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sherlocksoft · 10 months

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The Experiment

Sherlock Holmes x reader

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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

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love-strawberry · 1 year

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we'll be alright

summary : in which they fight but there's no doubt that they'll end up alright.

pairing : sherlock holmes x reader

warnings : slight spoiler for enola holmes 2, ooc!sherlock, slight angst

author's note : so, hi!! i love you, thank you for sticking around, i love you!! <3

tagged : @0oolookitsme

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“sherlock?”

“enola. what are you doing here?” sherlock questioned, swaying as he tried to focus on his sister. “it’s not safe. there are scary people about”

“yes, let me know when you meet one,” enola sighed, walking towards him and standing close in case he fell over. “brother, are you quite yourself?”

“i’m fine, it was just a disagreement over a glass of wine and whose wine it was,” sherlock waved her off, looking around. “there was another disagreement that i had, not here, no. at home. it quite upset me. very much, in fact.”

“you fought with y/n?” enola asked, her eyebrows raising. she absolutely adored y/n and to hear that her brother and her sister-in-law were fighting was a shock considering they were totally smitten with each other.

“i find after wine, it’s very difficult to make your arms and legs move,” sherlock completely ignored her question, swaying dangerously. enola rushed to support, a wince escaping her as sherlock leaned on her for support. “i don’t usually imbibe but i’m not a case, you see. it’s proven rather tricky”

“cab,” enola called for a carriage, walking while supporting her brother’s weight, losing her footing every once in a while during their very short walk to the side of the road.

“hello,” both the holmes’ siblings greeted the driver, moving to sit inside.

“where are we going?” sherlock asked, looking at enola for answers.

“221 baker street,” enola replied, helping him get in the cab.

the ride to 221 baker street was filled with silence, with enola occasionally trying to ask about y/n and sherlock mindless chatter about his latest case.

the pair of siblings exited the cab, paying the driver and walked to the front door. after opening it, enola stood with sherlock in front of 221a and stopped, looking at her brother for any sort of indication that he was going to open it.

“that’s a and i’m b,” sherlock mumbled, his eyes unfocused as he first pointed at the door in front of them and then at the stairs going to the upper level.

enola sighed, rolling her eyes slightly as she moved over to the staircase. she looked at the number of stairs they’d have to climb before looking at her drunk brother.

“i didn’t know you had steps,” enola mentioned, wanting nothing more than to just sleep and wake up in a week or so.

“one should always have steps to avoid people stepping on you,” sherlock said, his words slurring together as he stood there. “that’s a tip, you should probably write that down.”

“alright,” enola started as she let go of him slightly and helped him lean against the wall, “how about i go upstairs and get y/n and she can help me get you upstairs?”

“y/n?” sherlock’s attention shifted to enola, his head leaning on the wall. “i don’t know if she’ll be here.”

“why not?” enola asked, worry growing in the pit of her stomach. had the fight really been that bad?

“she was quite upset with me,” sherlock spoke, his words stringing together to a somewhat coherent sentence. “i wouldn’t be surprised if she chose to go and stay with her sister for the time being.”

“we’re not at all done with this conversation as i’m very eager to know just how you’ve messed it up with the most loving and caring woman but we do need to get you upstairs,” enola said, her tone of voice sharp as she supported sherlock and guided him towards the first step. “all right, lift your left leg.”

“enola?” a voice questioned from the top of the stairs, making both the siblings look up. “and sherlock? what happened?”

“y/n!” enola exclaimed with relief in her voice, excited to see her sister-in-law and to get some help. “could you please help me in getting your drunk husband in the apartment?”

“y/n, love,” sherlock called out but his voice was ignored by both the ladies, leaving him with a frown on his face.

“oh my, i’m so sorry,” y/n rushed down the stairs, her dress flailing behind her as she went to sherlock’s other side and supported him. “did you get him here all by yourself?”

“had to,” enola informed, climbing up one step at a time. “he was drunk and got thrown out of an establishment.”

“god,” y/n mumbled, ignoring sherlock’s attempts to talk to her. it was obvious that she was angry with him. “i’m sorry you had to see him like this, enola.”

“it’s alright,” enola replied in her cheerful voice, the one that made y/n smile at the girl. the company of three finally reached the top of the stairs and y/n opened the door. “i can hold this incident over his head for years to come. at least, until he does something else.”

“i got him from here,” y/n assured the girl, her hands going over her husband’s shoulders as she supported him. “you go, get freshened up."

“alright,” with that enola went off in the direction of the bathroom, leaving sherlock and y/n alone.

“you should sit down, sherlock,” y/n said to her husband, leading him to the couch in the corner of the room.

“you’re right,” sherlock mumbled, tripping as he moved across the carpet. “of course you are, darling.”

sherlock sat on the couch with a grunt falling from his lips, y/n’s hand automatically going to his shoulder while the other cupped his cheek, making him look at her. when she realised what she was doing, she quickly withdrew her hands and folded them in front of her, trying to ignore the confused look on her husband's face.

“are you okay?” she questioned, keeping in mind to keep her voice low.

“yes, i’ll be up and running in no time,” sherlock assured, reaching for her hands but stopped when she made no move to take his.

“i was worried when you stormed out and didn’t come back before nightfall,” y/n admitted, her fidgeting with the numerous rings she wore, a nervous habit she had; something sherlock always picked on.

“i apologise,” sherlock whispered, burying his head in his hands, the light from the lamps making his head hurt. “for worrying you. and for other things.”

“that’s alright,” y/n replied, chuckling lightly, though it was weak and she sounded tired. “i think i'll always be worrying when it comes to you. i’ve made my peace with it.”

"you're not mad?" sherlock asked, his voice muffled.

"we'll talk later, sherlock," y/n spoke, her voice sharp as she took a deep breath. "you make it hard to be mad at you, when you're in this stage."

“i suppose i don't make it any easier," sherlock asked, a small smile on his lips though y/n couldn't see it. "being me."

"you don't," y/n looked away, choosing to look at the portraits on the wall. "but that's okay."

sherlock was about to say something else when enola's voice sounded from their bathroom.

"i better go and see what she wants," y/n spoke though she made no move to leave. a moment passed between the couple before y/n moved towards him and pushed him to lay on the couch by his shoulders. "you, rest. please."

"if i must," sherlock said, leaning into her touch and craved it when it was gone. he settled and closed his eyes. "is she to stay the night?"

"yes," y/n spoke sternly, leaving no room for argument making sherlock grumble but he didn't object; knowing it would be fruitless.

y/n moved through the living room, making her way to the bathroom and knocked twice before waiting for enola to open the door.

"a moment," enola called from the inside and half a minute later, the door was thrown open and y/n was pulled inside.

"is everything alright?" y/n questioned, looking at the teenager whose hair were down, strands falling in her face.

"could you do my hair, please?" enola questioned, a pink tint on her face. "i usually just throw them in a bun and that does the trick but i love how you do your hair and since i'm here and you're here, maybe you could do my hair?"

"of course i will!" y/n exclaimed as she pushed enola's hair out of her face. "you shouldn't ask, enola. you're like my sister. i basically raised you."

"still, i felt the need to ask," enola shrugged, handing her the brush that was on the counter and turning around.

"you shouldn't," y/n reassured her, brushing her hair softly. "i'd never refuse."

"i'm glad to hear that," enola smiled at her, looking through the mirror in front of her. "is sherlock okay?"

"he's resting," y/n mentioned, starting to braid small braids. "at least, i hope so."

"did you two have a fight?" enola questioned, no longer being able to control her curiosity.

"he told you about it?" y/n asked, mild surprise on her face but still, she smiled at the girl.

"he wasn't sure if you'd be home when we reached here," enola spoke, wincing slightly as her hair got caught in one of the many rings y/n wore, the latter apologising profusely as she untangled them. "said you might've chosen to go to your sister's house. and he also mentioned something about a disagreement at home when i first saw him outside the bar."

"oh, um, we did have a fight," y/n admitted, a small frown on her face as she recalled the harsh words that were thrown around. "but i'd never just leave."

"did he apologise?" enola questioned, admiring the braid y/n had finished. "please tell me he did."

"he did," y/n assured the younger girl. "i wouldn't be here any longer if he didn't."

"that's good," enola smiled, her fingers twirling around the braid. "you're both good then?"

"i don't think it works like that, darling," y/n spoke slowly, her eyes trained on her hair, a sad smile on her face as she refused to look at her in the mirror. "it's not just a simple 'sorry' and then everything is fine."

enola stayed silent as she thought about what y/n and finally after a couple moments, spoke. "what do you mean?"

"i mean, you can't just hurt someone and then realise that what you did was wrong. you can't apologise and expect everything to be okay, that's not how it is," y/n spoke, her voice calm and controlled but her mind was filled with the words that sherlock and her had spoken—yelled at eachother. "the person you hurt, they're not just going to forget and forgive you."

"then, what are we supposed to do?" enola spoke, her voice a whisper as she watched y/n finish off the last braid and tuck it neatly with the others. "if we apologise but they don't accept it, then what? we're supposed to keep on telling them?"

"we need to show them," y/n corrected her, turning her around to she could pin up the strands that kept getting in her eyes. "with actions, not just words. with what we do, with gestures. they need to know that we cherish them, that we're thankful that they're here, with us, they need to know that we love them and that we're sorry."

"sherlock does that?" enola asked, her eyes on her sister in law.

"he does," y/n whispered, looking down as she felt the familiar burning in her eyes and the floor became a mosaic. "he really does."

"then why are you both not okay?" enola asked, comforting y/n as she rubbed her arms.

"because i'm so worried," y/n started, her breathing heavier and her voice choked up. "i'm so worried, enola. it's starting to affect me physically. he's taking on dangerous cases everyday, the next one more dangerous than the last and he goes out without any sort of protection and i'm so scared that he's not going to come back home to me."

"he's always going to come back to you," enola spoke, her hearting hurting when she heard y/n sniffle. "he's sherlock and you're y/n. you'll always find eachother."

"last night, he didn't come home until midnight and i had stay up waiting for him because i hate it when he comes back and there's no one greeting him and he had a cut on his upper arm and i freaked out," y/n rambled, her hands clutching enola's, the latter not letting go even for a second, "and we had a small argument about him coming this late and coming home hurt when i've told him many times to take someone from scotland yard with him but it ended in a big fight and we both went to bed angry, it was the worst. in the morning, i brought it up again and he just—yelled at me and i yelled at him and he just stormed out."

"i—i don't know what to say," enola breathed out, her hands still onto y/n's. "except, let me go out there and smack some sense into him."

y/n let out a shaky laugh, letting go of enola's hand to wipe her eyes.

"letting all of that out felt good," y/n admitted, sniffling slightly, twirling enola as she looked over her hair. "i needed this, thank you, enola."

"of course, y/n," enola smiled, her eyes sparkling under the lamp in the corner of the bathroom. "thank you, for doing my hair."

"don't mention it, love," y/n waved her off, her heart feeling lighter. "the guest room is neat and clean, you should get some sleep."

"ah, yes," enola spoke, looking at herself in the mirror before smiling at y/n. "i'll see you in the morning."

"of course," y/n smiled back tiredly, her head hurting.

"good night," enola called as she walked away from the bathroom and towards the guest room, her voice drifting as the door closed.

"good night," y/n whispered, knowing that there was no way she heard her. she looked at herself in the mirror, taking note of the year stained cheeks and how anyone could tell that she had been crying. her hair was a mess, flicks restricting her view.

she sighed, before opening the faucet and washing her face, cursing at herself for not doing it earlier as it already made her head feel less heavy.

after drying her face with a cloth, she made her way to the living and spotted sherlock in the same position in which she had left him. he seemed to have fallen asleep, with how even and deep his breathing was and how he was still and peaceful. there was no furrow of his eyebrows, y/n noted as she admired him.

"sherlock?" y/n called as he leaned over him, her voice barely audible as she didn't want to startle him. "we should head to bed."

sherlock groaned as his hands covered his face, moving slightly but he made no indication of sitting up.

