#virgin sherlock

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 2 - Play it by ear

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 1 -- Part 3

Pairing: CollegeAU!Sherlock Holmes x OFC (Elena) 

Summary: Sherlock helps his friend study for an exam, and she teaches him some new things in return... 

Warnings: Rated M for making out, second base stuff, boobs. This is mostly fluff, marked awk for awkward and slight emotional crisis (it’s Sherlock. Every emotion is a crisis...). Mention of deadlines and assignments - for those of us who are in uni or relive the anxiety every damn day of their lives.

Word count: 6.1k

A/N: The writing here is like superduper different from the last chapter, but enjoy virgin!Sherlock, he’s bby. Also; I just realized that the timeline of this fic is a bit of a tripping hazard...

I promised I tried to proof and edit this. Typos may be registered with the Office for Typo Registration, open every February 29th from 10.00h - 10.01h.

Anywhoozles; not really a lot of smut under the cut today. 

It was a little past three when the professor finally dismissed his students. Sighs of relief sounded throughout the lecture hall. Laptops were slammed shut and crammed into bags, books and papers were gathered in sloppy piles and hurriedly carried out: practically everyone was looking to get out of the room as soon as possible. Only two people behaved as if they hadn’t just been assigned a huge paper with an impossible deadline. For one of them, this behavior could be explained by the fact that he was the professor, and therefore indeed did not have to write said paper, the other was simply deeply opposed to hastiness. It was not for nothing that diligent and thorough were among the first words that came to many a mind when asked to describe Sherlock Holmes. Other descriptors included unsociable and strange. Lastly, and heard perhaps less often than one might expect, there were the terms young and genius. After all, Sherlock had a keen mind, which had allowed him to reach his third year of law school when he was yet to turn nineteen. 

Unhurriedly, the young man began his commute home. Immersed in thought, he didn’t notice the small redheaded woman that appeared next to him. Only when he had finished outlining the freshly assigned paper in his mind did he become truly aware of his surroundings. 

“Elena,” he spoke, the baritone of his voice dark and warm - cozy, almost. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “For how long did you allow me to ignore you this time?” His chuckle was as comforting as his voice. 

“I didn’t want to disturb your thoughts,” Elena replied. She had before. It had vexed him at the time, as the pair had barely known one another. Now, however, they had gotten better acquainted - much better, one might say - and he found that she was one of very few people whom he allowed to disrupt his thinking. 

“And your saying so,” he mused, “shows precisely why I would allow you to.”

“I’ll be sure to remember.” Elena fidgeted with an unraveling seam on her bag. “Sherlock, you took Criminal Law two years ago, right?” There was only one possible answer: he was in his third year, therefore he must have taken and passed that particular first year course - it was mandatory. 

“Naturally,” he said, hesitantly. His head turned toward his companion, one eyebrow raised in confusion at the strange inquiry. Elena wasn’t usually one to ask rhetorical questions - it was something he quite liked about her. 

“Would you help me prepare for my midterm? I’m struggling with the material a bit, and I missed some things when I was sick last week.” She averted her eyes when she asked him, the deliberation of her actions completely lost on Sherlock, who felt something that resembled anxiety at the gesture - though for the love of God he could not figure out why. He had come to terms with the fact that she was one of the few people he could not read very well - as if his sharp instincts and attention to detail left him the second she stepped into the room. Though he did always notice when her hair fell differently, when she wore a different perfume, or when her makeup had left tiny colored specs on her cheeks. Of course, that was something Sherlock considered without value when he could hardly keep track of what she was saying. He simply thought his talents to be of no use in her presence. 

“I’d be more than happy to,” he said. His face held a familiar smile that was wider than was normal for him, but - as was so often the case with this particular smile - he couldn’t help himself. “I’m free this weekend?”

“Right now?” She smiled shyly. Sherlock replied with just a nod before suggesting they might use his room to study. 

“I have some notes that may be helpful,” he quickly added, as he suddenly became afraid that his offer had come across as untoward. It was as if he had forgotten that for the past six weeks, they had spent every Saturday in that room, rehearsing their pieces for orchestra. Nothing had ever been strange about that. Not to him, at least, and his mother had raised neither a savage nor a fool; surely he would remember it if he had been improper. He remembered that first encounter vividly, often replaying the memory in his head.

“You are quite good,” he had said to the new addition to the orchestra. She had been sat next to him, in the usual place for the second violinist. 

“Thank you,” she had replied, blood creeping up her neck, finding its way to her cheeks. She had heard about him. Sherlock Holmes, the famous - though among his peers all but notorious - first violinist of the university orchestra. In stories of him, which rather often were filled with complaints that he received special treatment, he was often portrayed as a pompous arse. She could see now, that these tales were nothing but the product of jealousy. He truly was remarkable. “You are very good.” 

“Thank you, that’s awfully kind of you,” Sherlock had said, and for the first time he had felt this peculiar smile, that was so much wider than he was used to, creeping onto his face. “Sherlock,” he had introduced himself. He had never entertained the thought that it may not have been necessary, that she had already known who he was. 

“Elena,” she had replied. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Elena,” he had said. And before he had good and well thought it through, he had added: “Perhaps we might rehearse together sometime? If you’re free, of course.” He had been unable to determine the source of the incredible anxiety had felt in the limbo between his asking and her answering - or that of the intense relief when she not only accepted his proposal, but did so rather enthusiastically. 

Her laugh tore him away from his memory of the experience. 

“Sounds fantastic,” she said, the smile on her face widening as she looked into his eyes. As he looked back into hers, he noticed the intensity of their color - green - and the little gold specs in them - but he missed the slightly provocative twinkle they held. His eyes wandered over her face, slowly, carefully, as if he thought he would otherwise disturb it. He noticed the thick, long lashes that framed her eyes. The freckles on her nose and cheeks, where - as always - her make-up had left tiny brown and golden specs. Sherlock’s heart was beating so hard that, despite being well aware that it was impossible, he feared it would break through his ribs and escape from his chest. Still, his eyes remained locked onto her face, wandering further down to her lovely smile. He noticed her teeth were a bit crooked, which he found strangely endearing. Her full lips looked soft and dewy - undoubtedly the work of that cherry-scented chapstick she was always applying. Its scent paired nicely with the sweetness of the perfume she wore almost every day. Today, Sherlock noted, was no exception; he inhaled the delicate aroma with every breath. His thoughts ran away with his sanity, his gaze clung to her alluring mouth, even as she moved it to speak and he only vaguely registered her voice. The movement of her lips, the fragrance that surrounded her, and his erratically beating heart gave way to new sensations. Blood humming in his ears. A lump in his throat that refused to be swallowed away, no matter his efforts. The familiar rush of blood… down, and the subsequent tightening of his trousers.

 “Sherlock?” Her hand waved through his field of vision, breaking his trance-like state. “Let’s go?” Her eyes were mischievous, something Sherlock would have picked up on immediately, had it not been for his current affliction. In fact, the young man was not even aware of this condition. He had questioned his health and his mental faculties, surely, but was yet to arrive at the appropriate conclusion. Elena, however, recognized the symptoms of his ailment immediately. He was two years ahead of her in university, sure, but she was two years his senior and more than a bit wiser than him when it came to the less intellectual and more instinctive truths of the human condition.  

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head as if that would rid it of those thoughts. It did not; if anything, it made him look ridiculous. He extended a hand. “Allow me.” 

Only in the first few weeks after making his acquaintance had Elena attempted to decline his offer, but resisting the charm of this man was something she had ultimately found exhausting and unpleasant. Now, she would normally opt for a coy smile and a thank you, but she was feeling playful today. “Always such a gentleman.” She practically purred the words as she handed him her bag, making sure to touch his hand in the process. She relished his reaction; the twitch of his hand as her skin came into contact with his, the sharp breath that escaped from between his slightly parted lips, the soft blush that slowly crept from beneath his collar, his averted gaze. She felt a little bad for toying with this sweet guy’s emotions, but since she shared his feelings, she saw no real harm in having a little fun. 

The pair made their way to the house on Crescent Street that Sherlock shared with seven other students. Elena had only ever met two of them; August Walker - because he had been leaving the house one Saturday morning just as she arrived at the front door - and Walter Marshall - because he took the Criminal Law course with her and he had recognized her when she’d been trying to find some space for her jacket on the coat rack in the hallway. The fact that Sherlock kept to himself - and kept her to himself - didn’t upset her. In fact, she rather liked it: There was very little pressure to socialize, which she found rather relaxing. 

“Ladies first,” were the familiar words with which Sherlock ushered her through the door, accompanied - as always - with a simple gesture. They climbed the stairs to his room in silence. For the first time, Sherlock dreaded the moment they would soon spend behind his bedroom door, in the cramped space that led to the attic stairs. The room itself was spacious, but that tiny hallway - calling it that was a stretch, even - barely held two people, and it was impossible not to touch each other. Elena, however, looked forward to that precise moment: It would be a good opportunity for some close physical contact. Once they arrived at the second floor of the house, Sherlock muttered something about the bathroom. 

“I’ll be right up,” he spoke. You’ve been up for a while, Elena thought to herself, but she bit her tongue and swallowed the words, offering up a sweet smile instead.

 “What is the matter with you, Sherlock?” He chastised himself while looking at himself in the mirror as he leaned over the sink. His knuckles were pale from the iron grip of his hands on the white porcelain. “Pull yourself together.” Stop thinking about her, he thought to himself, which - naturally - had an effect contrary to his desires. It finally dawned on him, as he felt himself harden at the thought of her beautiful lips, that perhaps the explanation for his reaction wasn’t rational at all - which explained perfectly why he didn’t care for it. Real panic set in when he considered the possibility that these were feelings she did not reciprocate, and he found, much to his dismay, only one short-term solution to this problem: to ignore it completely. An entirely unsatisfactory remedy, and likely ultimately unsuccessful at that. 

“Yes! You’re absolutely correct!” He exclaimed proudly as she answered one of his more difficult questions with a very thorough rebuttal. Criminal law had been a fantastic distraction from the earlier troubles, and it had kept the two of them occupied for a few hours. 

“Thank goodness, I don’t think I can take much more of this today!” Elena sank back into her chair and let her knees fall to the side slightly. “It’s only eight, after all.” 

Sherlock buried his face in his hands. He often lost track of time, and he was usually careful not to drag others along with him. “I’m sorry,” he chuckled softly. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that this time, he had done it on purpose, for fear of her wanting to leave. Her hand reached for his thigh, and his muscles twitched at the touch. 

“I can go get us some Chinese food, as a thank you?” Sherlock gratefully accepted her offer.

Shortly after Elena had left, Sherlock walked downstairs, and stood hesitantly in front of the door at the far end of the hall. He couldn't bring himself to knock, but could neither persuade his legs to walk away. After a minute or so, the person on the other side of the door yelled: "It's open, come in." Sherlock often forgot how good Geralt's hearing was. He entered the room, hesitation in his steps, his stance, his expression, and closed the door behind him. Geralt was laying on his bed, reading what looked like a book on Celtic mythology, not bothering to put it down just yet. 

"Sherlock," he said, a simple acknowledgement of his presence, no question or judgment behind the remark. It was something that Sherlock admired about him, though it could be quite annoying at times - when one was in search of questions or judgments, for example. Tonight, he was in luck, because as much as Geralt aimed to steer clear of other people's business, he did consider Sherlock a good friend, and he could tell something was the matter. 

He snapped the book shut and sat up. "Trouble?" Lengthy conversation would just make the both of them uncomfortable, that much was clear. 

"Girl," Sherlock sighed as he leaned his back against the door. 

"Even worse," Geralt laughed. "The violinist?" Sherlock couldn't answer, so he opted for a sigh, hoping it sounded enough like a confirmation. "Her name seems to have slipped my mind, I'm sorry," Geralt chuckled.

"Elena." Sherlock spoke so softly it was barely even a breath. He figured it would suffice for Geralt's impeccable hearing - and he was correct. 

"Right," he chuckled, "and you have finally come to the conclusion that you’re attracted to her?" Another affirmative sigh escaped Sherlock's lips. 

"Thank heavens," Geralt said bluntly, "your denial was becoming quite annoying." Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but Geralt raised his hand, beckoning him to be quiet. "Do I need to remind you that not much will happen when you're in your housemate's room making idle conversation, instead of in your room? With her." 

"Firstly, Geralt," Sherlock snarled. He knew Geralt had said it with no intention of mocking him, but it aggravated him nonetheless. "She's not currently upstairs. And secondly," a sigh broke up his rambling, and Sherlock found himself unable to regain his stern tone. "Geralt, I… I can't do this. I cannot make sense of these feelings. I can't stand being… consumed by them." And unlike any of the others in the house, save perhaps Walker - but anyone who had ever had the pleasure of dealing with August understood immediately why one would opt out of having this particular conversation with him, Geralt understood the sentiment perfectly. 

“For those of us who actually seem to enjoy being in control of our mental faculties, it can feel like surrender,” he said matter-of-factly. 

“It feels like the beginning of a steady descent into madness,” Sherlock confessed. The remark made Geralt laugh. This, too, he understood, though he had learned by now that it wasn’t true. “Why is that funny?”

“It isn’t, I’m sorry,” Geralt shook his head, still laughing. “Look, I can tell you… If you really like her, it won’t go away by doing nothing. That’s your descent into madness, right there.” Sherlock groaned and vowed that this was the last time he’d ever looked up from a book for long enough to ever see another woman. “You can’t fight biology, my friend.” At least that made some sense to Sherlock - in fact, it made him consider that what he was feeling could be completely rational, after all. The science behind it was solid enough. 

“And Charles doesn’t spend most of his nights in company because it’s a terrible way to pass the time.” Geralt grinned. Now it was Sherlock’s time to laugh.  

Geralt’s head turned suddenly. “That’s her,” he said as he got up from the bed and walked over to where Sherlock was standing. In passing, he grabbed something off the nightstand. His efforts to keep himself far from these situations couldn’t change who Geralt was at heart: a reluctant father-figure to his friends - especially the younger ones. “Can’t believe I’m doing this. Here.” Sherlock didn’t have to look in order to know what he’d just been handed. “Fucking hell, they’re condoms, not scorpions. Just...” 

“Thanks,” Sherlock muttered, more than a little embarrassed that Geralt had just assumed he would be this unprepared for a situation such as this one. Nevermind that his presupposition was correct; it was mortifying nonetheless. He was grateful, though, that his friend was looking out for him.

“Take them.” Geralt ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, and talk to her.” 

Sherlock knew better than to overstay his welcome and opened the door, just as Mike came up the stairs, closely followed by Elena. He waved at Sherlock and Geralt. “Hi, guys!” 

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you have company?” 

“Yeah, speaking of,” Mike turned to Sherlock. “Could you keep it down tomorrow morning?”     

“Of course,” Sherlock said. He received the request quite often - sometimes incited by guests, but equally as often caused by the prospect of copious amounts of alcohol. And if it was Charles who was asking, it was almost certainly both. 

“Thanks!” Mike beamed. “G‘night, guys! Nice to meet you, Elena!” And with that he adjourned to his room. 

“He seems…” Elena got no chance to finish her statement on her first impression of Mikey. 

“Annoying?” Geralt snickered, a crooked grin on his face, while shaking his head in disbelief.

“Spirited?” Sherlock offered, as he launched an elbow into Geralt’s ribs with more force than anyone would reasonably suspect from a bookish, violin-playing law student. 

“I was going to say ‘nice’,” Elena mumbled, slightly taken aback by the banter. 

“Oh, Mikey’s great,” Sherlock confirmed with a smile. “This is Geralt, by the way.” 

She looked at the white-haired figure in the doorway, as he extended a hand towards her. “Elena,” she said as she shook Geralt’s hand. Her thoughts were scrambled for a moment when she met his gaze. His eyes were a striking amber color - beautiful but peculiar, in a way she couldn’t quite articulate.

“Pleased to finally meet you,” Geralt said, “Sherlock talks about you quite a lot.” Before Sherlock could even scowl at him, he stepped back into his room and shut the door. 

“So, you talk about me a lot, huh?” Elena chuckled when they finally made it back to the attic. Sherlock chuckled nervously as he sat down on the leather couch and set the food on the small table in front of it. No matter how many times Elena saw this room, that couch still looked too big for it. On her first visit, she had wondered how it had ended up here in the first place, as it was obviously much too big for the stairwell. Sherlock’s answer had surprised her, as she’d been absolutely positive she never asked the question out loud - it had been moved in through the window by his predecessor, and no one would dream of ever moving it out again. If the stories of Geralt and Walker were to be believed - and they generally were - people had nearly died in the process. Despite being too big for the room, the couch only fit two people - a feature Elena made sure to exploit by joining Sherlock on it. 

