#you x sherlock holmes

[french-vanilla-in-the-clouds]

𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝

𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Though he's known as a man of  reason and cold logic, Sherlock secretly covets a life of art and romance. When a bookworm moves next door, he finds himself bewitched, both body and soul. 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: @asherloki​

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

Y/N sat cross-legged on the doorstep of 221B. She bit her thumbnail and smiled down at her copy of Pride and Prejudice.

Her eyes darted across the pages as she muttered along with the story's script. Her favourite character, the proud Mr Darcy, was about to enter the scene, and though she already knew what would happen next, the anticipation of his arrival had her buzzing.

Though she would never admit it, Y/N's fondness for the regency hero stemmed from her love for someone all too real; her next door neighbour, Sherlock Holmes.

Just last month, she had snagged a flat on Baker Street. As the new tenant of 221D, she found herself living across the hall from London's rising celebrity. It hadn't  taken her more than a first meeting to fall hard for him.

He reminded her of the heroes she read about in her books. Sherlock was very galant, what with his timeless grace and subtle kindness. Even his movements appeared calculated, each motion as deliberate as the printed words in her stories.

As an avid reader of classic literature, Y/N often let passion guide her life. Practicality wasn't her style so much as star-gazing was. Though Sherlock indulged in a hyper-rational philosophy, Y/N liked to think that a bit of discourse added great fun to any lovers' tale.

She flipped a page and leaned back against the door. It wasn't until a black sedan parked by the pavement that she finally looked up.

From her seat on the front steps, Y/N watched with interest as two men stepped out from the car. She recognized Sherlock, but the other was a stranger to her. From the sound of their bickering though, it seemed that both were agitated.

"Dinner was a mistake, Mycroft. The next time you need to consult me, just text."

"Believe me Sherlock, I'm all for skipping the brotherly bonding, but Mother insisted. She's been pestering me all week with late night calls!"

"Don't pick up."

"I can't just ignore her!"

"Why not? I do it all the time."

The men stepped up to the door, too engrossed in their quarrel to notice Y/N.

"Will you be staying long?" Sherlock asked. He reached out to pull the door handle, but it didn't budge.

"Only as long as I need to. I'll give you the case details, then I'll be off. You know how I feel about your... home."

Mycroft stood impatiently while Sherlock fetched a pair of keys from his coat pocket. He glanced at his watch. "At your leisure, brother mine."

"A bit of patience," Sherlock muttered. He tried twisting the keys through the lock, but they jammed midway.

"That's curious," Sherlock said. "It seems we've been barred out. John must have caught wind of your visit."

"You can't be serious."

"Quite."

At that moment, Mycroft looked down and noticed Y/N. "Good grief," he chuffed. "Are you meant to be the porter?"

Y/N felt her cheeks warm. She hadn't meant to stay quiet so long, but wasn't sure at which point to enter the conversation. She stood up quickly. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to linger."

"Don't mind him," Sherlock sighed. "He simply enjoys rattling off. This is my brother, by the way, Mycroft Holmes. And Mycroft, this is my neighbour, Y/N. She lives just across the hall." Sherlock smiled kindly at her, but quickly turned away.

Mycroft curled his lips reproachfully. "Charmed," he said.

Y/N clutched her book against her chest. "I'm not sure if you recall, Sherlock, but Mrs Hudon said that she was having the locks changed today.

"Annual maintenance?"

"Something like that."

He clicked his tongue. "An advanced warning would have been nice."

"She's been mentioning it all week," Y/N responded lightly.

Sherlock winked. "I can hardly be blamed  for blocking out her ramblings." He tucked his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the door. "Light reading?" he asked, nodding towards Y/N's book.

She glanced down at it and grinned. "It's Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. Have you read it?"

"It's a waste of time," Mycroft interrupted. He picked at a loose thread on his jacket. "An atypical romance for its time transformed into an odious cliché. It's been written upon a value system where reason is exchanged for ill-spent devotion." He raised a brow at Y/N, his expression condescending. "My brother and I haven't the time to dawdle over banal narratives. I doubt we even spared the brain cells to remember most of the plot, so if you don't mind, this social call is over. Sherlock, could we please talk elsewhere? This case is of national importance!"

