into, it had to be John. 

The two of them sat frozen, crouched over the pile of silver cans. John’s ears burned red, and Y/N’s face was a deep scarlet. A cough sounded from above them and the two snapped their eyes up to look at one of the store’s employees. They couldn’t have been older than 16 and with their tired eyes, told John and Y/N that they had it taken care of. The two adults insisted that they help, but the employee was adamant. Y/N reluctantly turns back to her cart and with a creak pushes the cart along. Suddenly she was hit with a realization and turned back to the pile of cans covering the floor. The kid looked at her with a confused face and she awkwardly smiled back at him. 

With her hand, she snatched one of the cans off the floor and placed it into her cart muttering, “Need this.” 

Y/N looked down at her list and the words missing a line in the middle bulged out from the paper. Screw this, she thought. Y/N was done with all these embarrassing coincidences. She directed her cart toward the checkout lanes and began to check out. Barely a word was said to the employee as she paid for her groceries. Y/N knew she’d have to come back soon to get the rest of the things she needed, but after today’s occurrences, she knew she could show her face here for about a week or two. 

After paying for her things, Y/N grabbed her bags and excused herself from the store. After she emerged through the sliding doors, she saw John by the road. He had hailed a cab and was just about to sit down when he saw Y/N. He called out to her, and she approached him. 

“Would you like to split the cab?” He asked. 

The weight of her groceries was already weighing her down. She could already feel her forearms getting sore. “Yeah, I’d love to.” 

She opened the trunk of the cab and placed her groceries down. She closed the lid, sat down next to John in the back seat, and closed the door. John relayed their address to the cab driver, and they were off. 

The both of them were too embarrassed from the incident in the grocery store to say anything, that was until Y/N brought up Bjørn. John’s eyes immediately lightened up at the mention of Y/N’s cat. 

“How’s Bjørn?” He asked.

“Doing alright. He thinks he already owns all of 221B,” she chuckled. “Auntie M loves him. Spoils him rotten, I say.”

Another wave of silence fell over them. Y/N huffed as she considered whether or not to ask John about his flat mate, but it seemed as if he had read her mind. 

“Have you met Sherlock yet?” He asked. 

Y/N thought back to the conversation she overheard. “It’s not like he’s wanting to meet me. If I remember correctly, I’ll have moved out by the end of the week.” Her jaw clenched. If she knew anything by heart, it was that John was roommates with the most stuck-up man alive. 

John winced at her words. “You heard that…Y/N, I’m so sorry,” He tried to apologize.

“Of course, I heard it. He’s got a loud thunderous voice. I bet people a block away heard him,” she ranted. She crossed her arms and muttered, “He’s a dick.”

John nodded in agreement. “You wouldn’t necessarily be wrong there. However...” Y/N turned to glare at John. “Alright, Y/N hear me out. Sherlock’s a good person at heart.” 

She scoffed. “Yeah, right. I’ve heard how he’s treated my aunt. I can’t believe she’s let him live that long in 221B.” 

“Well, yeah, “said John. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked up. “How’d you meet Bjørn?” He blurted. 

Y/N raised her brow. “I don’t see how this has anything to do with…”

“You’ll see later, just how’d you get Bjørn?” He reassured. 

Y/N thought back to how she had gotten Bjørn and began to relay the story to John. It had only been a few years prior when had come across Bjørn. On her days off of work, she would volunteer at the animal shelter near her home. One day, a cat was brought in off the street. He was labeled as feral and did not let anyone so much as look in his direction. The cat hadn’t been eating and was in serious need of a bath and medical care, but no one could get near him. The others at the animal shelter said he was a lost cause, but Y/N wouldn’t hear of it. She knew she had to try something; she couldn’t give up on the poor thing. At first, the cat had hissed at her and backed itself into a corner. Y/N sat down with a can of freshly opened food at her feet. She sat there for hours. The cat was unmoving, but no longer hissing at her. Slowly, the cat’s ears relaxed, and it’s tail lowered. After some time, the cat’s nose began to twitch as it had caught the scent of the food. The cat placed one foot forward. Each time its paw left the floor, it’d look up at Y/N. She was smiling and tried her best to not move at all for fear of startling the cat. Paw after paw, the cat had reached the can of food and began to eat. Y/N slowly began to whisper to the cat. “You’re a feisty one,” she said. “Almost like a bear.” She looked over the cat’s thin figure. Its fur was a beautiful shade of brown, something she had never seen on a cat before. Her hands ached to pet him but knew that she’d probably regress the cat back into the corner. After the cat had finished, he sat down and peered up at her. Y/N’s eyes widened at the action. She had thought he’d run back into the safety of the corner. What the cat did next shocked her to her core. The brown cat dropped its head down and began rubbing up against her. The faint sound of purring left the cat as he marked Y/N as his human. Hesitantly she reached a hand out, the cat looked at it with its golden eyes and began reaching for the hand. Y/N brought her hand down gently and began petting the cat. The minute her hand touched his rough, dirty fur, she knew that she had to take him home with her. After the shelter had given him treatment, washed and groomed him. Y/N immediately signed the papers of adoption and took Bjørn. Her little bear-Bjørn. 

As she finished her story, Y/N smiled. She loved that cat with all her heart. 

“Alright,” John said, bringing her out of the memory. “Think of Sherlock like Bjørn.” 

Y/N narrowed her eyes at John. 

“Sherlock is feisty and mean. He holds himself up in that corner, away from others. When anyone tries to approach, he hisses them away,” John explained. “Y/N, you’ve just got to give Sherlock time. He’ll warm up to you and eventually come out of that corner. Then you’ll know just how great he can be.” 

Y/N sighed. John was too good with his words. She reluctantly nodded her head. She’d be willing to give Sherlock a chance. She didn’t know when, but she knew she would. 

The cab came to a stop and the driver notified them that they had arrived. Y/N and John spilt the cab fee and got out. They opened the trunk, got out their groceries, and headed into 221B. John invited Y/N up later that evening if she wanted to come and say hi. She thought about John’s words in the car and nodded her head. John smiled and continued his way up the stairs and into his flat. Y/N turned towards her flat door and opened it up. Bjørn jumped down from his seat on the couch and began meowing at her. As if he was saying he missed her. She dropped the groceries on the floor and picked up Bjørn like a baby. She cradled him in her arms as she took a hand to pet his soft fur. He purred as Y/N continued to ponder over John’s words. He was right, if Y/N didn’t give Bjørn time, they would be here now. She figured she could offer Sherlock, whoever he was, the same thing–time. 