“Well?” She asked him, flashing a suggestive smile. 

The world seemed to spin faster and grind to a halt at the same time, the room became both hot and cold, and Sherlock’s heart started yet another attempt at escaping his ribcage. Good grief, why did she have to be so close to him? Everything he had felt before, when they had been studying at his desk, returned to him; this time without the distraction of criminal law - it was just them now.

“I… ehm…” Sherlock stammered, unable to answer her question. Thoughts whirled through his head in an unfamiliar fashion: rapidly and erratically, and free of logic or order. Of course he talked about her often. He spent more time with her than with practically anyone else. His housemates had been teasing him relentlessly for weeks, saying he fancied her. And now he was beginning to think they were right, as he could barely keep his eyes off her when she was with him. And she continuously made her way back into his thoughts, sometimes even distracting him while he read, and Lord knows he was never distracted while reading. Now, here he was, deafened by the sound of his heart pounding in his chest, and bouncing his leg restlessly, unable to will himself to stop - figuring he should probably stop chastising Mikey for doing that all the time - and it was all because of her. Because she made him so incredibly nervous. Because maybe he had fallen for her. In other words: Geralt may have been an absolute knob for saying that to her, but he wasn’t wrong.

“Sherlock…” she giggled. When his eyes met hers, a wave of panic washed over him. Elena was looking up at him in a way that could not possibly mean anything other than that he had just said every last one of those things out loud. To her. He raised a hand, intent on using it to cover his mouth, but she grasped it and pulled it back down gently, while her other hand reached for his face. She traced his cheekbone with her thumb, her fingers resting lightly on his jaw, and he leaned into her touch. Elena softly caressed the side of his face before bringing her fingers to the nape of his neck, and attempting to pull him closer. Sherlock resisted her pursuit, clenching his jaw as his nerves took over his mind from his desires. He looked away for a moment, only to return his eyes to Elena’s and smile apologetically. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never kissed anyone, Sherlock!” Elena blurted out. She always knew that he was inexperienced, but such complete innocence was unexpected, bordering on unbelievable. Surely she couldn’t be the only one who was as charmed by him as she was? 

“Not telling you won’t change the fact that I have, indeed, never kissed anyone,” he muttered under his breath. Her apparent incredulity did not help his nerves, and he was surprised to hear himself speak at all. Elena’s hands set his skin ablaze with a vast desire until every fiber of his being begged for it. It took everything he had to control himself, to prevent himself from doing something so legendarily foolish that his friends wouldn’t let him hear the end of it for years to come. 

“Well, do you want to?” Elena asked, a playful tone to her sweet voice, mischief in her eyes. Sherlock swallowed hard, but found himself ultimately unable to make the lump in his throat disappear. Thus, he just nodded, and let himself be pulled closer to her. 

She placed her forehead against his. For a moment, they just sat there: eyes closed, heads resting against each other. The sweet fragrance of Elena’s perfume, the sound of her breathing, and the feeling of her skin against his, engulfed Sherlock’s senses, filling him with eager anticipation. A soft sound, a combination between an exasperated sigh and a lustful moan, arose from between his slightly parted lips. He shivered and drew in a sharp breath as Elena’s soft fingers drew a line along his jaw. She rested them underneath his chin, her thumb tracing the dimple in it, and tilted his head. Then, Sherlock felt Elena’s soft lips brush against his so incredibly lightly that it took a moment before he realized he wasn’t imagining it. The last shard of self-restraint he had been clinging to so desperately shattered at the contact, and at long last Sherlock allowed himself to be enveloped by affection and desire. He reached out the hand she wasn’t holding and placed it against her cheek, holding her head in place as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers more firmly. She responded eagerly, though her answer was not as feverish as his request. With wicked determination, she paced the kiss; slowing down right when his mouth so hungrily sought more, and picking up speed each time he finally accepted a gentler rhythm. Without mercy and almost devilish was her approach, and by God did it have the desired effect. The hand on her cheek found its way into her hair, the other crept up to her waist, where his fingers dug into her with surprising force. He let out a moan; dark, frenzied and filled with pure, unadulterated passion. What had caused her to fall for him, had been his calm and collected nature. Not once since meeting him had she dared to dream of ever seeing him like this: consumed by carnal greed, frantically gripping at her in search of release. Moans occasionally made way to almost pitiful whimpers - questions, or rather, pleas; to indulge him, come closer, give him more, something, anything. Oh, how powerful she felt to have a man like Sherlock pour into her arms like this, to see him reduced to a mere shadow of himself in her delicate hands. Elena chuckled at the thought, causing him to withdraw from their embrace. Concern emerged from deep in his eyes, steadily catching up to and overtaking the yearning in them. Sherlock struggled to catch his breath, still firmly in the grasp of the ache that pulsed like fire through his veins. It was heightened further by the sight of the lips he now no longer needed to assume soft. He knew them to be, yet he longed for proof as much as - if not more than - before. Alas, her laughter had roused his insecurities, and they were picking at his brain like starved crows at a morsel of bread. He wondered what could have inspired it, what he had done wrong. Had she just been leading him on, and was she now relishing the sight of what she had reduced him to, only to break him completely, later? 

Then, amidst his contemplations, he heard her voice once again, only this time it was no laughter that escaped from her pillowy lips. Caught in between ragged breaths, wrapped up in a moan, more intoxicating and provocative than he had ever dreamt possible, was his name. The sound of it so utterly rife with pleasure that it awakened once more the wanton desires within him, their scalding flames more excruciating than before, and even harder to quench. Her eyes, positively drunk with lust, together with that very moan revealed to Sherlock that she currently found herself in a predicament remarkably similar to his - only this time it was Elena who succumbed to the unrelenting pressures of her yearning. She moved towards him with resolve, pushing him into the couch by his shoulders, as she swung one of her legs over his. Sherlock was startled by her sudden advance, but did not protest. Elena sat down on his lap, one knee on either side of his hips, arms around his neck, hands running erratic patterns through his dark curls, down his neck and over his shoulders. Sherlock was surprisingly muscular, she discovered, which would have been in no way helpful to any attempt she might have undertaken to compose herself. Luckily, she had no intentions of embarking on such endeavors. Instead, she chose to give Sherlock as much of herself as he would take, and longed more than anything to receive what he was willing to relinquish to her, in return. As her fingers trailed along his neck and shoulders, she mapped the spots that caused the muscles in his thighs to twitch beneath her. His eyes fell shut at her touch, and his hands rested comfortably next to him, on her thighs. Soft groans emerged from his chest as her fingers explored his body, seeking out the sites that stirred his arousal. His hands brushed along her thighs, up towards her hips, where they caressed her sides as they traveled further to her waist. One hand rested on her back, while the other made its way to the nape of her neck. He pulled her towards himself, his touch tender yet demanding. Elena saw no reason to resist, and happily fell into his chest. Her lips found his again, her hands continued their expedition. Sherlock found himself overwhelmed by the many sensations he experienced, until Elena’s tongue trailed his lower lip and the feeling forced itself to the front of his mind. Hesitantly, he granted her access, allowing her tongue to slip into his mouth. It felt strange, but not unpleasant, he concluded as he imitated her movements. When Elena sucked gently on his bottom lip and softly sunk her teeth into it, he let out a loud moan. She tilted her head, still holding his lip between her teeth, softly tugging on it as he gasped quietly at the unexpected stimulation. 

To his displeasure, the pressure disappeared from his lip, as Elena broke the kiss and pulled back. For a moment, it saddened Sherlock that her face was moving away from his, but when her head dipped and her lips brushed the stubble just below his jaw, his chagrin gave way to yet another surge of exhilaration. She meticulously sought out all the sensitive spots in his neck, causing him to squirm beneath her touch. Slowly, he became aware of the nimble fingers that pulled at the hem of his sweater.

“Take it off,” she sighed, her mouth barely leaving his neck. His hands took over for hers and he hastily complied with her request. Before the jumper was even off, Elena’s hands were already working to loosen his tie - and making remarkably quick work of removing and discarding the garment, too. The buttons of his shirt were next, and they, too, succumbed under the touch of those slender fingers, one by one. He had admired those fingers so often, as they moved through the most difficult passages of a piece with confidence and ease, but not once had he dared to dream that someday - this day - he would experience them from this perspective. Elena played him like she did the violin; with great enthusiasm and determination - though perhaps with even greater skill. Sherlock pushed against her shoulder to steer her away from his neck. Then, after cupping her face in his hand and guiding it back to his, he kissed her passionately while his hands traveled to her waist, where they gently slipped underneath her jumper. Her hands undid the last button of his shirt and it fell open, exposing his chest, which Elena took as an invitation to rake her fingers across his skin. The feeling of his remarkably solid chest and the coarse hair on it heightened her desires; it caused the ache between her legs to grow and her to lean into him even further, to press her lips to his more urgently, and to kiss him more frantically than she had ever kissed any man - or anyone, for that matter. Sherlock answered, spurred on by a surge of longing brought on by the clash between his skin and her hands, by slipping his hands under her blouse, exploring the naked skin of her back and sides. Elena did not hesitate; she pulled away from him to reach for the hem of her jumper. Her eyes never left his as she pulled it over her head. As soon as she let go of the fabric, her fingers returned to her blouse. Only the minimal required amount of buttons were undone before this garment followed the same trajectory as the one before.

“Wow.” Whether he spoke the word or simply mouthed it, neither of them knew or cared.

Sherlock’s hands fell still around her waist, his eyes widened. The sight of her was almost too much; her long, auburn hair framed her face in the most enticing way, her mischievous smile and the longing in her eyes drained him of coherent thought with every passing second, and when his gaze dropped to her now exposed torso, he was positively done for. His eyes seemed glued to her chest; it heaved as she tried to catch her breath, and the motion hypnotized him. The soft curves of her breasts were so tempting that his hands all but itched to reach out and touch them. He could swear his fingers moved of their own accord, palms creeping up ever so slowly, along her sides, until his thumbs lightly brushed the underside of her bust. Elena used every bit of strength she had to stay where she was. The look in Sherlock’s eyes had her beside herself with lust, but she reveled in his attention and admiration, and she wanted to prolong it for as long as she could possibly manage. Every minute movement of his hands fueled the fire that consumed her from the inside. The thin fabric of her bra was not enough to conceal the hardening peaks of her nipples - a fact that Sherlock seemed to pick up on as well, as his hands traveled up her sides further. She whimpered as he used his thumbs to lightly brush the buds through the thin material. Suddenly, he gripped the nape of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. It was frenzied, messy, and quick, as he immediately moved away from her lips and kissed a path along her jaw to her ear. Where this courage to push aside his nerves and continue his quest had come from, he did not know, but he decided that the opportunity should not be allowed to go to waste. His lips worked their way down her neck: kissing, gently sucking and biting the sensitive skin, teasing it with his tongue. Her moans filled the air, her fingernails dug into his shoulder, and she could no longer stop her hips from grinding into him. In that moment, Elena wanted only one thing; to get even closer to him, feel more of his skin against hers, to truly melt into him and chase that sweet release. Feral groans heralded similar desires on his part. Their frequency increased as his mouth inched closer to her collarbone with every touch of his lips, every nip of his teeth, every gentle flick of his tongue against her skin. Encouraged by the desperate pressure she used in an attempt to hurry him along, and the fingers that tugged at his hair as a different means to the same end, he continued. One of Sherlock’s hands tenderly cupped her breast, squeezing lightly - at first. His movements became more erratic as she whined and moaned louder and louder with every touch. His other hand copied the actions on the other side. The way she was writhing in his lap, rubbing herself against the bulge in his trousers with every move - it was maddening beyond belief. Sherlock rested his head on Elena’s breastbone, wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and took a deep breath in hopes it would save him from losing his mind completely. Both of her hands cupped the sides of his face and tilted his head so as to allow herself to look into his eyes. He smiled up at her, eyes filled with love, or lust, or perhaps both. When he spoke, it was so calmly, with such softness and affection in his warm, dark voice that the sound pierced straight into her soul. 

“You are so beautiful.”

-> Part 3

#Henry Cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill characters #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #HC sherlock #sherlock x ofc #sherlock holmes x ofc #geralt of rivia #geralt #virgin!sherlock #first kiss #much anxiety many wow #179 crescent street #179CS #179CS2

[dollopheadsandclotpoles]

I know it's cool to shit on BBC Sherlock now or whatever, but even at a time when I didn't know I was aroace, to have a main character of a show who was an adult with a job, who was considered attractive and was a genius, be openly a virgin and admit he had no interest in romance was really important to me? I know he self-identified as a sociopath but it was more than clear that he wasn't one and idk... the show did not handle it well at all, and some aroaces hate that people call Sherlock aroace rep but like... it meant something to me, I guess

#BBC Sherlock #Sherlock #i personally stopped liking the show from s3 but the first two seasons really were good I still stand by that #i didn't even know I was aroace I shipped johnlock and everything but yet #the FEAR in my heart that they were gonna force in a romance #the way I flinched when they treated the virginity thing as a joke #the way John indicated something was wrong with him for not developing romantic feelings like idk man #I think I related to him a lot #it's like how i related so hard to Jughead Jones as a kid #i didn't GET IT then but there was something about it #call it bad aroace rep if you want #like how apparently the mandalorian is bad aroace rep cause it's related to religions #shaming people for sex or whatever idk idk ikd #sometimes you don't think that hard about it something just calls out to ya #like sheldon cooper is also aroace coded but idk if I felt that kinship with him #aro stuff #ace stuff #aroace tag

[davidtennantpussytulpa]

i cant think about sherlock holmes for too long or it scares me because why is he me. thats so scaryyyyy im just like sherlock holmes but a girl BUT ITS TOO REALLLLLL

#me when i do forensics and am into entomology and would have done bees if it wasnt for forensics #but still would like to have bees later in life. #me when i am an adult virgin with odd social skills. OUGH ! #me when im a faggot who has hoarding tendencies. #me when im weird im a weirdo i dont fit in and i dont WANNA fit in have you ever seen me without this stupid deerstalker IM WEIRD!!!!! #the only thing is i hate chemistry. im just like sherlock holmes but a girl and doesnt like chemistry. and hasnt done cocaine. yet 😈 #i have always said that if i was to be addicted to anything it would probably be cocaine and that i would have thrived as an 80s businessman

[holylulusworld]

Mr. Holmes' maid masterlist

Summary: You're his maid.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Maid!Reader

Warnings: angst, power imbalance, dub-con cuddling/sharing a bed (just in case), master-servant relationship, smut, unprotected sex, implied loss of virginity, name-calling, breeding kink, cream pie, possessive Sherlock, unrequited feelings, more to be added

Mr. Holmes' maid (1)

Mr. Holmes' maid (2)

Mr. Holmes' maid (3)

Mr. Holmes' maid (4)

Mr. Holmes' maid (5)

#sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #female reader #maid reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x female reader #Mr. Holmes maid

[ad0rechuu]

۪ ★ ۫ MILKY WAY ୨୧

based on milky way by seohyun

SYNOPSIS. ━━━━━ It’s not everyday that your friends childhood friend turns out to be the girl that you literally have a fan account for, but for Seonghwa, San and Mingi it’s become a reality. being able to get close to your bias is great! even if she does have a raging crush on someone else…

6mar23 | st. 09/03/23 / fn. 31/08/23

pairing. ━━━━━ college students! fans! park seonghwa, choi san, song mingi x fem! idol! reader (x idol! oc)

featuring. ━━━━━ ateez, kang seulgi (red velvet), fatou samba (black swan), park sujin aka swan (purple kiss), shin yuna (itzy), do hanse (former victon) oc, fem oc

genre. ━━━━━ smau, written, humor/crack, fluff, angst, suggestive, love square, idol/college au, strangers to friends to lovers, really slow burn, pinning, secret identity

warnings. ━━━━━ i’m not a native english speaker so my english might be a little off sometimes ! ! ! timestamps/sm numbers mean nothing, sexism/slutshaming, swearing, mentions of food/sex/serious topic, kys/kms and other questionable jokes, use of pictures for yn but only for reference (only of dark skin poc used), cyber bullying, ssngs, mental illness/anxiety, mentions of alcohol/drugs. small age gaps, more thorough warnings in the actual chapters, let me know if missed smth

notes. ━━━━━ the taglist is closed, spam likes are fine but consider reblogging with comments of ur thoughts (not only on my work but on other authors work too!) credits to the rightful owners of all the graphics n music

PROFILES. ━━━━━ SANRIO TRASH (STAR) ᜊ THE VIRGINITY CORNER (ATEEZ + YNS BBGS) ᜊ EXTRAS

PART 1. PRE TIME SKIP :

★ CH 000. prologue: HONGJOONG HAS FRIENDS?!

