#sherlock fan fiction

[strangelockd]

Till The End Of Time

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female Reader

Summary: After years of living a busy life and being the worlds only consulting detective. Sherlock Holmes basks in the glow of fatherhood. Together you opt for a movie night, leaving Sherlock with other ideas in mind for the two of you.

Warning: - Heavy Fluff & Smut, Fingering, Pure Mutual Admiration, Praise Kink, P In V Sex, Hair Pulling.

•This came to me as I was organizing my music. I hope you all enjoy it. (Who wouldn’t enjoy Sherlock as a father 🥹) I am slowly returning to my inbox requests so please bare with me. If you like the song you can check out my Sherlock Holmes Playlist. As always likes, comments and reblog’s are always welcome•

Stroking Sherlocks soft brown curls between your fingers you couldn't help but give a joyful sigh. It was the perfect day, and Sherlock wanted nothing more than to enjoy the weekend with his girls. After retirement, it took a while for your husband to live a slower life amongst people.

For decades all Sherlock Holmes knew was solving criminal cases, chasing one high with the next. The Consulting Detective was never one to admit that he would become the ‘settle down’ type of man. But after time and great patience, Sherlock Holmes grew to fall in love with what normal people would call human domesticity.

Resting your arm around his neck Sherlock craned his head bringing your hand up, kissing each finger gently as your daughter continued sleeping in his lap. His free hand continued playing with Amelia's curls while his eyes trailed to yours. That piercing green gaze that always sent flutters through your stomach. To most Sherlock wasn't an easy person to read, but this look said it all as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks.

“I love you both so much y/n,” he broke the silence, “You and Amelia have brought me more happiness than anything could ever give,” his lips went back to your hand as he glacially made his way to your wrist. Placing a delicate kiss on your pulse point you released an impulsive groan bringing your legs closer in a foolish attempt to hide what the heart truly desired.

“And I love you S-Sherlock, we both do more than anything in the world,” you quivered, trying to maintain your composure. Nearly waking Amelia you both paused giggling only for her to continue back to her soft snores. She was always a deep sleeper like you and at times like this it served its benefit. Leaning in slowly you kissed Sherlock, feeling him moan against your soft lips, his free hand cupping your chin as if you were porcelain glass. His thumb stroked your skin softly as you leaned into his touch, soft and secure.

“How about we put Amelia to bed and we can have a movie night? I'll even let you pick the film,” you smiled.

Sherlocks hand trailed down resting on his navy clad leg as he sat contemplating your idea. The edge of his lip formed a familiar smirk as he quickly stole another kiss.

“That sounds more than fair,” he agreed.

Sliding your arm off, Sherlock stood up opting to carry Amelia to her room. Her small delicate limbs clung to her fathers frame like a tiny koala as his long fingers played with her soft auburn hair. Tucking her in gently, Sherlock kissed Amelia's forehead whispering sweet nothings, stroking her soft curls that strikingly resembled his own. Next to you, she was perfect in his eyes.

“Good night, my dearest Ameila. Mummy and Daddy love you with all of our hearts,” the timber in his voice spoke with promise, closing the door behind him. With a satisfied sigh he rolled his shoulders back with a feeling of confidence. Like the familiar thrill of solving a case Sherlock Holmes couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear.

The two of you brought him more pride and joy than he ever could imagine. All these years he always felt like a pariah, destined to wander this world alone. Sherlock kept convincing himself that he wasn’t worthy of anything good. But with you, it changed the course of his life for the better. With Amelia, life just became more plentiful.

*****

Making a quick change into your pajamas, you sat at the foot of the bed unaware that Sherlock was standing by the door frame on the side safely assuming he was watching this whole time. His eyes glowed in the low light as he took strides closer, wedging himself between your legs opening them wider, his expression drinking in your lovely features. The curls draped over his forehead as he slowly leaned into you, feeling his breath on your skin sent goosebumps up your flesh.

You pulled away, eyeing him with suspicion playfully taking him in, “penny for your thoughts?”

Sherlocks body towered above you, his big hands cupping your face softly bringing you in for a deep kiss. The feeling of his lips ever inviting as his tongue grazed across your lower lip begging for entrance. Together you moaned in sweet unison as he slipped inside, holding your frame up for support as you kissed with heated passion. Feeling his strong legs between yours you couldn’t help but bring your fingers up to his waistband pulling him closer. It was enough to spur him on as he continued kissing you. All that could be heard was your shared moans as you suddenly pulled away suddenly remembering the plans for tonight.

“Wait. S-Sherlock. What about the film?” You pleaded, his lips trailing your collarbone. The flecks of his tongue against your skin made you release a sharp hiss. His tongue continued nibbling your ear as you melted under his hypnotic touch. Powerful and strong, he was able to read you better than anyone. He pulled away leaving the both of you breathless as he rested his forehead against yours smiling sheepishly.

“I had another plan besides a film my darling. Much more pleasurable plans. And beside,” taking his fingers he slid off your top leaving your top half exposed, “you said I got to pick what I wanted to watch,” throwing the garment on the floor he gave a soft groan. He couldn't help but stare in awe, “and I choose to watch you come undone by me.”

His baritone voice dropped an octave as he was left stunned, “So perfect,” leaving his mouth agape you stood up to kiss him softly. Your bare chest pressed against his form fitting white shirt that was begging to be ripped off. Sherlock leaned in to kiss you once more as you leaned into his touch. The feel of his large hands pressed against your bare skin left goosebumps in their wake. All that could be heard was the sound of Sherlocks whimpers as your fingers threaded through the curls that crowned his head. He always had a weak spot when you grabbed or played with his tresses.

Sherlock was all too eager to accept the guidance as your hand led him to suck on a nipple, followed the other he traced each bud with delicate care. Knowing all the tricks to make your knees buckle. He was feeling you getting impatient as you pulled his head away, leaving him smiling. The sound of his labored breath only turned you on more as your fingers fumbled with the button of his white dress shirt.

You slowly removed his buttoned shirt leaving his top half exposed. The way the moonlight kissed his alabaster skin made your pussy ache. Before you could comprehend Sherlocks palms rested beside you on the bed as you felt the weight shift on both sides of your hips, he wanted more of you as he slowly slid two of his fingers around your waistband. Biting your lips you locked eyes as he slid your bottoms off finally freeing you from your pajamas. He could see the glisten of your eager entrance aching for his attention.

You took a quick hold, grabbing his waistband once more in a desperation to have him closer. Your lips returned in a feral fury as you removed his trousers and boxers in a swift motion. His hands returning to your entrance, you cried a soft moan as his fingers pumped in and out, the feeling was pure ecstasy as you felt your orgasm blossom. It clearly spurred Sherlock on because it made him pick up the pace as his thumb teased in circles around your tender bud.

“Darling you're so beautiful. I love the way you look with my fingers inside of you,” he purred curling his finger in that spot. The sweet spot that always had you see stars. Before you knew it you cried out in pure pleasure as Sherlock watched on, grinning with pride.

Coming down from your high Sherlock paused, bringing a foot up he placed a kiss on your ankle. Hearing you giggle his green eyes glowed as he locked into your gaze. He slowly crawled on top of you kissing up the length of your body, his arms cadging you in as he leaned down kissing you softly. Sherlock was always a passionate person deep down and to find himself lost in this moment was something of a dream. The look of your pebble flushed breasts accompanied by the look in your eyes of pure satisfaction. He wanted this moment etched in the walls of his mind palace forever.

He kissed your forehead trailing down to your nose, his lips found yours as he melted into your touch. The great detective was immensely turned to putty by the one thing he can't live without. You. For you fit him better in more ways than one. He brought himself up aligning his cock at your entrance. Giving a few steady pumps with his hand you took in the glisten of pre cum beading off the tip making you bite your lip once more. Bracing his shoulders for support as he asked, “Are you ready my love?” Sherlock's eyes never left yours as he scanned you for absolute permission.

Taking a hand you cupped the back of Sherlocks neck, bringing him close and kissing him gently. Showing assurance the kiss was soft and bared your heart filled trust. No words were needed as Sherlock slowly thrusted himself in. You both shared a groan as the kiss never broke. Allowing yourself to adjust before he pulled away gently, he locked on your gaze once more purring into your ear.

“Promise me one thing y/n,” he went even slower, itching himself deeper as he slowly bottomed out. Savoring the moment of feeling his cock stretching you so unbelievably full. You clenched slightly causing Sherlocks hands to suddenly dig into your hips knowing damn well it will leave marks.