"sherlock, please," y/n spoke, her hand on his shoulder. "let us go to bed."

"hm?" sherlock hummed, opening his eyes a fraction before closing them.

"sit up," y/n ordered, her voice still light. sherlock pushed himself up, looking up at her with tired eyes and y/n had to resist the urge to kiss his forehead.

“come on, let’s get you in bed,” y/n spoke softly, holding onto sherlock's shoulder as he stood up. she lead him to their bedroom, his body swaying slightly at the movement, making y/n grip onto him a bit tighter.

“that sounds nice,” sherlock mumbled, his hands holding her waist as he walked into their bedroom with her support.

“it does, doesn’t it?” y/n sat him on the bed, removing his coat, tie and vest. “have some water before you fall asleep. here.”

“i’m not going to fall asleep,” sherlock huffed before drinking the water y/n from the glass on the bedside table with a small ‘thank you’, “i’m not tired.”

“sure you aren’t, love,” y/n muttered, helping him get under the covers and adjusting the pillow under his head. “do you need anything else?"

"huh?" sherlock asked, his head falling against the pillow. "no, i suppose."

"alright," y/n moved towards the dressing room to change into her night gown. "i'll be back in a minute."

y/n only got a hum from him in reply as she made her way into the small attached dressing room and changing as fast as she could into her night gown. folding the dress as neatly as she could, she opened the door to find sherlock sitting up with his back to the headboard.

"sherlock?" y/n asked, confusing evident in her voice as she made way towards him. she sat on the edge of the bed, her worries increasing as sherlock stayed silent for the better part of a minute.

"i'm sorry," sherlock spoke, his voice small as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "for yelling, for storming out, for worrying you, everything. all of it."

"it's okay, love," y/n didn't even notice the term of endearment fall from her lips. "we can talk in the morning. you need to rest."

"no, it can't wait," sherlock argued, opening his eyes and looking at her with utmost seriousness. his hands clasped hers, holding them with a firm grip. "i have only just realised how much worry i cause you."

"sher—"

"if you were out there, i don't know what i would do," sherlock continued speaking, the words falling from his lips effortlessly. "and i realise that i have been selfish, worrying my wife about my well being, coming home late and sometimes even injured."

"darling—"

"i'll work on that," sherlock nodded, not noticing y/n trying and failing to speak. "i'll talk to lestrade about getting a constable with me on dangerous cases."

"love—"

"we already went to bed angry at eachother yesterday," sherlock spoke tiredly, his eyes dropping and his grip on her hands going lax. "i didn't want you to be mad at me tonight. i love you and i'm sorry, y/n."

"i love you and i'm not mad, not anymore," y/n shook her head, smiling as she leaned over and kissed his forehead, stroking his face with her thumb. "i just worry about you, a lot."

"and from now on, i won't give you a reason to," sherlock promised, leaning into her touch.

"good," y/n dropped another kiss to his forehead, smiling when he looked up at her and leaned in to kiss her on the lips. she smiled as she met him halfway.

the kiss was messy, with y/n leaning over him and sherlock's hand supporting her. y/n's hand found the front of his shirt, pulling him even more closer while sherlock's hand circled her waist, tracing small circles on her hips as he kissed her back with fervour.

they broke apart, their breathing heavy as they smiled at eachother, hearts beating fast.

"you need to sleep, mr. holmes," y/n reminded him, pulling away from him and moving towards her side of the bed. "you're tired."

"no," sherlock denied, watching her as she got in under the cover. "maybe, yes. god, am i tired."

"told you," y/n smiled at him with satisfaction. "sleep."

sherlock watched as she leaned over her bedside table and turned off the lamp settled comfortably, shifting slightly. he waited until she was fully settled in before moving close to her.

he laid his head in the crook of her neck, his nose touching her collarbone as his breath hit the exposed part of her neck, making her shiver. her hands automatically went to his hair, running her fingers through it.

minutes passed as y/n laid in bed, staring at the ceiling and running her fingers through her husband's hair.

"sherlock?" y/n asked, her voice barely a whisper.

after hearing no answers from him, she shifted lightly to get a good look on his face and smiled as she noticed that he was fast asleep. his mouth was parted slightly and each exhale of breath made y/n shiver and get goosebumps. his grip on her was relaxed and the look on his face was so peaceful that it made y/n feel at peace.

kissing the top of head, y/n inhaled deeply, closing her eyes and sending a prayer to whatever force that made him hers.

sure, they had their disagreements, both big and small. their difference of opinion cause a rift every now and then but still, there was no doubt.

we'll be alright, she thought before falling asleep with the love of her life.

----------

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes blurbs #enola holmes 2 #henry!holmes x reader #henry!sherlock #henry cavill

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imyourbratzdoll · 11 months

Note

Hi Cheleah😌❤️

drunk sex with Sherlock(Henry) pls👀👀

hi baby! another request done, hehe. I hope you like it even with how short it is.

summary - your husband fucks you after a few drinks.

warning - smut, intoxication, swearing, creampie.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You moan, feeling his slow but rough movements against you. Sherlock moves inside of you, whispering slurred drunken words into your ear. “So fucking tight and warm, my best darling.” He groans, gripping your hips roughly, thrusting harder and deeper. Your mind is fuzzy from the intense pleasure mixed with the alcohol. The feeling of his thick member sliding in and out of you feels excellent. Everything felt so electrifying, so raw and passionate. Your husband looks deep into your eyes, smirking as he notices your glazed-over look matches his. “My precious little darling, letting me have you even while intoxicated.” The scent of whiskey on his breath causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head and your walls to clench around his throbbing member.

Sherlock cups your cheek, instructing you to wrap your legs around him as he picks up the pace, slamming into your sweet spot deep inside. You cling to him, not daring to let go of the man you love, the man currently splitting you open over and over again. You feel shivers roll through your body, a bliss washing over you as your back arches and your juices flow out of you. Sherlock snaps, becoming feral in his drunken state, pinning you down into the mattress and pounding you into it. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream.

He buries his face into your neck, grunting when his balls tighten and his cock throbs wildly, thrusting as deep as he can before he lets go. Thick spurts of cum fill you to the brim, leaking from your full cunt. You whimper, trembling underneath him as his cum continues to shoot out of his mushroom tip. “Good girl, such a good girl.”

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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marvelousmando · 1 year

Text

"The Game is Afoot, Indeed"

Sherlock x Reader

A/N: So here's my first attempt at a one shot - the idea for this popped into my head not too long after watching Enola Holmes 2. Hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: None! Pure fluff with a sprinkle of mutual pining. Reader is wearing a dress.

"Here we are," Sherlock said after you exited the carriage, walking up to the side of the building to peer through the nearest window.

Looking around with awe at the large home decorated with beautiful flowers and twinkling lights, you wished for a moment that you were here to enjoy the lively music and celebrate like the other guests. You could see them through the window, dressed in all their finery, dancing the night away.

Taking a breath to clear your mind and focus on the task at hand, you looked around the corner to the front of the building. More guests were lined up outside along a winding path, and - yes, as you looked closer - were holding slips of paper in their hands.

"Alright! This is simple. All I need is one of those invitations," you exclaimed with a mischievous grin, turning towards him. "So, what's the mystery item you're after?"

His dark brows immediately furrowed.

"You're not taking it."

You crossed your arms and stared back in disbelief.

"Are you serious?"

"This item that I am taking is of high value to my case. It is not something I can entrust in anyone's hands but my own," Sherlock stated matter of factly. "I will slip in, break into the viscount's office, grab it, and slip back out."

You let out a soft snort.

"Sherlock, we are at a ball. Do you really expect me to believe that you won't be attention grabbing?" you said while studying the crowd through the window again. "There are a great deal of ladies in there with what looks to be barely any gentlemen. All the ladies will be constantly surveying the dance floor for their next match, waiting to sink their claws into the most eligible bachelor, and you are so very …"

Your words trailed off. You pressed your lips together, with a blushing glance back at Sherlock.

He returned your gaze, waiting, his features painted with slight curiosity.

"... tall," you finished lamely.

Silence.

A heated tension gathered between you both.

After a few moments, Sherlock released a small smirk.

Clearing your throat and breaking eye contact, you continued on, "The point being, I would attract far less attention, and as you know, I have plenty of experience breaking and entering, among other things."

Sherlock stepped towards you.

"Two things. First of all, that was a one-time occurrence that will never happen again. You caught me on a very rare, off day." Still moving closer, he finally stopped, with barely any space remaining. A quiet gasp escaped your lips, drawing his eyes to the source of the sound.

"Second of all," his voice lowering into a gentle tone, "how could you ever think that you would not be the most eye-catching woman in that ballroom?"

Lifting his hand to turn your face up towards his, you could feel your stomach doing somersaults. Resting your hands on the sides of his coat, you began to lose yourself in his deep blue eyes, framed with the most -

-"Even if you're not … tall, was it?" he teased, interrupting your runaway thoughts.

You huffed, glaring at him while taking a step back, causing Sherlock to drop his hand.

He immediately offered his arm. Upon taking it, you two strolled over to the front to join the moving guest line.

"So what exactly is my purpose in accompanying you this evening, if not for helping you with your case?" you questioned with a raised brow while waiting for your turn along the path.

"You are simply my date,'' he answered. You immediately opened your mouth in retort. Before you could pose another objection against him, he smoothly continued, "I don't deny your skills, but I believe your beauty will attract too much attention for you to break into the office successfully."

A smile broke out on your face at his attempt at flattery with a double compliment. He watched you closely as it slowly turned into a more sly expression.

"Well, I guess that just means I'll need a big distraction." By this time, you and Sherlock were a bit closer to the head of the line, with a few more guests waiting behind you.

In a loud voice, you suddenly gasped and stared at him in pretend shock, "Oh my goodness! I can't believe it! You're Sherlock Holmes!"

Not a second had passed and the guests ahead and behind craned their heads to get a look at the famous "Sherlock Holmes" who was attending the party.

Stunned into silence, Sherlock stared at you as you pulled out two invitations you had hidden within your dress. His mind flashed back to the heated moment you shared at the side of the building, when your hands had rested right by his coat pockets. At least he wasn't wrong about your skills, he thought.

Murmurs began to break out amongst the guests remaining in line, staring more openly at him.

"What's the item?" you asked again. "If you tell me, I'll give you back your invitation," you offered with a twinkle of mischief in your eyes.

He sighed in defeat.

"It's a silver compass with a chain. Engraved on it are the letters, H E G." He held out his hand impatiently for his invitation, as people were beginning to break away from their spots in line to talk to Sherlock.

"I didn't say when I'd give it back," you laughed, moving farther away as more and more people approached him and started to surround him. "You're Sherlock Holmes, you'll get in!"

He wasn't worried, he knew everything would be fine with your level of talent and capable hands. Lately, Enola had been telling him that he needed to be better about giving up control when it came to working with others. He guessed this was as good a start as any.

Sherlock couldn't help but admire your cunning and quick thinking as he watched you hand the invitation over to the footman, shooting a quick glance and flirtatious grin back at him as you entered the ballroom scene.

Hardly listening to the people now crowding around him and attempting to introduce themselves, he returned the smile as a thought entered his mind.

He would just have to get to the compass first.

"The game is afoot, indeed."

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x reader #henry!sherlock #henry!holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes one shot

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princessaxoxo · 6 months

Text

Strangers to lovers Part 2

A/N: this is now a multiple-part series.

Sherlock x reader

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

Warnings: 18+ Only, cussing, angst, kissing

Word Count: 2k+

4 years later...

Dressed in your finest clothes with your suitcase in hand, you were ready to head to your family's home for a few days. The train was running a few minutes behind schedule today. Peaking your body and head forward a little, you saw the train before you heard the horn.

You happily stepped back, waiting for the train to come to a stop. You’ve wanted to get away for a while, and you knew spending time with your family would give you some relief. A smile was plastered on your face from the excitement.

People started to unload: parents with their children, lovers hand in hand, and many more.