★ CH 001. CLONE FANTASY

★ CH 002. THE JASPER TO MY SHERLOCK

★ CH 003. SUS, VERY SUS

★ CH 004. DON’T LEAVE ME TALL FUCK

★ CH 005. EDIBLE SCENTED CANDLE

★ CH 006. MY LITTLE MEOW MEOW

★ CH 007. ONE OF THE GIRLIES

★ CH 008. SHES SO PRECIOUS!!

★ CH 009. IS YN OKAY?

★ CH 010. NO FANBOYING

★ CH 011. INTRODUCTIONS: PART I

★ CH 012. INTRODUCTIONS: PART II

★ CH 013. SUPER COOL AND HOT (RESPECTFULLY)

★ CH 014. AESPA WAS RIGHT

★ CH 015. GODDAMNIT PARK SEONGHWA

★ CH 016. WHAT THE H*CK

★ CH 017. I’M SO HASTAG SRS

★ CH 018. OPERATION: YNGYU

★ CH 019. HE’S UP TO NO GOOD

★ CH 020. PRAISE KINK ERA

★ CH 021. BAES JUST LIKE ME FR

★ CH 022. NVM Y’ALL HE RESPONDED

★ CH 023. TWO HEART EMOJIS

★ CH 024. RPS LEGEND

★ CH 025. KANG POMPOMPURIN

★ CH 026. BEGINNING OF A CHEESY ROMCOM

★ CH 027. WTFDYM

★ CH 028. IMAGINE NOT TALKING

★ CH 029. BLACK LIST SPEED RUN

★ CH 030. AS LONG AS SHE’S HAPPY

( EXTRA. ASK THEM ANYTHING EVENT:: PART i )

PART 2. POST TIME SKIP :

★ CH 031. BOMBASTIC SIDE EYE

★ CH 032. AS HOT AS I EXPECTED

★ CH 033. MY BABIES (AND KIM HONGJOONG)

★ CH 034. EVEN THE YANDERES

★ CH 035. DONGSAENG ZONED

★ CH 036. A STRANGE FEELING

★ CH 037. OLD FRIENDS

★ CH 038. I DON’T THINK I’M OKAY

★ CH 039. MINGI UR A PATHOLOGICAL LIAR

★ CH 040. LOVELY

★ CH 041. STEP BY STEP

★ CH 042. DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT

★ CH 043. OOPS

★ CH 044. WHATDIDIDOTOMYSELF

★ CH 045. LOVE LETTERS TO LEE HYORI

★ CH 046. LOSER DOESN’T EVEN DESCRIBE IT

★ CH 047. IF ONLY SHE KNEW

★ CH 048. LE’ ASTRE

( EXTRA. STAR’S 5TH MINI ALBUM :: LE’ ASTRE )

★ CH 049. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT’S UNHOLY

★ CH 050. I’M ALRIGHT, I PROMISE

★ CH 051. BUTTERFLIES

★ CH 052. #STAR IS KILLING ME

★ CH 053. OK? OK! OK

★ CH 054. PURSUE HAPPINESS

★ CH 055. WHY DID YOU NEVER TELL ME

★ CH 056. THE TRUTH

★ CH 057. SERA WATANABE

★ CH 058. XD

★ CH 059. MILKY WAY

★ CH 060. LOVE

( EXTRA. ASK THEM ANYTHING EVENT:: PART ii )

ENDING O1.

★ 00i. PERUVIAN LILIES

★ 0ii. THE PRETTIEST

ENDING O2.

★ 00i. WHAT MAKES HIM, HIM

★ 0ii. LOM(OMMY)L



ENDING O3.

★ 00i. FINAL PUZZLE PIECE

★ 0ii. MINE.

★ AFTER WORD.

milky way © ad0rechuu, 2023. do not copy/repost.

#★ MILKY WAY — smau #ateez #seonghwa #san #mingi #ateez smau #seonghwa smau #san smau #mingi smau #ateez x reader #seonghwa x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #ateez social media au #ateez texts #ateez masterlist #kpop smau #kpop social media au #kpop x black reader #ad0rechuu — works

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Complete master post of all spicy stories below!

Peaky Blinders

Comfortable - Thomas Shelby x Reader - Pt 1. Pt 2

While everyone else is away you get stuck at home with Tommy planning Polly’s Birthday party. Normally the two of you fight and bicker constantly. This time something different happens.... Loss of virginity, sex, enemies to lovers

Jealous - Thomas Shelby x Reader - Pt 1. Pt. 2

Tommy gets jealous when the reader runs into an old friend at the ar. Friends to lovers, confession of feeling, Pt 1 is all fluff & Pt 2 is all spice

Are You Asking? - Thomas Shelby X Reader

A younger reader (legal) who is friends with Ada surprises Tommy when she comes back from a trip abroad. Fluff and Smut

Tipsy - Thomas Shelby X Reader

Tommy teases the reader for getting tipsy, he walks her home and sees what happens. Hurt /Comfort & mild smut

The Italian Spy - Thomas Shelby X Reader

The Reader is an Italian girl who wants Tommy's help but gets a lot more than she bargained for. Hurt comfort & smut

Bloody Hell - Thomas Shelby X Reader

Things get messy when Tommy goes after the Italian cook in the kitchen. Explicit sex while being covered in blood

Threesome - Thomas Shelby X Reader X Alfie Solomons Pt.1 Pt.2

Double penetration with Alfie and your husband Tommy - Possessive & rough

Bubbly - Thomas Shelby X Reader

Super smart reader, struggles of being very pretty and anxiety, Falling for your boss. Fluff, & mild smut

Fix It - Thomas Shelby x Reader

Sex, fighting, depression, drinking, drug use, unhealthy weight loss, Esme & Polly to the rescue, Tommy fixes it. Hurt/comfort, Fix it fic,

Arranged Marriage - Thomas Shelby x Reader

Sex, loss of virginity, slow burn, falling in love, fluff and smut

Wedding Night - Thomas Shelby X Reader

 Sex, loss of virginity, fluff, cuteness, rough sex, the reader gets a little bruised but she’s happy about it

Tiny Dancer- Thomas Shelby x Reader

Sex, hurt comfort, falling in love, Shelby family drama, happy ending, hurt comfortt

Jealous Wife - Thomas Shelby X Reader

Tommy's young wife gets jealous of all the attention he gets. Rough emotional sex

Dom Assasin Reader X Thomas Shelby

A violent and sexy tale of revenge...

Mustache - Michael Gray X Reader

reader has a gun, negotiation that ends in sex, woman on top, taking what she wants, no thoughts of consequences, happy cheeky ending.

Never Safe For Work - Thomas Shelby X Reader -- Pt2

A reader with a high sex drive, and the things Tommy does to keep up - with Gifs

High Sex Drive - Arthur Shelby X Reader

Arthur Shelby trying to keep up with his wife - With Gifs

Enemies Make the Best Lovers - Thomas Shelby x Reader

Reader and Thomas are well-known rivals when a business trip from hell forces them to work together they must overcome their rocky past

Tangerine

Stop the World

After years of working against each other out in the field. This time you decide its best to team up - the aftermath leaves you weak in the knees

Tangerine Dream

Blue light room smut - you meet a man at the club and decide to go upstairs.

Baby Girl

Tangerine and the Reader get caught in a sticky situation and he finally understands the effect he has on her - Heavy Dom / Sub

Sherlock Holmes

Irene - Sherlock X Reader

The Reader is not impressed with Sherlock's long-time friend. SMUT

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders smut #thomas shelby smut #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #bullet train #bullet train smut #tangerine smut #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes smut #master post #smut masterpost

[sweetlittleneptune]

things MC has said at some point (pt.2)

"the fact that you died a virgin is really not that big of a surprise" (to Isaac)

"modern society is still horny for Sherlock, how do you feel about that?" (to Arthur)

"you're adorable, but you got mommy issues written on your forehead and I'm not sure I wanna get involved in that" (to Charles)

"you trigger my 'slap a bitch' mode every time you walk in the room" (to Mozart)

"you're kinda like Brad Pitt. everyone thinks you're hot and it makes you boring" (to Leonardo)

"you give wayyy too many murder ideas in your plays to be acting like this" (to Shakespeare)

"Comte, you should know how terrible your taste in men is" (to Comte)

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #otome game #otome boys #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp comte #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp jean #ikevamp charles #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp theo #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevamp faust #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp mozart

[milknhonies]

Wails of Wedded Bliss

Chapter 2 || Masterlist || Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: After finding his debts you decide to take matters into your own hands...what a terrible decision...

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Historical Typical Sexism, Debts, Domestic Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Blackmail.

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes:

★For those of you possibly turning around and saying “£290 is nothing for all of what Sherlock has bought”

...I’ll remind you this is set in 1890 and so since then inflation has risen greatly...

★So for the modern reader I must insist to explain that £290 in England is now worth £30,671...

★And for my American readers that would be $38,948

★And for my Australian readers that would be $58,490

★Basically...Sherlock Holmes is a material gorl 💅

Inspiring Song: "Ghiribizzi" by Paganini

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

7:35am Tuesday 6th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

You wobbled onto your feet as Mrs Hudson entered the apartment with a scowl... probably because of something Sherlock said to her in passing the stairs.

The old crow’s frown spirited away when she noticed you were awake and outside of your bedroom.

She smiled warmly in fact and bid you a good morning. You returned the expression as she came and collected the breakfast plates.

Your fingers trailed over the countless of papers on the table and the sleek wood of his violin.

Shuffling through each parchment and a sigh drawled from your lips.

“Mrs Hudson,” you hummed as she passed you, “I request you show me the expenses of the household purse.”

It was a common duty of a wife nowadays to keep track of all home expenses.

She paused and her eyes widened, her mouth flapped open and closed quickly again. Her teeth grimaced and her bony finger wagged, “I am afraid my dear, they are in Mr Holmes bedroom, and as I said yesterday, he can be an incredibly private person.”

His bedroom? Oh yes...he kept it locked. But by god you needed to get to the bottom of this theory you were building in your mind. You were married and a married couple shouldn’t withhold secrets.

“I am his wife, I am the second close thing to the holy trinity in his life now,” you snorted softly as you collected all the papers on the table and made a neat single pile, “I will see the documents and understand his predicament.”

“And which predicament may that be?” the housekeeper inquired as she laid down a fresh virgin cup to pour scolding tea from the hot teapot.

“Enola mentioned something about debts,” You clutched the front of your dressing gown to contain some decorum while you sat back down and gestured to the chair beside you for her to sit in as well, “his foul dismissal of my presence suggests not only disdain of our union but in addition a set of a secrecy and disfavour I will not permit in my marriage.”

You needed to know exactly how much debt he was in. You were willing to part some of your dowry to pay for it if you could. His aggression was surely caused by the stress of these debt...if you could lift them off his shoulders, mayhaps he would be kinder, gentle and respectful.

She passed you the cup and saucer while she took to pouring herself a cup. The elder woman smiled giddily.

You were pleased that there was no judgement of your modesty before her. It was a fine change compared to your strictly grandmother who would berate you if you dared leave your bedroom under dressed.

The elder cradled her cup and lowered it carefully, clearing her throat, “Mrs Holmes...”

You blinked...you believed you had asked her to not call you by your new name, out of friendliness.

“Mrs Hudson?” you queerly answered.

“Before your marriage,” her lip curled inward and her fingers lightly tapped her cup, she looked to the tea and quickly glanced up at you, “The detective entertained himself in some...appalling activities. I think it best not to open those locked pasts for your own sake.”

Appalling activities...in a world of proprietary that could mean anything...you did have your thoughts...you were only surprised that the notorious detective would risk tainting his reputation with some illicit practice.

You swallowed dryly before sipping lightly at the tea. You licked your lips and sighed shaking your head, “Speak plainly Mrs Hudson.”

“Oh please,” She prayed mortifyingly, “I daren’t repeat it.”

It wasn’t difficult to see the pink rising in the pale wrinkled face of Mrs Hudson.

You leant over the table and used small tongs to pick up a sugar cube and clenched your jaw. You wouldn’t play in another game of riddles, especially not with a elder woman with a privacy for embarrassing details. The sugar fell into the cup with a soft plop in the awkward silence, a ticking of the clock caught in your ear.

“Tell me or leave Mrs Hudson,” you pinched the papers on the desk , “I have documents to find and unless your words hold any meaning, do not bore me with unheard gossip.”

Her beady blue eyes under her spectacles fluttered, her lips parted at your stern tone. She inhaled deeply and looked around the room before leaning in closer to you.

She said in a hushed whisper, “My dear girl, your husband is a whore mongering, drug addicted gambler.”

Now that was a surprise to hear fall from her wrinkled lips. You pinched your forehead and rubbed thoughtfully. How would you handle this type of man?

You glanced at her with a small grin.

“Was- Mrs Hudson,” You corrected, tapping the table with your knuckle, “I will not allow such boyish whims into my marriage,” you wagged your finger at her and flashed her a devious smile, “He shall need to divorce me if he wishes to continue such behaviours, it might be harder for me to remarry but I trust not a single woman would last longer than me as his wife.”

A small laugh came out of the woman who gave you a dramatic military salute, she grinned and chortled, “Well, I admire your determination, but however will you enter his chambers? He has the only key.”

Your chest deflated, she was right. How would you? You chewed the inside of your cheek and looked over your shoulder to look at the closed bedroom door on the far side of the wall beside your own.

You slowly pushed up to your feet again and trapesed back to your bedroom, “Mrs Hudson, wherever did you put my hat box?”

The elderly woman put down her cup and swayed inside to follow you, she pointed to above the wardrobe. Standing on your toes you palmed the box down and laid it on your unmade bed.

Mrs Hudson was opening up your wardrobe and peeling through your hanging hooks of dresses and coats.

“My dear, surely you’re not intending to go outside in your frail condition?” she muttered as she trailed a fresh chemise over her arm.

Shaking your head you jerked you chin, “No Mrs Hudson, indoors I will remain.” Your hand clenched your lower belly with a hiss as a nasty cramp prevailed, “I don’t recall entirely but I believe a doctor was here last night, said I have begun my menses for this month.”

“I can see dearest,” Mrs Hudson hummed, pinching at your dressing gown...you had bled through it. A wet crimson patch stained the white cotton. You balked and flushed.

“Best get it off now,” Mrs Hudson winked, pulling it back and off your naked shoulders, “I’ll make you some packing.”

You shuddered and gasped at how forward your housekeeper was presenting. Respectfully speaking, you wondered if Mrs Hudson had been a ladies maid in her earlier years before her own marriage.

You tiptoed to the water basin on the vanity and squeezed the clean cloth inside of it. You cleaned the red and burgundy chunks and stream between your thighs. Your washed your hands back in the water and faced Mrs Hudson sheepishly. She smiled and pulled the chemise over your head.

“Let me roll some packing,” she said, pulling a bandage from the top drawer of the vanity and folded it into a flat palm of thickened fabric.

You shoved it up against your intimate flesh and squeezed your thighs together tightly.

Mrs Hudson then found a sanitary apron in the same drawer and helped tie it behind your back.

“Mrs Hudson you are a fine woman of elegance and saintly kindness,” you exhaled, “Thank you.”

“I remember when I was a freshly married girl,” She clucked happily, “My dear friend was a constant visitor and helped me with these things. Mr Hudson grew very jealous of our time together,” she sighed, “Now, do you require a corset my dear?”

You shook your head and plucked your fingers, “I shan’t accept any visitors, and in my sickly state it would be kinder to leave it be if I should make a mess of my inconvenience.”

If your stomach threw up from the stress of your internal curse, you didn’t want to wash through the delicate fabrics of your whale bone undergarments.

You found a loose blouse and black skirt to pull and button onto your body. You pulled up a pair of stockings.

You sat on the bed as Mrs Hudson buttoned your shoes up with a hook. As the kind older woman did this gradually with her small fingers and greying eyes, you pulled the lid of your hat box away.

You pulled out a long metal stick...

A sharp hat pin.

“There we are, all done and ready for the day!” the housekeeper announced, rising to her feet.

You rose up with her and smiled, “Please Mrs Hudson, might I burden you with making another pot of tea?”

She beamed and nodded.

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

08:45am Tuesday 6th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

You were grunting on your knees before Sherlock’s locked door. Your hat pin jammed into the key hole. The tip of your tongue stuck out the corner of your lips as you shuffled the metal and tried to carefully listen to the locking of the inner gears.