“W-what's that,” you stuttered as he kept up his thrust, determined to make you feel complete.

Sherlock caged his arms around you as he paused leaning into your ear his voice purred against your ear, “that you're mine. Forever,” returning to his pace your nails dug into his back. Your hand laced the nape of his neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss. A kiss that spoke of untimely promise. He kept up the pace as you moaned once more in pleasure.

“Always!,” feeling your climax blooming, your nails dug into his pale back even deeper, “I promise Sherlock. Now please go faster,” you begged, feeling your heels dig deeper, spurring him on as it only took those words for him to start thrusting into you at such a pace; A pace you will know you'll feel the next day.

“Jesus Sherlock!” You groaned into his neck, his curls sticking to his sweat glistened forehead as he kissed you. Stifling all moans as you rode your climax. The feeling bloomed as his hips moved at this new angle that made you suddenly see stars. Whatever god you were chanting was wasted as Sherlock slammed into you one last time. Your orgasm hit you, making your eyes practically fall into the back of your head as you drenched his cock with your nectar.

“That's my good girl,” he smiled, feeling the praise go right to your solar plexus. You were always a sucker for admiration. He pulled out gently making you wince, you couldn't help but miss the feeling of him. Throwing the blanket iver Sherlock quickly returned with a tray full of essentials. Even after lovemaking he always believed in aftercare. The tray consisted of two sleeptime teas, massage oil and a small stack of what looks like steaming towels.

“You always take such wonderful care of me Sherlock, how did I get so lucky?” He traced a warm towel over your center as he was careful not to overstimulate. He reached for the glass bottle of oil, pouring it over his elegant digits as he signaled you to lay on your stomach. The feeling of his strong hands worked every aching nerve as you sank into the mattress.

“It's not luck y/n I just love taking great care of what is precious to me,” he spoke softly rubbing every part of your skin. The oil felt amazing as he finished with your shoulders sealing the gesture with a kiss he rubbed his hands dry on a towel before reaching for your tea. Covering with the blankets you snuggled closer together as you both sipped your beverages in complete happiness enjoying the moment shared between you both. For life could not be any more satisfying than having you and Amelia at his side.

Masterlist

Sherlock Holmes Playlist

@withalittlehoney @deepbatched @bakerstreethound @thealleydog @sassenach-on-the-rocks @blxckdragonfly @asherloki @pinkthick @stewardofningishzida @cumbrbatchbenedict @geeky-politics-46 @lokidokieokie @strangesgirls @silversword7000 @newavenger @icytrickster17 @lucimorningst4r @lady-harvey @evelyn-kingsley @battledress @budugu @kentucky-criedfricken @hunterofshadows04 @km-ffluv @datauthorress @azu21 @cemak @sobeautifullyobsessed @aphroditesdilemma @huxs-waifu @strangesslut @butchers-girl @dino-fart @meeom @strangesthirdeye @vickiee-mcmuffin

#benedict cumberbatch #sherlock #because benedict cumberbatch #bbc sherlock #sherlock fan fic #sherlock fan fiction #sherlock smutt #sherlock fandom #sherlock fanfic #sherlock imagine #sherlock holmes #sherlock bbc #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock x y/n #bbc sherlock holmes #sherlock fluff #doctor strange #doctor stephen strange #sinister strange #stephen strange #doctor strange in the multiverse of madness #doctor strange 2 #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock x reader #sherlock playlist #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes parent #Spotify

[daydreamtofiction]

For the fake fic titles

Late nights and Violins

I was thinking a fluffy Sherlock/reader, obviously if you want to ignore this bit and start with other ideas please do but maybe some themes of insomnia and/or nightmares?

Late Nights & Violins / Sherlock x Reader

For the ‘fake fic title’ challenge.

Word Count: 1.5K

Contents: Fluff, a lil bit of hurt, comfort, established relationship, soft Sherlock.

Warnings: Nightmares, insomnia, mentions of sleeping pills, some claustrophobic imagery. Let’s rate this one a 12A.

The air was close and oppressive, so thick you could practically feel it sitting on your skin. You couldn't remember how you got there, all you knew was that you couldn't get out; your body folded and wedged inside a tight, dark space, head hurting, breath shaking, and you were scared. But you held back the panic as much as you could, because Sherlock was coming.

You knew he was coming because that was what happened last time; you were trapped, but he came. Broke open the door with his bare hands and pulled you free, letting you fall into his arms as you desperately drank down gulps of fresh air, crying into his chest as he promised you it was over, you were safe now.

But this time he didn't come. Instead you sat there, knees pressed uncomfortably to your chest as you sucked in the last of your air to scream. But no sound left you. Nothing at all. And that's when you realised it wasn't real. None of it was real.

You woke with tears trickling down your face, the pillow damp beneath your cheek. You could feel your heartbeat fluttering quickly with the remnants of panic, bridging the gap between nightmare and reality; the confined, dark prison and the warm, safe bedroom.

You turned, as you always did in those moments, to the other side of the bed, reaching out your hand in the hopes that Sherlock would be there. But he wasn't. You sat up, sniffing sharply and wiping your face before glancing to the clock on the bedside table, furrowing your brow when you saw it was after 2am. He had said not to wait up for him, that he and John were following leads for a case, but it didn't stop the worry from materialising in your chest. You always worried about him, even when he reminded you that there was no need to, and that no good ever came from your perturbation.

You padded to the bathroom and began feeling your way to the cabinet above the sink. You rarely moved your pills; so used to them being there that even in the dark you could usually grab them with one swipe. But after a moment of running your hand back and forth along the shelf, you conceded with a huff and reached for the switch on the wall, squinting in the harsh light and letting out a hum in confusion.

The streetlights on Baker Street shone through the tall windows, casting a soft glow across the cluttered living room of 221B. You made your way in through the kitchen, startling when you finally noticed the dark figure sitting in one of the armchairs by the cold, unlit fireplace. It was Sherlock; head down, one leg crossed over the other, violin pressed to his chest as he plucked nimbly at the strings. You gave a quiet yelp, clutching your chest in fright before exhaling through puckered lips.

"My god," you whispered.

He glanced up at you, seemingly unsurprised by your reaction to finding him there.

"I thought you were still out," you said, making your way across the room towards the couch.

He shook his head. "Got home a little while ago."

"Why didn't you come to bed?"

"I did. But I couldn't sleep so I got up again."

"Wow, you can't sleep and I can't stay asleep, we are quite the pair," you said distractedly, switching on the lamp in the corner. "Have you seen my bag?"

He turned to look at you, pale eyes scanning you for a brief moment. "What for?"

"My Diazepam. I thought it was in the bathroom but it's not there."

"Hm."

You stood up straight and turned towards him. "Did you move it?"

"Why would I move your medication?"

"I don't know," you began blithely. "You've done some wild stuff in your time, Mr Holmes. Is stealing your girlfriend's pills really that hard to believe?"

"Fair," he replied plainly, putting the violin down and reaching his arm out to you.

You took a few steps towards him, placing your hand in his and letting him pull you gently into his lap.

"But I really didn't take it," he finished.

You curled up against his chest, closing your eyes and feeling the tension in your body begin to melt away. "I believe you."

It was quiet for a while as you relaxed against the rhythm of his breathing, his chest rising and falling as he held you close, elegant fingers brushing softly through your hair.

"Another nightmare?" he finally asked.

You didn't answer, instead you simply nuzzled closer, taking in his warm, clean, familiar scent, still noticeable in the fabric of his shirt.

"You're safe now," he said, his voice deep yet so soft. "You know that, don't you? I will never let anything like that happen to you again."

"I know. And I feel safe with you, I do. But it's like... No matter how safe I feel, as soon as I fall asleep I just end up right back there."

"It will ease with time, trust me."

You were never the 'damsel in distress' type; never longed for a white knight to save you, a protector to rock you back to sleep when you woke from a bad dream. You were always so wayward, so fiercely brave and unbroken. And it was those qualities, you knew, that had made Sherlock fall in love with you.

If he'd known back then, that just one case would change everything, make you an echo of who you once were, you wondered if he would have fallen for you at all.

But it was as if he could read your mind, his body tensing beneath you the second the thought passed through you. He tightened his hold on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before speaking quietly.

"None of this is your fault, you know. If anything it's mine-"

"Don't." You shook your head, leaning back slightly to look at him. "You agreed not to say things like that anymore. You weren't to know they would come after me. No one could've known that."