You bent down to pick up your suitcase and started for the entryway to get on, but stopped once you saw him, Sherlock.

The smile you held dropped from your face. He got off with his brother, Mycroft, both of them talking and then looking around as if they were waiting to meet someone.

You took notice of who they were looking for—of course, Enola.

You took notice of how that relieved you; it made you feel better that it wasn’t another woman. It upset you that you still cared and that you still got jealous; you didn't want to, and you thought it had left, but seeing him again made you show how you still did.

Enola and you had kept in touch but weren’t as close anymore. The both of you would meet for lunch now and then.

Standing there, seeing them talk, you wanted to walk away; you needed to, but you were stuck and couldn't move. It was as if your feet were glued to the concrete. And then, with no warning, Mycroft noticed you, his eyes landing on you, and you knew you looked like a deer caught in headlights; your eyes bulged out.

You weren't breathing; you turned in a hurry before Enola and Sherlock turned to see that Mycroft noticed you.

Secretly hoping he didn’t realize it was you and that they wouldn't be able to tell from your back.

You were cursing the heels you decided to wear; you couldn’t walk fast enough as you were trying to push past multiple people, but you were failing.

All you could do was hope; they couldn’t tell it was you.

Sherlock looked at his brother, noticing Mycroft had turned his attention away. “What is it?"

He looked over at Sherlock. “Hm, your old lady friend was just here. I do have to say, she looked much better."

Sherlock gave a confused face, old lady friend. He thought. Who had he been speaking of?

Mycroft noticed his brother's turmoil. He rolled his eyes. “The one you always ran around with.” Mycroft looked at Enola and said, “She babysitted Enola."

Sherlock realized who he was speaking of now, and he turned his head in search of you, his eyes moving around the crowd of people. You were dressed differently, but he was able to tell it was you just from your backside.

He wanted to know why you were here—were you waiting for someone, maybe a lover?

He knew he had no right to be possessive over you, especially since he left you.

Enola tugged on him and said, “Come along; the carriage is waiting.” Sherlock nodded his head. But he took one look back; however, you were already gone.

“I’ll invite y/n over tomorrow for lunch,” Enola said with a big smile. Sherlock's stomach dropped at the thought. He was sure you would yell at him or hit him. And he wanted to have a conversation with you in private, but it felt too early.

Both Mycroft and Enola stared at Sherlock, waiting for his reaction. “Sound’s great. Can’t wait”

You rushed back home, slamming your door once you reached inside. You felt stupid; why did you rush away? You were over him. You decided a long time ago that you wouldn't allow him to upset you. But here you were, running away from him.

You put your hand on your forehead and started to hysterically laugh at yourself.

After you stopped, you wrote to your family to tell them you couldn’t make it. The excuse was horrible, and to make matters worse, a lie. You despised lying.

The next day, you dropped the letter off, and Enola found you: "Y/N, you must come to lunch with me at my home.” You were unsure of how to answer, "I don't think." Enola cut you off, making sure you weren't able to say no. "Great, I'll see you at 1."

You were left speechless as she left; of course, Enola would be able to find you. And get you to come to her house.

On the carriage ride to Enola’s house, you gave yourself a pep talk. You would only stay for lunch, maybe an hour? And then leave. And you certainly wouldn’t let Sherlock get under your skin; you just wouldn't pay any attention to him.

The home looked the same—more aged than the last time you were here four years ago.

You weren't alone for long before you could take another step. Enola was in front of you, pushing you to the dining room.

You expected to see Sherlock, maybe even Mycroft. But they were nowhere to be seen. “Sit, sit,” Enola excitedly said. “I have some biscuits for us," she said, pushing the tray full of desserts toward you.

Enola and you talked for what felt like hours.

She smiled at you. “I like this change.” She looked at you up and down. You turned your head in confusion about her comment; you hadn't thought you changed that much; you dressed differently; you were more socially acceptable; but that was all.

“Your style but attitude as well.”

You laughed at Enola but thanked her.

Soon after you heard multiple footsteps enter, you turned your head on instinct. As soon as you saw him, your laughter faded. “I do have to say, you look like a lady.” A dig from Mycroft was expected.

You rolled your eyes. “Pleased to see you as well, Mycroft,” you said with a small fake smile.

Sherlock didn't say a word, and neither did you. But the way he looked at you said a thousand. “I enjoyed this Enola. Thank you for the desserts and for making my afternoon. I’m afraid I must go."

“NO! Sorry, would you mind staying with Enola? Me and Mycroft just need a couple of more minutes.”

You were stunned when he shouted, but you agreed to stay with her.

Most of the time, you were in your head, not paying attention to her like you should’ve. All you could think of was Sherlock. You needed to talk to him; it was eating you alive.

Once you heard his office door shut and Mycroft leave, you told Enola that you’d be back soon and headed toward Sherlock's office.

Sherlock heard his door open and shut again. “Need something else, Mycroft?”, He didn’t receive a response.

So he turned his head and saw you standing against the door, speechless.

He coughed, "Y/N, how may I help you?” Sherlock was having a hard time looking at you.

"You... you actually can’t help me at all," you said, and he raised his face.

“After I say this, I am going to leave, and you won’t see me again; you don’t deserve to see me again."

He swallowed, getting ready for what you were going to say. Sherlock knew he deserved every insult and every hurtful word you would give him.

“You left me. You left me with only a letter; I couldn't believe that you didn't tell me in person. I waited for you all night. Once I saw the sun rising, I knew you were indeed a coward. A coward who didn't love me. A person who loves you wouldn't have done what you did."

Tears started to brim.

“I saw a life with you. And I thought.. " you sarcastically, let out a chuckle. “I thought you saw one with me too. But I realized I was just another fling to you.” You shook your head at him. “But just answer me: why would you let our relationship bloom just for you to let it go without a problem?"

Sherlock stared at you wide-eyed. “I am first and foremost a detective; I have always been that and never said otherwise. And I admit, I regret and have regretted the way I left you. You deserved more than that. But I loved you, and I still do. With every part of my being.” Sherlock patted his chest, where his heart was. “I couldn't let you go, not after that night. That night, you became mine. I knew what would happen, but I didn’t care. I was selfish. I am a very selfish man when it comes to you. There are things I regret, but I don’t regret keeping you to myself. And I never will.”

Sherlock walked towards you.

Your eyes stayed on him. “Thank you. I’ll take my leave now."

But your feet didn’t move; you were stuck in your place by his eyes that were blazing within.

“Okay, take your leave,” he said, and you nodded your head. Sherlock took notice that you weren't moving, reached behind you, and opened the door.

As your eyes didn't leave him, they spoke a thousand words you couldn’t say to him. Sherlock clenched his jaw, waiting for your next move to see if you would leave.

He slammed the door shut and grabbed you by your face, kissing you with passion. He pressed his body against yours. "Sherlock,” you whispered.

He didn't want you to speak; he wanted to kiss you. He never wanted to stop kissing you. He feared that if he did, you would leave and he wouldn't see you again, just as you said earlier.

You knew what was going to happen if you stayed; you were deciding what you should do.

“y/n, stay with me. please. I don’t want to lose you.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I have to go. If I stay, I’ll be the one who ends up hurting again.” You backed away from him and left. You said your goodbyes to Enola and tried to rush home.

Sherlock caught you outside. “Fuck, please stay. I’m begging.” He got down on his knees and hugged the lower part of your body. “I thought of you as someone who would never hurt me, but you did. You can’t just say sorry and beg me and think that’ll make up for your actions."

A tear fell from your eye, and Sherlock rose to his feet. “Are you going to forgive me?”

You put your hand on his cheek. “You need to earn my forgiveness."

He ran his hand through his head of curls. And shook his head continuously. “Let me at least see you home”, “No, you stay, and I’ll go. Have a good night, Sherlock.”

As you returned home, you were torn.

You wanted to forgive him, and he had you so close to letting that happen. You wanted to stay with him and forget the past. The other part of you was happy that you left; he needed to stir, and he needed to be without you.

Sherlock had many sleepless nights, but this one was the worst of all. All he thought of was you. His hands didn’t leave his hair, countlessly running them through and tugging on his stands. He started thinking of what he could do to earn your forgiveness. To get you back within his reach.

He hadn’t realized how long he had stayed up until he left his office and saw the morning sun. With the bright rays burning his eyes, he shielded himself from the sun.

Sherlock sat at the table, staring off into nothingness.

He heard a voice. “What are you going to do about her?"

Sherlock looked behind him and saw Mycroft. “That lady you seem to be interested in, what are you going to do?"

Sherlock only had one answer.

“Anything.”

Part 3

#henry cavill smut #henry cavill #first post #sherlock holmes #angst #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fandom #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #mini series

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starks-hero · 2 years

Text

brother dearest

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Summary: Mycroft had never considered himself to be overprotective. However, he isn't overly pleased with how smitten his little brother is with you...

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: John is the only one with any emotional intelligence and Mycroft is faced with the horrifying ordeal of realising his younger sibling is dating, so they're all idiots really

Mycroft Holmes could practically feel his blood pressure rising. Confidential documents had been stolen from the very hands of the British government, putting the democratic well-being of an entire nation in jeopardy. And his little brother wouldn't answer the phone.

The moment word of the breach had gotten to Mycroft his first plan of action was to call Sherlock. Of course, he could have hypothetically dealt with the issue himself had it not required leg work. But to his dismay, contacting the youngest Holmes seemed to be as unlikely as winning the lottery.

Tossing dignity to the wind in the name of restoring balance to the western world, Mycroft stooped to the, in his opinion, ever embarrassing low of visiting Baker Street himself. He ascended the stairs, his displeasure evident in the weight of his steps, and refused to practice the common courtesy of knocking before entering the flat. Sherlock had lost that privilege when he refused to pick up the bloody phone.

Mycroft tutted with annoyance when he found both the living room and kitchen empty. Sherlock's coat, with whom he refused to go anywhere without, still hung idle on the clothes rack. He was in the flat and Mycroft was going to find him if he had to tear away every brick.

With all the begrudgement of a man who'd had his morning routine seriously uprooted, Mycroft marched towards Sherlock's bedroom and swung open the door.

He almost immediately wished he hadn't.

Sherlock lay sprawled out on the bed, white sheets twisting over alabaster skin. His eyes were shut, his hair a tangled mess of curls and you lay by his side.

Mycroft's jaw fell so quickly he expected it to unhinge and clatter against the floor with all the comedic effect of a nineties cartoon.

Sherlock's head rested against your shoulder whilst the lower half of your face was largely hidden by his curls. Your lips brushed his forehead in a prolonged kiss and Sherlock's arm was thrown over you almost possessively. Your own hand curled softly around the nape of his neck.

Disbelief, embarrassment and anger chased each other across Mycroft's expression before he settled with complete mortification. He couldn't explain it, not really, but seeing his little brother in bed with someone made him feel ridiculously nauseous.

Sherlock shifted, stretching out his limbs like a content cat before nuzzling closer to you.

Having no idea what else to do, the eldest Holmes shut the door. After a quick and failed attempt to purge the last few moments from his memory, he made his way back towards the living room.

He was met by John.

The doctor quickly did away with his fresh bag of groceries in order to make small talk, much to Mycroft's disdain. When John got around to the reason for his visit, and therefore Sherlock's current whereabouts, Mycroft shifted awkwardly.

“He seems to be occupied.”

A look of confusion clouded John's expression. He glanced down the hallway, jutting his thumb in the direction of Sherlock's room.

“I'm fairly certain he's just–” John's words were dissolved by the bitter look that was thrown his way by the eldest Holmes. “–oh, he didn't tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Mycroft asked with a painfully fake smile.

John swallowed thickly, suddenly very unhappy with the fact that he was the one that had to break the news to possibly the most powerful man in Britain that his little brother was seeing someone.

“He uh– he didn't tell you about himself and Y/N?”

Mycroft blinked. “It would appear he left out that minor detail.”