Little did anyone know...this little talent you learnt on your own... Breaking into your grandfathers wine cellar was not a overexerting task when you were fifteen. It wasn’t a desire to rebel, rather a desire to educate yourself...you wanted to be seen as intelligent and knew your wines.

It wasn’t too long before you came to hate the bitter taste...and then found your grandfather’s rum drum.

When he found you, he didn’t not strike you and decided the headache you received in the morning was punishment enough for your sinful deed. And for a whole week he made you drink a cup of the stuff every night, to teach you why alcoholism was not befitting for a lady...

You smirked at the memory. Perhaps it was unorthodox. But it was kinder than a lashing or earful from your grandmother.

It was just one of many secrets between the both of you.

The loud click and sliding of the last inner lock made your eyes sparkle. As you twisted the handle the door peeled open with a awful squeak.

“My lord, what a mess!” you gasped.

The room was in a disarray. A smell of mould and death hit your nose. You gagged and felt your belly churn.

There was cigar burns in the rug, papers, news papers and books thrown about. There were plates that were piled up in the corner on a desk and there was a dirt dried mud trails...

The curtains were stained and the dust was unbelievable. When your finger ran along a small stand beside the door your finger came back looking pitch black with the soot.

You sat back and stood up. Piece by piece you picked up all the papers and went to his filing cabinet drawer, it was empty! Of course it was empty, all the contents had been tossed about, decorating the room messily.

You fingered the massive haul of papers and sighed, you would need to organise them all...

Taking them back out to the dining table you started to arrange piles of parchment stacks. Receipts, paid and unpaid, by date and purchases. Your eyes catered to the numbers, you fetched a notebook to tally the expenses and sighed, cupping your mouth every so often at his choices of spending.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts and game of pounds, shillings and pence, you hadn’t heard the return of Mrs Hudson with a fresh pot and tea set.

“Dear me,” she said clicking her tongue and shaking her head, “It looks like you’ve got your work cut out! Now what’s all this?” She asked picking up a receipt off a pile.

Rolling your shoulders back she smiled proudly at the organisation of affairs. You gestured to the individual sheet stacks.

“Ah sings Den, Cocaine Tooth Drops, Black Shag Tobacco, gambling...prostitutes,” you chewed your lip worriedly as you glance back at the small note book you write on with a blunt pencil, “He has wracked up a wicked sum...”

The housekeeper put the receipt back and sat beside you after pouring you another warm tea, this time she added the sugar cube for you and stirred.

“How much?” She whispered looking over the thick almost book like mountains of papers.

Since the new year began...Sherlock had designed quite the irresponsible money expenses and debts...

£5.65 for the Opium Den experience.

£3.25 for the Cocaine drops

£10.41 for the tobacco.

£120.78 for the overall gambling.

£150.33 for his Mayfair Row whores to Madam Adler.

Total: £290.42....

You felt your lips tighten, your belly squeezed. You paled and frailly held the cup to your lips, softly blowing and softly stating, “Perhaps that number I will keep to myself Mrs Hudson,” you pushed a pile close to her and tapped at the top, “Be not alarmed however, he seems to dedicate his rent responsibly to you.”

She chortled and shook her head, “Oh I don’t mind that, I trust him to,” her eyes narrowed at the

Mayfair receipts, “I just never liked the company he brought home.”

Your eyes widened and it was like air had been stolen and kicked from your lungs, “He brought...” you choked, shutting your eyes, “Those...those women back here?”

She grit her teeth and finished her tea, “Yes, they leave like newborn foals with wobbly legs.”

When Mrs Hudson caught your worrisome eyes she gasped and tapped your hand softly, “Forgive me, I needn’t provide details.”

You pursed your lips disapprovingly before conceiting, “As much as it is wounding to hear, it is unavoidable,” you sighed and poured yourself another tea, “As his wife it is best I know everything about my husband and if he is to keep secrets from me,” you shrugged, “However shall I be a decent partner?”

Mrs Hudson put her cup aside demurely and leant closer to you. Still in her hushed tones, ashamed of the secrets she was sharing...but her eyes were full of excitement, perhaps this gossip was something she needed off her conscious.

“I would hear them in the night, screaming...I thought he was killing them,” more colour was flushing back into her face. A rosy hue dusted her nose and cheeks, “I am thankful every time when I would see them leave with smiles on their faces.”

You sat back in your chair abruptly and looked at her curiously, “Screaming and smiles?” You whispered under your breath, “How peculiar.”

It wasn’t possible. Did he hurt those prostitutes like how he had done to you? How did they walk away with smiles? Was it because he paid them? Not even you could think how to muster a smile after experiencing such awful tortures.

“I thought perhaps, he did what he had done onto you my dear...but when I saw the blood and your lack of pleasantry, well, I can confidently say-”

You slapped your cup on the saucers hard enough for a loud clatter, you said tightly, “Mrs Hudson I’d very much prefer to forget yesterdays events, if you don’t mind...please do not refer back to them.”

The mention caused a spike of pain inside you, reminding you where he stuck his hot selfish poker.

The elder woman grew quiet for a moment. She looked off at the window in the distance and then down at her cup.

She nodded and tried to share a soft smile, “Apologies for any offence.”

A stab of guilt panged in your chest, you hadn’t mean to be so rude to her. Your nerves were in a terrible mood. In a moment you would be happy and then the next you would feel worrisome and hungry. Perhaps you might’ve grown to be afflicted by the disease of Hysteria?

Oh Hysteria, what a terrible condition...you dreaded the thought of need to go for a medical massage. One of your female cousins had been to one and her description made it sound both enlightening and frightful. In fact she said it felt like she had died and gone to heaven and returned.

All of which made you scared beyond belief.

“None received,” you pat her hand and brought her palm to your lips, “You are a kind Christian and for that I say god bless you Mrs Hudson.”

She smiled warmly and stole a soft kiss to your cheek, all was forgiven between your temper.

“Oh my dear, I must additionally confess,” she stunningly proclaimed, “Sherlock doesn’t attend church.”

Your brows rose, “What?” You snorted through a laugh, unable to comprehend her truth, “Don’t be ridiculous, what upstanding gentleman doesn’t attend church?”

You giggled and cheerfully wiped a tear away, your sanity returned when her face had remained stone solid. She did not find it funny and you realised finally it was because in fact not a joke...

You glanced over the papers...back to the number on your notebook...ah of course...no god fearing man could sin so easily...waste away fortune so carelessly and spend it on unnecessary frivolous activities.

“I think that might be the answer to your own question. The Doctor Watson wrote his newspaper articles and depicted him London’s hero. He can be truly a godless man. Frankly I believe he’s a sadist.”

You tilted your head at her and drank some of your tea.

You hummed and held a finger to your lip in thought, “Yet you said those women had smiles on their faces when they left?”

Mrs Hudson shook her head curtly and smirked, “Well I think I’d smile too with the amount he probably pays them.”

Laying your elbow on the table with your chin on your head you looked at the brothel papers, “You are right...they are over priced...Mayfair Row...they’re quality...but nonetheless still he pays them far too much.”

Your husband was an exuberant tipper when it wasn’t his money. Mayfair Row...you hadn’t been inside the Dove club where Sherlock spent most the wealth...but you knew the average price of a whore...it took you back to a time...many, many years ago...back when you believed you had a mother that loved you...back when seeing a naked man behave like an animal writhing on-top of her was your normal life. Where you mimicked the actions with your cloth doll that you carried everywhere. You tried to remember the name of that doll....Susie? Harriet? God only remembers now.

They weren’t pleasant memories...the stench of mud, the screaming of women, the yelling if men, the bite of hunger and the itch of lice in your hair and fleas covering your clothes.

You shuddered. Thank god you still did not live with her anymore. It was the only life you knew in those days but suffering is suffering and you amazed you how long you survived in such conditions.

The elderly woman looked into the pot and sighed at the low level of tea.

“I am surprised you know so much about them,” she casually noted, glancing back at you.

You realised how strange you must’ve sounded...you heart began to race. You grimaced, annoyed at yourself for being so relaxed you lost thought of your own words.

“Call it a terrible interest Mrs Hudson,” you licked your bottom lip and lied, “I was a reader of Josephine Butler’s work on her dismantlement of child sex work.”

She nodded slowly, clearly Mrs Hudson had no idea who Mrs Butler was...you felt a twinge of agitation for the uneducated.

You tapped your fingers nervously on your cup again and off handedly asked “Do you know if there are anymore receipts I might find Mrs Hudson?”

“No idea I’m afraid,” Mrs Hudson said as she noticed your cup was finally empty. She collected the tea set items and placed them on the tray. You turned in your seat and looked back at Sherlocks open door, there was still so much mess. You shook your head.

Before the housekeeper left you touched her arm.

“Please fetch me a broom and cloth and clean water.”

She followed your gaze at his room and warmly cupped your face, “Dear, perhaps you should lay in bed for a while, you shouldn’t be working so perilously in this physical state.”

You smiled and held her hand, rising out of the chair. You walked back to his room and called over your shoulder, “I would rather clean my husband’s hovel. No wonder he’s a beast considering he lives like one.”

You could hear Mrs Hudson cackling behind you as she went back down stairs only to return with your requested items after a while.

A clean room might clear his head, calm his woes.

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

12:23pm Tuesday 6th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

After hours of sweeping, dusting, mopping, washing and organising Sherlock’s room you tiredly flopped back on his mattress and yawn.

At this rate you considered a small nap was required. Except you knew yourself, you knew if you stopped your progress you’d be discouraged to finish.

There was one last thing to organise after folding and hanging all his clothes. At the foot of Sherlock’s bed was a large chest. It could be easily mistaken for an ottoman. Maybe they’re would be more debt documents or clothing in there.

You crawled down and climbed off his bed to crouch beside the chest. You clicked the latches open and lifted the lid slowly.

Inside were sinister objects...you gasped...too shocked to even close the chest. Rope, shackles, knives, long thin sticks, a riding crop, a whip, a bridle you knew deep down was too small for a horse and meant for a human...smaller boxes with printed words....rectal dilators and hysterical paroxysm vibrating aid. And the illustrations...

There was a book you were reading...you weren’t really thinking, you were just curious of the horrid that might follow within...

Men and women, all nude, illustrations and photos of them performing elaborate sexual deviancy. Your eyes widened and your breath caught in your throat. Between your legs the buzz of arousal enlightened to your belly.

There was a woman who was tied up in ropes in star like patterns being mounted by a man who held a riding crop in his hand. You paled thinking he was beating this poor woman...and as you read the words, it was discovered she enjoyed this...took pleasure in the agony??

It was very confusing for you to read such hypocrisy.

Who would enjoy being hurt like this?

And as you read more and more, the deeper into this strange arousal you sunk into.

There was a illustration on a woman holding her lover’s intimate member in her mouth. And another where the same lover was licking with a long snake like tongue at her clitoris.

Your thighs squeezed tight and you groaned as a cramp rippled through your body down to your knees.

Hearing your name on your housekeepers lips tore you away from the novel. You threw the book back inside the chest and shut it hard. You felt short of breath and grasped the wood of his canopy to stay stable before leaving his chambers.

You told yourself that it was wrong to be looking at such art and imagery of lust. A part of you however desired to peak back inside...curiosity was your master and chastity your mistress. So who would you listen to first?

Your eyes fluttered shut.

You met the elderly woman out in the sitting room where she was dusting at the unlit fireplace mantle... She was moving little trinkets and photos.

Within the centre of the mantle stand was a frame containing your own portrait. You had the image taken at a tintype shop over a year ago. You stood beside Mrs Hudson as you took in the reflection of yourself. You smiled at how brilliant it captured your likeness. You were still confused how it worked, something about sand and light...your grandfather stood aside that day and said he would be sending the image to his son to remind him of you, his daughter...you were embarrassed to say the least but dared not argue with his wisdom.

Well it seems your father didn’t get the photo...or perhaps he send it back. Now Sherlock had it in his ownership.

She smiled at you and ran a hand softly down your back and said, “I just wanted to ask if you liked mutton dear, I hope to cook some this evening for dinner.”

You smiled with relief, you told her, “I am ever grateful for any food you provide my husband and I, thankyou Mrs Holmes.”

The elderly woman eyes widened with joy. She turned on her heel, taking the bucket and cloth with her.

You looked over at the table covered in receipts she had kindly left untouched.

“Mrs Hudson,” You called after her as you stepped hastily over to a side board bureau and began to write up a cheque, “is there any chance you will be attending the bank today?”

Facing you she pat the door handle and exclaimed, “No, however I can stop by if you need me to, I am officially in need to buy some fresh mutton from the butcher.”

You smiled at her cheery attitude. You filled out the numbers and printed the expenses. You tore it away from the book and held it out to her.

“Fantastic...here. Take this.”

The housekeeper stepped closer and raced her eyes over the cheque. Her eyes blew up wide at the price you had written out.

“I don’t quite understand...” she shakily stated.

You sighed and clapped your hands as you went to finally sit down on the lounging chaise. It wasn’t hard to admit you needed the rest with how your head spun. You were dizzy and it was possibly from all the cleaning you had conducted and dust you had inhaled.

“Sherlock needs to be rid of these debts and I need to rid of his temper...my dowry Mrs Hudson I pray brings me peace.”

Yes, you were sure of it. Your very expensive dowry...you were going to pay the debt off and help your husband become less of an animal. Perhaps you might convince him to attend church.

“Mrs Holmes,” your housekeeper stammered, “I would advise you hold onto this...please...you cannot just-”

You cut her off dignifiedly, “Mrs Hudson, this cheque card will enter the bank whether by your hand or mine. And before you have insisted I rest. So please if you care enough for me, you shall hand it in on my behalf.”

Her face was flushed and her eyes shut tight. She shook her head disapprovingly while muttering

“Very well dear girl, I hope you know what you are doing.”

Out Mrs Hudson went, and down you went. Your face pressed into a cushion. With your eyes fluttering shut, you feel back into the darkness and peacefully slept, listening to the wafting sounds of Baker Street flow from Sherlock’s bedroom window.

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

6:00pm Tuesday 6th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

Sherlock still had not returned home from his morning flee. As Mrs Hudson laid out a plate of roast and potatoes with gravy she assured you that Sherlock had a habit of staying out for hours. Whether for a case or his own pleasures and addiction.

On the table in front of you was the paper bank statement, it accounted that the cheque had been entered and applied to the debts.

Now the Sherlock Holmes was a debt free man...

After you finished your dinner, Mrs Hudson kindly helped remove your shoes and change your bedding. You were redressed in a night gown and over your shoulders a warm dressing gown.

You now only wore a sanitary apron to protect yourself from your blood.

All his paid debt receipts were in a folder, you stared at that manilla folder smugly. Your left it on the table as you went to inspect the book shelves on the far wall near the entrance of the home.

You looked at the many novels on the shelves, now some of them being the ones brought over from your grandparents estate. On quick flicking through pages you found most of them being related to science, language and anatomy. Glancing back at Sherlocks open door, you thought about the book in the chest. That was more than just an anatomy book...

You squeezed your side, you were feeling a spike in temperature and a shortness in breath reimagining those images...those words.

It wasn’t the smut novella Fanny Hill, but it stoked fires inside you much like it. You knew it was something you probably shouldn’t have come across, because you shouldn’t have been inside his room, touching his belongings.

You had to. It smelt like something had died.

You prayed this would sort him out. You could only hope that the years ahead would not be so testing.

You had a list of mental rules. You may be his wife and beneath his status, however you would not just stand back and watch him act a fool and fall victim to further ridicule in society. You would not sink in the same boat again. You were excluded from many balls as a teen when some wicked foul mouth girl had revealed the secrecy of your parentage.

Your step mother was only eleven years older than you, so really...there was no possibility of pretending to be her child. Everyone in high society of they knew you, knew what you were. And because they knew you were treated like a unspeakable burden and unwanted pet at parties.

It wasn’t a mystery to you why you started playing the role of a wallflower at only fifteen.

You refused to allow Sherlock to bring you to such shame in society.

The heavy foot steps outside the close door alerted you to an approach made by someone other than Mrs Hudson.

With the loud snap of the handle and click of the lock, in entered a breathless giant. Sherlock.

He tore off his hat and coat and only after hanging the items on the rack by the door did he acknowledge you with a small nod, “Mrs Holmes,” he bid. Under his arm you noticed was a paper wrapped package.

You heard him march through the house towards the middle room and heard him swear under his breath, follows by a repetitive “no no no.”

You heard him frantically skid around the carpets and floor boards of his own room. He was tearing open and slamming drawers and wardrobe doors.

“What the hell have you done! What have you-?”