"I should have. I made a stupid error in deduction and I almost lost you because of it."

You shushed him gently, burying your face in the crook of his neck and placing a single, chaste kiss on the soft skin above the collar of his shirt. He sighed at the feeling, letting his head fall back slightly, eyes closed.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too."

It never got old hearing him say those words. Especially in these moments; the late nights wrapped in each other's arms while the rest of the world slept soundly, like a stark reminder of the pain you both carried, yet so desperately wanted to rid from each other.

"I was actually working on something before you came marching in here accusing me of theft," he said.

"You're so dramatic," you giggled. "I didn't come marching in and I definitely didn't accuse you of anything."

"Mm."

You sat up, shaking your head at him with another laugh. "What were you working on?"

"A piece." He glanced down to his violin leaning against the side of his armchair. "For you."

"A piece? You're composing music for me?"

"I was. It's not quite finished yet."

"Will you play me what you have so far?"

He shook his head. "You can hear it once it's done."

"Oh please, Sherlock?" you whined softly, draping your arms over his shoulders. "It could help me get back to sleep since I can't find my tablets…"

A smile lifted the corner of his mouth. He reached up, placing a hand on the side of your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "My darling, what on earth makes you think my playing would make an adequate replacement for valium?"

You bit your lip to stifle a smile. "I suppose it is a bit late anyway. Mrs Hudson already thinks we’re too noisy.” 

He gave a throaty chuckle, a mischievous glint in his eyes. You hit him gently on the back of the head.

"Mind out the gutter, Sherlock."

"What? It's not my fault. I'm sleep deprived."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "Nice to meet you, sleep deprived. I'm absolutely exhausted."

He smiled, pulling you slightly closer to him. "I meant it when I said it will ease with time." He paused. "And I will happily remain sleep deprived until you are no longer absolutely exhausted."

#fake fic titles #fanfic #fanfiction #sherlock oneshot #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #Sherlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock fan fiction #sherlock fanfic #sherlock x y/n #sherlock fluff #fluff

[atlinmerrick]

Minutiae: A Chorus of Kookaburra

John Watson has never punched a kangaroo, but that may depend on how you define punch.

Except no, no, Sherlock's a liar so just forget anybody said anything.

(Australia's nice, yes, why do you ask?)

#Minutiae #Sherlock fanfiction #Sherlock fan fiction #A Chorus of Kookaburra #photo courtesy of Pickingwinkles #MWA!

[consultjohnwatson]

Do you write fanfics about Sherlock and yourself? The writing style of certain fics is really similar to yours.

The stories I write are very close to based on the truth. They're not fiction.

#john watson replies #sherlock rp #sherlock roleplay #sherlock fan fiction

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Sometimes The Silence Guides A Mind

Title: Sometimes The Silence Guides A Mind

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Fandom: Enola Holmes series

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: As you were getting close to Sherlock, he stops visiting. You pop over to Baker Street and share an eye-opening moment.

Warnings: age gap(reader is about 20 in this, Sherlock is mid-30s), slight voyeurism, masturbation (male), handjob, unprotected p-in-v sex (wrap it up y’all), creampie

A/N: I’ve been throwing around this idea about Sherlock for quite some time. I hope you enjoy it. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist 

You’ve been friends with Enola for a short time, only since the beginning of the year. She’s led you on a few fun adventures, but more often than not, she’s led you on wild goose chases. She has helped you come out of your shell and you are grateful for that. On days that you weren’t exploring the countryside or causing a ruckus in the city, you would lounge around her large house. 

Spending time with her in her large house had its benefits. One of which was 6’1 with a head of unruly curls. The famous Sherlock Holmes was your best friend’s big brother. He lived in the city but came to visit Enola every week. 

You always made sure to be available on those days. If only for the chance to say hello to Sherlock. You wanted more but, truth be told, he made you a bit nervous.

You tried your best to keep calm when he would arrive, but Enola noticed your demeanor change every time. She teased you endlessly about your little crush and you would always bring up Tewkesbury. That would usually shut her up.

In truth, she did not care that you liked her brother, she just didn’t want you to waste your time. The man was not exactly sociable unless he found value in the opinions of others. One opinion he respected was that of his sister. You could sit and watch them talk for hours. She would get him to laugh with her jokes, and he would bring her to annoyance with his riddles.

You would interject a thought here and there and when Sherlock would give his attention to you, you froze. Something about the look in his eyes, it was more than attention. It was intense as if the two of you were the only ones in the world let alone the room.

More than once, Enola had cleared her throat loudly to get you and Sherlock’s attention back on her. But sometimes, she would just listen to you ramble on while Sherlock seemed enthralled in your thoughts. You mused about music and how interesting you thought his cases were. The more you spoke with him, the more comfortable you felt around him. 

Sherlock would show up now and then with little trinkets from his cases. At first, it was just things for Enola, but soon he would start bringing you little gifts as well. He started small with a single flower or a tasty treat from his favorite bakery. But soon, his gifts grew oddly specific. He bought you a brooch you had mentioned seeing at a store in the city. He would learn pieces of music from a composer you talked about and play it for you, much to the chagrin of Enola who wasn’t a fan of the violin.

It was when he didn’t visit for two weeks that you started to realize you were developing feelings for the older detective. You’d come to enjoy his presence and not because of his gifts. You just enjoyed seeing his face light up when he saw you. You relished the power you felt when the normally unflappable and distant man would sit enthralled when you gave voice to your thoughts. 

So, why did it stop so suddenly? Had you done something to offend him? 

You wracked your brain and Enola’s brain for that matter. She gave you his address so you could go and talk to him and she could finally be free of your fretting. 

You arrive at 221 Baker Street, your hands trembling as you knock on the main door. A sweet woman opens the door and introduces herself as Ms. Hudson. When you ask to speak to Sherlock, she sends you up the steps to 221B.

As you’re about to knock, a man opens the door and almost collides with you.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. May I help you, Miss?” 

“Ehm, I’m here to see Mr. Holmes…but I can come back if that’s–” You are cut off when he speaks again.

“You wouldn’t happen to be friends with Enola, would you?” You nod, giving your name, “Of course, Sherlock mentioned you. I’m Dr. John Watson, and I have to be going but you are more than welcome to come in. Sherlock is just in his room down the hall.” He points around the corner from the door and walks past you before waving goodbye.

So, that’s how you end up in Sherlock’s apartment. It is eerily quiet and you think he might be asleep. That is until you hear soft moans coming from down the hall. Your first thought is it must have been the floorboards creaking under your feet.

What you hear next is the unmistakable sound of your name followed by a whimper. It sounded like Sherlock was calling to you, but how would he know you were here already? You walk down the hallway quietly and see that his bedroom door is slightly ajar.

Peeking in, you are blessed with a sight! Sherlock is laid out on his bed with his shirt and waistcoat open, his hairy chest on full display as it rises and falls quickly. His beautiful face constricted in pain one second, solemn and peaceful in the next. His curls are a sweaty mess on his forehead. One hand is fisting the sheets at his side and the other hand is wrapped around his thick veiny dick. You’re mesmerized watching him stroke himself until you hear him moan your name again.

In a moment of bravery, you step into the room. Your bosom heaves in your bodice as you breathe shallowly, adrenaline coursing through your veins. 

His hand stops its ministrations and he looks to you as you walk towards him. He’s frozen on the spot and can only watch you as you climb atop the bed and lay next to him. You replace his hand with yours and continue to pump his dick. Your hand barely fits around him and you enjoy the feel of his soft uncut length in your hand.

His hands come up to caress your face and pull you down for a kiss. When his tongue begs for entry, you allow it in. Heatedly, you mold your mouth to his, letting your moans and whimpers be consumed by him. Breaking the kiss, he looks into your eyes and you can tell he is close.

You remove your hand from him and stand up from the bed. It is only when you remove your undergarments does Sherlock understand why you stopped. Climbing back on the bed, you settle yourself with your cunt dripping onto him.

“I want you to be certain that you–” You cut him off as you slink down, his velvety smoothness sliding inside your wet heat. You take a moment to get used to the sheer size of him. He stretches you almost painfully. Leaning down, you whisper into his ear.

“Do I seem certain, Mr. Holmes?”

Instead of an answer, Sherlock groans and twitches inside you. His hands travel under your skirt and rest on your hips. You take that as a sign and sit up. With your hands on his chest, you begin to ride him slowly, agonizingly to the point where his hands start to guide you to a quicker pace. 