The silence that followed was awkward at best and utterly painful at worst. John, who wanted nothing more for the interaction to end but had no idea how to make that happen, nodded. Mycroft cleared his throat and readjusted his hold on his umbrella.

He glanced back towards his brother's room and John didn't miss the subtle glare he was trying to hide. Ah, so that's what this was about. John may not have shared Sherlock's observational skills but he did have a sister. He knew what overprotectiveness looked like.

“Mycroft, you do realise that Sherlock is an adult.”

“If that's what you would like to call him.”

“Right,” John dismissed quickly. “But he and Y/N are together. They have feelings–”

What was very much beginning to sound like a new rendition of ‘the birds and the bees’ was shortened by a scoff on Mycroft's behalf.

"My brother is barely capable of understanding his own feelings, you think he can handle someone else's?"

“You'd be surprised.”

Surprised was certainly one word for it. Mycroft simply couldn't imagine his brother being emotionally involved with anyone, regardless of how much imagination he tried to employ. He failed to imagine Sherlock in any situation that involved intimacy or vulnerability, let alone with you.

As if the very thought of you had doubled as a summoning spell, you entered the kitchen, steps lazy and eyes tired. If you were surprised to see the eldest Holmes you hid it well.

“Mycroft,” you greeted with a tight-lipped smile.

“Y/N.”

Your eyes moved between him and John, trying to piece together what exactly you'd walked into. John cleared his throat. You fought the urge to just go back to bed.

“Can I get you anything?” You motioned to the kitchen.

“My brother, if it's no trouble.”

“Showering,” you yawned. You decided not to add the bit where Sherlock had mentioned needing to ‘cool off before facing the devil so early in the morning’ upon realising his brother was in the living room. “He won't be long.”

“I see. I hate to show up unannounced. But I tried to call this morning and it seemed he was unavailable.”

You smirked despite yourself. Mycroft's grasp on his umbrella tightened.

After a few agonising moments that consisted of you cluelessly making yourself a morning cup of tea, Mycroft glaring holes into your back and John all but hiding behind his newspaper, Sherlock joined you.

His hair was damp, curls frizzed up due to the warm water. Mycroft hadn't seen it in such a state since Sherlock was a child. The unruly nature of his hair, as well as its tendency to make him look far less intimidating and far more endearing, often led to embarrassment. Which is why Mycroft was so surprised to see him so at ease.

Sherlock didn't so much as acknowledge his brother's existence as he made a beeline towards you, accepting the tea you offered and leaving a lazy kiss against the side of your head. He was smiling fondly all the while.

Said smile immediately fell when he spotted Mycroft. Sherlock muttered something about god under his breath and took a long, almost purposefully so, sip from his mug before speaking.

“Terrorist attack or security breach?”

Mycroft raised an unamused brow.

“It's ten o'clock on a Sunday morning, from my understanding you should be having tea with the prime minister or something–” Sherlock waved his free hand around dismissively. “You wouldn't be here if it wasn't of national importance. So which is it? Suspected terrorist attack or a security breach?”

“That, brother mine, is something you would have already been clued in on if you'd learned how to answer my calls.” Mycroft intended for his words to be somewhat scolding but judging by how Sherlock reclined in his chair and crossed his legs he figured his attempt at exerting some sort of authority over his younger brother had failed. “Now, it's not as threatening as initially believed but still relevant enough to warrant some sort of investigation. Which is why I need you to–”

His words fizzled out at the sight of you moving to stand behind Sherlock's chair. Your stance was relaxed, comfortable, as if you felt you belonged where you stood, as some sort of watchful protector. Mycroft glowered.

You seemed unfazed and Mycroft couldn't tell which he hated more, your hand now on Sherlock's shoulder or the fact that his brother was smirking because of it.

By some miracle, he managed to make it through the rest of the briefing without giving away just how much he wanted the floorboards to open up and swallow him.

He didn't know why the sight of you both together irritated him so much but by god was it getting under his skin. The glances you shared that Mycroft knew had hidden meanings behind them. How his brother, who needed a week's recovery in his room after any social interaction, preened under your touch. The youthful look in his eyes, the boyish smile. It was somehow painful to look at.

Mycroft could still recall when he was the only one that could placate his brother. When they were children, spending hours in their garden estate, finding insects and frogs and recalling their Latin names. Anything to keep their brilliant young minds entertained. He remembered how Sherlock would light up with each new nugget of information Mycroft gave him. Even into their teenage years, he was the one Sherlock trusted, the one he looked to for help and guidance. It had always been him.

But now, now there was you.

He had you to confide in. To talk to. To irritate with a tirade of useless facts that anyone else would think irrelevant. He had you to look out for him and comfort him and Mycroft couldn't understand why this was angering him so–

Oh.

The notion that his little brother had, in fact, grown up and didn't need him anymore came as a very unwelcome realisation. Mycroft had the sudden desire to leave the flat as promptly as he could.

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “I should be getting on. I trust you'll fill me in on your findings?”

Sherlock groaned, in agreement or dismissal it was hard to tell.

Mycroft, who now wanted nothing more than to leave, turned to make his way to the door. “Good day, doctor Watson.”

John nodded, not failing to notice the change in Mycroft's stance.

‘He's copped on then.’

Partially because of your closeness to the door and partially in an attempt to rectify whatever you'd done to wrong Mycroft, you moved to show him out.

He passed you silently but as you stepped back to close the door, he stopped you.

He seemed uneasy, an emotion that looked unnatural and foreign on him. His nerves were infectious and you quickly found yourself growing anxious, expecting him to gift you with some horrific piece of information to pass on to Sherlock to save him from dealing with the mess of telling his brother himself.

His actual request was something much softer.

“Take care of him, will you?”

It took a few moments for you to blink away your surprise. As confused as you were, you nodded all the same.

“Of course.”

Mycroft responded with a nod of his own, offered a surprisingly genuine smile and then turned to leave. He'd descended the stairs entirely by the time you finally closed the flat door.

“What was that about?” Sherlock asked nonchalantly.

You shook your head. “Absolutely no idea.”

John took a sudden interest in his newspaper in an attempt to ignore just how hard he was biting his tongue.

thank you for reading!

Sherlock tag list: @miraclesoflove @ilovefanfictions @mylovelysnowflake @quentawewe @bakerstreethound @andreasworlsboring101 @doozywoozy @xxinvisiblexx @the-worst-critic @the-queer-dungeoneer @jellyfishbeansontoast @starrykitn @starryeddie @ladymercury8 @themorningsunshine @evelynrosestuff @mywellspringoflife @simp-for-scammanders @Xhz17x @allieberries @kealohilani-tepise

#finally starting to clear out my drafts to help me get back in the writing groove #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #bbc sherlock x reader #sherlock imagine #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes x you #bbc sherlock x you #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock #1k

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milknhonies · 2 months

Text

Wails of Wedded Bliss

Chapter 3 || Masterlist || Chapter 5

Chapter Summary: Sherlock fulfils his husbandry duty and desires to play some more with your weak resolve.

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Period Sex, Blowjob, Bondage, Pet Names, Fingering, Forced Orgasm, Forced Pubic shave, Humiliation.

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes: This chapter involves description of period blood and sex, please be warned!!

Inspiring Song: "Copy Cat." Billie Eillish classic cover

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

6:39pm Tuesday 6th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

You had no choice. Not really...he was your husband and you were his wife. His threat of infidelity brought a great fear to your mental strength than your threat to murder him without a solid plan.

Oh how you hated him for this. You despised him with every sense. You weren’t sure how you’d be able to forgive him.

You knew he wasn’t a good or kind or even gentle husband, but a husband is meant to be faithful. And if humiliating yourself to pleasuring him with your mouth kept him straying in sin; by god you would obey.

You crept closer to him and slowly lowered yourself on one knee, then the next. Your eyes could not leave his face. A sick and twisted smile spread over his rosy cheeks.

In his palm was his half hard cock. His large hand made it appear smaller. The memory of its violent entrance had not been forgotten however.

It stared you back in the face. The pink head peaked up and out of his pale skin. His thumb rubbed over the pink head.

You felt cold and strange in comparison to your usual jitters. You fluttered your eyes closed. Your hands sat in your lap on your thighs.

‘He just wanted a kiss. I can kiss it...’

You leant forward and puckered your lips. His skin was feverishly warm. You pulled back fast and blinked up at him with wet eyes.

He chuckled meanly and touched your damp cheek in his other hand before moving his fingers under your jaw and guiding you closer to his cock.

“Lick the top with the tip of your tongue.”

Your lips trembled nervously. You weren’t sure if this was worth it. The thudding of your chest made you forget what he had asked.

Visions of the lewd novel in his chest flashed in your mind.

“P-pardon?”

His thumb pressed against your mouth, forcing its way past your lips and teeth. You knew better than to bite him. You weren’t an animal...you didn’t want a repeat of the night before where you had bitten his tongue.

“Stick out,” he pulled your tongue out with his thumb, “this little tongue.”

He pulled you closer by the chin and held his cock upwards.

“Lick.”

You whined softly and batted your eyes. Did you have the guts to do this? To truly perform fellatio? You didn’t really have the choice. You had to do this.

He let you go and waited patiently. He undid his cuffs and rolled the shirt off his shoulders.

“Are you so dim witted?” he gruffly asked, his fingers grabbed at your jaw after you took too long,

“Need I repeat myself once more?”

You shuddered and shook your head side to side. It was just so scary. Why did you have to have such a cruel husband!?

“No,” you licked your chapped lips, “I am sorry Mr Holmes.”

His eyes widened, his face softened but his lips smirked, “So polite, little lamb...”

Your lower half tingles with delight at the warmth of his sudden praise...

‘Little lamb, how do I despise it...yet feel warmth within?’

You pushed your face closer. You stuck out your tongue again and this time, glided it over his hot red tip. The gleam of your saliva and his desire shone in the soft candle light of a kerosene lamp on his bedside table.

You tucked your nose quickly back to your chest. You flushed.

Fluttering his eyes, Sherlock clenched the covers. His gasp on his breath was a sound of pain you originally believed.

“Again,” he said clearing his throat, “Come now, I grow tiresome to your reluctance.”

You wanted to spit at him. He knew you didn’t want to do this and yet still made you do it. You licked him again. His hand clapped on the back of your neck, forcing you closer and blocking you from pulling away.

You fell into him slightly, forced to need to grab his pant covered knee and thigh. Your fingers squeezed his trousers to stabilise your balance on your knees.

You looked back up into his eyes. Perhaps it was easier to look him in the eye instead of looking at the brutal beast between his thighs.

You opened your mouth and licked his cock little by little...his thumb pushed up your nose, opening your mouth wider. He pushed his cock into your mouth. His eyes were glued on you. He appeared relaxed.

His skin lacked any flavour. It was like licking your palm...but after a while there was a hint of salt in the taste buds.

You kept your mouth open, you kept your tongue out as he moved his hips in and out. His hand pushed you down and pinched you back up.

Your eyes remained only on him. He was grunting and sighing. A twinge of triumph tickled your heart. You were pleasing him! He would not want to seek out the unsavoury company of whores or any other woman overall.

He paused and leant down. He grabbed at your wrist and picked up his hand and rested your fingers around his length of his cock.

Your blinked and stared at the placement.

“Squeeze, and rub me up to the tip, down to the sack.” You nodded, his cock still rested on your tongue.

He chuckled and rested back on his hands. He waited for you to take over.

This was it. This is what would bring him pleasure. You cupped his shaft and moved the way you were instructed. You did it at a pace where he appear to struggle how to breathe. His words were nothingness under his breath.

He looked to the ceiling and moaned.

The skin was hot and twitched under your finger tips.

He let out a choking groan. The back of your mouth felt that harsh slapping squirt of his release.

You pulled back in horror. Your bottom slid across the rug. You weren’t sure what it was really. In fact you feared he had the audacity to piss in your mouth. You spat on the floor and coughed.

“Ugh!”

He cackled at the mortified look you had written over your sweet face.

He sighed and chewed his bottom lip. He slowly clapped his hands.