Storming out of his room, you gasped at how his face reddened and he continued shouting, but thankfully not at you. He raced to the front door and tore it open screaming down the stairwell,

“Where are you woman!? Mrs Hudson! You shrivelled cow!”

You slapped the book in your hands shut, regarding him disdainfully, “Our housekeeper is not to be rewarded by your insults.”

The turn around he made was slow as realisation came to his heated face. The snarl was replaced by a begrudged sneer as he scoffed, pointing his finger sharply back in the direction of the bedrooms, “...You did this destruction?”

“Destruction?” You whispered. What destruction had you done?

As he approached, you unconsciously took a step back and nervously licked your bottom lip. You felt air being pulled from you as he towered above and stabbed you beneath a invasive gaze.

His darkened eyes looked across the light material of your nightwear. His fingers tugged the book out of hands and pushed it back into the shelving where it belonged.

You decided you needed to stand firmer against him, You craned your head back and stared up at him.

“H-hardly...I have organised. Cleaned.” You took another step back and felt the wood of the display cabinet behind you dig into your waist.

“By subject,” you felt his body press up against you, what the hell was he doing? Trying to intimidate you? You were hardly dressed compared to his full clad attire. It scared you. He looked formidable, like he was going to tear you limb from limb, his nostrils flared. Your insides jumped and that buzzing feeling ran through your lower half. God...why did this of all things arouse you?

Your throat felt shaky, “then- then ah numerical dated followed by alphabetically.”

You glance him over and blinked at the red spot on his chest, was it ink? No, ink isn’t so dark....under Sherlock’s jaw was a scratch, a slight discolouration to his skin and under his hair curl on his forehead as another mark.

He leant down and pressed his mouth to your ear, “Do not ever enter my chambers or touch my belongings without my permission again.” It was a mix between a whisper, an disciplining snarl, and a lusty moan.

It left your knees feeling bloodless. Your own eyes shut closed at the hot breath that breathed into your lobe and hair.

As he pulled back, he stood away and for the first few moments you needed to remember how to control your breathing.

He looked over the dining room table and slid the thick folder closer to himself.

“And what is this?” he asked you.

“Your debts,” You swallowed and wiped your palm across your forehead, a trail of sweat drenched your hand, “Paid for.”

He smirked and shook his head, “Mycroft.”

“No,” you bluntly said, smoothing your hands down your dress to rid of the wrinkles that rose up. Seeing how your nipples had hardened beneath your nightgown you pulled the dressing gown tighter around you and crossed your arms protectively over your chest.

You looked at his body hunched over the table and blinked at the white marks over the edges of his dark navy suit jacket. It looked like flour...except flour had a tendency to clump. His nails were also clean of any baking incredibly. But his finger pads on the wooden table left little faint prints...

“You?” he chuckled condescendingly.

You nodded, “Yes.”

His laughter quickly fell away, his head snapped up fully to look at you, his brows knitted together,

“Why?”

His lips settled into a frown.

He put his hands on his hips, a power play...he was trying to show confidence, dominance...perhaps in response to your arms folded over your chest.

It would’ve been good to just tell him the truth, but to explain it to him would be impossible. You chose to simplify the answer...

“Easement on your consciousness?” You offered dryly. It wasn’t a total like, the less stress, the more relaxing and kindness....right?

His mouth twisted into a snarl, “Why you insufferable little-”

“Where did you go today?,” you pondered, cutting him off from finishing his insult, “A school?”

He jerked back slightly, he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, he took a deep breath and cupped his hands behind his back, “Excuse me?”

Good, he was calmer now.

This time you took to action...you stepped forward and sighed solemnly pinching one of his vest buttons.

“Chalk, on your cuffs. You smell like sweat in a teenage boy rather than a man. You’ve also had a scuffle with someone much shorter than you from the marks on your neck. Your shirt has a speck of what I believe is blood and the button is loosen,” you pinched and ripped it from the shirt and it’s faint loose thread.

“Fret not...” you smirked and pat his chest, “I will mend it should you ask.”

His hands came around and squeezed your forearms, his head moved back a little. He was perplexed...a light upturn in his lips revealed his sudden amusement.

He lifted a hand up and gently touched your face. He was breathing in a controlled state. You felt the intimacy of his closeness without fear of his wrath.

“No...” he drawled, “I was at Scotland yard. A poor deduction...” his thumb ran across your chin, “dear wife.”

You felt your heart pick up as his soft hand touched your face, you tried looking away from his staring eyes. Sherlock’s edged closer to your lips.

“Poor deduction but I am not stupid,” you consoled.

His lips broke into a wider smile revealing his teeth, he chuckled, “...I beg to differ.”

He moved abruptly back and fled to escape to his rooms. You knew his intention perfectly and chased after him, emphasising, “You had almost three hundred pounds in debt Sherlock. I at least know how to wisely spend my money.”

He spun on his heel and snapped at you, pointing harshly at your chest, “oh ho! Playing this game then are we? With your dowry gone, you have nothing left. I’d hardly call paying off my debts which were none of your concern, wise spending.”

You grabbed his finger and announced softer, serious and less aggressive, “Indeed, which is why I implore you to cease all further transactions in regards to your addictions.”

“Do not patronise me wife,” He scoffed and rolled his eyes tried tearing his hand away but your grip on his index finger tightened and the both of your grunted.

You grit your teeth at him, “Do not patronise me husband.”

He sighed and wiggled his finger from out of your hand.

He dusted his hands on his waist coat and huffed. He peered at you with a mischievous gaze.

“My debts...they included my friends...yes? From Mayfair?”

Oh that was cruel indeed. Mentioning those women when you were married to him. You wouldn’t dare let him threaten you over them.

You fought the urge to hit him and stomp your foot. You turned away from him and quickly composed yourself. Hastily you plucked some matches from the small box ontop of the fireplace mantel. You struck a small flame and tossed it into the fire place where you discarded some old newspapers as kindling.

“Yes,” you admitted tightly, “I know about your scandalous behaviours and forbid you from consorting in that demonstration again.”

He pushed passed you and unbuttoned his jacket and vest fully. He draped them over the back of one of the lounges, he pulled up his trousers slightly as he sat down.

He chuckled, “You forbid me?”

You glared at him and shot back up off the floor. You squeezed your eyes tightly as you firmly dictated, “I am the only woman to ever receive you carnally from now on.”

He smirked and spread his legs wide, folding his arms on his chest. He jerked his chin up at you and clicked his tongue, “I don’t believe you know what that means. Believe me little lamb, my fidelity is that last thing you’ll desire...or did you not learn from yesterday?”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“I stand by what I mean Sherlock. You will not commit adultery while married to me,” you snapped. You wanted control, this would not be taken from you if you could help it.

“Or what?” He laughed, he then condescendingly moaned, “You’ll tell my big brother?”

As he went back to his smug chuckling you clenched your fists and stood over him. You weren’t thinking straight. Only a red shade cast in your eyes. You grabbed his collar and tugged him hard, spitting down at him with full anger as you threatened, “...Or I will kill you.”

He stopped laughing but didn’t stop his smug smiling. His hands came up and grabbed yours, prying them from his shirt.

“Barely been forty eight hours of wedded bliss and you desire to murder me. Ha! I now owe John five pounds,” he looked down at your chest which you realised was hanging in a uncompromising position. He could see right down your chest practically to your third rib with your lack of supporting chemise. Sherlock tongued the inside of his cheek and hummed, “My word.”

You gasped with horror and attempted to rip away from his hold, you grunted gruffly, “You are a pig Sherlock Holmes!”

He pulled you forcefully downwards and made your knees buckle. Your chest fell into his and you both hissed at the impact of crushing into each other.

Lewdly his hot wet tongue licked its way from your neck up to your earlobe while his hands pushed your thighs up to straddle over him, his fingers sharply stabbed into your backside under the night gown.

“You have absolutely no clue to what I am little Lamb.”

You tried pushing off him immediately, and felt his arm wrap around your waist and trap you against him.

Your legs so wildly spread and pressed against his trousers made you feel like you were riding on a horse.

Despite the plethora of farm animals you could compare in his and your name, you had both your wrists this caught in his one hand.

“Go on,” he chuckled as you struggled against him, “Tell me how you would do it...,” he taunted,

“How would you kill the great Sherlock Holmes, London’s finest Detective?”

You shrieked as you felt crushed under his baring arm, “I can think of many ways!”

“Well go on,” he smugly waited with raised brows, “Tell me.”

Your eyes rolled and you whined when he dug his nails into your wrists.

“I’ll push you down the stairs!”

He barked with laughter and shook his head, “You cannot be sure the fall would kill me, perhaps I might be paralysed, with many broken bones, but no no, I also don’t think you have the strength to push me around anywhere, look at you right now.”

“Fine!” you yelled, “Ill stab you with a knife!”

“Ah a violent approach, but what of the blood?” He grabbed your hip and moved you to grind your centre down on a lump in his trousers, “Why, even those idiots in Scotland Yard would figure out it was you; blood staining the clothes, carpet and blood beneath your nails, and where would you ever be able to hide the weapon?”

“Sherlock! Let me go or I’ll poison your tea!” you whined terribly.

He bit his lip and shook his head at you, “Oh dear Mrs Holmes, it’s possibly the most common death among an unhappy married couple. Wives are known to favour poison greatly.”

You heaved as you tried to catch your breath. You fell forward a little. Your sweaty forehead touched his.

“Please,” you whined, “let me go. All I want is you to be a civilised man and honour our marriage bed.”

He looked down at your parted lips. He looked back at your chest and shut his eyes.

“You want me to give up my whores Mrs Holmes?”

You gulped and nodded, “Of course.”

When he opened those blue orbs with the brown flecks, he whispered, “I promise to forsake them...if...”

“If?” you stammered and narrowed your eyes.

“Hush!” He reprimanded, “I promise to forsake my whores on Mayfair Row...If I can have my whore of Baker Street.”

Before you and time to reply and question what he even meant, he stood up and tossed you onto the floor. Sherlock crawled over you and pinned your flailing hands above your hand.

“You want to please me, please your husband, Mrs Holmes?” he gasped as his other hand went groping and squeezing around your soft body.

You weakly nodded, your head rested on the floor trying to get back the breath he knocked from you when he pushed you down.

You hissed softly, “Please, you’re hurting me.”

His hands loosened but held you trapped to the floor.

His lips danced over your cheek, “Then you will need to perform like a whore for me.”

A sobbing cry ripped front our chest, unsure of his real intention you quickly jumped to the conclusion of his implications.

You choked and shook your head, “No! I am not going to become a prostitute!”

He cackled at your fearful cry.

“No, this body belongs to me,” he said as he pinched the strings of your night gown and pushed the material away to show off your bare breasts.

His lips wrapped around your right nipples and sucked hard, tickling you with his tongue tip. Tears started to well in your face. You didn’t understand what he was implying to do to you. It tickled and felt so warm.

You were scared. You knew some men of the world were evil. Evil husband’s that pimped out the women they married. You couldn’t imagine being so intimate with another person. You couldn’t imagine succumbing to the agony you received the night before by Sherlock’s hand.

Kicking your feet across the rug and tried pushing your body from under him. He grunted as your nipple left his lips. He pressed the hand hard on your hip and affirmed, “Keep still, little lamb.”

“Sherlock,” you started to beg on a whimper, “Please, stop! You are frightening me, you’re h-hurting me!”

He looked down at you, his hair falling slightly on your head. His smile wavered as he took note of your tears and wobbling lips.

His gaze softened along with his voice, “...be completely honest with me.”

You nodded desperately, “I will, I will!”

“Did you look in the trunk at the foot of my bed?”

The chest full of explicit items and torture devices.

Your eyes squeezed tight and you exhaled, “I did.”

He smirked and let you go completely, standing up and held his hand to assist you too. When you were finally upright, he pinched your exposed nipple. You shrieked.

“I am a man Y/N, I have needs. I expect you to fulfil them earnestly if you desire I abandon my charity to Mayfair.”

You tried pushing his hand back and covering your breasts with the dressing gown. He smirked and shook his head at you, “No, no, let me see them.”

The silence was vile. The crackling of the fire place was the only ambience that showed attendance.

You couldn’t do it. It was wrong to be so exposed beyond the bedroom.

He waited and when you showed no sign of showing him, he sighed and nodded, “Very well, good night Mrs Holmes, I will call upon my friend Irene.”

He walked around you and journeyed to his open bedroom door.

As if all colour drained from your face you feverishly held out a hand and quickly called, “Wait, please! Look!”

You all but chased him into his own bedroom. He snapped his head in your direction. You stood in the centre space between his bed and the door.

He raised a brow and watched almost unimpressed as your trembling fingers shed your dressing gown and pulled the neckline of your night gown open...there he could finally observe your luscious breasts.

“Why Mrs Holmes,” he mused, sitting on his bed and peeling his cravat off his neck, “Your teats are exposed, careful,” he sarcastically warned, “One might mistake you for a slut.” You felt breathless and curled your lips inside.

You couldn’t believe it, you were letting him hurt you in a new way. You were letting him bully you. It wasn’t right and you desperately hated it, but what else was there except to let him defile and destroy your holy vows?

“Is that a sanitary apron on your waist?” he question, pointing at the lump under your gown.

You nodded, “I am still bleeding husband...”

“Do you know what that means?” Sherlock said unbuttoning his shirt.

Your licked your lips, folding your arms behind your back you tried hard to not cover yourself,

“My body is extinguishing my mental illnesses.”

He smirked and rolled his eyes, “Your medical knowledge is dated, but that is not what I implied...I meant that you should come to your knees and perform fellatio.”

Your eyes widened...fellatio was such a naughty word to hear let alone say. It was the type of practise in the book in his chest. Oral sex. Seeing the woman hold her male companions member appeared lewd and distasteful.

You hadn’t thought of ever doing it yourself, it served no purpose in procreation with god.

Flustered and shy, you cupped your hands over your face to think.

Sherlock’s voice was softer this time. He wasn’t mocking you as he explained, “I will not force you to do this Y/N, you do not have to if you do not want to.”

You shook your head and scowled at him from your hands, “But I do! I don’t want you to ever lay with a woman other than me! I am-“ you choked on some on coming tears, “I am your wife Sherlock, please...promise me if I do this you won’t lay with another woman.”

He unbuckled his trousers and sighed, “Then get on your knees,” he pulled out his semi hard rod, “and kiss your husbands cock.”

You looked over your shoulder at his door and then back at him.

Would you do this? Humiliate yourself in promise of keeping his vows loyally to you?

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

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#dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #sherlock holmes x female reader #sherlock holmes x poc!reader #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x ofc #sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x female reader #Henry Cavill x poc!reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes enola holmes #enola sherlock #enola holmes sherlock holmes #chapter 3 #milky fics

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Mommy... Master List

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~~~

That’s all for now, ciao ciao lovelies! 💞💞

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[angelltheninth]

NSFW Masterlist Part 3

MCU

Tony Stark x Fem!Reader - Only a Touch

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader - Interrogation and Reward

Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader - Silver Tongued Devil

Pietro Maximoff x Fem!Reader - Empty on the Inside

Namor Eating You Out

Namor with a Breeding Kink

MCU Characters + Boobs or Ass

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DC COMICS

Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader - Restraining Vengeance

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Catching Bruce Masturbating

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ARCANE

Finn x Fem!Reader x Sevika - Sharing is Caring or Something Like It

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Vander Getting Cockblocked

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VALORANT

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Haruta Being Overstimulated

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Sherlock Holmes Gets Needy in Your Office

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Car Sex with Aki Hayakawa

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A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE

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Aemond + Dirty Talk

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Post Injury Recovery Sex with Daemon

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The Bad Batch + Stamina

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Darth Maul x Fem!Reader - Cold, Hard Touch

Star Wars Men Threesomes

Cassian Andor Thanks You in A Special Way

The Bad Batch NSFW Headcanons

#masterlist #genshin impact x reader #jjk x reader #mcu x reader #dc comics x reader #chainsaw man x reader #arcane x reader #blue lock x reader #asoif x reader #yuumori x reader #valorant x reader

[sherlocksoft]

Spicy Sherlock headcanons

Sherlock Holmes x reader NSFW headcanons

Masterlist

Authors notes: as last time, I’m writing this with any version of Sherlock in mind, but that gif was too good to resist. Very much feeling a need to explore Victorian dirty talk in a short Drabble soon after this… there’s something about being absolutely filthy with a Victorian gentleman that just 🔥

Warnings: NSFW — smut, virgin Sherlock, switch Sherlock (needy sub/hungry soft dom), oral sex, vaginal sex, handjobs, fingering, cream pie, thigh riding, cock warming, teasing, edging, dirty talk, size kink

Sherlock has never been a particularly sexual being, always too focussed on the pragmatic to pay much mind to the whims of the vessel that is his body

He was nervous the first time. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was far out of his comfort zone and anxious that you would be dissatisfied with him (or that he wouldn’t like the experience and leave you even more disappointed)

He’s used to utilising the skills he knows he’s good at. How can he be confident with sex when he’s never even learned to pleasure himself properly?