Using you like a ragdoll, he flips you so he is atop you while you are on your back. He slams into you repeatedly and you are no longer in control. He savors the sounds coming from you as he fucks into you. He urges you on as he kisses and licks and nips at your neck, careful not to leave any marks.

Pulling out, he moves you to your hands and knees before inserting himself again. The angle allows him to go deeper and you thank the Gods for it. As he holds onto you, he hammers into you. The filthy utterances that come from his mouth only serve to solidify the notion that he missed you too.

“I knew you would feel like Heaven, my sweet angel…”

“This pretty pussy belongs to me now…”

“You would look so perfect with my cum dripping out of you…”

“I could fuck you all day and night and still never get enough of you…”

“Be my good angel and come all over my cock,” He reaches down and rubs your clit between two fingers as he plows into you. You never stood a chance, your walls quivering around him within moments, “That’s my good girl. So good…for me. Fuck, so close!”

“Sherlock, please! Need you to fill me with all you have to give!” You surprise yourself and your lover with those words. 

Sherlock’s answering grunts as he makes mincemeat of your pussy are music to your ears. His punishing thrusts falter and he pulls you flush to him. He’s deep enough to kiss your cervix with the tip of his dick. You feel him swell inside you and it’s enough to make you climax again, milking him through his release. 

And the noises he makes when he comes are more intricate than the 24 Caprices. You’re sure that Sherlock would disagree but you don’t even care. You revel in the melody of his moans and surrender to its hold on you.

Sherlock’s hands roam over your back, your hips, your ass, and your thighs. As if he can’t get enough of you. He doesn’t pull out until you wiggle your hips, a sign that your legs are tired. Extricating himself from your sensitive folds allows his spend to escape. He catches what slips free and pushes it all back in before helping you lay down on your front.

He lays down next to you, pulling you close to him with one arm while the other rests behind his head. He looks so peaceful as he closes his eyes and hums. The feminine urge for pillow talk is high, but so is the need to just bask in this moment.

You’re in the arms of the man you care for, who also adores you. You rest your cheek on his shoulder and tangle your fingers in his chest hair. You breathe in his smell, his pheromones are surely on high alert from your activity. When he rests his head against yours, you feel at peace.

You do plan on talking to Sherlock later about everything. But, for now, you can take pleasure in the simplicity of the harmonization of your heartbeats.

A/N: The title of this fic is taken from The Neighborhood’s Sweater Weather. There is an amazing violin version of this song by Joel Sunny. And anything violin makes me think of Sherlock.

A/N: Also, I know Ms. Hudson wasn't featured in Enola Holmes, but I love her as a character and I wanted to use her.

**Tag List**

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@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

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[ohhhhhhenry]

A taste of my new Sherlock Fic...

It wasn’t starting over, you often told yourself. Starting over implied that you were leaving everything behind. This was taking the past and letting it buoy you into the future. 

London was the perfect place to try. No one knew you there, and you had always craved a life without…context. 

You were in the midst of finishing a particularly frustrating chapter when a knock on your door made you jump.  You wanted to ignore it as to not interrupt your flow, but it was persistent. 

 You rose, still half in writing mode, and as you unlocked the door and were greeted by…shoulders. The shoulders spoke.

“Pardon me, I believe this was delivered to my flat by mistake.”

Then you realized the shoulders were attached to a man holding a package.

He handed you an opened parcel from the local bookshop. The Mistaken Manuscript. A crime novel written by T.L. Merriweather. You admired the cover when–

“You are 221A. Please make sure your husband is clearer when relaying his address.”

You shuddered. “Actually that will be quite hard for him seeing as how he’s been dead for five years.”

You shut the door, eager to shake off this interaction and get back to the escape of writing when another knock came. It was him again. You noticed the shoulders were attached to a head titled in a quizzical look. 

“If this isn’t your husband’s book then…it’s yours?”

“That’s right. You must be a detective.”

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“It was supposed to be, but no one is laughing so perhaps it isn’t.”

His head titled the other way, his curls bouncing to the other side. 

“That book is quite vulgar for a woman. I’m surprised it’s something you’d enjoy reading.”

You paused. A tiny smile escaped your lips. 

“I wouldn’t know. I never read it. I wrote it.”

His eyes widened as you shut the door on him again, the smile still dancing on your lips.

#henry cavill #henry william dalgliesh cavill #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock fanfic #enola holmes #enola 2 #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock x you #you x sherlock #sherlock fandom #henry cavill sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes enola holmes #sherlock holmes imagine #henry cavill sherlock holmes x reader #henry!sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #cavill!sherlock x reader #cavill!sherlock imagine #henry cavill fan fiction

[vanimelda4]

For who follows my writing.

Both my original Sherlock AU ghost story "Light" and its sequel "Storm" are now completely done!

You can find "Light" here:

And "Storm" here:

#vanimelda4 #fan fiction #my fanfic #fanfic #sherlock bbc #johnlock #alternate universe

[blogstandbygo]

New Fic Announcement!

Next week I'm going to start posting my newest fic, titled - drum roll please -

Yup, it's a Sherlock/The Good Place crossover!

Here's a sample:

Sherlock Holmes opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was the wall opposite him, with words in bright green (Pantone #3395C, if he wasn’t mistaken) reading, ‘Welcome! Everything is Fine.’

Somehow this made him feel calmer, even though he wasn’t aware that he was tense before.

His mind raced through several dozen possibilities and conclusions, but before he could find any answers, a door to his left opened, and a tall man with pure white hair and a ridiculous bow tie stood in the doorway. He smiled in a way that was clearly calculated to calm, in the same way that the words on the wall had done.

“Sherlock? Come on in.”

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

#bbc sherlock #fan fiction #the good place

[the-bar-sinister]

Save me, chessmaster!

So I saw a post today about how there's a certain character who, when viewed from the typical POV of the series protagonist, seems very put together, cool and aloof. But then, when we see material from the actual character's POV we learn that they're secretly, actually a dork.

The character in question specifically was Miles Edegworth, but the post got me thinking again on a topic that's been needling the back of my mind for a few months. And that's that this is the case with a certain type of character across the board.

Let's call him (it can be a her or a they, but it's usually a him) The Chessmaster. The Chessmaster is a character who is introduced to us from the point of view of a protagonist who is impressed by him, but doesn't understand how he thinks. The protagonist either adores and hero-worships the Chessmaster, or some aspect of him, or else despises him and puts him on a pedestal of villainy. Sherlock Holmes is the most visible heroic example of this (and Moriarty usually falls into it in derivative material as well).

Either way, we are not privy to the Chessmaster's thoughts through the protagonist. If the protagonist ascribes a certain way of thinking to the character, there is generally some obvious flaw in their understanding of that, because we'll see the Chessmaster take actions that confuse the protagonist, and don't mesh with the motivations and values the protagonist ascribes to the Chessmaster. The protagonist usually sees the Chessmaster as he (probably) wants to be seen– dignified, aloof, mysterious, in control at all times. More god, perhaps, than man.

And that's how we the audience are used to seeing the Chessmaster.

But here's the problem. Nobody (nobody who isn't actually a god anyway) is like this all the time, and certainly nobody is like this all the time in their own head.

So if we shift POV from the usual protagonist to make the Chessmaster our POV protagonist, suddenly our understanding of the Chessmaster sharply shifts.

He's not just a man who keeps control on a situation no matter what, and solves problems with flashes of insight. He's a man who struggles. He's a man who has stray thoughts. He's a man who is sometimes– god forbid– wrong; even if he manages to make sure those times when he is wrong don't show outside of his head.

Not only that, everyone has their tender, flexible moments. They say that everyone is the hero in their own mind, so of course the Chessmaster will see himself perhaps as acting in ways that are kind, or attempting to be nice– even when outwardly the actions that stem from these thoughts aren't perceived that way by others.

So, suddenly we have a character who, even if they are acting outwardly the same as they always do when viewed by the protagonist, our insight into their internal process of how they got there is foreign to the reader. It seems, perhaps, out of character. Or even disappointing. Like the protagonist himself, seeing and understanding the Chessmaster as a human being removes the mystique of the character, removes the godhood.

Suddenly he's not the all knowing chessmaster, he's a guy who wants a sandwich.

And I've come to understand that you need to be very careful with this– especially in the realm of fanfiction.