_____________________________________________________________

Y/N did not expect to be treading carefully up to John and Sherlock’s flat with a weapon in hand for the first time, but that was until she heard the sound of gunshots from ahead. Completely terrified she did what anyone would do: Try and call 911 but then realize she wasn’t in the U.S. and then proceeded to grab the nearest object, a broom, and carefully headed upstairs. Bjørn had growled at the noise, glaring upwards as she left the safety of her flat. 

Y/N’s eyes glanced down to her aunt’s door. It was closed. Either her aunt wasn’t home, or she didn’t care enough to come marching up the stairs in defense of her tenants. Y/N thought over the options and decided she wasn’t home. Y/N knew that Mrs. Hudson cared about John and Sherlock as if they were her own children. As Y/N stepped closer and closer to the entrance of John’s flat, the wooden floor from underneath her creaked. She winced and slowly began to continue. 

When she reached the top of the stairs, Y/N found the door to the apartment wide open.  Y/N squinted her eyes debating whether or not she should enter. 

“Come in” announced a baritone voice, one that belonged to definitely did not belong to John. 

Hesitantly she stepped inside the apartment holding the broom like a baseball bat. To say the least, the apartment was a bit eccentric. One wall had a black and white floral wallpaper, and another was a red and white diamond design. The other walls were a light shade of green. There were books, teacups, newspapers, and files scattered everywhere. Y/N was even sure she saw a mug filled with a bubbly liquid and what appeared to be human teeth. In the middle of the living room there stood two chairs. One was dusty red and quite worn around the edges. The other chair was a musky greenish brown that was held up by a metallic frame. In that very chair sat a man with curly black hair. He was sitting with a slouch, but it was clear that he was quite tall. His knees rose a bit higher than the cushion of the chair. Next Y/N noticed the man’s facial features. He had a strong bone structure, with his cheekbones being especially sharp. His eyes were a piercing blue. A shade you’d only find in a glacier from the icy north. When their eyes met, she gasped. The man before her bore a cool and calculated expression. His hand was rested under his chin. In his other hand, he held a gun.

The man took in a deep breath, sat up straighter, and brought his hands to rest in his lap. “Who are you? Why are you holding a broom like a lunatic?” He questioned. 

“Umm…” She looked him over again unsure of whether or not to tell this strange man. “You first. Who are you?”

“You’re in my flat. I will ask again, who are you.” He challenged. 

Y/N’s brain connected the dots. The man before her was Sherlock. John’s roommate. “Your neighbour, I just moved in…” alluded Y/N, hoping he would somehow recognize her.  Sherlock just cocked an eyebrow at her in intrigue. “I heard gunshots and got worried.”

A door creaked open, followed by light footsteps as John entered the room. Taking off his earphones he asked, “Y/N? What are you doing here?” 

“There were gunshots and I got scared,” She explained. The broom in her hand was now lowered down. 

“Sorry about that. Sherlock…,” condescended John.

Then Sherlock interrupted. “Don’t go worrying like we’re friends. You’ll be moving out by the end of the week anyway. Other tenants never stay long.”

“Sherlock!” reprimanded John. “Be nice.”

“I’m a high-functioning sociopath and have no use for being nice,” enunciated Sherlock. His voice rose slightly. 

A harsh breath escaped her mouth. She wasn’t about to lose her cool. She wasn’t going to let Sherlock get to her. She was going to stay whether he liked it or not. She began to imagine that Sherlock was Bjørn. She wouldn’t give up on Bjørn, so she’d wait for Sherlock. It was the least she could do for John. She took in a deep breath and replied; “No, it’s fine, John.” She looked down at her hand with the broom and swung it behind her back hiding it from view. “Let’s try again. I’m Y/N L/N your new neighbour. John invited me over to say hello and introduce myself to you.” She smiled at Sherlock. 

Sherlock turned his gaze away from Y/N and began glaring at John. It was as if John had offended Sherlock in the worst way possible. “You invited her over?” Sherlock grumbled. His words were slow and careful. 

John’s jaw clenched. “She’s Mrs. Hudson’s niece, Sherlock! At the very least say hi to her and yes, I invited her over. I quite like Y/N,” John told Sherlock. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and conceded as he rolled back into his chair. His jaw clenched and he brought his gaze back to Y/N. Y/N felt a chill go up her spine as Sherlock continued to stare at her. His eyes began to squint and before he could say something. A man had burst into the flat. His pepper-colored hair was messed up a bit and his button-up shirt wwas slightly untucked.  

Sherlock perked up. “Where?”

“Brixton, Lauriston Gardens” breathed the man. 

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed, “Something’s different.”

John looked between the two men. “Does this have something to do with the suicides?”

“Suicides? What suicides?” prodded Y/N. 

The man in front of Y/N turned and pointed toward her, “Who’s she?” 

Without skipping a beat, Sherlock replied, “No one, Gary”. The man opened his mouth but was silenced. “What’s different?”

Y/N scoffed at Sherlock. The new man in 221B looked between Y/N and Sherlock. He got the feeling as if he was interrupting something. 

Gary hesitantly continued, “This one left a note.” 

Now, this intrigued Sherlock, “I’ll come. Who’s working forensics?” 

“Anderson.”

Sherlock grimaced, “Anderson won't be willing to work with me.”

“Well, you have, John. Right, John?” asked Gary. 

“Yes, of course, Greg,” agreed John. 

“Thank you” mouthed Greg or Gary. Y/N was confused about which name to call him by. He looked around the room collecting his breath and then he was off. 

Sherlock jumped out of his seat, practically leaping for joy. “4 serial suicides, and now there’s a note. It’s practically Christmas.” He raised his eyebrows giving John a smile. “Shall we?” 