“Well done... Forgive me, I had intended to finish myself over your sweet breasts, little lamb.”

He cocked his head to the side and hummed, “Take off my shoes.” He lifted his foot to your direction.

You thought he was entirely despicable! You wiped your mouth with a growing glare. It didn’t go unnoticed by him, in fact, he took glee in your narrowing look..

“You wish to be a wife? Act as a wife. You want my loyalty? Well, you must be my whore...and whores suckle their johns cream with pretty smiles on their painted faces. Wives help their husbands undress from long days of work.”

You felt...weak and disgusting. You felt like an idiot. In your grumpy defeat you crawled back to him and began to unlace his shoes. In the corner of your eye you saw his hand reach back to his front and touch his thick meat. The looser the laces, you lifted your hands and rocked his heel out of his shoe.

Demurely you sat both his shoes aside. His socks smelt of his sweat and the filth of London street ways. You gagged and pinched the wool socks away from his calves and flung them from his toes.

A cramp waved through you and forced a grimacing groan out of your quiet misery.

Sherlock stopped laughing, his smugness dissipated. His face fell. He tucked his cock away with an annoyed sigh.

His hands unexpectedly tucked beneath your armpits and lifted you off the floor. He pushed you lightly onto his mattress onto your front. You felt your breath hitching, worrying what he would do to you. It wouldn’t be right for him to have sex with you during your menses.

He palmed his giant hand over your bottom. Hoisting your night dress up your thighs and over your back. He slapped one cheek lightly and chuckled at your cry and hiss. He grabbed your shoulder and held you down slightly. Your fingers gripped the covers of his top blanket. You had washed and changed this set. They smelt of a sweet lemon citrus.

His lips touched your bare shoulders. His hot breath tingled in your ear.

You flushed and squeezed your eyes shut. God it felt strange and ticklish.

“Look at this perfect little arse,” he admired, groping at the flesh, “Plump and ripe for a needed disciplining. Your grandparents let you get away with far too much.”

He slapped you harder. A scream bellied from you. Your spine curled up and you desperately reached back to scratch his bare arms.

“Stop it! Or I will bite you again!” you shouted.

The detective smacked his lip and hummed, “Ah that reminds me, thankyou little lamb.”

In two fingers he held in front of your eyes his cravat. He stuffed the material deep into your mouth and slapped you swiftly when you tried nipping his hand. Tears poured like boiling water.

He tied the rest of the fabric tightly behind your head. You violently shook your head and fought against him, you tried pushing away only to be shoved down by his strong hands.

He rolled you into your back and used your nightgown to tie your wrists together, over your hands. Your claws were contained from clawing his eyeballs out.

The bonds were pushed above your head. He attached a loose part of the arm of your clothes to the headpost.

He smacked your thighs apart hard. You shrieked behind the gag.

He tore the sanitary apron away and tossed it across the room. You turn your nose into your arm, too embarrassed to look at your husband who played with your body.

You twitched and tried to kick at Sherlock as his hand tickled down your side and between your thighs. The wicked man smirked as he watched your pleading eyes water. He pushed two fingers inside your red hot messed cavern. You felt ill. This was an abomination! He fingered you and held your upper body down, watching you like a hawk as you struggled.

His digits within you flexed and curled. You felt them touch along the top of your walls while his thumb rubbed down into your forbidden button. You whined and shook your head. He removed his hand all together. You clenched your legs back together.

“Oh my, Mrs Holmes,” he purred, glancing down, “You secret slut...this isn’t blood,” he held his fingers up to the light, “Why...this is arousal...”

His lips curled, flashing those pearly white gnashers.

Your eyes widened with horror. You were humiliated. Surely it wasn’t possible that you could be enjoying this? Why did he have to be so handsome. Why did your fear mix in with attraction so easily.

With the clear gleaming on his hand, with little pink streaks, he kissed your cheek and pinched

your nipples.

You shook your head and whimpered. Your legs were buzzing at the pain inflicted increased a desperate certain warmth within you.

“My was that a moan? Interesting,” he whispered cheekily.

“and if I...do this...” he asked as he shoved his hand back onto your snatch, rubbing in fine circles ontop of your clit. Your hips lifted and your thighs trembled. Your toes curled hard and your head rolled back. God it felt delicious and evil.

Amongst your lustful whines, Sherlock chortled happily, “How perfect you might be dear wife...I had no little hope for this morning, but now,” his nose shoved into your ear, “...oh you’ve just gone and damned yourself for good.”

He tugged at your pubic mane lightly, it didn’t matter, it made you squeal and howl in pain.

Your husband sat up and left the bed. Your arms were still bound above your head. You lifted your knees protectively to your chest.

“All this hair...” He tutted, “it shall not do.”

You heard him wonder across his bedroom. Out of his personal drawers he found a straight razor. He also brought forth the basin of water he had near the door way. With a cloth napkin and tiny sliver of soap, he returned and forced your legs down on to the bed. He knelt on your spread ankles and lathered your nether curls.

It was when the soap started to foam that you realised what he was intending to do. It was impossible to word the begging but he knew...you knew he knew what you were pleading out.

You knew how sharp a razor could be. What if he mutilated you!?

He glided the cold metal over your wet sensitive skin.

He licked his bottom lip as he scrapped away your mass of pubic hair.

“Hold still wife or I will cut you,” he scolded sarcastically as he went through the white bubbles.

Cleaning the razor in the water before returning it back between your thighs he hummed, “I am displeased you didn’t confer with me about the states of my accounts before deciding to pay them all off yourself. That dowry was meant for dresses, and necessary accessories such as calling cards...” he tapped the razor on the basin bowl, “now we must both rely on Mycroft and my cases for wages...stupid girl.”

The way he stared into your eyes as he held the blade up to the light...was he threatening you...was this...a warning.

You squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep shuddering breath. Tied to his bed and at his whim you were significantly helpless.

His hands took the towel and wiped your cunt clean of the hairs and soap still left behind. He whistled dramatically and smirked.

“My, my, what a pretty pussy you have.” He mused as he tossed the razor into the basin and moved the water bowl under the bed, out of the way.

His middle finger pushed inside. You gasped. The stretching intrusion took you off your guard.

“So tight still. I might need to train you to take me.”

He tore it back out and touched your naked clit lightly.

You gasped and choked behind the cravat. With deep moans, you wept pathetically.

“Oh look at that reaction,” he cooed condescendingly, he caressed the skin with his knuckle, “and all I’m doing is touching your clit. So sensitive.”

He licked his bottom lip and smirked, he pulled his hand back and slapped his palm across your labia. You squeal as the hot fiery pain rose up under your skin and spread out a dark shade with the rushing of your blood.

“Splendid responses to the nerves,” Sherlock noted before running the stinging flesh, you whined and turned your face into your arm.

“Bit sore I gather?” The man mocked, “Poor Lamb. All mine and bloody for sacrifice.”

A horrid in taking sound came from him. He spat on his fingers and pushed the wetted digits against your labia, dragging them down before sliding in home.

“There we are, squeezing so tightly around my finger, feels filling?”

He paused and listened to your heavy breathing behind the man made gag he had over your mouth. Listening to your ragged gasps and wheezes made his cock stir. You were so innocent and confused, he could see through your prudish and proper demeanour so easily. He fingered you until you were on the brink of insanity. Your eyes were becoming hazy, strained and almost crossed.

He thought it incredible...a true virgin. Not some pretender whore that his friend Miss Adler supplied. You were the authentic innocent.

“Now that you are properly tied up and without risk to harm me,” he whispered wetly, “-And decently groomed... I will complete our union.” He removed his fingers slowly out of you.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You needed to compose yourself. You wanted to pretend you were back home with your grandparents. You imagined yourself in the gardens with your cousins playing balls. Oh back then life was a struggle but comparing to this...it was truly childsplay.

You yearned for your girlhood once more before you felt him move off the bed a moment only to shove your thighs wider apart and sit the head of his cock on top of your naked hairless lips.

Here the devil had come to steal all girlhood for good and inflict the agonising curse of

womanhood.

He entered slowly. Clearly he had learnt from yesterday that this task would only be accomplished with patience.

Indeed yesterday would’ve been considered a consummated marriage...so why he cared so much to refer to this as a completion of union alluded you.

You whimpered softly and peaked through your wet lashes to see his invasive entrance breaking into you.

To say you were full was placing it lightly. This man stole all possible space inside. He left no pocket of air as he pushed along and settled within.

His hands were tightly holding each ankle apart.

You now understood why he touched you with his hands before...your slickness welcomed and slid him deeper into you.

“Oh, my poor little lamb, taking in her masters thick cock so bravely,” he praised and then laughed as you struggled against your own nightgown binded to the headboard, “unable to nip or kick back at him.”

You grew silent in defeat. You submitted to the chance of zero hopelessness. Your legs fell limply.

He released your ankles.

You were plagued in your own paralysis.

You felt like he was pausing before pushing more inside. He was huge. There’s not many you could compare it too as a recently deflowered woman but you were confident his size must’ve been abnormal. Even he winced every so often at the tight squeeze.

When his pelvic bone pressed against your cunt, he sighed, “There...truly man and wife...at last...” A small scoff was heard.

You said something behind the gag that caught his ear. It was too muffled.

He pulled the gag harshly down your chin.

“What was that?”

You narrowed your eyes at him and huffed stubbornly, “Hu-husband and wife. Not man and wife.”

You wanted to remind him exactly who he was doing this to and why he could do it...because you allowed it.

“Correct you are, my darling,” he let a laugh escape him before he moved back, “Now if I just pull and twist my hips like this.”

He re-entered and this time he put his thumb on your clit as he went inside. Your eyes blew wide and you began to babble.

“Oh oh oh! Wh-what wait, please!” You started to moan and whine.

Your husband cackled proudly, “It feels good doesn’t it?”

You foolishly nodded in truth. Something sparked a flame that flooded your insides.

He did it again and again. He repeated and rubbed down into you. The filling of his member rubbing against all parts of your inner skin made you clench and groan.

You felt increasingly needful to collect the same high feeling he had delivered on you before. You were climbing an imaginary hill. The urge to release your bladder made your eyes widen.

Desperation took you into the most needful begging, “N-no! I need to use a bedpan please

Sherlock, please, I am going to make a mess! Stop! I’ll do anything.”

Your little gasps and desperate moans spurred your husband on.

His hips were making a fast speeding pace that made you dig your knees into his sides.

You wanted him to stop. You were scared of pissing over him, especially in his bed.

“I want you to let go,” he moaned and shoved his nose against yours. His breath entered your mouth as he raggedy groaned, “Release, trust me...it will feel good.”

You didn’t trust him. You didn’t know what he meant. How could this behaviour be acceptable.

“No, no, no, no, ugh, ugh, stah-, Sher-, ugh, pl-please!”

He slammed himself harder and licked at your chest, “Such a pretty beggar, dear lord, I predicted you to be a homely creature, I have been proven wrong. In this light, you are rare gem of the seas of Venus. Oh sweet lamb, give me your release.”

You couldn’t hold yourself in containment any longer. You let your lower half go. You clenched hard down onto him.

You found your spine curl and your mouth wordlessly wailing.

“Breathe dead, breathe,” you heard Sherlock call above your silent choking before unleashing a brutalising scream. It was like taking your first breath, being reborn.

When the air released, your chest burned. You gasped and cried out as some mighty string was torn within and drowned you in a flooding dam of pleasure.

Sherlock followed your desirable agony and let his mind go. His grunting was feral and full of need.

Your muscles released and you cried with the feeling of warm melted gold ran through you.

You weakly called out, “Sherlock...”

His hot lips kissed against your sweaty skin. He kissed your neck up to your chin and cheek and engulfed your own mouth in a sloppy sensation of saliva and soft lips.

When your eyes focused and found a semblance of sane sight, you beheld a pleased man. You felt his fingers touching along your arms and wrists.

“I am going to untie you, hush you are safe...”

You shut your eyes. The last tears to come derived from pleasure and a overwhelming sense of joy that was foreign to you. You trembled, still drinking in the vibrations of your body.