If you decide to start writing from the POV of the Chessmaster character, it's entirely possible that your audience– used to seeing them from the adoring POV of the protagonist– will be disappointed and find them out of character.

If you want to keep the veil and mystique up of the Chessmaster character, you have to keep him at a step removed. You have to keep seeing him through the eyes of someone who is impressed by him.

Or suddenly he's just a guy. Maybe even a silly guy.

And for some people that spoils it.

#writer problems #writeblr #writblr #on writing #sherlock holmes #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #archive of our own #ao3 #miles edgeworth #kristoph gavin #villain f/o #villains #💻🔪 #albert wesker

[strawberrywinter4]

Just spent the past four hours researching. And researching. And researching.

I bring this torture onto myself, but I love it.

A long Sherlock/Johnlock fic is in the works. I can’t guarantee a specific date when it’ll come out, but just know that it’s building itself. It’s growing. A monster, it is.

God, I’m tired. I’m sure you can tell.

Anyway, whenever this WIP is finished, I’ll be ecstatic (and a little nervous) to show you all! To all of you who support me in this fandom, thank you so much. Having mutuals on this app has allowed me to share my writing and… man, what a gift you all are. I feel so honored to be a part of this community.

Much love💞

#johnlock #sherlock #bbc sherlock #johnlock fanfiction #writerscommunity #ao3 writer #ao3 #sherlock fandom #john watson #sherlock fan fic #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock and john #sherlock fanfic #sherlock bbc #writumblr #historical fiction #historical au

[strangelockd]

How about a smut or fluff whatever you like with Sherlock x reader where the reader is in her early twenties so alot younger than him. But is in head over heels for Sherlock? And he also feels things for her ?

I don't know if this makes sense 😂

Just An Experiment

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Synopsis: You're playing a game with Sherlock when suddenly he has something else on his mind.

Word Count: 646

Warnings: Slight Age Gap, Mutual Pining, If You Squint Enough There Is Some Smut, Thigh Riding, Heavy Petting/Kissing

A/N: Sorry this was a day late I had some family drama. I hope this was worth the wait. I like to think Sherlock is a Nintendo guy.

“I win!”

At least that’s what it felt like until you heard Sherlock give out a small snicker. 

“And whats that supposed to mean?” Your voice slightly annoyed as you sat the nintendo remote down.

Sherlock raised a smile from the corner of his plush lips stating flatly, “It means that I let you win y/n”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff crossing your arms sinking deeper into the leather couch. Sherlock was always a poor winner, but he was more insufferable when he was losing at times. How can a 34-year-old man be such a baby…

“Oh, come on” giving him a playful shove with your foot “lets play something else, I guarantee I’ll kick your butt again old man”

His eyes widened, “I’m only 10 years older than you y/n” he responded calmly.

“Ya which makes you an old sore loser,” you tease deeper reaching for your glass of red wine, “so how about it” taking another sip setting the glass down, “care for another match?”

You notice him setting his remote down slowly on the armrest, “No, I don’t feel like playing that anymore. I have…something else in mind,” Sherlock eyes now trailed to you with that look, the look that makes your stomach flutter and flip all at once. He clearly didn’t want to play Mario Kart anymore. 

Everything was happening so fast now that you didn’t even realize Sherlock was now sitting much much closer. Heart beating faster, you watched him lean in ever so slightly testing the waters of comfort and space. You always had a crush on your friend, but as the years progressed it has become increasingly obvious of your infatuation for each other. So much so that there have been times were you yourself had to shake it off or at most shove the feelings down and put them back on the shelf. Besides, theres no way a genius like Sherlock Holmes would ever go out with a younger woman in her early twenties. 

Eyes widening, you stammered feeling your cheeks flushed a deeper red, “Sh-Sherlock wa-what are you doing?” You whisper softly.

He leaned in facing closer, smelling the slight hint of cigarettes and coffee from his breath. He leaned in, your lips just a hair from each other, “Just an experiment…”

Feeling his breath on your cheek caused the hair on your neck to stand as you closed your eyes welcoming the contact, his lips were warm and inviting causing a weakened sigh to emit from your throat. They parted slightly, allowing his tongue to slip inside, the taste of cigarettes and coffee was hypnotizing. His kisses gave promise as your bodies pressed together heatedly against the leather sofa as you bit his lower lip gently causing a grunt to release from Sherlocks chest; he clearly was enjoying himself.

Breathing heavily as your lips pressed together you rolled onto his lap grinding your needy heat against his groin. He rolled his head back in pleasure as you continued your rocking motions; taking the advantage to unbutton his dress shirt leaving his toned frame exposed. 

Threading your fingers through his soft curls to tug his head forward as your lips clashed once more. He could taste the wine on you, feel the thud of your combined heartbeats as you both fought for dominance.

Finding his fingers groping underneath your shirt as he flipped you on your back making you squeak, his perfect form towering over you as he pulled away. His eyes glowing a bright green in the dim light. 

“Shall we continue with the game?” He asked coyly.

Shaking your head, you pull him in for a deep kiss, “no, I would rather have you”

He gazed into your eyes, a warm smile cascading over his face as he stroked your cheek placing a tender kiss upon your lips.

“You’re going to be the death of me y/n”

Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! It inspires me to keep writing. If you want to be tagged in future posts be sure to leave a comment.

A special thanks to the followers who requested to read more of my work. Your all very special to me <3

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[cardierreh15]

When Love Finds a way

I do not give anyone permission to copy or repost my work.

Warnings 18+: Blood , Nudity (Yes, Naked Henry) , Death .

Pairings: Henry Cavill(Drake/Dracula) x Mia/Misty(Black!plus size female)

Description: Dracula & Misty run into one another at the local coffee shop. Could it be… destiny?

Song: No Sunshine by Bill Withers , lovely (instrumental) by Billie Eilish & Khalid .

Word count: 3.6K

(Anything in italics are lyrics. Anything Bold & italics are Dracula’s thoughts)

Two

Aint no sunshine when she's gone. It's not warm when she's away. Ain't no sunshine when she's gone; she's always gone too long, anytime, she goes away.

The thunder roared outside, rattling the skylights and window patio doors. The sound didn’t take him out of his trance though.

Drake had a wooden brush clenched between his teeth as his left hand fingered and teased the paint, and used his right hand to push strokes across the canvas with his brush.

He pulled the brush from between his teeth and dipped it in the white to emphasize the glare in the honey brown. He then stood up from the wooden stool, hovering over his work of art.

Drake was adorned with splattered and smeared paint. He had a chiseled, godly frame. Muscular back, broad shoulders, big arms, tight abdomen and chest that donned thick curly hairs. He himself looked like a masterpiece.

So detailed down to the tiny patterns in her beautiful hazel irises; were the eyes of his beloved, Mia.

The lightning from outside brightened up the room around them, revealing over more than a dozen portraits of Mia. Most of them consisted of her in the color yellow or pink.

Others were just her body parts. Her lips, her naked waist and hips, her naked back with her shoulders and untamed curls cascading down her back. His personal favorite, her fingers interlocking with his; differentiating the sizes of their palms.

‘My dear Mia. Oh you’d be disappointed with how I use my time.’ He chuckled aloud as he wiped his cheek with the back of his wrist, smearing paint against his cheekbone.

And then he found himself staring into the large lively eyes he’d created. Getting lost in them as if she were still physically here.

***

Only darkness everyday, ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone. This house just ain’t no home, anytime she goes away.

He walked as his nose flared; chin trembling as he held his deceased love in his arms tightly. Her blood stained his white blouse. What use to run and pump warmth and life into her, ran cold and endless. His hands, forearms and his cheeks were covered in it.

The scent of her used to bring him a joy like no other, and now, seeing her defiled like this. Knowing the reason why her precious soul was taken, it sickened him.

He walked until he stopped at the entrance of a village. Hesitantly, he looked down at her before looking back ahead of him. ‘Help! Someone help! Someone help please!’ He screamed, and begged. His eyes searched for anyone that could help; some folk came peeking out of their doors, but only a few had the guts to rush over towards the mysterious man. Drake dropped weakly to his knees, but he never let go of his love.

‘What’s happened?!’ One of the onlookers came running over, seemingly looking to help at first.

‘S-she’s been stabbed…’ Drake stuttered, still not able to make sense of what’s happening, he looked up at the stranger before him. He was a short, bald, heavy set older man; he had to be the leader around here.

