"Look here, Watson; you look regularly done. Lie down there on the sofa, and see if I can put you to sleep.”
He took up his violin from the corner, and as I stretched myself out he began to play some low, dreamy, melodious air- his own, no doubt, for he had a remarkable gift for improvisation. I have a vague remembrance of his gaunt limbs, his earnest face, and the rise and fall of his bow. Then I seemed to be floated peacefully away upon a soft sea of sound, until I found myself in dreamland...
-the Sign of the Four
Or: when your crush is falling for someone else and you’re making one last ditch effort to show your good qualities
Details:
Most of the furniture is referenced from photos I took at the Sherlock Holmes museum and also a funny little Holmes themed bar I visited!
The drawing on the wall is “The Bride, Bridegroom and Sad Love” by Simeon Solomon, 1865
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I've seen a lot of people talk about how the game doesn't give you any leeway when you play The Dark Urge, how it makes it very clear that Durge was A Bad Person, but I haven't seen it pointed out that Sceleritas seems VERY well versed in gaslighting the hell out of them and steering Durge away from any doubt or guilt in regards to their actions. Makes me think that they've probably had those types of conversations before because Durge actually always had a soft spot, only it got smaller and smaller in time. I have not had the opportunity to see the Heal cutscene yet, but I've got the butler in my camp now and he had some interesting things to say, like
[Durge: Can you tell me the worst thing I ever did?
Sceleritas Fel: There was one time you gave a beggar some coin while we were en route to the Devil's Fee.
Sceleritas Fel: You didn't kick him or spot on him or anything! I was so shocked I almost fainted!
Sceleritas Fel: I still have nightmares about it to this day. But I'm sure you only did so to lower the suspicions of the Flaming Fist. Surely?]
and it struck me because tossing a coin to a beggar is a bit of a thoughtless act isn't it? You don't put much thought into it, you just see someone in need and you do it. Out of empathy, generosity, something The Murder Incarnate should not be capable of. Sceleritas' uncertainty of Durge's reasoning for it totally convinces me it was NOT intentional. A simple act of kindness that slipped out.
ALSO
[Sceleritas Fel: The only way for a Butler to die is if we are not of use to our Master. But you have always needed abundant assistance.]
They always needed abundant assistance. Why? Because they kept slipping out of Bhaal's grasp? We know they did at least once, with Gortash. Maybe it was not the first time, maybe there are more "Letters of Forgiveness" tucked away somewhere.
To me pre-tadpole Durge is just terribly mindbroken and indoctrinated person hooked onto the sense of safety, purpose and acceptance of their dark side that the cultists and their father give them. Yeah they enjoy murder, gore and all that. That's the curse of their blood, but I don't think they were ever entirely consumed by it. Morality, guilt and empathy have always been there on the edge of their mind. Losing their memories (depending on player choices I know, but bear with me) was what they needed for them to be finally brought forward.
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Everything you write is a banger 🫶 and you are RIGHT, ghost loves sloppy blowjobs but especially the noises like loves hearing his beautiful gf gag on his huge dick while staring up at him with watery eyes (please euthanize me)
you people are being so good to me like what on earth did I do to deserve this? I love you! thank you so, so much 💕🫶🏻 also… say fucking less, my love.
warnings/content: simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader. blowjob, deep-throating, mentions of spit and tears. swallowing. slight degradation if you squint, but ghost only adores you! words: 762. 18+, mdni.
Ghost’s calloused fingers caressed your cheek, and he lifted your head to look at him. On your knees before him you looked even softer and sweeter than you usually did.
So goddamn obedient.
From the sight, his cock—painfully erect—twitched above your face. Mere seconds earlier he had pulled it out of your throat, your lips releasing it with a soft pop: your body desperate for one of those breaths that he knew would burn your lungs from the mere intensity of your inhale.
He did love to push you to your limit. His sweetheart turned into a cock-drunk little thing. Lips glistening, eyes pleading for more. Your spit dripping down your jaw in a pretty little stream, lubing you up so fuckin’ nice and good for his use.
He’d been fucking your mouth—your throat—for so long, that by now, he knew your body felt empty without the weight of his thick length on your tongue.
And who the fuck was he to deny that from you, eh?
“Tongue out, darlin’.”
Not a hint of hesitation flashed in your eyes as you let him see the pretty pink of it. You were so goddamn fuckin’ beautiful like this: the sounds that passed your lips so goddamn pretty as he pushed back in.
“There ya fuckin’ go. Come on, luv, take it all, yeah?”
The thick weight of him in your mouth muffled out most of your gasps and moans, yet never the sound of your gags. So fuckin’ sweet, as he pushed into your throat, his hand on the back of your head helping you to align your throat better. To allow him deeper down.
“Fuckin’ ‘ell, baby, that’s it. Just like that—“
He could feel your throat relaxing around him once more. Your gags easing, your shoulders letting go of their nervous tension: the sudden ease allowing his balls to press against your bottom lip as he bottomed out.
“Fuckin’ right, doll.” He was downright seeing stars by then: your mouth so fuckin’ soft and warm and wet around him that had this been his first time using you like this, he would’ve damn sure passed out from the pure fuckin’ bliss. “My darlin’s takin’ it so fuckin’ good, yeah?”
Ghost’s fingers caressed your cheek, soft and adoring: so at odds with the mess that he was making of you. Sliding out, only to feed every last fuckin’ inch of his cock back down your throat, somehow only deeper than the last time.
“Fuckin’—eyes on me, yeah, luv?”
Your gaze found his in an instant: the beauty of your eyes only highlighted by the glimmer of your tears, accompanied by the softest twinkle of his darlin’ seeking his approval.
Your body was begging for more: only opening up further around the brutal size of his cock, allowing him to pick up his pace.
In and out: your spit running past your lips.
In and fuckin’ out, as you forced your eyes to stay locked with his. How fuckin’ scary he must’ve looked, towering over you with his goddamn mask on.
Fuck, how he would make you feel so loved and adored after. Work so hard on showin’ you how much you meant to him.
Christ al-fuckin’-mighty.
His eyes blinking shut, Ghost leaned his head back as his fingers around your head tightened their grip. Now chasing after his orgasm, he listened to your gags and whimpers: the desperation of your spit dripping past your lips as he used you for his pleasure.
His sweet little thing.
His perfect fuckin' darlin’.
“So goddamn fuckin’ close, baby—“
Ghost forced his gaze to meet yours, and that—fuckin’ hell, that was all that he needed. Seeing the knit of your brows as your twinkling eyes begged for his cum down your throat, so fuckin’ well trained.
So fuckin’ sweet.
With a deep curse and a rumbling call for your name, his cock pumped thick ropes of his seed down your throat.
Chuckling, as your eyes watered.
Praising you, his voice low yet warm, as he felt you swallowing around him before he pulled out with a soft pop.
Smiling from pure pride, as Ghost crouched by you and drew you into the deepest of kisses, full of adoration for you.
For his sweetheart.
His little fuckin’ champ.
masterlist | requests are open 💌
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