John nodded and grabbed his coat and hat off of the coat rack. Sherlock followed suit, throwing on his scarf to help keep warm. The two men turned to face Y/N with John glancing up at Sherlock with a look of hesitancy on his face. As if he was expecting something to happen. It seemed quite impolite to just leave Y/N so suddenly.

“Close the door on your way out,” Sherlock said.  His crystal blue eyes met Y/N’s. 

It was hard to tell who was more shocked, John or Y/N. John’s mouth hung wide open. Y/N was completely taken aback, but before she could respond, Sherlock quickly made his way out the door and down the stairs. “Mrs. Hudson, we’ll be heading out.” Notified Sherlock as if Mrs. Hudson was his mother. 

Mrs. Hudson tore her eyes away from the soap opera on the television. “Of course, dear. Where are you boys heading off to? Is it those suicides?” asked Mrs. Hudson. 

Popping his head into the apartment, Sherlock replied, “John and I are heading out to a crime scene. Be back quite late. Perhaps prepare some tea?”

“I’m your landlady, not your housekeeper, Sherlock.” 

Accepting that answer, Sherlock was out the door, shortly followed by John. A loud slam came from upstairs. Mrs. Hudson crept to her window and watched as the two of them hailed a cab and were on their way. Satisfied, she sat back down in her chair and began to knit. Shortly after, Y/N appeared in her doorway. “You are here?” She muttered to herself. 

“What was that N/N?” Mrs. Hudson asked. “Couldn’t quite hear you.”

“Nothing,” exclaimed Y/N.

“Why aren’t you going with them?” Mrs. Hudson asked. Y/N grimaced at the thought. “I thought you left with the boys. You were always one to follow the boys around. I remember that childhood friend of yours Jason or something like that.”

“James, Auntie M. His name was James. And I decided against it. I’d rather not burden John with Sherlock’s dead body.” 

With that Y/N left Mrs. Hudson to her knitting. Give him time, She whined. That was going to be a lot harder than Y/N thought it would be. She was sure she’d strangle Sherlock by the lapels of his coat before he ever said hello to her. In a huff, she slammed her own flat door at the thought of the man. Bjørn hissed at the sound. 

“Sorry,” she muttered. The cat only meowed in response. Bjørn hopped on her lap to comfort her allowing her to pet away the stress and anger she held for Sherlock.

_______________________________________________________________

Let me know what you think! Also, comment below if you would like to be tagged in further posts. 

@bartokthealbinobat​

Previous | Next​

________________________________________________________________

#bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #i am sherlocked #sherlock fanfic #fanfic #mysteries #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock reader insert #sherlock bbc #benedict!sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #femreader #fem!reader x sherlock #bbc sherlock imagine #sherlock imagine #sherlock is sherlock #three patch problem #f!reader #greg lestrade #john watson #mrs hudson #sherlock holmes imagine #reader insert #the arbitrary lives of the occupants of 221b baker street

[sherlocksoft]

The Experiment

Sherlock Holmes x reader

Masterlist

Summary: When you married Sherlock, you discovered a side to him that you would never have expected. A side that was only for you.

Author's notes: See if you can spot the line I included from a Sherlock Holmes story as a nod to Victorian Sherlock… I used a few Victorian terms in this to make it authentic, so on the off chance that you're an historian specialising in Victorian dirty talk, please be kind 😉. This is written with any Victorian Sherlock in mind, but leaning toward Henry.

Warnings/content: nsfw, shameless smut, 18+, f!reader, reader has a vagina, dirty talk (but make it Victorian), first time, marriage, breeding kink, fingering, cream pie, cunnilingus, overstimulation, discussion of safe word, mentions of blow jobs, dom Sherlock if you squint, mentioned aftercare

Marrying a gentleman like Sherlock, there was no surprise that when it came to matters of the marital bed, he was technically as inexperienced as you.

You had been delighted to learn that he had a tendency to live slobbishly from time to time despite scrubbing up exceptionally well; neglecting his hair, sleeping in, wearing his dressing gown all day, not bothering with trifles like what time you ate dinner or who was calling in when his organised chaos took over your home (especially if it was his brother Mycroft).

You were also pleased that he wasn’t a prude — in his line of work you supposed it would be difficult to be completely prudish — because you felt you could comfortably be yourself around him, which seemed such a rare treat for a woman living in these days.

But the one thing you were utterly surprised by, was the way he spoke to you about sex. And even more surprising; how completely crazed he seemed for you. It went against everything you expected of him while courting, and definitely against everything that the general public would ever imagine of him.

Always treating you entirely properly, you’d expected an awkward and perhaps uncomfortable encounter upon consummating your marriage, sure that he would not have time or care for physical affection, especially since he usually displayed such an obvious aversion to the touch of others.

On the contrary, he seemed to have a great deal of confidence as well as an intricate insight into the topic, even upon your first time together. His approach set every nerve in your body aflame before sating you completely and providing a generous offering of his pearly seed to establish itself in your belly.

When you found yourself atop your newly shared bed, at first you worried your ankles may be revealed as your dress lifted above your boots, but he didn’t seem at all phased. You supposed people did see one another in the nude once they were married, and although the thought had been eating away at your nerves, but Sherlock didn’t seem nearly as on edge, which went a long way to soothing your worries.

You’d seen this look of his before. His sparkling eyes devoured you as though you were a new and exciting mystery to be solved, and knowing him as you did, he would no doubt be filled with drive fit for a thorough investigation.

‘Do not worry, darling, I shan’t strip you of your beautiful dress just yet,’ he soothed, caressing your cheek before shedding himself of his jacket and loosening his ascot. ‘Let us start slow, we do have all night after all.’

He moved down to sit beside where you laid upon the bed, and his fingers worked to remove your boots, sending shivers tingling up your legs as his flesh eventually brushed against yours.

You watched him carefully as he rolled his sleeves up, wondering what on earth he was preparing for. You began to feel entirely like one of his experiments, and you supposed that in a way, since this was his first time too, you were. The thought made your lips curl in amusement and your heart race.

‘Have you researched sex, Sherlock?’ you asked bashfully as he lifted your skirts further and ran his fingertips, featherlight and only slightly shaky, up along the contours of your inner thighs.

Gently, he pushed your legs apart, fingers hooking under the soft fabric of your bloomers as that gorgeous curl loosened to fall over his forehead.