Over time he learns his body though, alongside learning every inch of yours

Even the first time he slips his finger inside, he soon comes to realise that your body is simply another puzzle, and if he can find the right combination places to touch, the correct pressure and speed, he will solve it in no time

Almost cums in his undergarments when you come undone on just his fingers

He’s pleasantly surprised to discover the way you moan and gasp for him, and how this guides him in his endeavour to satisfy you

He’s also surprised to find that sex with you feels incredible, giving his mind a short break and a boost of pleasure he’s never considered would be useful until now

Constantly and absolutely in awe of your reactions to his touch, and even more so to his cock. He feels a spark of excitement when you tell him he’s too big to fit, and another when you cry out in pleasure-pain as he slowly slides inside and stretches you with a delightful burn, whispering, ‘That’s it, darling, you’re doing so well, taking me all the way in that tight little cunt.’

Speaking of the way he talks to you, he absolutely delights in dirty talk, especially when he’s using such vulgar words compared to his usual vocabulary. It makes your blood boil with lust to hear him talk like that (it’s a little bit like when a person who always wears a suit puts a casual t shirt on and somehow becomes even more attractive)

Will whisper something filthy in your ear when you least expect it and delight in the blush it causes to burn your cheeks (and the heat he knows it’s sending rushing to your core (basic science))

When he’s on a case and you offer assistance, he forms an idea. You end up between his legs under the desk, warm lips wrapped around his throbbing, leaking cock as he tries to focus on the task at hand

It soon becomes unbearable, and he has to stop his work, allowing his mind to switch off for a few blissful moments as he falls back in his chair, spreading his legs and bucking his hips, fingers slipping into your hair to feel the movement of your ministrations until the orgasm that rips through him resets his mind

As you wipe your mouth and tuck his softening length back into his trousers, you hear him muttering away, scribbling something on a scrap of paper and you know he’s finally reached the conclusion he needed, with your help

Don’t feel left out though, at the end of the case he will eat you out like a starved man over and over until you’re trembling and he’s moaning into your slick folds

He’s pretty sure he invented edging. When you accompany him away from Baker Street for an investigation and have a frustratingly quiet time, instead he ends up using the time away to keep you simmering on the edge of orgasm, telling you he will only let you cum when you get home

The train ride back is torture but it’s so worth it when you get into the flat and he pushes you up against the door finally taking you. Later writes a monograph on The Science of Sporadic Pleasure

When he gains more sexual confidence, he generally has two modes: needy sub, and hungry soft dom

Needy sub Sherlock is what you get when he’s loosing confidence in a case, or when he’s between cases and growing bored. He seeks reassurance in your touch, whimpering as you slip your hand into his trousers to bring him off, gripping the sheets and begging as you ride him slowly, the measured movement of your hips both hypnotising and torturous

He will lay with you afterwards, safe in your arms, fingers gripping onto you just as hard as when his climax was nearing, whimpering as your stroke his messy hair and whisper sweet nothings into his ear while his high subsides

Hungry soft dom Sherlock comes out to play when he’s excited, when he’s pulled off a dramatic reveal that got his blood pumping, or when he’s so close to figuring out the answer to something, he knows he just needs that little push to get him there — and now he understands what’s so great about orgasms, one of those will do nicely to help him on his way

He also knows you like it when he’s a little rougher, and takes immense pleasure in satisfying you that way, particularly if he’s been busy lately

He slams into you mercilessly, growls muffled against the crook of your neck as you hold onto him for dear life. Between moans of how good you are for him, how exquisite your cunt feels around his cock, how only you can make him feel like this, he mutters the other thoughts that flash through his brilliant mind lie puzzle pieces

Just before he empties his seed inside you, as his climax builds, everything starts to come together in his mind. He has his lightbulb moment just as his peak hits, and he cries out the answer in a guttural, breathy shout while you clench around him

He holds you close for a moment as his thick cum drips down your thighs, thanking you profusely and making sure you’re not hurt, that you’re satisfied and comfortable before taking off to finish what he’s been working toward

If he’s half dressed, you sometimes need to remind him to straighten up as he’s frantically grabbing what he needs before leaving the house, the telltale signs of a half buttoned shirt poking out from a ruffled waistcoat, untied cravat and open fly — even Lestrade could figure that one out without help

When he returns, he kisses you passionately for what feels like hours, languid het firry, grateful that you’re so patient with him, that what you do for him is something no one else could

‘I’m sorry for using you earlier, my love,’ he breathes apologetically, ‘allow me to make it up to you?’ And he does just that, spending the evening entirely focussed on your pleasure

More often than you might think he’s happy for you to use him for your own pleasure, lying on the little couch and beckoning you with a lazy finger to climb on top

‘I know I’ve been absent, darling, and I really must continue my work but I simply cannot rest a moment longer without giving you a mind shattering orgasm. Ride my thigh for me while I think thingsn through, there’s a good girl.’

When he’s feeling playful, he will encourage you to sit on his cock while he’s at his desk, having you warm him until you’re squirming to rock your hips, but he will only shift his own hips slightly when he’s able to continue his work without your whining distracting him. He has to grip your hips hard to keep you still

And while he’s pausing for thought, his fingers might just slip down to rub your clit for a short while before he resumes his research

Delightfully vocal, especially when he’s particularly horny. He’s never pleasured himself enough to learn to keep quiet, so he just lets it out and it’s enough to alert the whole of Baker Street

Never ever leaves you dissatisfied

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

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡A Lesson in Perseverance｡⋆.

Sherlock Holmes x plus size reader

The day has come where Sherlock finally takes you, even if he is far too big

Warnings: size kink, established relationship, virgin!reader, wedding night, Sherlock is a teasing shit, fingering, smut, unprotected sex

WC: 684

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

He looked godly like this, doused in flickering candle light, his curls wild atop his head as sweat dripped down his brow. He flooded your vision, he was the only thing you could see, the only anchor you had left to reality.

Pleasure had easily built in your belly, your husband driving you to the edge just as easily as he would solve a case or string the bow for his violin. You grasp for him, needing to touch his skin, to know he’s real. “Sherlock.” You mewled, your voice already fucked out and raspy.

He smirks. “That’s it darling.” He cooed, his voice dropped even lower, a mere rumbling growl in his broad chest. He had waited oh so patiently for this day and now that it was here, he would savour every delicious second of it. “Give in, let yourself open up.” A thick finger moved from your bundle of nerves down to your opening. 

His thick body was nestled comfortably between your thighs, keeping you spread open and vulnerable for him. One large hand cupped your mound possessively as his fingers explored the soft flesh. You whimpered and whined with each touch, desperate for more but terrified of what was to come. The cold metal of his wedding band cutting through the heat between your legs. The ripped remains of your wedding gown lay beneath you like a white flag of surrender, evidence of your husband’s need for your body. 

With trembling hands, you reached for him again but he smirked wickedly, his blue eyes glinting in the low candlelight and pushed your touch away, pinning your wrists to your plush stomach with one mighty hand. “Do not be so impatient. I have been waiting for this day since I first saw you- you can handle a few more moments.” You attempted to disagree but instead a moan slipped from your lips as his middle finger finally breached you.

Your cunt burned even with a stretch as small as one of his fingers but as your husband curled his knuckles, ecstasy washed over you like a comforting wave. Your eyelids fluttered as you struggled to take in a breath. And right as your back arched from the bed, your lungs finally filling with air, a second finger joined the first.

Pleasure ricocheted through you, tearing you apart and pulling you back together all at the same time. Sherlock’s smile grew darker as he watched you crumble. He had spent months thinking about this day, this moment. You were bound to him for all eternity, the perfect bride meant for him.

“I think you’re ready for me now my darling.” Sherlock withdrew his hand slowly, drinking down the gasps that escaped your lips, savouring each and every mewl. His fingers shone with your release which he eagerly licked up. “Divine. I think I will feast on you every chance I get.” You gave an embarrassed whine and turned your head away from your husband.

“Now now wife. I won’t have any of that.” He guided your gaze back to him, forcing you to look upon his large frame as he towered over you. “Your eyes will remain on me as I fuck that perfect cunt of yours.” 

After a moment, he seemed satisfied that you would not look away again, so he released your jaw, letting his hands wander down the length of your soft body until he reached your wide hips. “My beautiful wife.” That was all the warning he gave before the crown of his cock was notched at your entrance and he slowly thrust into your weeping cunt.

Pain. That was all you felt, like the sting of an insect that only grew more intense with each passing second. Your fingernails bit into Sherlock’s broad side. “Too big.” Your body was on fire, an uncontrollable flame that your husband’s lust fuelled. 

His head rolled back between his broad shoulders as he moaned, his hands gripping your wide hips even tighter. He forced even more of his considerable length inside you. “Do not fret wife, we have only to persevere.”

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[shotgunbunny]

═๑♡𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬♡๑═

WC:4.7k+ GIF by gay-bucky-barnes

dark!Sherlock X reader

{warnings: NONCON/DUBCON!! reader is sold!! mentions of prostitution in Victorian era!! misogyny!! age gap!! blood but not a lot at all!! dirty talk!! virginity loss!! breeding kink!! insane Sherlock!! murder!! like this is dark baby!! manipulation!! brainwashing?/Stockholm syndrome!! kind of a sugar daddy?!! dacryophillia!! spitting!! }

Sherlock was accustomed to lady company quite often but the problem was the fact he didn't get satisfaction from any of the the ladies. After every intimate moment he shared, a numbness settled over him faster than he expected and he would lay there miserable all while his company was perfectly satisfied.

Sherlock heaved a sigh over his problem. He didn't want to be detached from his emotions during sex anymore. He craved to be wrapped up in pure bliss with the overwhelming feelings of love too. And that was apparently too hard for the detective to find. So he had decided to take on this problem like a case.

He stood at his desk staring down at the chart of paper. He needed someone who would fit his type perfectly, and even he didn't know what it was. He grunted frustrated over this. That didn't help him get any closer. By the time he had decided to just look at a local whorehouse, convinced that there would be a lady there who would help him due to their experience, night had fallen over the London streets.

Sherlock grabbed his coat and left his cane behind, trying his hardest not to be noticed by any that would recognise him. He headed down to the pleasure house that is simply known as 'THE PINK STRAWBERRY.' Apparently there, all the women smelt and tasted of strawberries and Sherlock was positively excited to see if this was true. He entered the establishment, allowing his eyes to drag along the men that were sat in the velvet chairs.

He headed to the desk where a man dressed in a dark 3 piece sat. He looked up at Sherlock and smiled. "What can I get ya' sir?" He spoke nasily and it made Sherlock irritated yet he hid it, determined to solve his issue. "Do you have anything new? Any new deals? Anything intriguing?" The man looked around before looking Sherlock up and down. "You ain't a pig are ya'?" He whispered the question and Sherlock leaned forward, "I am not." Technically not a lie, he was a detective not a police officer after all.

"Good then. I got a new deal indeed. A new girl just came in. Innocent as can be. Naive and dumb, perfect for molding. You can have her for the night. Or you can have her forever at the right price." Sherlocks interest peaked as he thought about the offer. The molding part definitely appealed to him. Don't get Sherlock wrong he was glad that feminism was making a move into society, but he needed a submissive wife. He had worked hard and supported enough so he deserved a reward.

"I'd have to meet her." The man stared at Sherlock suspiciously before he heaved out a sigh and slid a key to him. "You get five minutes. And then it's decision time. Got it?" The man stated it all firmly all while staring Sherlock down. "Understood sir." With the agreement made the man directed Sherlock to the room where this new woman was.

He unlocked the door feeling his palms slightly sweaty from nerves and excitement over the prospect that there might be someone by his side soon. He kept his eyes on the floor as he entered the room and then turned to close the door, preparing himself to see you. He turned and his breath was instantly knocked out of his chest.

You sat in the messy silk sheets. Clad in a white nightgown that was short on you and only just hid your lady parts. The sexy lingerie pushed your breasts together perfectly and you looked like an angel. Your hair framed your face perfectly and your big doe eyes stared up at him questioningly. Scared even. He scanned the rest of you, your lips were big and plush, your skin looked soft and your legs looked positively sexy to him.

Sherlock moved to the bed and sat in front of you, cooing as you slowly moved away from him, cautious of the strange man. "Do not worry angel. I am not here to hurt you. I wish to get to know you. My name is Sherlock, what is yours my darling?" You continued to stare up at him with those big eyes, mesmerising him. You whispered your name to him, your voice a melody to his ears. He repeated your name, feeling his heart flutter over how he pronounced every syllable of your name and how it would perfectly match up with his last name.

You stared at the hulking form of the man that sat on the edge of your bed. He was handsome yet he intimidated you. His eyes were a beautiful cold stormy blue, yet the way they observed you made you uneasy. It was like he knew everything about you just from a glance. His dark brown locks looked so soft and you couldn't help be drawn into the contrast of how he looked both hard and soft at the safe time. His broad shoulders and muscular arms that were tight against his suit had you squirming over how he looked almost godly. He was a specimen of a man, but you knew he was here for something you had tried to save. Your virginity.

"Is it okay if I call you angel?" He asked gently soothing you to a degree and you nodded your head at him. Still keeping your eyes on him. "You know angel, I was given an offer to buy you. I can get you out of this place and keep you safe and warm. All you'd have to do is be my wife. I can assure you there are no bad intentions behind this. I simply wish for a pretty girls company." His voice was soft the whole time and he allowed himself to reach out and hold your small soft hand in his large one. Embracing the size difference between the two of you and how he would have to go easy on you.

"I-I wanna get out of here. But I don't even know you sir. How can I trust you?" Your curious gaze lingered on him and he smiled softly bringing your hand to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles. "You just have to trust me angel. You can ask me anything you want and I shall answer." You examined him and his soft demeanour trying to conclude if it was fake or real.

"O-okay. Why do you want a wife sir? You're already h-handsome enough. I am confused as to why you've come to a whorehouse to find a wife. It's almost ironic." Sherlock chuckled at your mumbles. "I need someone pliable to my needs. I've struggled with connecting my emotions to sexual activities so I'm seeking an emotional bond first. A whorehouse is where women are used to finding a man's pleasure, I believed they helped me. And indeed they have, they've brought me to you."

You blushed at his words, yet you remained confused over them. You had no idea what to expect from the hulking man and if you rushed into a relationship with him, you were scared of where you'd end up.

"Can I confess something Mr. Sherlock?" He resumed his soft smile allowed his gaze to soften too. "Ofcourse angel, anything to keep hearing your heavenly voice." You blushed at him before bringing your gaze to his, allowing your eye contact to hypnotise him. "How do I know you won't hurt me?" Sherlock got off the bed before he kneeled down with his hand on his heart staring up at you in the bed from his bowing position and spoke confidently. "I promise you, I would never raise my fist at a woman and I would most certainly never even dream of hurting you angel." You smiled finally and nodded at him.

He stood up and resumed his place on the bed, allowing his final few minutes of getting to know you be filled with you shy mumbles of what you liked and who you are. A knock on the door startled you and he placed a large hand on your leg comforting you. The door then opened revealing the man from the front of the house.

He started displeased of Sherlocks hand on you thigh and spoke loudly and confidently. "So, do we have a deal?" Sherlock turned his head to look at you and you stared at him. You saw his eyes scanning your reaction and you looked away with a blush, not wanting to give away the fact that you were hopeful to be leaving here and even excited to become a wife. Sherlock grinned at your shyness. "Yes we do have a deal." And with that Sherlock threw a bag stuffed with coins and notes at the man making him gasp at the amount inside.

Sherlock turned to you, and grinned making you smile too. "Come angel, let's go home."

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

Adjusting to life with the detective was a hard one, a terrifying one. You never really agreed to be with Sherlock, you felt like a cattle being sold off to the next consumer where you would eventually be slaughtered and devoured. You were forever grateful to God above for saving you from marrying Sherlock as he had no time at the moment or the coming moments to take your hand.

He had often argued with himself over it and you stood looking at him. You remember when you came into his office and saw him staring at his chalk board filled with writing and conclusions and you heard his frustrated mumbles clearly. "Stupid fucking pricks. I will marry her, she will be mine and that'll show them. I'll make sure she's fucking filled with my kids, so that then you can't deny letting me marry her. And I'll ofcourse get kids. What a perfect scenario." You gulped and tiptoed away terrified.