You were stuck in a blanket of bodily pleasure. You had never been so relaxed and warm in your entire life.

You enjoyed what he had done and you didn’t know why especially since you heavily disliked your own husband.

Was this what Mrs Hudson referred to? Screaming followed by smiles?

‘Oh’, you thought, ‘never again will a woman have what I just claimed. This is mine and always shall be.’

“I...need...um...I...words...I...you’ve...I can’t think...I am spent,” you mumbled dumbly.

A part of you wanted to thank him and have him leave you alone to wallow in sleep. Another wanted him to do it all again.

“Pretty Lamb,” he cooed in your ear as your hands limply fell to the mattress, “I am going to carry you now.”

He had tucked himself away and scooped his hands under your legs. He moved your arms around his shoulders and pushed you to sit up before clamping his arm beneath your back. His nose tucked into your neck where he left another kiss.

Carefully he lifted you off his bed and stepped out into the dining parlour where he turned and took you to your room beside his.

He pulled the blankets and sheets away before sliding you down beneath them.

He pulled the cover up to your chin and you whimpered, “I...am sore.”

His hard face softened, he pressed his lips to your cheek and asked, “You are?”

You nodded your head, “I...feel...light...tired.”

He left your side to shut your door. The light disappeared completely. Only the moon that casted light over his face helped you see as he faced you again. He wondered over and invaded your bed space.

He climbed in along side you. The wood creaked with his added weight. You were slightly alarmed he was coming into your bed and not returning back to his room.

You were drowsy and moaned.

“Sleep, in my arms,” He said as you weakly tried rolling away.

You turned back and stared at the shadows of his face. His eyes were black with only small specks of the light reflecting.

His skin was sticky and hot... But tonight it was cold and windy...you needed him...he wanted you...you succeeded.

In the darkness, you decided to reclaim some small pride...you pushed your face up and kissed his lip. Breathing him in you could finally smell him and taste him. Chalk, blood, and tobacco.

You shut your eyes and imagined the joy of your grandmother if you could tell her how you finally became the wife of Sherlock Holmes before the rites of Godly flesh.

He was silent and still. He said nothing. Did nothing.

When you pulled back from the kids he rested his head softly back on the pillows with a light hum. His fingers tickled up your naked back, holding you close. You rubbed your cheek into his bicep and listened to his heart beat and breathing until you passed into the dreamlands of sleep.

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

6:04am Wednesday 7th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

You dreamt of your father and mother. Two people who never married, but at some point were in love. You never had the chance to see them together in happiness.

They were well dressed and strolling in the park pushing a perambulator. And as you followed them it had not struck you that this was a dream. Inside the baby carriage was nothing at all...it was odd.

Yet your parents smiled and both leant in to kiss each other....their hands both held wedding bands.

If you had never been born, you suddenly thought, would they have been able to marry and be happy?

Your mother as she loved upon your father shoved the perambulator away. It rolled fast down the path and you followed it for a moment before hearing a terrible wail of a baby inside. A baby that wasn’t in the carriage before suddenly appeared, pulling back a blanket that covered it.

You chased after the carriage as it sped up and went down a hill. Your heart ached with terror. You struggled to keep up and reached out your hand to the handle bar. It was rolling just out of your reach!

You sobbed as the carriage crashed into Tree and fell to its side. Out rolled...a bleating lamb...the creature rose up on its four wiggly legs and bleated again. It’s long wagging tail flickered around anxiously.

You landed on your knees before the lamb and kept crying. Not even you knew the reason for your tears. You held the small animal to your torso, checking it over for any broken limbs. The baby sheep was fine.

A tap on your head made you look up and standing above you was a dark faceless shadow of a man. The shadow sucked you in and you screamed at the darkness before waking up.

Above you was a face you did know...your husband’s. His eyes danced around your features. His lips curled into a smirk, “Good morning Mrs Holmes, how did you sleep?”

You blinked and peered up at him warily before slowly you sat up and away from him. His hand touched your shoulder, your hand grabbed his wrist.

What was he doing in your bed? Why were you nude!? Ah the revaluations if the previous evening re-established back into your memory. He had fully fucked you. He had claimed you...and in your drunken sleepy state, you kissed him. You flushed.

“I slept fine...” you lied, “Please let me up,” you glanced between him, the door of the bedroom and your wardrobe, “I need to start my day.”

You swallowed hard as you looked over his broad chest.

“Nonsense,” Sherlock stated before dragging you closer to him by your waist, his hands were huge and warm, it would be too much to say even comforting.

“We have plenty of time before Mrs Hudson climbs up the stairs.” His lips touched your jaw and peppered down your neck..

“Mr Holmes...please,” you cleared your throat as your hand pushed his chest to force a pause. You flushed with embarrassment. He noticed very quickly at your strained tone.

“Oh...I see...you recall the events of last night...your self deduction?”

His hands under the blanket slid downward to your thighs. He touched the soft shaved skin of your pubis. You felt twice as sensitive...

“H-humiliated, st-stupid and angry,” you shuddered.

You had let him hurt you again...and yet this time it came to a pleasant conclusion. You were disgusted in yourself for obeying him so quickly, so willingly I’m regards to giving him fellatio.

His fingers pressed your clit and he smiled at your gasp.

“And now?”

You gulped and turned your face into the pillows away from his eyes.

It was hard to deny how much you enjoyed the jumping buzz in your lower belly.

His laugh was crude to your ears, “See how easy it is to feel that sweet entrapment?” He rubbed his hand between your legs and marvelled at your heightened reaction, “My goodness look at you, your cunt is pulsing against me, hot and hard in my palm.”

Your breath hitched and your hips accidentally rolled into his touch. Your body craved the addictive buzz. Your thighs parted for him...he accepted the invitation and moved a finger inside while he ground his palm against your bundle of nerves.

“Oh, are you going to release again?” he whispered proudly.

He chuckled at your shaking head. Your pathetic attempts to mentally deny it. You were close by how tightly you fluttered around just his lone finger. Your knees shook and clamped together. His finger continued jerking in and out.

“Oh ride the sweet death, come to be me, come, come, come to me little lamb.”

His mouth ducked down to your nude chest. He licked across your nipples and suckled them into his cheeks loudly.

Your hand grabbed the blankets and his wrist. You rolled your head back and sighed as whatever that spell was took over you.

“Did you know,” he smacked his lips across your breasts, before tonguing a single nipple, “you’ve the most delicious teats?”

You groaned and blushed. You were trying to catch your own breath.

He pressed his cock against your leg before taking your hand and forcing you to hold him.

“Touch me, hold it and slide your hand up and down like a silk pole.”

You did as he asked while he kissed your mouth openly. Your eyes fluttered shut and jerked him off until you felt a wetness glide down your hands, he moaned.

This is the kindest he has ever been to you presently.

You pulled your hand away and up to the light of the morning. Your eyes widened at the white goop stuck on your fingers and back of your hand.

“Wha-what is this?”

He chuckled and kissed your cheek proclaiming, “My seed.” Seed...to make children...but it was so...

“Its...liquid,” you disagreed, “and wet and sticky...it’s like mucus.”

He raced his fingers along your hip and patiently explained, “When drained inside of you,” his hand touched your lower belly, “it goes up and impregnates. But you are still bleeding so it washes out and won’t catch in your womb.”

You blinked and let your dirty hand fall back on the top of the covers.

“Oh...”

You felt him sit up and you mirrored him. You slid out of the bed as his warmth left you. Watching him pull his trousers properly back up over his hips and waist made you fluster from the sight of his bare arse.

It was such a plump bottom.

He pulled away your blanket, unveiling your nude self to the cold morning.

He turned around and brought back your water basin and a cloth. He soaked the material in and pressed the wet cloth to your thighs.

“Stay still,” he said softly, “I’m just washing you.”

You paused before you spread your legs for him and awkwardly nodded, “Thankyou...husband.”

Surely you could’ve cleaned yourself. You hissed as he scrubbed the dry blood and release from you thighs. The cold water on your hot dirty skin was soothing.

You stood out of your bed finally and hurried to your dresser to find either some padding tubes or a sanitary apron.

Your rolled the bandage up quickly and turned away from Sherlock as you inserted the material.

You felt...strange doing this in front of him. A part of him you were sure might be repulsed at the sight.

Except he had his back turned to you, he was washing himself in the basin while he asked, “How did you find the carnal pleasure?”

You froze and felt your mouth dry up. Had he forgotten that he had tied you up?!

It was hard to meet his eyes. You wrapped your arms around yourself. Your husband turned to you.

You felt the need to cover your privates with your hands.

“Strange, it...felt correct...but...wrong...” you cleared your throat, “forbidden, despite our vows.”

He smiled and nodded to the bed while he passed you to your wardrobe and investigated the contents, “Many young ladies new to it have expressed the same condolences...that is sex. That is coitus. That is what husband and wife do. To make babies, and to feel pleasure.”

Your nose wrinkled. Sherlock was significantly older than you. You trusted this wisdom. He was clearly an experienced man from the prices spent at Mayfair.

“Why did it hurt so much the first time?” you asked.

No one had prepared or explained why having sex with your husband would hurt. He was so brutal the first day. And last night it hurt but not as much...

He sighed and pulled out dark navy blouse and a skirt to match. You felt the urge to correct his choice as he held them up. It was an outfit for outside outings. You weren’t meant to leave the home during this delicate time.

He asked over his shoulder, “Have you ever ridden horses?”

“I have,” you answered honestly.

“Side saddle?” His left brow raised.

“Sometimes,” you pursed your lips and watched him lay out your clothes on your bed, “It was easier for balance when riding as men do.”

He nodded and went to collect a pair of your boots, “And that hurt your thighs the first time?”

“First few ride like that yes,” you agreed, huffing impatiently, “Where is this conversation leading?”

He pulled you closer by pinching your hip. He pushed a chemise over your head. Your eyes widened, this wasn’t his role...to help you dress. It was your responsibility and Mrs Hudson if you were inclined to ask for her assistance.

“How did the pain go away?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes and answered the obvious explanation, “Because my body accommodated and my muscles for the riding evolved to accept the saddled position.”

He passed you a pair of open crotch bloomers. You pulled the material over your legs and tied the strings to your waist over the corset.

He smiled and pinched your chin, “The same is said for sex. The more you practice, the better it will be for you and...your health.”

You flushed and turned your face away from him...you felt foolish with the way his eyes ran over your bare body. He turned you around and helped pull a corset over your head and began fighting the strings in the back.

“I...it hurt and felt good...I felt...suffocated...I thought I saw a bright light,” you grunted as he tugged.

Your husband shut his eyes and with a smile he hummed pleasingly, “La petite mort.” “The Little death?” You gasped.

He flicked his eyes open. He sounded amused, “ah you know French little lamb?”

“of course I do,” you scoffed lightly, “any self respectable lady must learn French.”

Not his sister, “I suppose so.”

He pulled more of the ties closer. The corset grew taunt and supportive of your chest. His fingers tugged down further.

“Why did you go to Scotland yard yesterday?” You asked him as he finished tying the laces together.

“And who did you have a fight with?”

You tapped your face with a soft finger. He passed you a hose suspender belt. You clipped the hooks behind your back while the belt sat on your waist.

“There’s now a bruise under your chin that I most certainly did not cause Mr Holmes...” A part of you wished you had. He would’ve deserved it from you. He rubbed the dark spot and smirked.

Your husband sat on your bed and plucked your stockings. He pat his thigh and opened the stockings up. You lifted your leg and rested it on his thigh. You clenched the wooden canopy pole to steady your balance.

You were embarrassed. At this angle he would be able to see your cunt stuffed with the white fluff soaking up your menstruation.

He showed no care or disgust. He slid the soft cotton up your leg and kissed your knee cheekily.

He clipped your stocking to the suspension strings.

“I inquired upon the Pennicott case,” he claimed,” his thumb rubbed dangerously over your thigh...

God, you felt a spark at the touch.