He was startled by Drake’s bright red eyes and took a step back. “Devil!” The man cried frighteningly, his eyes wide as saucers, a sharp pain shot through the man's heart. He clutched his chest. Others started to murmur, the men in the town pushed their children and wives back into the house as they found pointed objects.

Drake sighed heavily, jaws clinched in agitation; he inhaled deeply trying his best to calm his rage. ‘Listen, I mean no harm, ok? My wife— they killed my wife. Burned down my home. Killed my stock and cattle. I just need… I need some help… just to clean my wife and get her buried…’

“Begawn demon!” One man shouted with a large pickaxe in his hands, another man stepped forward, a cold stare in his eyes.

“We’re good Christian you heathen, if that woman was with you, we’ll then she’s better off dead. Maybe God will forgive her.” The man shook his head, his fingers wrapped around his weapon tightly, these people were surely blinded by their belief in God to think they could take on someone of Drake’s nature. He couldn’t believe the words that just came from this imbecile’s crusty lips.

“Are you ‘too good Christian’ to help your own?! How dare you, hypocrites.” He hissed, bright crimson blood pooled at his eyes, and only a single tear fell down his pale skin. ‘She believed in your God!’ He exclaimed with so much venom behind the word, ‘The same God whose brought you nothing but pain, death, illness and sorrow! Yet, she still believed in him! Just like the rest of you! Was she not good?!’

The crowd grew quiet. Only the sounds of the night could be heard around he and the crowd that surrounded him defensively. Bullfrogs croaked, Crickets chirped and beetles flapped their heavy wings.

As soon as Drake felt he was about to lose hope and his cool, someone spoke up in the crowd, ‘And what do we get if we aid you?!’

He searched the crowd as a woman walked forward. She had black thick and curly hair, her skin was brown and rich like the Earth’s soil. She wore trousers and a slightly stretched out blouse. It appeared to be somewhat of an off duty knight. Her clothes weren’t as damaged and raggedy as everyone else’s.

‘I-‘ he pressed his lips together. ‘Whatever it is that you want. I have no use of any more of my riches… I don’t plan on living on without her.’ Drake looked down at Mia once more. He wasn’t sure how many more tears he could shed. But he wasn’t ready to stop either.

‘Hmph… you’d save me the time then… c’mon now then.’ The pretty woman turned on the toes of her boots and walked back through the crowd; shoving people out of the way. Get out my way! What you lookin’ at?!

Drake felt his slow beating heart stiffen almost in his chest. He was relieved that someone was willing to help. So he stood up to his feet, adjusting Mia in his arms.

***

Drake placed Mia’s lifeless body on the cot. He knew this was probably the last time he’d see her. So he stared at her for as long as he possibly could. He had to take in every feature, knowing that it would be his last

The woman folded her arms across her chest, her head falling to the side.

‘What happened?’

He sat there for a moment before blinking away and looking over at the woman behind him. He felt his chest twist, tears filled his eyes once again before he just let out a shuddered sigh. ‘The Church… found out my hide away. Th-they said she’d been followed. She’d come to see me in the morning. We’d spend the day together,’ he scoffed and swallowed his sticky saliva before continuing. ‘She was the only reason I ever became a morning person… I’d risk burning myself countless times just to be with her and th—‘ his voice was strained; drowned in own tears and despair.

And when Drake had enough strength to speak, darkness reflected in his words as if they looked into a mirror, ‘They took her. from. me!’

The woman watched in silence, studying the picture before her. ‘How long have you and her been—together?’ She asked.

‘A little over a year and a half… she was the reason why I never went back into hunting and killing,’ he looked back at her. His eyes were so sad and lifeless. It almost seem unreal, like sad painting. ‘Because of her, I cherished human life. I saw the potential in your lives. So I went without drinking human blood for that duration.’

Her eyebrows tugged into one, ‘If you weren’t drinking humans then what—‘

‘Animals… particularly moose. Boar. Sometimes bear— anything I could get my hands on really.’

‘M-my God…’ The woman was in disbelief! Could he have been that in love to completely risk his livelihood?

Everyone deserved to love, and perhaps if you are capable of loving, you’re capable of changing. She thought to herself.

‘And so they call…’ he scoffed, his head falling forward; shaking side to side.

‘I don’t think you’re the vampire they are after!’ Drake didn’t say anything, he didn’t much care. Instead, he just grabbed Mia’s hand and placed his cold lips against her cold flesh. He’d just hoped for a small sign of life from her. But he was disappointed once more when reality set in by the second.

The sound of her heeled boots quickly clicked across the wooden floor. ‘Look. I ain’t too keen with working with your kind,’ she said with a slight bitterness, ‘But if I were in your position… I’d do whatever it is that I needed to be done so that my partner gets the justice they deserve…’

Dracula looked up at her with wet eyes. He knew what her suggestion was.

‘That’s just me though…’ she threw up her hands In defense.

He stood to his feet slowly, his thick brows tugging into one,‘Are you suggesting—‘

‘THAT’S… just me now…’ she took a step closer to him, low enough for him to hear, ‘Do what you must. Besides, these folk could use some protectin’ roun’ here,’ She looked over at his wife for a second, ‘She shall be in tip top shape upon your return. And when you get back… we can perhaps discuss a partnership.’ She then stepped back and jerked her head towards the door. ‘Gone head nah. Before I change my mind!’

Dracula gave the woman a gentle nod before turning back to his love, ‘She’ll— she’ll take care of you— my love.’ He then placed his bloodied hand on top of hers.

His chin trembled as he stared at his wife’s corpse. Even in death, she was breathtaking.

‘I’m sorry… I’m so sorry Mia. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you wanted.’ He sniffed, wiping his tears before letting out a shaky sigh, ‘I love you… And I’m gonna make this right.’

Dracula pushed her hair behind her ear. ‘Until we meet again my love…’

He looked back over at the woman, darkness clouding his eyes, ‘How far is the Church’s village?’

‘On horseback? About a day’s ride… the sun could be quite dangerous for someone like you.’

Drake pressed his lips together, knowing what he’d have to do to get there faster. ‘Indeed… I must leave,’ he walked towards the wooden door.

‘I never caught your name. I-I want to thank you.’

The woman placed her hands on her widened hips and a smirk curled on her lips, ‘No need to thank me,’ she said raising her hand in protest, ‘Make it back alive and I’ll tell you everything.’

***

A loud thunder clap shook him out of his own head. A smirk curled on his lips slowly, ‘I know… I’m goin’, I’m goin’… I just wanted to take the time to admire you for a bit longer…’

A soft low thunder rumbled, causing his apartment to shake a little.

‘I miss you too…’ he sighed softly.

Shortly after, he gathered his brushes and carried them to the sink and washed them carefully. Afterwards, he set them on a towel to dry.

Before leaving his “showcase” room, he took one more good look at her, ‘Good Night Mia. I love you.’ And he shut the door behind him.

***

Drake stood beneath the hot shower; allowing the water to beat down on his head and the rest of his messy body. He loved these kinds of nights. Since his body didn’t generate it’s own sweat or neither did he get funky, he’d somehow subconsciously yet— perhaps on purpose, smear himself up in paint so he could shower. It was the only thing that reminded him of her. The warmth of her pretty brown skin and how she’d hold him close.

Otherwise, he truly had no other excuse to be in the shower.

Lifting his head up, he ran his fingers through his hair; pushing it back out of his face. He then reached over for his washcloth, and liquid soap. Once he lathered it up, he rubbed those smooth suds into his skin and scrubbed off whatever paint that was left on his body.

Afterwards, he sat in the shower until the water ran cold. He got out and got dressed in something modest and simple. It was still raining outside, and he would’ve hated for his suits to have gotten wet.

He’d dressed in a cotton light gray long sleeved shirt. It had 3 buttons at the chest. He left only one open. Then, he pulled on some briefs and some dark denim jeans and some brown boots.

Drake dried his thick black hair with a towel and then blow dried it. His locks fell wavy and soft against his head.

Once he was done getting dressed, he grabbed his sketchbook, his wallet and keys. Then, he left.

This was the only time Dracula really enjoyed the outdoors in the daytime. The sky had to be dark with clouds and/or pouring down raining. He could smell and feel how refreshed Mother Earth felt when it did. As if the rain was cleansing everything around him.

He also found it funny when unprepared humans would just cover their heads with newspapers or their hands trying to get to cover. Such clumsy creatures.