‘Of course I have,’ he said simply, still entirely focussed on contributing to your growing arousal. ‘One cannot possibly get something of such delicate balance down to an exact science without sufficient data… just like one cannot perform an exact art without practise. And practice, we shall…’

Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson at the imagery of him studying indecent books with your pleasure in mind. You were overcome with an unusual desire to squeeze your thighs together, but ignored it in favour of feeling entirely safe in his apparently capable hands. Hands that were slipping your bloomers down past your knees and dropping them unceremoniously to the floor.

His fingers began to explore your slick folds, not at all helping to cool the red hot blush that powdered your cheeks.

‘Oh, how I’ve dreamed of bedding you, my darling,’ he breathed, settling properly beside you on the bed. ‘I’m going to satisfy you in ways you cannot fathom. Don’t be shy, you’re doing so well for me.’

Your unexpected cry of pleasure tore through the otherwise silent room, his finger now slowly pumping in and out of your heat. You gripped his arm as if holding on for dear life, fearful that you might otherwise float away in this unexpected haze of bliss.

‘You feel like silk,’ he praised, voice weakening slightly. ‘That’s it, hold on to me, you’re safe. You’re going to come on my fingers first, my needy little minx. Focus on how they fill you, how they caress your inner walls. Does it excite you as it excites me?’

You nodded. Your mind was fuzzy with pleasure like you’d never known, so much so that answering verbally seemed a certain impossibility.

‘I have fantasised about taking you on my fingers,’ he whispered, low and deep into your ear, ‘how divine you would sound as you give in to your pleasure, my name slipping hungrily from between those pretty lips.’

He removed his finger then, and a whine of protest erupted from somewhere within you. You just felt so empty without his elegant digit sliding in and out of your swollen entrance, dragging against something inside that made you absolutely ravenous for more — but a new sensation soon took over and you felt disappointed no longer.

His slick coated fingers dragged up through your folds and you shuddered, all the nerve endings in your body, it seemed, set alight at once. But when he reached the throbbing nub at the apex of your sex, there was suddenly ten times the bliss you’d felt before and your body jolted upward as your scream pierced the room.

‘Ah, it seems it’s not so hard to find after all,’ he said casually, ‘I summised that most men were simply to lazy to bother with this little trick, and perhaps I was onto something. But look at you darling, how you tremble for me while I massage your pretty, soaked flower. What man wouldn’t want to witness their love so utterly wanton for their touch? To feel her blatant arousal at his very fingertips?’

Your mind had turned all but blank, the sensations shooting through your body overwhelming you as his fingers danced with perfect pressure against your clitoris.

‘Sh-Sherlock- I- oh!’

‘I know, darling, I know, you need to come for me, don’t you?’

Swiftly, he pressed his thumb to your clit and slipped a finger easily back inside, fucking you harder and faster than before, watching with delight as you unravelled beneath him.

As the lewd slapping of his fingers fucking into your sopping sex filled the room he, quite pragmatically albeit with a much darker voice than that which he uses during his usual experiments, talked you through your release.

‘This pleasure will soon overwhelm you, culminating in your orgasm. If all goes to plan, your quim will rapidly clench around my finger and there’ll be something like sparks at your clitoris, then you’ll feel a few moments of indescribable ecstasy...’

Your own fingers snapped around his wrist, feeling his steady yet vigorous movements, and you wondered how on earth anything could feel better than this, right now.

And then it hit.

‘Ah, yes, there it is. That’s it! Yes, come for me! Come for me!’

His name did indeed tear from your parted lips, shaky and breathy and desperate, and then his fingers began to slow, easing you down from your high until he gently withdrew them.

Your eyes closed as you relaxed back against the pillows, your legs shaking. You heard a humming sound that pulled you back to the present, though, and glanced across at your husband to see him gleefully sucking your slick from his fingers.

‘It is frankly a disservice to the entire human race to consider that act depraved. Mmh. And you taste like the sweetest nectar, darling... tell me, did it feel good?’

You nodded, biting your lips together.

‘There’s no shame in it, my love. Especially if it feels good.’

‘It felt exquisite,’ you breathed, punctuated with a blissful sigh, and Sherlock smiled broadly. A rare sight. ‘But what about you?’

‘I do not wish to rush you. I will be truthful, however — after watching that beautiful display, my root is as solid as a rock. Whilst I've no intention of pressuring you, I will not turn you down if you’re sure you feel sufficiently ready for me.’

‘I… I think I do,’ you whispered, and you loosened your grip from the layers of your skirt to rest a hand delicately on the broad expanse of his chest.

He gasped at the simple affection, and the reaction caused your lower lips, still throbbing with the after effects of your climax, to quiver.

‘May I?’ you asked carefully, and he nodded. Your hand trailed down gradually, until it reached his lower stomach.

Sherlock’s breath quickened, and you pushed lower still, cupping his erection.

‘Ah- ohhh-’

His eyebrows raised and his eyes fell closed as you stroked his length softly and slowly, but before you could find a proper rhythm, he quickly snapped his hips away, grabbing your hand firmly in his as he leant in to kiss you with fierce passion.

As he pulled away from your lips, he muttered, ‘I hoped to inject you with my seed, but I fear that if you continue touching me for a moment longer, the only thing filled with it will be my undergarments.’

‘Then please, Sherlock, take me-’

And take you, he did. Within a second you were pushed onto your back, and he was settling between your legs, hurriedly unfastening his trousers to release his steadily leaking arousal.

As he carefully pushed himself into you, your warmth enveloping his length, an expression of sheer bliss relaxed his handsome features.

‘Am I too big, darling?’ he panted. ‘Does it hurt?’

‘No- please, don’t stop, Sherlock, I want to be filled with your cock- filled to the brim with your blow-’

He smirked at your words. You mustn't be quite so innocent if you were using words like that.

Sherlock began to steadily roll his hips. Your core burned with an unusual pain, a pain that made you crave more.

His forehead pressed to yours, your hot breath mingling with his each time he thrust gently into you and let out a sweet little whimper.