“I thought you said it was obvious,” you stuttered, “He ran out from his wife.”

“I did, and...I rethought it,” he admitted, he slid the other stocking up your other leg, “Pennicott is a Baron and a owner of many warehouse factories. His wife comes from a well off family too and she is pregnant last heard, baby number six now. Why would he disappear off the face of the earth?...”

He stood up straight and forced your arms above your head before he slid a petticoat across your waist.

“A lover?”

He smiled as he tied the strings at your waist and shook his head, “No, men like Pennicott would just keep their arm candy and refer to them as a niece of a distant cousin. And if he was attached so lovingly, he would just move to another country but to completely eradicate and leave all his finances? To leave his wife in her state? It makes not much sense. He was making a fine quarter profit! So why is he missing?”

He passed you the blouse and skirt.

“Well,” You pulled the skirt over your arms and buttoned the buttons up to our neck “Perhaps he’s been kidnapped, for ransom?”

Sherlock hummed, “Maybe Watson, but I do wonder still.” You blinked...

“Pardon?” you gawked.

He raised his brows to your exclamation.

“You called me Watson.”

“Oh dear god,” he chuckled and passed you your skirt, “it’s already happening.”

You slid on the final layer and wrinkled your nose at him, “What is happening?” Sherlock stood up from the bed and clapped his hands.

“Come with me,” he softly begged, “Today I will be visiting his wife. The Baroness. I am investigating the case.”

Your eyes fluttered. Your thoughts couldn’t keep up. You sputtered as you tried to find sensibility. “Sherlock, it is our honeymoon and I am bleeding,” you whispered, “It is improper. I need to conduct laundry. Both our bedding must be soaked in...” you cleared your throat, “the blood.” He winked at you and pulled you close to his nude chest by your covered waist.

“Isn’t it marvelous that we have a housekeeper for such things?”

You narrowed your eyes... “A housekeeper is not a maid and I would not subject Mrs Hudson to cleaning that. She has told me herself that linens is not of her department.”

The tall man bent down and offered, “Mrs Hudson will clean the laundry, trust me..”

Despite his assurance, It wasn’t right for you to be out and about in public like this.

“And what would I be doing,” you tested, “Running after you as you speak to the Baroness?”

“Sitting pretty,” Sherlock stated, “And looking for clues.”

Your eyes sharpened, “Clues?”

Your husband tapped your nose, “Yes, you seem to have a hint of talent in that department. You just don’t know where to deduce the end results for the clues.” You blinked....

With a soft mutter you stated, “I suppose it would allow me more insight to your profession and a chance to bond and learn about each other...”

Before you could continue anymore questions you heard a soft knock on your bedroom door.

“Mrs Hudson,” you both whispered, glancing to one another.

Helplines:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

#dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes x female reader #sherlock holmes x poc!reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x ofc #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes #enola sherlock #henry sherlock #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #wowb

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milfloveer · 2 months

Text

Proof of love ♡

Sherlock Holmes x fem!reader

Prompt: After y/n gets a little stressed about her and Sherlock's relation and— Well, Sherlock shows her how he really loves her ;)

Warnings: smut 18+ minors DNI, age gap (reader is in their 20s and Sherlock in his 30s), p in v, unprotected sex, fluff, creampie

A/n: I need Sherlock in my life so badly 😩

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚ ⊹ ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

Sherlock and I just arrived home after attending a high society party so we could unfold more information about this recent case. Enola and Tewkesbury were there too, the first working on her case as well and the later was there on work behalf as he is a Lord and has his duties as one.

Enola was clearly bothered with all the feminine attention Lord Tewkesbury was given. I couldn't censure her as I was feeling the same towards Sherlock and all those ladies around him asking for a dance, their hands all over my man. Enola and I just rolled our eyes and focused on our cases ignoring each woman who approached the men.

•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•

Sherlock opened the door to his apartment and we walked in, I was clearly frustrated and it didn't slip Sherlock's gaze "You alright, darling?" he asks tenderly and cautiously.

I turn to him and see his concern "Yes, love, everything's alright." I say, even though I was lying. Those interactions all night long made me feel easily discarded and replaced.

Sherlock and I relationship was somewhat recent, we were only together for half a year and yet none of us dared to say those three simple words.

I can say that I care for him deeply, I got really attached to his personality, behaviour, the manner he works and thinks, his papers all around his apartment in a perfectly messy way, the way he played the violin when wanted to relax and get lost for a moment.

I truly fell for this exquisite detective, but I didn't dare to say those words to his face as I was afraid he wasn't feeling what I was. So I kept it to myself until now.

Sherlock frowns and follows me to our shared room "Darling, I know you and I can tell something is up." he says with concern in his voice as I try to unzip my dress, ending to ask him for help on it. He gladly does "Please talk to me." his voice wavering a bit making me look at him worriedly.

I sigh seeing his saddened face as I've never seen him like this. Getting closer to him I lay my hands, one on each side of his face and look deep into his eyes with tenderness "It is nothing important of concern, honey." I say softly, trying to brush it off.

But then again, Sherlock Holmes wouldn't be Sherlock Holmes without discovering the truth "It is concerning you and if it is concerning you, it is concerning me." he says pointing between us as he talks "Please, don't leave me in the dark, dove." he says while holding my gaze and I gave in and told him everything I was feeling at the party and when all the female attention is on him, how replaceable I feel, how dischargeable, how ridiculous.

I was now sitting at the end of our bed with my head hanging as my eyes freely released tears while looking at our hands interlocked on my lap "Oh, dear, why haven't you talked about this with me?" he asks caringly, I sniff and he brings his index finger and thumb to my chin, lifting it so I could look into those blue pools "I didn't want to overreact." I say barely above a whisper, he smiles softly "It's not overreacting dear and I assure you here that I have only eyes for you, my beautiful girl." he says as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, caressing my cheek afterwards and cleaning the remaining of my tears with his thumb.

"Prove it then." I blurt out shocking myself with my boldness, but nonetheless Sherlock chuckles darkly making me shiver "With pleasure, darling." he says as he leans over me making me lay down on the mattress behind me.

Now hovering over me he caresses my sides teasingly as his lips brush mine. No words were said as he connects strongly and lovingly his lips to mine eliciting a moan from me. He starts lowering his hands as his lips move to my neck and collarbone, teasing and marking all the soft spots.

I was already on my undergarments making me start to take off his clothes as he's still fully clothed, first his jacket, then his tie and vest, his shirt and belt were now off and he pulled down his pants discharging them somewhere in the room.

"Please, I need you." I say tugging at the waistband of his underwear, he chuckles "Eager are we?" he asks making me flush as I nod. He frees himself as I take off of me the remains of my underwear.

Now both fully naked we scan each others body "You're so beautiful." he growls caressing my side with his fingertips before capturing my lips while aligning himself with my entrance. As he enters me my mouth falls open and a moan echoes through the room "Oh dear." he says against my ear, his arms each on either side of my body, his hands behind my back, flat on my shoulder blades as he moves lovingly in and out of me.

My legs wrap around his waist pulling him closer as my nails dig into his back certainly leaving some scratches over it. Both breathing heavily and moaning into each other's ears; I love this man so much.

Sherlock speeds up his pace hitting a wonderful spot inside me over and over "Yes, honey, don't stop!" I say gasping sensing the tension building up each time he pounds into me. He then gets on his knees bringing my legs up to rest on his shoulders, I cry out in pleasure as he groans pounding strongly "I'm so close, Sherlock." I say, my legs start to tremble with the feeling.

With a few more pushes and I'm taken over the edge, Sherlock following, spilling his seed into me "Ah, Sherlock!" I say pushing him down and kissing his lips eagerly and then softly. As he pulls away he brushes against my lips, whispering "I love you." I froze and look up at him "What?" I breathe out starstruck about his confession, his eyes widen as he realized he just confessed his feelings for me out loud.

I bring my hand to his cheek and caress it, I smile before letting out a soft chuckle as my eyes fill with happy tears. I lift my head so I could reach his slightly trembling lips and close the gap, the kiss is slow, tender and filled with love, as we were telling without words 'I love you'.

Slightly I pull away and whisper against his lips "I love you too." his eyes widen slightly hearing the words slip like honey from my mouth making me smile lovingly at the man still above me.

#sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes x fem!reader #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill characters #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavil x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill #henry cavill x female reader

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holylulusworld · 5 months

Text

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes masterlist

Summary: Your marriage starts rocky.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader

Warnings: angst, implied innocent reader, smut in future chapters, innocent reader, shy/insecure reader

A/N: A collection of drabbles on how you became Mrs. Sherlock Holmes.

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (1)

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (2)

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (3)

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (4)

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (5)

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (6)

#sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock x reader #wife reader #female reader #innocent reader #Mrs. Sherlock Holmes masterlist

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darlingdekarios · 9 months

Text

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

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bakerstreethound · 2 months

Text

A Single Touch

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ Smut, hints of soft (sub) husband Sherlock/dom Sherlock, gentle teasing, mentions of marking, tenderness, and feelings

Summary: A peaceful afternoon in 221B takes a turn when you become insistent on needing Sherlock's attention and he indulges.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 1.1k+

A/N: Hello my lovelies, I hope you are all well. I hope you enjoy this little treat for I adore Sherlock so and he deserves the love and attention even when he can be annoying. Special thank you to @strangelockd for beta reading and loving this story from its conception. She is now the official aunt of this fanfic. As always, comments and reblogs are most appreciated! Graphic by @firefly-graphics

You smile to yourself as you look around 221B, enjoying the rare peaceful afternoon on the couch, your favorite book discarded on the coffee table. Sherlock’s features are calm and relaxed and you grin despite yourself, knowing how much he hated to admit he liked this…whatever this supposed routine had become.

Your fingers ruffled gently through his curls, his breath coming steady, occasionally shuddering when you tugged harder on them to tease him. You gaze upon him fondly, watching his cheek quiver, lips pursing while he flips a page of his novel.

So that’s how it was going to be, then. You smile to yourself, for you do so love a challenge.

Carefully you tug his curls once more, earning a raised brow in return, until you reach for the book, pulling it from his grasp, not before inserting the bookmark into place; you don't have the heart to dog ear the page like a heathen.

“I was reading that,” he huffs, feigning annoyance, yet his eyes shimmer in mischief and mirth.

“Yeah? What are you going to do about it? Surely you can think of something.”

He shifts, sitting upright on the couch, watching you intently, dark fierceness flashing for a moment in his eyes. “I’ve considered no less than five options.”

You smirk at his practicality and calculating mind, and shake your head in amusement, before you climb over onto his lap, swinging a leg over to straddle a thigh. Ever so slowly, you lean into him, pressing your lips to his forehead, relishing in the faint sigh he releases.

His grip on your waist tightens as you settle yourself fully, tracing a thumb along his lower lip. You relish in the widening of his eyes, the faint twitch of his cheek, mind, and body fighting to take over whatever impulses have him in a frenzy.

You adore the push and pull and could fall into it for eons. With him, every touch, every instinct of yours screams yes for it all is right, almost too good to be true.

“Damn you.”

“Whatever for, dear boy?” You murmur not a care in the world, nuzzling his neck before grazing your tongue over a sensitive spot, relishing in the way his shoulders tense as he fights off a shiver.

He says nothing else as you continue on your merry way, smirking to yourself at his reactions, the way he gripes your waist tighter, fighting off the anticipation of your lips latching on to his neck for what feels like the hundredth time.

Even if it is the hundredth time, he wouldn’t tire of it for a moment, for it is you, and that’s all he wants.

You in every moment.

It’s what you want as well, want to show him how much you love and adore him, how you can never get enough of him. How you deserved him you wouldn't know for he is everything to you and more.

You press another kiss to his waiting lips which accept you eagerly, your hands running down his torso, and you sigh.

How was this your husband?

He softly pressed a kiss to your lips and you gracefully fell into the feel of him, wanting to adore him. Your heart ached in kind, a mixture of melancholy and longing, desperation and want. It is your form of love, all because of him.