Mycroft turned on his heel and stalked away, expecting his brother to follow.

Y/N stood frozen, embarrassed by the  outburst. She avoided Sherlock's eyes and wondered if he also had a bad impression of her. Perhaps like his brother, he believed her to be a silly reader with too much time on her hands.

She put on a smile before addressing him. "I'm sure you're busy, Mr Holmes. It was very nice seeing you."

She waited for him to leave, but he stalled for a moment. He seemed conflicted, as though he had something to say, but didn't know how to go about doing it.

Finally, he spoke. "In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you..."

Y/N lifted her brows, taken aback by his words. Sherlock cleared his throat, flustered. "I didn't mean-" he coughed. "I believe that's Mr Darcy's line in the book, yes?"

Y/N nodded.

Sherlock adjusted his coat collar before proceeding. "I know that I have a reputation for being disassociated from the more mundane things like art and literature, and I suppose to some extent, it's true." He licked his lips. "But my good sense shouldn't discredit my appreciation for the humanities."

He leaned in close and smiled. "Or my appreciation of you, for that matter."

Y/N looked up at him. "Sherlock," she breathed. "Would you like to borrow my book?" She held it out between them, her only defense for being stunned, and not knowing what to say. She felt light headed in the best way, overwhelmed by the turn of their conversation.

Sherlock's lip twitched upwards. "That's very kind of you," he said. He reached forwards and grasped the book from her hold. His fingers grazed her hand, and sent sparks shooting through her arm.

He pulled back and examined the front cover. "I'll be off then," he said. He glanced at Y/N, a gleam in his eye. "I wouldn't want to keep your book for long. I'm sure I'll be done reading by Friday at any rate. Would you be able to pick it up then? Say, 8:00 at the café next-door? If that doesn't work for you, we could always try for a late dinner."

Y/N laughed, not able to keep the smile off her face. "That works just fine," she said. "A late dinner it is."

Sherlock pushed back on his heel, and tucked the book under his arm. He tried to appear casual, but was just as excited as Y/N at the prospect of their date. He glanced at the pavement where Mycroft waited, but not even his brother's sour expression could dampen his spirits.

"Have a wonderful day, Y/N," he called out, grinning.

Y/N watched as he walked off, looking over his shoulder every few steps. She could still feel his touch, however brief,  upon her skin.

She gazed at him until he finally met his brother and trailed off across the street. Sherlock spared one last look behind him, and flexed the hand that had touched Y/N's.

She smiled.

"A lady's imagination is very rapid," she whispered to herself. "It jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment..."

Y/N ran a hand through her hair, pleased. It seemed that she and Sherlock had the potential for a classic romance after all.

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

Give Thursday Thrill a shot!

@asherloki I hope the wait wasn't too much of an issue! I'm sure you've had plenty else to read until now! ♡

tagging: @twisted-monster ​ @starryeddie ​ @high-functioning-lokipath ​ @the-chaotic-cow ​ @turkisherlockian ​  @kabubsmagga @aephereal​ ​ @andthevillainshallrises​ ​ @baby-bloos ​ ​ @cookiemumster1 ​ ​​ @eternal-silvertongued-prince​ ​ @bogginsreadings​ ​ @lumosouls ​ @spencerrxids​ @serenity-lattes​ @msseijii @classickook​ @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson​ ​ @lucywrites02​  @danzalladaggers @mrs-holmes​ @pytharuw @antsn​ @waiting-for-cas-to-save-me ​

#sherlock #sherlock x reader #reader x sherlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock x you #you x sherlock #sherlock fluff #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #reader x sherlock holmes #sherlock x y/n #mycroft holmes #pride and prejudice #benedict cumberbatch x you #reader x benedict cumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch x reader #sherlock holmes x you #you x sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock self insert #mr darcy #sherlock fic #sherlock bbc #sherlock fanfic #sherlock holmes x y/n #fanfiction #sherlock inagine #sherlock holmes fluff #sherlock holmes imagine

[ohno-wallace]

Sherlock & Co. fan art because we need more.