‘I told you I’d- fantasised about- pleasuring you- ha- ahhh- I can’t deny- I’ve thought of many acts, some of which you might consider- mmh- indecent- but each flood of bliss I give to you is- ha- simply the perfect result of an experiment I’ve been dying to carry out since I met you, and- ohhh-’

His voice was so breathy and shaky now, you knew that he wouldn’t last much longer, but you wanted to give him a taste of how he’d made you feel. You wrapped your legs around his waist and dug your heels into his back, pulling him closer and signalling for him to go harder.

‘Do you- ohh- do you w-want my children, darling? Do you want me to- ah!- unleash my potent seed within these t-tender walls and- give you a child?’

‘I want nothing less,’ you breathed, thrilled at his words, and at that he snapped his hips unrelentingly, snaking a hand between your writhing bodies to massage your sensitive clit once again, and Sherlock relished in the moan his touch elicited.

‘Clever little- ohh- trick, isn’t it?’ he just about managed, and less than a second later, came with force inside you.

Your walls tightened, contracting around his thick cock to milk him of every last drop, your tightening walls taking him to a plane of existence he’d never before explored.

This orgasm felt different for you, you noted, and if either of you had been coherent enough to discuss the matter you were sure he would ask you to write it down and keep a record detailing those differences.

Nevertheless, your second peak was just as strong, and you fell weak once again as Sherlock’s seed dribbled onto your thighs and he rolled off you, panting.

‘Darling- that was- oh, it was-’ he muttered, half delirious. ‘You feel- good god, you feel-’

‘I came again,’ you admitted, proud this time, knowing it would please him.

‘I know. I felt it,’ he smirked, and then, almost as if he read your mind, ‘did it feel different?’

‘Yes,’ you chuckled.

‘Oh how wonderful! I should write a monograph on the matter. Only for your eyes of course — although it could benefit at least half of the population if there were more literature on women’s pleasure.’

‘So, a filthy love letter just for me, with a touch of the scientific?’

‘You understand me so well,’ he cooed, stroking your cheek. ‘This is precisely why I adore you.’ And suddenly, there was a sparkle in his eyes that you’d seen when he reached a breakthrough. ‘Tell me, have you ever heard of cunnilingus?’

You shook your head. ‘Not… really. I may have gleaned a… basic understanding-’

‘It’s precisely the act I mentioned may be considered indecent, but I would very much like the opportunity to try it with you.’

‘Tell me about it?’ you breathed excitedly.

‘Perhaps it would be easier to show you. Do you trust me?’

‘Yes. Do it,’ you said eagerly, hungry for as much as he was willing to give you.

‘Consider this another experiment… if you dislike it, you must tell me and I shall end it, however my understanding is that if it works, you will not be entirely in your right mind so we must set a code in place.’

‘How about a word that we don’t associate with sexual activities?’ you suggested.

‘Precisely. “Mycroft” it is.’

You burst into a simultaneous fit of laughter, until he silenced you with another, fervent kiss.

‘You might need to loosen your corset for this one. Providing three orgasms in restrictive clothing is no way to treat one’s wife. And what if there are four, or five? I would never forgive myself.’

Taking his advice, you began to strip, soon revealing your breasts to him.

‘Oh, darling, what a perfect start...’ He wrapped his lips around a nipple and sucked lightly, his fingers toying with the other. He was pleased to feel you squirm beneath him and jolts of pleasure shot from your chest to your core and back again.

‘Oh- I never knew they could- mmh- feel like that…’ you groaned, but once again he left you cold to move onto something new, shimmying lower to settle his face at the apex of your thighs.

His tongue lashed warm and wet against your sex, circling your nub, exploring your folds and lapping at your entrance to collect your combined juices.

The way you shuddered had him fighting off a second erection. Not now — he needed to concentrate, and was hoping that with this new method he could give you multiple orgasms in one sitting. His own pleasure could wait.

He hummed into your quim as though he were enjoying a long awaited meal, and you quickly fell apart once again as his hums of delight vibrated through your core.

‘Sherlock,’ you whined, ‘Oh, Sherlock…’

‘One more?’ Came his muffled response, his deep growl reverberating through your weakened body. It didn’t take long for another peak to take over, your mind completely clouded in a haze of overstimulation.

‘I think it’s time for a break now, my love,’ he muttered softly, coming up to hold you, his pretty lips coated in your juices. ‘I rather think that this has been an experiment I would take pleasure in repeating regularly, if you’ll allow me.’

‘I’d be delighted,’ you sighed dreamily, already feeling the pull of sleep.

‘I will also mention that, as soon as you’re comfortable enough, I would rather like to experiment with my own orgasms. See how they feel inside your hand… or your mouth…’

‘Yes, yes I would… I would like…’

‘Shh… for now, it’s time to sleep. Rest, my darling wife you’ve done so well for me.’

You nodded, and that was the last you remembered of the evening.

A thin blade of warm sunlight woke you in the morning. You found yourself comfortably wrapped inside his shirt. He’d cleaned you up after you drifted off to sleep, and you rose feeling refreshed and relaxed.

Creaking open the bedroom door, you heard his handsome voice floating through. He had a client, and when you peeked through the gap you could see that your husband looked impeccably well put together. Unlike you; if anyone saw you like this… you dreaded to think. You smiled to yourself, though, wondering what his stoic looking client would think if he knew what Sherlock had spent all night doing before meeting with him. You bet Sherlock could teach him a thing or two.