You were often alone at Baker Street, staring longingly out of the window trying to figure a way out of this hell hole. Yes Sherlock never raise his hand at you but his insults were vile and left you heartbroken and self conscious. He often reprimanded you for ending up in the whorehouse rather than waiting for him, and when you went to respond about your father selling you he would cut you off with a glare filled with a darkness that filled your stomach with dread.

Because of the long periods of time being locked up in his house, you had become accustomed to the lay out and began to hatch out a plan of escape. You had to plan it carefully making sure that the detective didn't suspect and that you were 2 steps ahead of him. You mapped out the floorboards and the windows, even single structure of the place and began planning any route that would lead you to the streets where you would bolt and never look back.

After you had planned four pathways perfectly so that even the mighty Sherlock Holmes wouldn't even suspect, earth shattering news was given to you. You see while you thought you were cautious and cunning, you were actually sloppy. Sherlock noticed every move you made, he overlooked your plans while you slept and chuckled at how silly they were. From going under the floor boards to jumping out the window.

He knew he had to find a way to discourage this, afterall he had spent money on you and was promised a moldable doll that would fulfill his needs. And don't get him wrong, he was most definitely attached to you emotionally. Everything you did drove him crazier in love with you. From something as simple as you gentle morning breathing when you were at peace to your more fiery moods when you were planning an escape erratically. He loved your passion, your gentleness and your ever growing desires to escape.

See he also had a plan too which would boost his love for you and unite you both. Yet first he had to discourage you, crush you. And he did this by killing your parents, making sure it ended up in the newspaper where he then gave it to you. He watched with sadistic pleasure as your eyes filled with tears over their deaths. Yet he did not predict you throwing yourself into his arms and sobbing.

You longed for some form of comfort, even if it was with the man that held you prisoner. His arms were warm and for a small second that bled into a week, you felt safe. You felt comforted grieving in his arms, he promised to take care of you and he had. He was. "My Angel, you know that I adore you. I will keep you safe forever, you just have to stop fighting. Let yourself fall into being Mrs. Holmes and I'll promise you whole the world." He whispered gently into the crown of your hair, you hummed, your throat aching from crying so loudly.

And after hearing his words of adoration, you let yourself sink into him. Into his love and his comfy and soon he began surprising you. He brought you home beautiful dresses, jewelry. Anything you wished for he would bring to you. It was then that Sherlock realised the key to your heart was through money and beautiful things, so he decided to spoil you in hopes to catch you when you fell deeply in love with him.

He remembers the time he got you to wear your potential wedding dress. A long white dress covered in lace with long arms. You walked out shyly and coughed quietly. Sherlock turned and his mouth opened slightly, his eyes widened slightly and a blush coated his cheeks. With quick firm steps, he headed towards you and placed his large hands on your waist. You looked down meekly, mumbling, "What do you think?" Sherlock brought his hand up to your chin, tilting your head up to look into his eyes. He flashed you a charming smile before he gently spoke with passion and love swirling around his eyes. "You look perfect angel. Truly sent from heaven."

All too soon you found yourself surrounded by gold and rubies, and as beautiful as they shined, but it only helped prolonged the aching in your heart. The need to run free and choose your own fate began to rise up in your blood again and you began devising your escape again. And Sherlock caught on immediately feeling his heart ache that his gifts weren't enough to satisfy you. But it was no matter, you would be thankful soon, you would worship him for the gifts he bought you.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

Tonight was the night that you escaped. You were ready, Sherlock had told you he would be working late and you faked a pout and spoke gently, "I hope you hurry home soon, I get lonely with you honey." To which he placed a kiss on your forehead and then on your lips before rubbing your noses together and replied in his soft gruff voice, "Don't worry angel, I'll be with you sooner than you think." And then he headed out the door locking it.

You looked outside and saw the darkness spread down the streets and the with a sigh, you dragged yourself to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. You were prepared to fight for your freedom. You stared in the mirror, you were dressed in your comfiest dress and you were thankful you took your corset and other accessories off. You put on sensible shoes and then heaved a breath in and out and started to undo the window lock. You heard a click and smiled.

You got up and pushed yourself out of it so that you were sat on the ledge. A cool breeze swept past you and you breathed it in. You looked down your heart hammering at the giant drop that you faced. There was a large bin beneath you thankfully yet you were still terrified. You closed your eyes and pushed off the ledge suppressing your scream the best you could. When you peaked your eyes open you saw your in the large dumpster and saw that many pillows were stacked in here to cushion your landing.

Your blood turned cold at this and you quickly scrambled out. You fell out and as you pulled yourself up, you heard the familiar taps of a cane. Sherlock knew. You froze and turned to stare at him. His face was blank and he stared at you. He spoke clearly. "You may have thought you were 2 steps ahead of me angel. But I am always a leap ahead of you. So I give you the choice. Go back to our room and your punishment won't be that bad and I will forgive you for your temporary lapse in judgement."

A pause played between the two of you and you felt tears gather in your eyes. You had come so far, you were so close. You waited for him to speak feeling your heart hammer. With a heavy sigh from Sherlock, he spoke again, his voice deepening a warning evident in his tone. "And if not, then try running and see what will happen angel. Because I can promise you, I will tear your wings off and break your halo before you can even apologize."

Your heart raced and you slowly turned gulping. You had worked too hard and with that one thought playing through your mind you sprinted and a dark laughter soon followed you. And before you could even make it to the first lamp post you were tackled onto the ground by his hulking figure. He spoke hotly into your ear, "I warned you. Now you're gonna deal with the consequences." He pulled you up over his shoulder and stomped to your shared apartment. He kicked the door down and the kicked it closed.

He stormed to the bedroom and threw you onto the bed. You gasped trying to catch your breath from crying and the fear that was vibrating in your chest. You watched as he quickly stripped from his clothes in anger. His predatory gaze settling on you immediately after his cock sprang free. You couldn't bring yourself to look at it. Instead you continued begging with your eyes to stop this but you were only met with his cold, dominating gaze.

"Strip." He said, his voice a hiss. You shook your head crying more. "Do it or I'll do it for you." You let out a pitiful sob and within seconds he was upon you and tore your dress open. Buttons popped off and seams torn, your breasts spilled free and within a few moments of them being exposed, Sherlock brought his head down and took a nipple into his mouth. Licking and sucking it, you felt yourself grow wet for him yet you held back your moans. A squeal left your lips as he quickly bit your nub and smirked. All the hike his thumb was pinching and caressing the other.

He pulled away and stared down at your tits. "Just wait til these are full of milk for our children. Your breasts will get so heavy, and I'll happily hold them. Fuck this little body is so perfect. Pretty tits to match your pretty face. I can't wait to mark them up with my bites and my cum. And don't give me any crybaby shit, this was your choice whore."

He soon tore the rest of your dress off followed by the rest of your clothing. You quickly tried to shield yourself but he was too fast. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head and smiled wickedly at seeing your naked body on display to him. You slowly brought your gaze down his body, getting wet at the sight of his muscular arms and his chiseled body. And then staring in shock over his big cock. It was long and girthy. A prominent vein running from the bottom to just under the tip.

Sherlock settled between your legs, you were hip to hip and with a grunt, he grabbed his cock, and slid it up and down your folds before pushing into you ripping the air from your lungs and replacing it with a scream which was quickly muffled by Sherlock's massive hand. He stared down at where you both connected and groaned feeling your pussy tighten around him trying to lubricate itself around his massive cock.

"Fuck. You're tight little pussy is fucking perfect. So warm, so tight. It's fucking hugging my cock. Your pussy is a big a whore as you. You wanted this, you wanted me to fuck you. You wanted me to shove my big cock into your little pussy. Awwh look at your tears, you look like such a slut. Maybe that's why you were in the whitehouse, cause you're just a fucking slut."

He looked down at you and smirked and your closed eyes, he moved his hand from your mouth to your chin and then pried your lips open with his thumb and then spat into your mouth. He then held himself up with one hand, remaining perfectly still letting you adjust to his cock. He then spat on two fingers and brought them down to you clit and began rubbing viciously. He then stared down at you again and pressed his mouth to yours.

He swallowed your groans and moan and let his tongue swipe around you mouth letting him taste every part of you before pulling away while sucking on your tongue. When he pulled a way a wire of spit attached you both for a second before it broke and splattered on your face. He smirked and the felt how wet you were and licked from your cheek to your temple. You fluttered your eyes closed until his hand gripped your jaw, and took away the small bit of pleasure you were feeling. You stared up at him mortified.

"You will look at me. Understood, I'm warning you. You keep your pretty eyes on me. With your fucking pretty crocodile tears. You keep looking at me or else it will get worse. I'd hate to lay my hands on your pretty face an leave a nasty mark there."

He then began to rock his hips and let his thrusting start slow and steady. Letting your virgin cunt get used to his cock and his thrusting. He moved his gaze from your eyes to where he was in you. As he pulled out he saw bits of blood on his cock and he groaned feeling a sense of glory over taking your virginity. And after he felt that glory he let himself go and began thrusting with wild abandon.

"You were a fucking virgin. God that's so fucking perfect. My good girl. You saved this cunt for me didn't you. Ofcourse you did, you had no idea what to do with it until you met me. This is my cunt now. I'm gonna cum in it, so it's fucking mine!"

You began moaning and whining feeling bliss wrap around you everywhere. You brought you legs up to knot around his hips, needing more of him even though you didn't want more. Your small hands travelled to his broad back and began scratching it, needing to grasp something to hold onto reality from the pleasure you were feeling. You felt the knot in your stomach and unwinding and then you finally felt go and came all over his cock with moan that echoed in his head.

He placed his head in your neck and planted kissed and sucks everywhere. Covering you in his love bites and the pure fact that you were purely his in that moment nudged him closer to his climax. And then he felt your pretty pussy flutter around his cock and cum all over it. And soon he lost control and came in you. Making sure to fill you up and not let one bit go to waste.

"Fuck did so good. Did perfect. Gonna make me a father aren't you. Such a perfect little angel, such a good girl for carrying all my kids. Did so fucking good taking my cock, gonna get a ring on that finger tomorrow and then I'm gonna fuck you until you can't think of anything but me. My angel. Gonna make you love me as much as I love you."

He laid on top of you and peppered your face in kisses, whispering things into your ears that you didn't hear as you were too blissed out and were close to falling asleep while he still had his cock in you. You let your eyelids close and your breathing slow as you drifted to sleep with Sherlocks cum dribbling out of you.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

You and Sherlock had moved into a much more spacious home and it was truly wonderful. The garden was big and filled with flowers and he would pick one single flower a day and present it to you before explaining the meaning. You were positively drowning in his love. So much so that you had stopped fight against it and allowed yourself to sink into it. And in return you gave Sherlock all the love in your heart too, allowing for your mind to be vacant with everything except Sherlock and your family.

Enola adored staying over to play with her nieces and nephews. In total you and Sherlock had 5 children, not counting the one that was currently in your stomach. With 3 strong boys and 2 gorgeous girls it seemed like life was complete. Enola taught them key things even if they were little, but they understood. You blamed that on Sherlocks genes afterall he was the smart one.

Speaking of, you just heard the front door close and the sudden parade of small feet dash down the hall to see their father. You giggled and continued making dinner for everyone all while pregnant and a baby in your hip. Little James was quite the mother's boy and he was clingy. Yet they all were at his age. He babbled to you as you stirred the stew, he listed colours and insects trying his hardest to remember what insect came out of a cocoon.

You heard the childish laughter getting closer and the heavy footsteps of you husband. Sherlock watched you, absolutely mesmerized by how perfect of a mother and wife you were. Don't get him wrong he still supported the feminist notion slowly rising, but he could not bring himself to allow you to do any of it. Seeing you as a reward for all his hard work. He drew his attention to James sat on your hip listening to his confused babbles.

"A butterfly my dear James." Your son's eyes lit up and you gently placed him down for him to wobbly toddle towards his dad for his daily cuddles. You smiled content at the homely and domestic atmosphere. You zoned out looking at the blue sky, still stirring the stew, completely missing Sherlock dismissing your children to go and wait in the dining room.

With gentle steps, Sherlock curled himself around you, and you leaned back into him and turned your head up and slightly turned it, and he placed a soft gentle kiss on you lips and gazed into your eyes lovingly. "How were the children, Mrs.Holmes?" You smiled, "Enola came over and kept them busy drawing, yet James decided to cling to my side and question me as to why my stomach has gotten so big."

Sherlock chuckled and moved his large hand up to your stomach cradling your pregnant belly. He placed a soft kiss in the crook of your neck before gently whispering, "And how are you my love, is our little one treating you okay?" You sighed happily feeling peace radiate through your bones and into Sherlocks. "I'm fine, they were kicking up a storm this morning but I think that's because they weren't ready for daddy to leave for work."

He hummed, "I apologize my angel. Truly, this one is going to be a little devil and I think that's my fault entirely." He said smugly. You giggled at him, and allowed him to keep cuddling you as you made dinner and settled into your husbands embrace and his dark love.

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[starryeyedmunson]

lessons in the bedroom - e.m.

pairing: eddie munson x female reader

summary: eddie teaches you how to give a blowjob.

warnings: smut (minors LEAVE): oral (m receiving), pet names: sweetheart, baby, one use of ‘hun’; mention of a heterosexual hook up appointment; swearing, stupid jokes

author’s note: enjoy eddie munson’s masterclass on head. enjoy :)

pt. 2 ; pt. 3

word count: 2.9k

“Shut up, asshole.”

“I’m not judging you,” Eddie was in a fit of laughter. “I just can’t believe it. I knew you were a virgin, but you haven’t even-”

“Can you just help me? I’m having this guy over tonight, and I can’t be flying blind out here,” you snapped. Eddie had been your friend for a while now; you felt comfortable with him regarding everything. Everything would also include your sex life, or rather lack thereof. This was the first time you were inviting a boy over; you had gone on a couple dates with him already. He was nice, and you thought it was time to finally give him an inch. What that inch was, however, you had no idea. So there you were, standing with your arms crossed and interrogating Eddie for instructions on how to give a blowjob.

“Okay, okay,” he finally stopped laughing. “Do you have a vague idea of how to go about it?”

“I mean,” you started. “I know you put your mouth around it.”

“Alright, Sherlock, you’re set.” You threw the plastic water bottle in your hand at his head, and he dodged it as he fell into laughter again. “No seriously, is that all you know?”

“That’s it, I’m getting help from Steve,” you huffed.

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry, okay? I’ll be cool, promise,” he put his hand up to swear it to you. “First and most important rule: absolutely no teeth.”

“Hm,” you thought out loud. “That makes sense. Wait- do you have, like, something I can practice on? Like a banana or something?”

“What about this place makes you think bananas are something you would find in it?” he snarked. You rolled your eyes, but you knew he was right.

“Okay, smartass, so how would I know if I’m doing it right?” you probed.

“You could always practice on me, sweetheart,” Eddie winked. You gave him a blank stare as your mind calculated the best way to actually accept the clear joke of an offer. “That was not serious,” he said slowly.

“Well do you have any alternate ideas because that is the only plausible one you’ve suggested,” you spoke quickly.

“You are not perfecting your head game on me,” he said flatly. “Even though free blowjobs are both great and hard to come by, I’m not making you do that.”

“You aren’t making me,” you dragged out the sentence. “I need help. Here, think of it this way: I get the guidance I need, and you get a blowjob that is totally tailored to you.”

“You’re being serious right now?” Eddie questioned. You nodded your head, walking over to the bed and reaching for the blanket.

“Here, you can put this over my head so you don’t get weirded out by the sight of your best friend sucking you off,” you offered the blanket to him, and he took it slowly from your hands.

“Uh,” Eddie scratched the back of his neck. “Alright, but this is purely for research. Scientific method, all that shit.”

“Do you even know what the scientific method is?”

“Heard it somewhere, I think- that’s not the point.” Eddie unfolded the blanket and laid it over his thighs. “Okay, first thing’s first: do you want to learn laying down or on your knees?”

“I feel like I should try and fit into the stereotype if I’m gonna go all out,” you put your hands behind your back.

“Alright,” Eddie opened his legs to make space for you. “Kneel down here.” You slowly moved in between Eddie’s legs, bending your knees and putting your hands on the ground for some support as you got into position. You looked up at him, and he inhaled deeply. “I’m gonna take off my pants and stuff now.”