Closing down his umbrella, he walked inside of a coffee shop. The smell of freshly brewed coffee made love to his senses and caused a slight drool to pool in his mouth.

Coffee was Dracula’s guilty pleasure. Human food was disgusting. Anything processed, would taste as if he were biting into the metal or plastic that kept them fresh. Or, he’d taste the hormones and the particles. If he had to eat human food just to blend in, he’d simply throw it up later. But coffee, he liked his Americano. No sugar. No cream. Just— beans and hot water.

The baristas shouted, desynchronized “Heeey!” “Drake!” “Yooo!”

They were all very happy to see him. After all, it had been quite some time since he’d been down here.

A toothy grin curled on his lips as he placed his wet umbrella up against his booth and placed his book down on the table. ‘Shannon, Luis, Jang. How are all of you?’ Then he walked up to the counter.

‘We’re holding up… we’ve missed ya down here. We were starting to think you moved away or sumn!’ Jang said with a slight smirk.

‘Yeah! Shannon was starting to get sad!’ Laughed Luis.

‘Hey!’ Shannon laughed and smacked Luis on the arm, ‘You’re gonna get enough of telling my business! How are you, D?’

Dracula had been coming to the local coffee shop for about 10 years now. Way before his friend’s arrival. The owners, Lee and Jennifer, had always been kind to him and welcoming. Introducing him to their own families and friends. Having him over for dinner some nights.

Until one night they’d suffered greatly when half of the shop burned down. Drake had heard about this terrible incident and had written them an anonymous check for $40K for repairs. Til this day, the couple hadn’t had a single clue who’d gifted them with something so life changing. And it were to stay that way.

‘I thought I asked you to call me Drake?’ He smirked, pulling out his wallet.

‘I know. But I think D fits you best,’ the woman giggled, ‘The Usual today?’

‘Mmhmm,’ he nodded before placing the $20 bill in her hand. ‘Could you bring it to my booth?’

‘Sure. Anything for my—‘ Shannon paused for a second, getting lost in those bright crimson eyes. Sure she had a crush before, but it had only gotten extreme. ‘Main. Man.’ And a slow smile curled on her lips.

Dracula returned the smile and nodded once, ‘Thank you, Shan.’ And he turned away to walk to his booth.

As soon as he sat down, he opened up his book full of sketches. Some pages were of flowers, mountains and rivers, oceans and the sky. But others were of people he’d come across in his life. But mostly, Mia.

Strangely enough though, he didn’t feel like drawing her today. Technically.

He’d quickly got started on a face. Allowing just his hand and mind to come together; not really thinking.

‘One Americano.’ Shannon said softly with a smile, placing the large mug down on the porcelain dessert plate. ‘Thank you, Shannon. It smells delightful.’ He smiled looking up at her.

‘Anytime.’ She sighed softly before pulling her eyes away to look at his sketch. ‘What ya workin’ on?’

Dracula looked back down at the large sheet of paper. In just a minute’s time he’d already drawn and detailed an eye and a nose. ‘Nothing special just— sketching.’

‘Nice! You’re really talented!’ Shannon jumped when the bell chimed over the door.

He instantly went stiff at her scent. ‘Misty! Hi, welcome back!’ Shannon greeted her with a smile, ‘I have to get back to work. Have fun.’ She said, placing her dainty hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Drake inhaled deeply, as her heart beat seem to thud louder and louder in his ears. The smell of flowers just kept tickling at his nose. It was intoxicating! He was drawing but he couldn’t focus! All that he could see embedded in his brain was her gorgeous smile, her big, thick curly hair, her hazel eyes.

This is probably the closest he’s ever been to drowning. All until,

‘Drake?’

‘Huh?’ He lifted his head quickly.

She was standing there with a sweet yet, puzzled look on her face. Oh she was to die for.

‘I didn’t know you came to this coffee shop!’

‘Misty! Hi! Oh, yeah—‘ he chuckled as his eyes roamed over her body once. The perfect frame. Voluptuous breasts, a tummy, wide hips and thick thighs. ‘I-I know the owners. Been coming here for a few years now.’

‘That’s cool! Hey, do you mind if I join you? I just have a few more minutes to kill before I have to head back to work.’

Of course I mind. You’re only the love of my life’s doppelgänger! I don’t even know what to say or do right now.

‘No, please!’ Lying bastard.

Misty sat down in front of him with a gentle smile on her lips. She watched him take a sip of his coffee first before he went back to sketching upon the white sheet. ‘You draw too? What are you working on?’ She asked before sipping out of her straw.

Drake swallowed his spit as he scribbled, ‘Just some random… portrait.’

‘Hmm! It’s pretty. You take commissions?’

‘Commissions?’ He asked a bit confused, ‘Like pay? No. I do this for fun.’

Misty smirked, adjusting herself in her seat before folding her arms on top of the wooden table, ‘So, if I asked you to do one for me… you’d do it?’

Dracula looked up at her, sizing her face before his eyes dropped to her neck, then her chest. Then, he looked back up into her eyes, ‘If you’d ask me…’

She just stared at him and he just stared at her. Misty finally looked away with a giggle, ‘I-I couldn’t ask that of you. Supplies are getting more and more expensive by the day and art takes time and patience. I couldn’t do that. I’d have to pay you—‘

‘I wouldn’t have it…’ he interrupted. ‘I have enough…’ he paused for a second, ‘I don’t mind.’

She raised a brow, sitting back into her seat. ‘You are stubborn… well at least let me take you out? What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?’ She asked with a smile.

He chuckled as he continued to sketch, ‘You’re asking a complete stranger out on a date? I could be a murderer.’

‘Yeah, you could be. But how would I know if I don’t try?’

You’re just like her… in so many ways.

Drake shook his head as his smirk remained on his face, ‘I work… I’m free after 7pm.’

‘Hmm.. alright. Well, do you have a phone? So I can plug my number in?’

A phone. Dracula was never the type to keep friends so he never thought getting a phone was a logical investment for him. ‘I don’t.’

‘No phone? In the 21st century? Well, I’d say you like to live your life on the edge! What if you were to ever be in danger?!’ She sounded concerned.

Danger? Ha, oh darling, I am the danger.

Drake chuckled and shrugged, ‘Then if it’s my time to go.. it’s my time to go. We didn’t—‘ he bit his tongue and stopped once again. He was getting way too comfortable. ‘I don’t need one.’

Misty took a sip of her ice coffee and shook her head, ‘Well, Mr. “I’m too righteous” for a phone. You should invest in one.’

‘Why?’

‘Cause how would I call you?’

Damn… she’s smooth.

Drake pressed his lips together. He swallowed his spit, feeling as if there was a UV light burning in the pit of his stomach. She had no idea of the chokehold she had on him at this moment. ‘I’ll think about it.’ He said before going back to his sketch.

‘Alright. Well, just,’ she stood up from her seat and picked up her drink, ‘Meet me back here tomorrow evening. 7:45pm.’

He looked up at her as a slow smile curled on his lips, ‘Sure.’

‘I gotta head back now. See you then.’ She said before walking towards the door.

‘Yeah,’ he said before she walked out of the door. ‘See ya.’

Turning back to his sketch before his, he hadn’t even realized he had already worked on her full lips.

‘Dammit.’ He’d cursed.

#henry cavill #august walker #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x black!plus size female oc #henry cavill x black!plus size oc #henry cavill x black!oc #henry cavill x black!reader #henry cavill fanfiction #vampire!sherlock #vampire!henry cavill #vampire!august #vampire #vampire lore #vampirism #henry cavill fan fiction #henry cavill fan fic

[atlinmerrick]

Minutiae (Or 156 Things I Know About You)

The Reflexes of John Watson

Sherlock Holmes once worried that loving him was just a reflex of John's, that any kind man would have turned the good doctor's head.

Except Sherlock wasn't kind that night at Bart's was he? And Sherlock sometimes can't deduce worth a damn.

Thank god.

#minutiae #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock fan fiction #The Reflexes of John Watson

[consultjohnwatson]

Some suggestions of excellent fanfic for you to read: (my top 15!)