You could only hope this case would be too boring for him so he would return to your bed, for you entirely planned to take Sherlock into your mouth the moment you were able. To taste him. To give him as many releases as he had given you. To see him entirely, blissfully weakened by pleasure…

#not s f w 💀 #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock x reader #sherlock smut #henry cavill sherlock holmes #victorian sherlock #henry cavill #sherlocksoft writes

[verslxt]

pairing : toji x fem bodied!reader

warnings : oral sex (f reviving), table sex

authors note : THE NEW THEME?!?!

as you sat on the table your legs around your baby daddies head he licked a line up your slit "mhm stop teasing" you moaned out as you pulled your shirt down to cover yourself from the sleeping megumi in his play pen

toji very suddenly inserts two fingers inside of your throbbing hole "fu-fuck toji~" you moaned out as he curled his fingers up hitting your g-spot over and over again. you looked over and saw the 3 month old megumi still sleeping in his play pen

toji looked up at you with low liddled eyes as he pressed a kiss your your clit as he spelt his name with his tongue as he was still curling his fingers in your sweet cunt. toji looked back down at your clit leaving small kisses and licks all around your pussy

you let out a small moan looking over at megumi making sure to not wake him. you find your hand in tojis hair pulling slightly. you start to grind on his face feeling his nose bump your clit over and over again

toji smiles against your pussy as you start to grind on his face he keeps licking your pussy pulling lustful moans from your mouth. you look over at megumi again and see him stirring in his sleep. but thankfully he's just turning over in his sleep. you look back down at toji whos still lapping your pussy

you pull on his hair a little more as a sort of 'hey gumi's gunna wake up in a little. we gotta hurry this up'. toji smiled and slipped 2 fingers in you as you bucked your hips up at the sudden movement. toji continued eating you out as you were grinding on his face you felt a knot form in your stomach

"a-ah fuck ke-keep go-going" you moaned out as your hand entangled itself more in his hair. toji smiled against you as he curled his fingers up hitting that one spongey spot that made you melt in his hands

"cumming cumming~" you said as you came on tojis face. toji lifted himself from your legs and smiled at you "how'd that feel pretty girl?" he asked you as you pulled your panties and pj pants up "fucking amazing" you said looking over at megumi "perfect timing" you said as you saw the mini toji looking up at his mommy and daddy

taglist (open) : @snazzyturtles @katsukisottoman @kit-katsukii @leadermayloro, @kikosaidbye @K4rma-4 @Tashi @suxteenx @sherlock-despacito @hitoshi-my-hero @the-hotsibling

#toji smut #toji fushiguro #toji x you #toji x reader #fushiguro toji

[espinosaurusrexex]

Welcome to my mental chaos.

On the occasion of publishing my first long series and thus my finally being able to return to other projects I had been thinking of but restrained from to finally finish Everything's Better in Wetview, I thought, I’d share some of the "brilliant" notes I made throughout the last year. You're welcome to laugh at what I have to deal with when opening my drafts. I thought it was funny so here we go:

it’s an aesthetic if you ask me

#fanfiction #writing #fanfic #writers on tumblr #story ideas #story concept #imagines #marvel fanfic #bucky x y/n #enola holmes imagine #steve rogers x you #ari levinson x f!reader #bucky barnes fic #sherlock holmes fanfic #the winter soldier x you #captain america x y/n #henry cavill sherlock holmes #bucky barnes imagine #steve rogers imagine #just thoughts

[darlingdekarios]

dance in the winter.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 2,937 content: Sherlock Holmes x f!reader, porn with plot, smut [fingering - receiving, oral - receiving, unprotected p in v], kink(s) [praise, hair pulling], fluff

though he tried to restrain himself, it was useless – when he avoided you, circumstance always brought you crashing back into him. as he climbed the stairs to 221B Baker Street, he supposed this was one of those times as well.

Eight days, seven hours, and thirty-four minutes ago Sherlock Holmes had been persuaded by way of your fluttering eyelashes to take on one final case before Christmas, though against his better judgment he hardly needed convincing when it came to you. He’d met you months ago now through his sister and, despite himself, he’d found plenty of excuses to intersect his path with yours. The way you had burrowed into his mind was often infuriating, the way he had permeated your mind dizzying.

It was impossible to ignore the growing affection between the two of you – even Enola had remarked on it to you weeks ago and though you were a convincing liar, she was better at reading you. Sherlock’s behavior spoke for itself, Enola thought – the sheer fact he could be seen with you enough times to constitute a pattern meant he enjoyed your company, and for Sherlock that was enough of a compliment and revelation.

Though no one had pushed for an answer, everyone who knew both of you knew the energy that came with the both of you, and the assumption that you two had acted on those feelings would not be unfounded. Several times now, in fleeting and molten moments, Sherlock had kissed you breathless and reverent. Though he tried to restrain himself, it was useless – when he avoided you, circumstance always brought you crashing back into him. As he climbed the stairs to 221B Baker Street, he supposed this was one of those times as well.

“Eight days, seven hours, and thirty-eight minutes spent on your case,” he proclaimed as he closed his watch, tucking it away before fixing his gaze on you. “Only to follow clues to my own home, and to find you waiting for me.”

You waited for him with a smile on your face, sprawled against the worn fabric of his chaise in a dress you knew distracted him, the depth of its color bringing out the best in yours. He closed the door behind himself, dropping his cane beside the door and removing his jacket as he regarded you with analytic eyes.

“I’m afraid I deduced the crime before you, Mister Holmes,” you taunted, eyes sparkling in the crackling firelight coming from the fireplace near you. He closed some of the distance toward you as you spoke, causing you to raise to be seated before him in politeness, though you wished to cherish the way he hungrily eyed you as you lay before him. “I have been waiting here for the thief to return.”

“I assume you’ve decided it’s me,” he assessed, clasping his hands behind his back to resist the urge to reach out and push a stray hair from your face. 

“Yes, Sherlock, I’m afraid you are the thief, and you’ve stolen something very dear to me,” you mused, raising your hand to push the hair from your face instead, almost as if you were further taunting him. “I should hope you return it at once.”

“And what is it I’m accused of stealing?”

“My mind, dear detective,” you sighed, raising to your feet and standing close enough to him that he could make out the details of your face. “All of my sense. I demand you return it at once, I simply cannot pass another day in this state.”

A lazy smile passed his features, one that he gifted to you in privacy, entrusted you with in secret. You etched this one to memory just as the others.

“So, all this week while I have been uncovering clues and following trails,” he began, finally reaching forward to grasp one of your hands. Almost delicately he lifted it, pressing a kiss to your fingers before continuing. “They were all left by you.”

You nodded, fire engulfing your cheeks under his investigative eyes now burning into yours with something genuine and fierce.

“Hmm,” he mused, lowering your hand to rest against his chest as his own fingers traced along your jaw. “Who helped you?”

“I’m offended you think I would need help, Sherlock Holmes,” you quipped, noticing the twitch at the corners of his mouth in amusement. It crossed your mind he likely asked the question purely to antagonize you, though your pride insisted you assert your efforts. “It was me alone.”