“Please don’t narrate,” you shuddered. Eddie tightened his lips, unzipping his jeans and pulling them down to his ankles. You could see his half chub through his briefs, much to your surprise. “You’re already- hey!” Eddie threw the blanket over your head.

“You don’t get to narrate either,” Eddie fixed the blanket so it was settled more evenly over you, then leaned back on his hands. “Okay, showtime.”

“Jesus, don’t say that,” you scoffed. “Just tell me what to do, Munson.”

“Uh,” Eddie sighed. “So take it in your hand and give it a few pumps through the cotton.” You reached up and grabbed his clothed cock, your hands light and barely gripping him. “You can tighten your hand a little, yeah like that,” he exhaled as your grip hardened a little more. “Okay, now go slow at first, just up and down the shaft.”

“Like this?” you stroked him, just as he described. You could feel him hardening more with each time you rubbed him. “Hello?” He didn’t say anything for a bit, and you got worried.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered. You didn’t really know if the speech impediment was a good sign, but you continued anyway. He reached under the blanket and put his hand over yours, causing you to stop. “Here, I’m gonna take off my underwear now, is that okay?”

“Sure,” you took a deep breath.

“No, not ‘sure.’ I need you to say yes,” Eddie pressed. You smiled softly to yourself, grateful that even in the completely non-platonic situation you were in Eddie still cared for you in the way a best friend would.

“Yes,” you complied. He moved his hands towards the top of his briefs, slowly pulling them down and letting his fully-hard cock spring free. You helped him lead the fabric all the way down his legs to meet his jeans, and you were faced with the sight of your best friend’s dick. Your eyes widened, actually surprised at his size. “You walk around with this thing?”

“Please stop talking,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. You giggled from under the blanket, and Eddie sighed. “Alright now do what you were just doing, nice and slow.” You resumed your motions, finally able to feel the thick veins that ran up his cock. You narrowed your eyes and your tongue peeked out of your mouth in concentration, trying to keep the steady rhythm that Eddie had showed you.

“Should I start now?” you had a small voice, and Eddie barely heard it through the blanket separating you two from each other’s view.

“Yeah, you’re gonna want to get it slick first, so try and spit on your hand or, like, on me,” he instructed.

“Well I don’t have the best aim, so I’m not doing that,” you defied.

“You kind of have to or else it’ll- holy shit,” Eddie breathed out. You had pooled saliva in your mouth, making your tongue extra wet and licking a stripe up the bottom of his shaft. It caught Eddie completely by surprise, and he was beginning to think you weren’t as inexperienced as you led him to believe.

“What- was that wrong? Fuck, sorry,” you freaked out.

“No, the opposite, sweetheart,” he sighed. You shrugged your shoulders and repeated your action, this time running your tongue in a zigzag pattern to cover more ground. You heard Eddie groan from above you, and that plus the nickname ‘sweetheart’ had you feeling a little more confident about how you were doing. You shifted so that your head was above his dick, and you let yourself drool over it, the spit dribbling over the top half that hadn’t gotten any attention yet. You resumed your hand motions, stroking up and down with a lot more ease than you had before.

“This is pretty straightforward, actually. I feel like I’m not doing too bad, right?” you wondered out loud.

“Yeah, you’re n-not bad at all,” Eddie managed, too lost in the feeling of his cock in your hand. “You ready to actually start?”

“I think so,” you focused back on the throbbing dick in front of you. “Do I have to put the entire thing in my mouth at once?”

“Not necessarily,” he answered. “You can slowly work your way down if that’s more manageable. Just start at the tip and then go down a bit, then come back up.”

You took another deep breath, opening your mouth a little to take his tip in like he said.

No teeth. Got it.

You let your plush lips cushion around the pink head, only encompassing that at first before moving back up to the top. You repeated yourself, slowly inching down more each time. You pulled off of him completely, still stroking his leaking cock. “You’re gonna need to give me some verbal feedback instead of this heavy breathing up there.”

“Yes, it’s- yes,” he groaned. “If I don’t say you’re doing anything wrong, you’re doing everything right.” You nodded to yourself, then wrapped your mouth around his tip again. You bobbed your head up and down slowly, too scared to go any faster. Your hand was stationary at the base of his dick, and you felt the blanket moving as Eddie fit his hand around yours. He guided it up to just below your mouth, and with each sink and rise of your head, he held your hand to follow it. You soon got the memo, picking up the pace ever so slightly and moving your hand on your own. “Fuck, baby, just like that,” he just about moaned. Eddie’s grip loosened, but instead of taking his hand out from under the blanket he laced his fingers through your hair. He picked up some of it, making a sort of ponytail and holding on tight as you blew him.

On the other side of the blanket, Eddie was trying to stay as quiet as possible. He couldn’t believe that you, his best friend, were on your knees in front of him with his dick in your mouth. The way it fit perfectly in between your lips, the warm feeling of your tongue running up and down him, the perfect pace you had set yourself at. It had his mind wandering to how your pussy would feel, what it would be like to endure your pulsating walls against him as he made you scream his name. He had always fantasized about that, but he never considered it a plausible reality.

But there you were, entrancing him as you hollowed out your cheeks and created a pressure in your mouth. Your pace was drastically faster than how it was at the beginning, and your tongue was now swirling around the head, lightly grazing over the slit at the very top. You had no idea what to do with your other hand, so you put it high up on his thigh. Your grip tightened, earning a moan from the boy above you.

Am I supposed to be doing something with his balls right now? You literally had no idea, so you decided to just go for it. The hand that was on his thigh moved to just under your head, and you lightly grazed the two sacks beneath the cock you basically owned at this point.

“Holy-” Eddie now really moaned. You froze, terrified that you had fucked up.

“I didn’t know what to do with my other hand,” you defended yourself.

“Please, please do that again,” Eddie keened. You were surprised at first, but then a smirk appeared on your face. You took his cock back in your mouth, but this time you grabbed onto his balls a little tighter, massaging the both of them to the same rate you were bobbing your head. “Don’t s-stop,” he whimpered. Your hair in his hand was now being tugged on, keeping you at a consistent speed. You rolled his balls in between your fingers, and he pulled on your hair tighter, eliciting a moan from you. Eddie felt it in his cock, the vibration running through him and causing his head to fall back.

“It’s getting a little hot down here,” you stopped again, and Eddie had to collect himself. “Should- can I take the blanket off?”

“If you w-want to,” Eddie was still trying to find his footing with his words, and you realized that you had him in the palm of your hand. Literally. You slowly lifted the blanket over your head, revealing Eddie’s flushed face and the small beads of sweat along his hairline. You looked up at him, but he wasn’t making eye contact due to the possible implications that he didn’t want to address at the moment. You furrowed your brows, but you knew as you took your hand and wrapped it above the other one on his cock that he would break. You began wringing your hands around him, moving up and down while your wrists rolled back and forth. You took his balls into your mouth this time, sucking and flicking your tongue slowly as to play with them.

Eddie was in a blissful turmoil above you. His one hand was still gripping your hair for dear life, while the other was clinging to the sheets. He was swearing under his breath, letting out a small shit, baby every so often. His eyes were screwed shut as you had your way with him, and dared himself a glance at your frame kneeling in front of him.

He was doomed. Your makeup was slightly running, your eyes trained on where your mouth was ruining him. The visual of your hands going up and down his strained cock along with your tongue and lips kneading his balls was sending him into a frenzy, and when you hit him with those innocent doe eyes it was almost all he could take.

“You look so f-fucking pretty, sweetheart, you know th-that?” he praised. “Doing so good down there, so good for m-me.” You were now working with ultimate conviction, the flattery doing its job. “G-gonna, shit baby h-how do you know just how I l-like it,” he was falling apart in front of you.

You sucked on his balls with a little more force, your hands moved at an even faster pace, and you were determined to make him cum. You popped off his balls and replaced your mouth with your hand, taking his entire cock into your mouth. It was hitting the back of your throat, and your gag reflex was on the verge of being triggered.

“I c-can’t, gonna- oh god.” He couldn’t warn you in time, but the twitch inside of your mouth was your alarm that he was spent. With your entire mouth around his length, you could feel each surge of the cum that shot through and out of his cock, the hot fluid hitting your throat and forcing itself down your esophagus. The salty taste was foreign to you, and you honestly didn’t like it. But you didn’t totally hate it either. Your preferences didn’t matter as it was already filling your mouth. The last pulses of his cock played out, and you slowly made your way back until his dick was no longer in your mouth. A dribble of his cum was trickling out of your mouth, and you used your thumb to collect it before putting the thumb in your mouth, sucking off the semen.

Your gaze moved up to find Eddie gawking at you. His lips were parted, and his breathing was inconsistent. His entire face was red and damp, and his hands were in his matted hair. Yet he still looked so pretty, so submitted to you as if he was the one keeling at your feet. Your eyes darted around the room until you looked back at him.

“Well?” you said, completely unassuming. Eddie let out a loud but exhausted laugh.

“Don’t bullshit me, hun. That was not your first time at all,” he closed his eyes and sighed, finally at rest.

“Why would I lie about that?” you were offended. “That is, like, so beyond embarrassing.”

“I don’t know why you would lie about that, but you definitely did.” Eddie flinched at you smacking his leg, but just chuckled as he looked back down at you.

“What can I say, I’m a natural,” you gave him a small smile, and he dropped one of his arms to put his hand on your cheek. He rubbed his thumb lightly across your skin, the moment containing a hint of intimacy. You put your hands on the ground and got up to your feet, brushing off your shins and knees. “Well, thank you. You know, for teaching me.”

“I should be thanking you,” Eddie snickered. You rolled your eyes, turning around and grabbing your jacket. Eddie was pulling up his bottom articles of clothing while you weren’t facing him, and he was just pulling up the zipper when you turned back around. “Off to your house?”

“I guess so, yeah,” you said. “Gotta show off my new party trick.” Eddie gave you a tight smile, and he walked you out to the front door. “So,” you turned to face him. “This little experiment is confidential, right?”

“Oh definitely,” he laughed. “Robin and Steve would lose it, and don’t even get me started on if Dustin were to somehow find out.”

“Perfect,” you giggled back. An awkward silence fell over the two of you, and Eddie cleared his throat and opened the door for you. You walked outside, giving Eddie one final glance. He gave you a smile, and you saluted him.

What the fuck did you do that for?

He raised his eyebrows and gave you a little salute back, and you groaned in embarrassment and trudged down the stairs. You heard Eddie laughing behind you as he closed the door, finally reaching your car. You got behind the wheel and took a deep breath, turning the car on and heading for the actual performance you just had the dress rehearsal for.

Hopefully what worked on Eddie would work with this guy.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie stranger thing #stranger things smut #fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot #eddie one shot #eddie drabble

[tylerxrbtwhp]

Personal Favourite Fanfics | Sherlock Holmes |

NOTE: This is entirely my favourites so if it offense any of you, I don't care. It might seem mean, but this is how everyone is. P.S: ISTG I'm actually nice 💀

Henry Cavill's Sherlock Holmes:

En Garde https://www.tumblr.com/ithebookhoarder/700363473057628160/synopsis-your-husband-has-always-been-protective?source=share

Bewitched https://www.tumblr.com/cinebration/700022517638840320/bewitched-sherlock-holmes-x-reader-request?source=share

The Experiment {1} https://www.tumblr.com/sherlocksoft/720044593814667265/the-experiment?source=share The Experiment {2} https://www.tumblr.com/sherlocksoft/721735199838355456/the-experiment-pt-2?source=share

Dangerous Games https://www.tumblr.com/callmemaeverick/700148734404820992/dangerous-games-sherlock-holmes-x-femreader?source=share If Only You Would Know https://www.tumblr.com/espinosaurusrexex/709047438545190912/if-only-you-would-know?source=share Run Away https://www.tumblr.com/multific/699612561573920768/run-away?source=share It Takes Two https://www.tumblr.com/frost-queen/734448194490089473/it-takes-two-reader-x-sherlock-holmes?source=share Pulse Point https://www.tumblr.com/st-juliet/700595018092675072/can-i-request-an-nsfw-fic-sitting-on-sherlock?source=share A New Years Kiss https://www.tumblr.com/make-me-imagine/705226568468971520/a-new-years-kiss?source=share Unfailing Confidence https://www.tumblr.com/cinebration/700296882676711424/unfailing-confidence-sherlock-holmes-x-reader?source=share Only You https://www.tumblr.com/thisisawonderfulusername/704360254583996416/only-you-cavillsherlock-holmes-x?source=share Dance In The Winter https://www.tumblr.com/darlingdekarios/722523690629234688/dance-in-the-winter?source=share Benedict Cumberbatch's Sherlock Holmes: https://www.tumblr.com/iamsherlocked1479/713022583842422784/admit-it?source=share

Hold It Together https://www.tumblr.com/iamsherlocked1479/723734057530408960/hey-could-you-do-a-smut-where-virgin-reader-is?source=share

My Muse https://www.tumblr.com/specialagentlokitty/720463481796771840/sherlock-x-reader-my-muse?source=share

Stolen Love https://www.tumblr.com/freckles-things/704444975185821696/stolen-love-bbc-sherlock?source=share

Brother Dearest https://www.tumblr.com/starks-hero/697324677898584064/brother-dearest?source=share

What A Lovely Inconvinience https://www.tumblr.com/starks-hero/712182074421985280/what-a-lovely-inconvenience?source=share My Type https://www.tumblr.com/specialagentlokitty/719588419383230464/sherlock-x-reader-my-type?source=share Exact Opposite https://www.tumblr.com/lykaonimagines/702753577537568768/exact-opposite-sherlock-x-reader?source=share My Favourite Person https://www.tumblr.com/specialagentlokitty/718640213077950464/sherlock-x-reader-my-favourite-person?source=share Don't Be A Brat https://www.tumblr.com/iamsherlocked1479/735527507205423104/dont-be-a-brat?source=share

[No Name] https://www.tumblr.com/yandereaffections/188283801811/sherlocks-beyond-concerned-for-how-you-react?source=share

[No Name] https://www.tumblr.com/mykinkyyandere/685510432203603968/imagine-the-reader-coming-to-sherlock-for-help?source=share Robert Downey Junior's Sherlock Holmes: Oblivious Pain https://www.tumblr.com/just-dreaming-marvel/686875499130191872/oblivious-pain?source=share

And Then There Were Two https://www.tumblr.com/nikoruistyping/676683580767895552/hi-again-this-is-the-anon-from-before-if-i-can?source=share Robert Downey Junior's Sherlock Holmes, Series:

In The Game Of Love {1} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/662704224159793152/in-the-game-of-love-1 In The Game Of Love {2} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/663945231671181312/in-the-game-of-love-2

In The Game Of Love {3} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/664791573947662336/in-the-game-of-love-3 In The Game Of Love {4} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/666249575040974848/in-the-game-of-love-4

In The Game Of Love {5} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/669679249658150912/in-the-game-of-love-5 In The Game Of Love {6} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/670429416861614081/in-the-game-of-love-6 In The Game Of Love {7} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/670665006890778624/in-the-game-of-love-7

In The Game Of Love {8} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/670681378996748288/in-the-game-of-love-8

In The Game Of Love {9} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/670781776622469120/in-the-game-of-love-9 In The Game Of Love {10} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/672584933855870976/in-the-game-of-love-10 In The Game Of Love {11} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/675767664185163776/in-the-game-of-love-11

In The Game Of Love {12} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/676397774885011456/in-the-game-of-love-12 In The Game Of Love {13} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/676412402640797696/in-the-game-of-love-13 In The Game Of Love {14} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/676841121888043008/in-the-game-of-love-14 In The Game Of Love {15} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/677125955018457088/in-the-game-of-love-15 In The Game Of Love {16} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/678402072761270272/in-the-game-of-love-16

In The Game Of Love {17} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/678567136800686080/in-the-game-of-love-17 In The Game Of Love {18} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/678588326088966144/in-the-game-of-love-18 In The Game Of Love {19} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/678643863030808576/in-the-game-of-love-19 In The Game Of Love {20} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/678682570019487744/in-the-game-of-love-20 In The Game Of Love {21} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/678765024046694400/in-the-game-of-love-21

#bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock fandom #sherlock x reader #sherlock & co #rdj sherlock #henry cavil x reader #henry cavill #henry cavil x y/n #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill sherlock x reader #henry cavill sherlock #BBC sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #benedict cucumber #benedict cumberbatch x reader #robertdowneyjr #robert downey #robert downey jr #robert downey jr x reader #robert downey junior #robert downey jr sherlock #rdj #rdjr #rdj x reader #benedict cumberbatch sherlock #benedict cumberbatch sherlock holmes #rdj sherlock holmes #robert downey sherlock