Through the years you count him as one of your greatest blessings, but the words catch in your throat when you try to speak them aloud.

You hope he knows, surely, he does for he’s the only one who braved your tumultuous shores, the depths of your heart, and still he stayed.

He stayed unwavering and you as well through it all. Thoughts of these flood his mind, for he’s all too enraptured with your form, the way you melt into him, the way his nails dig deep into your waist. He jolts slightly at the praises that pull from your lips, a slight blush creeping along his cheeks at your words.

“You don’t….that’s not…” he struggles to voice and you offer him a smile, kissing him once more, whispering your pleas in tandem.

“Let me help you…” you sigh into him, tugging his lower lip, earning a low groan before shifting on his lap, his hands reading to your back, gripping you impossibly tighter.

“Then I should help you, darling.”

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice, the teasing tone sending shivers down your spine in a delightful manner and you welcome it. You both require a reprieve and it starts with a single touch.

One of love.

One of need.

One of desire.

One of desperation.

That’s how you find yourself an hour later on your shared bed, engulfed by sheets and the delicious heat of his lips on your own, tongue trailing along your body, his deep sonorous baritone edging you on.

“I said every inch, my dear,” his voice rumbles from his throat igniting your body from the inside out, “Isn’t that right?” Your shirt slides higher up your body as inch by inch your upper body is revealed to him and Sherlock smirks, delighting in the situation.

You roll your eyes, shuddering as his hands grip you tighter, before pulling the rest of your shirt off, promptly discarding it on the floor, not a care in the world. His gaze bores into your back and you fight off a shiver to no avail.

You can feel his smirk searing to your back before he presses the gentlest kisses along your spine and you melt in kind before he sucks a mark, making you squirm.

“Not…fair…”

“Nothing about you is fair,” he growls.

You groan in kind, letting him do as he pleases, pulling you impossibly closer to him, heat radiating between you, sending you aflame. It was only a shift of the hand, a brush against his wrist, and the tension filled him to the brim like lightning before it struck.

You shudder when his finger brushes back along your body, melting, completely undone by him and his embrace. He traces the marks he made along your spine, and you bite back another whimper, causing him to whisper in your ear.

“I want to hear you make those pretty noises for me, alright?”

You swallow, knowing he’s not asking and when he kisses you heatedly, you let yourself fall into the abyss and infinite as you’re made one, relishing in the warmth, and eternal bliss you fall into every time you’re here safe in his arms.

All it takes is a single burning, aching touch.

And you fall together.

Down in the abyss where love and pleasure combine, something else you can’t quite fathom or remember, but it’s enough. All you could ever want and more; the gasped pleas from parted lips, hand entangled in those sinful curls, your bodies forever intertwined.

******

#sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes fanfic #bbc sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock tv #my writing #my alleyway

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pfpanimes · 3 months

Text

⌕ yuukoku no moriarty • sherlock holmes.

like or reblog if you save/use.

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sherlocksoft · 10 months

Text

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...’

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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 5 months

Text

Last Updated: 2024-02-06

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite BBC!Sherlock Holmes stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

✑ A Week Early￨Prt. II￨Prt. III by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: You and Sherlock are having your first children; who've thought the famously emotionless detective would be such an anxious father.

✑ A Little Love and Lots of Laughs by eurusholmmes • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "It's been five years since you met Sherlock Holmes, four since you fell in love, and three since you married. [Now], you have [two children] who... happen to love picnics, swimming and spending time with their cousin Rosie and Uncle John."

✑ Absence of You by lykaonimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "[You're] away on a mission…, leaving Sherlock to wrestle mentally with his importance in [your] life and how badly he wants [you] home."

✑ Always Attract by luxwritesfanfic • 〔F᜶M〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "The strobe lights won't stop blinding him and Sherlock can't seem to shake the feeling that he's missing out, until he realizes he isn't."

✑ Bedside Manner by luxwritesfanfic • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock figures out who the father is and [a cat's got your] tongue."

✑ Brother, Annoying Brother by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 •

Summary: Sherlock's, once again, struggling to express feelings, refusing to admit he fancies you. Luckily, Mycroft knows just how to get him to confess.

✑ Champagne Problems by leftperfectionmoon • 〔A᜶C〕 •

Summary: reader turns down her boyfriend when he proposes to her as she has been in love with sherlock all this time.

✑ Closed for Today by coppercatswrites • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Sherlock closes shop to take care of you while you're sick.

✑ Come Home by lykaonimagines • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Following Mary's death, Sherlock sent you away to prevent you from stopping him from doing what he felt he had to do to save John. However, now that you're back and has all the details, you're not sure your relationship can survive it.

✑ Don't You Dare Say "I'm Sorry" by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔M〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "Sherlock Holmes had sparred with many an intimidating nemesis. He'd faced off against the most fierce, twisted, cold, hard, calculating, fearful opponents known to man, however none of adversaries that had come before had invoked such terror and panic as the one he was currently staring down."

✑ Exact Opposite by lykaonimagines • 16+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "When his brother still refuses to get dressed and take the case he has for him seriously, Mycroft calls [you in] to handle the situation."

✑ Expectant by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F᜶M〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "[You're] acting strange, and Sherlock notices. [After] confessing the truth and... He struggles to find the words."

✑ Feeling is Mutual, the by classickook • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "You've been harbouring a crush on Sherlock for quite some time now but are determined to keep it a secret for as long as [possible]. Foolish of you to think he wouldn't figure it out... and maybe he'll even return your sentiment?"

✑ Game is On, the by classickook • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You have a little surprise for Sherlock that turns out differently than you had originally planned."

✑ Headache by bewarethecrazyperson • 〔F᜶C〕 • 🚫 •

Summary: "...While it was rare for you to get a proper headache, it wasn't unfamiliar for you or the boys when one resurfaced. They usually let you be, knowing that rest, medication and sleep would usually take care of the problem. [However,] what happens when you accidentally take one of Sherlock's pills?"

✑ Holmes, the by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 •

Summary: When Sherlock's parents invite you to dinner, mistaking you for his girlfriend, it pushes their son to finally tell you how he feels.

✑ If You're Shy (Let Me Know) by classickook • 18+ • 〔E᜶M᜶F〕 •

Summary: "When Irene won't stop teasing you about your lack of experience, Sherlock comes to your defence and maybe even proves the woman wrong."

✑ Ignorance and Lunch Dates by thepokyone • 〔M᜶F〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock was clever. Everybody knew that - especially you, considering you had been friends with him since high school. Being friends with Sherlock had its pros, but it also had its cons."

✑ Jealous? by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: {…}

✑ Jealous, Love? by annesthaeticc • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♡ •

Summary: "Sherlock Holmes doesn't get jealous. Well, that was until you volunteered to help him out on a case that puts his feelings for you in jeopardy."

✑ Kidnapped by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ • 🚫 •

Summary: {…}

✑ Kissing Advice by imagine-by-susu • 〔A᜶C〕 •

Summary: When Irene taunts Sherlock with his sexual inexperience, the detective seeks out your advise on the matter. However, the situation does go quite how Sherlock hoped…

✑ Let's Have Dinner￨Prt. II by classickook • 〔A〕 •

Summary: "as Sherlock's neighbor and friend, you've spent quite a bit of time with the detective and developed feelings for him. unfortunately for you, however, his heart belongs to another."

✑ Make Up by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Although you never enjoy fighting with Sherlock, you love making up afterwards.

✑ Men by imaginesbyella • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You work at the MI-6 Headquarters for Lady Smallwood. You love your job, but one day someone shows up and things get a little bit weird."

✑ Nicknames by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "4 times you used nicknames for Sherlock."

✑ On Edge￨Prt. II by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 18+ • 〔E〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock has no cases and John forbid him to smoke... [leading] Sherlock to find other ways to take out his frustration and, at the same time, showing [you] what it's like to be on edge."

✑ Other Woman, the by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 18+ • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: {…}

✑ Puppy Luv by annesthaeticc • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "While on a case, Sherlock Holmes stumbles upon a new friend… He brings her home, and fluff ensues."

✑ Rest of Our Lives￨Prt. II by lykaonimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Sherlock returns home late after a week long case, and contemplates the current state of their relationship."

✑ Safe Space by lykaonimagines • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "During an argument over one of Sherlock's experiments, [you realize] some events in his life have impacted him more than he usually let on."

✑ Sentiment by goldencherriess • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Sherlock finds himself entranced by Lestrade's best friend and co-worker."

✑ Tipsy by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: When John and Sherlock return to the flat, absolutely smashed, it's up to you and Mrs. Hudson to ensure they're looked after.

✑ Waltz by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 •

Summary: {…}

✑ White Lillies by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 •

Summary: You mistakenly confess you feelings to Sherlock, as it happens his reaction is rather sweet.

✑ Woman, the by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "[You] enters 221B and instantly notices the smell of another woman's perfume. [You realize] it's Irene Adler who is [trying] to convince Sherlock that she is a better woman for him."

✑ Woman Who Was No Lady, the by whereiputtheotherstuff • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: A tense conversation with Irene Adler makes Sherlock realize something extraordinary about you.

✑ Why Do I Want to Do This Again

✑ You Don't Know Him Like I Do by classickook • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You're sick and tired of constantly hearing insults thrown at Sherlock about how he handles his emotions."

✑ Your Stupid Face by gaitwae • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock is too proud to admit to anybody he likes you, but John knows."

✑ Affirmation by eurusholmmes • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ All Day by classickook • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Announcement, the by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔M〕 •

✑ Another One!? by imaginesbyella • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Bad Day by oneshots-imagines-and-that • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Bagels by grace-writes-shit • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Birds and Bathtubs by deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Blissful Morning by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Boring Days, the by thepokyone • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Cuddling? Cuddling. by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Dating and Doctors by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Emotions and Experiments by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 •

✑ Enjoy the Show Brother by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Fatherly Advice by imaginesbyella • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ F*ck It by coppercatswrites • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Jaw Kisses by eurusholmmes • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Keep Breathing by eurusholmmes • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Lust by geeks-universe • 16+ • 〔E〕 •

✑ Lying Detective, the by deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts •

✑ Made for Each Other by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Measurements by classickook • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Morning Light by lykaonimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Never Stood a Chance by luxwritesfanfic • 〔E᜶F�� • ♥︎ •

✑ New Family by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ No Flirting by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Not on the Couch by imagine-by-susu • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Our First Kiss by eurusholmmes • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Our Little Game by justauthoring • 〔F〕 •

✑ Psychology of Cute by oneshots-imagines-and-that • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Resurrection by moonlightsong • 〔A᜶F〕 •

✑ Rewritten Memory by gaitwae • 〔F〕 •

✑ Safe in Your Arms by classickook • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Stressed by generallynerdy • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Tease by classickook • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Tell It Like It Is by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Texting by imaginesbyella • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ These Words Of Mine by eurusholmmes • 〔A〕 •

✑ Thinking Out Loud by grace-writes-shit • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Wedding Day by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Why Did You Kiss Me? by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 •

✑ Babysitting Rosie w/ Sherlock... by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • 𑁍 •

✑ Being Sherlock's Pregnant Wife... by tessimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Cuddling w/ Sherlock... by spilledkauffie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Dating Sherlock Holmes... by spilledkauffie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Getting into Trouble w/ Sherlock... by geeks-universe • 16+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

See Also: Navigation || BBC!Sherlock Master Index

Authors: @annesthaeticc || @bewareofthecrazyperson || @classickook || @coppercatwrites || @deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts || @eurusholmmes || @gaitwae || @geeks-universe || @generallynerdy || @goldencherriess || @grace-writes-shit || @imagine-by-susu || @imaginesbyella || @justauthoring || @leftperfectionmoon || @luxwritesfanfic || @lykaonimagines || @magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics || @moonlightsong || @oneshots-imagines-and-that || @prettyxlittlexwriter || @spilledkauffie || @tessimagines || @thepokyone || @whereiputtheotherstuff || @writings-of-a-british-fangirl ||

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