“Of course it was,” he nodded, grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Though if you wanted my attention so badly, you hardly needed a game.”

“But you love a good game, or so I’ve heard,” you remarked, eyes light and playful. He had to appreciate that you could hold this back-and-forth with him without losing your footing, the mental dance you’d been in for months now fulfilling a deep need in his mind. “I enjoyed dancing with you.” 

His lips crashed to yours with bruising weight, the time since your last kiss finally settling into Sherlock and building the desire he felt for you. His hands found way to your lower back to hold you closer, covering himself in the warmth of you and swallowing the quiet sigh that passed your lips. The grasp he held on your dress revealed his satisfaction at having you so near again.

Eagerness would never spoil gentle intent. He carefully worked the laces of your gown free, pushing the heavy fabric to the floor when it had loosened adequately and immediately grasping your waist again. He released your mouth from his kiss to run his eyes over your body, his pink tongue swiping against his bottom lip in appreciation and to savor the taste of your lips.

“Lay down,” he instructed while motioning back to the chaise with one hand, releasing his hold on you to admire as you stepped back and listened with a meek nod. Eventually he’d tell you how amusing it was when you became bashful for him, but the comment could wait. Once you were comfortable again, he sank to his knees before you, reaching to pull the undergarments that covered you still with an appreciative hum before discarding them in the pile with your dress.

“Such a clever girl,” he complimented, leaning forward to press his lips to the side of your knee to encourage your legs apart. You listened without him needing to ask aloud, releasing a shaky breath as the cold air of the room passed over your heated core. “This is what you wanted, hmm?”

You could only nod as his fingers ran through your folds, teasing your soaked entrance lightly before running the digits back toward your clit, rubbing a well-intended circle around the already swollen nub. “You like when I praise you,” he remarked, like he was announcing his findings for notetaking. You supposed a man like him likely did keep mental notes. “Let’s find out what else you like.”

His head disappeared between your thighs then, his tongue replacing his fingers to eagerly taste what your arousal had to offer. A low sound rumbled in his chest in appreciation as his hands grasped your thighs, spreading your legs more so he could bury his face in your core, his tongue slipping into your cunt to massage your velvet walls. He was gifted with an unimaginable symphony of sounds from your lips as you fought to hold some composure and he fought to melt it away, connecting his thumb to your clit soon after. 

He felt the flutter to your walls and swapped his movements, reaching to take your swollen nub into his lips with a firm suck as he slipped a finger into you, curling it to massage the sensitive patch behind your clit. Your hips began to move to meet his face and hand desperately as your walls clenched, white hot euphoria washing over you as your fingers flung to his hair, pulling the wind-blown mess of curled locks in overwhelmed passion. 

Though you were in the throes of pleasure you heard the hefty groan that left his chest as he drank your orgasm from you, currently uncaring for tidiness and finding enjoyment in the mess you made of his lower face. When he was certain he’d carried you through it he removed himself from you, standing and displaying the obvious tent in his pants as he offered a hand to you. You took his hand without question, rising to meet him and lean against his wide torso for support. Finding your voice, however, was a task all in itself.

“Where are we going?” 

“My bedroom,” he replied, slipping an arm around your waist to lead you down the hall to the named room. While you knew the room existed, you had always assumed it remained empty…you had certainly never seen him use it before.

“Since when do you use your bedroom?”

“Since Enola made me find a flat mate,” he replied, sending a glance your way as he opened the door and gestured for you to enter. He followed behind immediately, pulling you back against him to press a kiss beneath your ear. “It’s not important right now.”

He turned you gently to claim your lips again, reaching behind his back to close the bedroom door before working himself free of his own clothes. You released a content sigh against his lips, pressing your bare skin to his to soak in his warmth and enjoy the feeling of him against you. When all that remained was his undergarments, he was offering you a taste of yourself with his tongue in your mouth, kissing you in ways that could be written of. 

To his amusement when he released you from his kiss a whimper slipped from your lips at the loss, and he satiated your disappointment with another gentle kiss before bumping his nose against yours. 

“You should have asked if this is what you wanted,” he remarked, offering a light smile when your eyes met his. If you wanted a game to play, Sherlock was the master of such matters, a painful reminder that fueled his mind. “Practice for me.”

“W-what?”

“Practice asking,” he instructed, trailing his kisses to brush along your jaw and to your neck. Infuriatingly, and perhaps admirably, he remembered the exact spots he needed to make you gasp, the perfect pressure to leave you breathless. He asked too much and knew it to be true, though he still insisted. “Perfect it.”

“Sherlock, please,” you whined as he backed you toward his bed, helping you lower down carefully to the cold sheets. Thankfully the cold was chased away by his warmth as he joined you, crawling between your legs and kissing up your chest slowly. “Don’t torment me, I want you so badly. Please.”

“I should make you wait,” he sounded too pleased with himself, too entertained by the desperate hitch in your breath and subtle shake to your legs as you wrapped them around his waist, eager to bring him closer. 

“Please…”

“Patience,” he reminded, sliding his hand down your body as he pressed an infuriatingly chaste kiss to your lips as he slipped two fingers into you. “Are you always this wet?”

“Often…when I’m near you,” you replied hurriedly, hips raising to meet his hand, desperate for anything he would offer you. He raised his head to drink in your expression, mentally noting the different hue to your cheeks and weight to your eyes. Seeing your body respond to him was science, learning the different ways to push you toward bliss a newfound task in his mind.

“Hmm,” he mused carefully, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes, Sherlock, please,” you whimpered as he curled his fingers again slowly, taking in your pleading expression as you continued. “No more games, please.”

He removed his fingers from you to grasp his throbbing cock, rubbing your slickness over himself before sliding the velvety head through your folds. With one last look for confirmation to your face met with a nod and whimper from you he slowly pressed into you inch by inch, holding you closer and claiming your lips again in a focused kiss. When he bottomed out and grasped your hips to hold you closer what were normally calculated kisses faltered slightly as your walls fluttered around him, the stretch to accommodate him making you feel almost too full but pulling a delicious moan from your chest.