The Most Dangerous Thing Is To Love by CorvidCordelia

The Quiet Man by ivyblossom

The World On His Wrist by bendingsignpost

The Scapegoat by AStudyInAlgedonics (WIP)

The Men Who Talked Between The Words by Odamaki

Soulmates: How John Met Sherlock... Again by JaneOfCakes

Applications and Practices of Basic Arithmetic Series by 1electricpirate

Diamonds For Tears by sparklinglights

Once In A Lifetime by anonymous (https://archiveofourown.org/bookmarks/900678781)

From A Drop Of Water by victorianpining

Kaleidoscope by Silvergirl

A River Without Banks by Chryse

Winning The Goat and Swallow The Night by arwamachine

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea by DiscordantWords

Hopefully if you haven't already read any of these, you will love them just as much as I do. Such beautiful writing! @consult-sherlockholmes should try them out too since he's having trouble sleeping 😴 I think I'll tell him.

Thank you, dear anon. I'll google and try to read some when I got the time.

#john watson replies #sherlock fan fiction

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Hi, can I ask for some Sherlock Holmes with a side of spanking and cuddles?

Title: The Paganini Problem

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader

Fandom: Enola Holmes series

Word Count: 1.3K

Summary: Being Sherlock’s wife proves to be difficult when a case stumps him. For @princessphilly, I hope this works!!

Warnings: female!masturbation, spanking, softDom!Sherlock

A/N: I listened to “24 Caprices for Solo Violin, Op. 1, MS 25: No. 24 in A Minor” while writing this, you do not have to. But it is quite good if you like violin and suspenseful music. Also, Enola correctly guesses that Paganini is Sherlock’s favorite composer in the first Enola Holmes film, so like, research! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist 

The sounds of violin wafted through 221B Baker Street. You loved to hear Sherlock play most days. But, today was different. This was day three of a Paganini marathon, which could only mean one thing.

He was stumped on a case. 

A case he refused to talk to you about. No, he could only converse with his beloved violin about it. However, that’s not how you see it. No. 

Your perception? He decided to play instead of paying attention to you. Being the brat that you are, you are determined to make him regard your presence.

You don your tightest bodice and skirt, the deep sapphire one that Sherlock purchased for you as a gift when he asked you to move into Baker Street. He specifically had it tailored to your measurements, showing off your ample bosom and child-bearing hips. 

You make your way from your shared bedroom into the drawing room where Sherlock is playing. His violin is tucked between his chin and shoulder. His left hand bows at a speed that makes the messy curls on his head dance along to the music. His right hand holds the violin at the neck so delicately, it’s almost loving.

You step around several stacks of papers, narrowly missing a tower of books. You remind yourself to have that talk again with Sherlock about the difference between organization and chaos. 

You finally make it to the chair next to his music stand, his eyes never leaving the sheet music. You make sure to sit down in a way that makes a squeak that Sherlock has commented on many a time. He’s actually shown you how to sit so that said squeak does not occur. You remarked that he could just get rid of the chair, to which he replied that you can sit elsewhere if you’re going to complain.

No reaction. 

You seethe, watching as he continues with 24 Caprices. You kick over the music stand and the sheets dance gracefully to the floor.

Nothing.

He simply closes his eyes and plays from memory. He plays it perfectly, of course. Paganini is his favorite composer, after all. He would know it forward and backward.

You were growing impatient, running out of options for how to get this man’s attention. Until it hit you. The idea was just ridiculous enough to work. It would be depravity in polite society, sure. But clever enough to get him to at least acknowledge your presence. And that would be enough.

You get up from the chair and make your way over to the chaise lounge. Arranging a few pillows to rest your head upon, you then lie down and pull your skirt up enough to get to your drawers. You pull them down and toss them out of the way, Sherlock being none the wiser as he continues playing.

You let your hand wander down to your folds, already slick with the frustration of being untouched for days. You allow yourself time to tease, playing with your swollen bud before dipping lower to enter a single finger within yourself. A sigh escapes your lips as you explore your inner walls. As another finger joins the first, Sherlock’s name falls from your lips.

Sherlock’s sense of smell is what pulls him out of his hyperfocus. He smells your arousal as he hears his name in the air. In an instant, his fixation becomes all about you.

He places down his violin and bow next to the fallen music stand, not putting it right-side up. Not bothering to be quiet, as your moans now fill the room louder than his playing did, he stalks over to you and clears his throat loudly.

Your hand stills and you open one eye looking up at your husband. The look on his face of disappointment is enough to cause heat to flare behind your cheeks. Then, his face changes to that of…impatience?

“Well? Are you going to finish then? Or must I intervene?” Sherlock’s words have a bite to them, and you can’t say you’re surprised. Well, you are stunned he is offering to help.

At least you were under the impression that he is offering to help. And that is why he is the expert detective and you are...well, not.

Before you can ask for assistance, Sherlock is lifting you off the chaise and throws you over his shoulder. He takes you into the bedroom and set you down on your feet before sitting on the edge of the bed. 

He points to you and beckons you with a curved finger in a ‘come hither’ motion. You begin to sit next to him, but he blocks your path.

“I don’t believe bad girls get to sit down next to Sir. Over my knee with yourself, girl. You’re going to practice your counting. And don’t make me repeat myself.” Sherlock’s voice is stern and you involuntarily gulp before settling your middle across his lap.

Sherlock pulls up your skirt so it rests along your back and the cool air of the room produces gooseflesh along your bare bottom and legs. No sooner do you register that feeling does the first blow land. You grunt as Sherlock’s hand grazes the skin of your left cheek.

“One, Sir!” You cry out, surprised at the white-hot heat of the smack.

“Good girl,” he praises.

He raises his hand again. He waits until your ass relaxes and brings down his hand upon your right cheek. This time harder than the first.

“Two, Sir!” You shout, the sting radiating through you.

“Good girl, I think you deserve one more though,” Sherlock informs you and you nod, “Use your words, girl. Do you deserve another?”

“Yes, Sir, I deserve another,” you whimper, clenching your thighs to try and gain some sort of friction.

“I wholeheartedly agree, my dear,” he laughs, punctuating his sentiment with one last swat to your left cheek.

“Three, Sir!” You gasp, clutching onto Sherlock’s pant leg as his hand finds its way between your legs to find you soaked.

“That’s my good girl, look how soaked you are for me. I bet you’re right on the edge. All you need is one…last…push,” Sherlock plunges two fingers into your sodden cunt and expertly finds your inner bundle of nerves. He massages it while praising you for taking your punishment so well. “You’ve been so good for me, my love. You take all the attention you need, girl.”

Before long, you are clenching around Sherlock’s fingers and he is working you through your orgasm with his skilled fingers. You send thanks to the heavens for marrying a man who understands the female anatomy. 

As you come down, Sherlock pulls down your skirt. He pulls a pillow from the bed for you to sit on as he turns you around in his lap. He kisses your forehead and presses your head down to lean on his shoulder, resting his head upon yours. 

“Now, my dear little one. Care to explain what that little show was for?” His voice is calm as his arms wrap around you, holding you flush to him as he rocks a bit back and forth.

“I hate it when you’re stuck on a case, you don’t pay any attention to your wife, my love,” You don’t attempt to hide the sorrow in your voice.

“You’re so right. I’ve neglected my dearest. She even had to turn to her own ministrations in the wake of my absence,” he pulls back and looks down at you, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “As frustrating as a case may be, it is no excuse to ignore you. I promise you, my love, it will not happen again. You have my word.”

“Thank you, Sherlock,” you twirl your finger around a curl of his hair and watch it spring back, “I love you.”

“And I love you, dear one. Now, shall we solve this case, Mrs. Holmes?”

“That we shall, Mr. Holmes.”

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz  😁 Also, if you want to be removed from tags, lemme know!

#sherlock holmes henry cavill #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #enola holmes fanfiction #enola holmes #enola holmes 2 #henry!holmes x reader #henry!holmes #henry!sherlock #henry cavill sherlock holmes #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #ellethespaceunicorn prompt fill #ask reply #henry cavill fan fiction #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction

[johnlockissess]

by the way i think it’s rather funny how bbc sherlock has completely literally fallen off the grid the fandom is smaller than ever johnlock isn’t even in the top 100 ships anymore even though other media from the same period continues to prosper and i just WONDER if that’s got anything to do with the way they treated the fans back in 2016 lol

#Sherlock #johnlock #bbc sherlock #Fandom can do so much for your shitty show if you treat it right #I think even after s4 fans would have still believed in that freaky thing you call a tv show if you hadn’t completely humiliated them #fandom kept terrible awful shows afloat out of sheer love for the characters and actors involved #really dumb move just because you wanted a more “mature” audience like the fans you already got weren’t writing amazing meta #Better fiction than you can ever HOPE to achieve in a lifetime #johnlock could have carried the show just saying