When he moved it was as though he had been choreographing the movements in his mind nonstop for weeks…and perhaps he had with the way he seemed to massage every inch of you perfectly with each thrust. Your legs remained tight around his waist, holding him to you so he couldn’t withdraw further than you’d allow him – which he was more than happy to oblige. Focused on bringing you to the edge again the only noises that left Sherlock now were quiet groans in appreciation when you clenched around him, a low gasp falling from his lips when you pulled his hair again slightly. 

It was then when the lava returned to your core, bubbling under his mercury eyes and leaving your lips as a cry of his name. Your walls clenched around him tightly as you reached another orgasm, eyes squeezing tight as you bit into your kiss swollen bottom lip. It was then he found the words for you again.

“You look extraordinary like this…in my bed,” he complimented, his thrusts beginning to falter. You squeezed him tighter with your legs to encourage him to stay, a request he was more than happy to accommodate with a sloppy few final thrusts before his hot seed emptied into you. As he rode out the remainder of his spend, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, sliding one of his hands into yours and lacing your fingers together. 

You wondered if he would always find ways to take you by surprise. 

He was conscious not to linger, removing himself from you and pressing another kiss to your forehead before retreating to his living room, returning with your undergarments in hand. His hair was tousled from your desperation to grasp something and clung to the thin layer of sweat on his forehead, cheeks red. As you admired him you reached your arms toward him as he replaced your undergarments after running a clean cloth through your folds, discarding it to the floor to handle later.

He found his place beside you then, resting on his back and pulling you close to hold you for a moment, willing to relax now that you were cared for. His hands ran carefully along your stomach as he held you, pressing gentle kisses to the top of your head repeatedly to silently thank you for what had transpired. His gentle movements brought you to relaxation soon, raising your head to press a gentle kiss to his jaw. 

“Merry Christmas, Sherlock,” you cooed, repeating the kiss and causing a brief shudder to ripple up his back. 

“Mm,” came a low rumbled reply in his chest before he lowered his head to claim your lips again, aware that he needed to lighten it slightly to accommodate for the swollen bruise to your lips already. 

He held you that way for some time, allowing you to rest and enjoy the serenity of closeness to Sherlock in the afterglow of connecting with one another so deeply. Sherlock took advantage of the peaceful, quiet hours of the night to match it with little conversation as well, instead focusing his efforts on soothing your body and showing his appreciation and adoration. When you began to match his affections with soft kisses and nuzzles with your nose he opted to continue, pressing a kiss to your forehead before standing from the bed.

He reached beside the bed slowly to retrieve a robe, wrapping you in the fabric you recognized as one he wore frequently before replacing some of his clothes – whatever was necessary to move about the apartment with some decency. When you’d tied the robe he offered his hand to you, helping you rise from the bed and supporting you against him just as he had before. Even Sherlock had to admit the fulfilled swell to his chest at seeing you glowing because of him while dressed in his clothes.

“Come where it’s warm by the fire, dearest,” he offered in a tender tone, leading you back to the living room and helping you lower back into the chaise. 

While any ordinary time with any ordinary person you may have simply gone to bed, what was unfolding with Sherlock was anything but ordinary. Instead, you found yourself wrapped in his robe, draped across his chaise, and bathed in the golden morning glow as Sherlock took his place with violin in hand, playing you soothing and delicate songs. It was not long for you to be lulled into a heavy sleep by his music and for Sherlock’s flat mate to follow the sound of a violin so early in the morning. 

“Morning, Sherlock,” John greeted, adjusting his own robe carefully as he entered the room. “I see you found our guest.”

“Did you let her in, John?”

“I did. Did you tell her you figured it out days ago?”

Fondness pooled in Sherlock’s eyes at the question, and the lightest traces of a smile twitched his lips upward at the thought. He glanced away from your face just long enough to properly regard John, shaking his head astutely before returning his gaze to you. John knew the answer before Sherlock confirmed it.

“No.”

Rather than press the topic of the Christmas miracle unfolding before him, John elected to fix morning tea.

masterlist.

#sherlock holmes #cavill sherlock holmes #netflix sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes fluff #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill

[l4long-winded]

s e r i e s m a s t e r l i s t

r e a d o n a o 3

summary: your upstairs neighbor is a pain to deal with for several reasons. not only does he annoyingly play his violin at all hours of the day, but he's also rude and patronizing. what makes matters worse is how he soon requires your help in a case he's working on. or, in other words, the five times sherlock holmes deduced you and the one time he was wrong (cavill!sherlock x afab!reader)

warnings: enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, condescending!sherlock, seamstress!reader, denial of feelings, close proximity, reader has a nickname, arguments, murder mystery, sexual tension, miscommunication, original characters, offscreen character deaths, alcohol consumption, cursing, overthinking, longwinded descriptions, kissing, flirting, suggestive language, a slight slowburn, dirty talk, praise, vaginal penetration, vaginal fingering, grief, angst, fluff, victorian era, smut (please let me know if there are other warnings i need to add)

word count: 50,000+

t a b l e o f c o n t e n t s

i. a sleep deprived meeting

your upstairs neighbor plays the violin often. so much so that it's distracting you from your work. you decide it's time to confront him.

ii. consequences and a lead

sherlock doesn't usually regret things, but he's regretting how he spoke to you. it's not out of the goodness of his heart, however.

iii. mr. wright and jane austen

sherlock observes you from afar and learns things against his own whim. that's what he'll keep telling himself.

iv. the distraction of rising temperature

now that you and sherlock are at a friendlier standing, it's time to explore more of your friendship. or whatever it is.

v. concealed feelings and abstract attitudes

the morning after your drunken fiasco is not any less awkward than you could have guessed. there seems to be a strain on your relationship with sherlock that seeps into the trips you go on together for his investigation. you don't know why he's acting the way he is, you just know that it's angering you.

vi. the puzzling case of clara grace and intricate, convoluted emotions

there are a few ways that you and sherlock reconcile. one involves a bed, the other involves a carriage, a dance, and then there's the matter of the revolver. what was once unclear begins to be disclosed, but it can only be unveiled to a willing, open, and observant eye. you're going to find what's there as well as what you want to be there.

#beyond answers #l4l.writes #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #henry cavill sherlock #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #enola holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #beyond answers masterlist