Please darling please listen to this podcast <3

#sherlock & co #sherlock and co #sherlock holmes #john watson #Down on my knees begging you please #Still trying to work out what designs I want to settle on for them #Sherlock short hair??? I heard that John may posted that on X ? Idk I’m not on there #My inbox is open for requests for them :

[holylulusworld]

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (1)

Summary: Your marriage starts rocky.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader

Warnings: angst, injured reader (light), mentions of getting robbed, angry Sherlock, implied innocent reader

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

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes masterlist

“Where is my brother? We need to talk about Enola and the upcoming event. She needs to make her debut…” you hear Mycroft downstairs. He’s usually a stoic and silent man, but you kinda like he’s silent and leaves you alone most of the time. “Where is the lady of the house? Maybe she can help my sister correct her behavior."

You hear his voice grow louder as Sherlock’s head housekeeper raises her voice. She always acts more like the lady of the house than a servant.

“Mr. Holmes,” you gracefully walk down the stairs, putting on a strained smile hurting your bruised face. “I’m afraid my husband is not at home. He’s solving another case.”

“Again?” Mycroft holds out his hands. He presses a quick kiss to your offered hand. “He should’ve left his lovely wife all alone so short after your wedding.”

“Sir, it’s fine,” you flutter your eyes shut as you try to keep the wrong words from spilling from your lips. It all became too much lately.

Sherlock's absence, and his displeasure in participating in your marriage. The head housekeeper acting like you are not Sherlock’s wife but a peasant.

“My dear, what happened?” Mycroft gasps when his eyes finally see your swollen left cheek and your split lip. “Please tell me my brother didn’t raise his hand on you. If he did, I’ll make sure he’ll regret putting his hands on you.”

“It wasn’t my husband,” you reach out for Mycroft and grab his hand. “He’s a little distant and mostly interested in solving cases but…he would never. I swear, Sir. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have gone to town on my own. But Mrs. Demeter refused to send for a carriage.”

“What happened, my dear,” Mycroft worriedly asks. He offers his arm to you, and wonders if you are lying to protect his brother. “Please do not fret. Tell me everything.”

“I left the house to get the books Sherlock wanted,” you sniff. “I paid for the books and carried the books out of the store. A woman ran into me, and I dropped the books. I tried to pick them up and then…” You choke out a sob. “There was a masked man. He ripped my bag out of my hands and hit me with it.”

“My dear!” Mycroft gasps audibly. “Did you tell my brother about this?”

“He wasn’t home,” you drop your gaze, ashamed about your weakness, and inability to stand up for yourself. “The owner of the bookstore helped me pick up the books and accompanied me to Scotland Yard but…they didn’t want to listen to me.”

“Did you tell them your name?” Mycroft is furious. “How dare they ignore a young lady in need.” He huffs as you tell him repeatedly it was your fault for not telling them your name. “Stop blaming yourself, my dear. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s my brother’s for ignoring his wife.”

Downstairs it sounds like a war is going on. Sherlock and Mycroft yell at each other. And you are afraid, Mycroft is winning.

Your betrothed falls silent after a while, and you hold your breath as you repeatedly hear your name. The last thing you wanted was to cause a rift between the brothers.

They already have their hands full with their younger sibling. Now you are causing trouble too.

You wring your hands while hearing footsteps on the staircase. You hold your breath and step away from the door. “Wife,” Sherlock grumbles as he opens the door. “Where are you?”

“I’m here,” your voice cracks. “Sir.” You add, in the hope of appeasing your husband. He steps inside your room, eyes roaming your body. “Please accept my apology.”

“What for, Precious?” He steps closer to cup your face with both hands. “Why didn’t you send for me? I would’ve come here to take care of my wife.”

“I didn’t want to disturb you, Sir. It’s nothing,” you close your eyes when his gaze gets too intense.

“You got hurt. This is not nothing,” he raises his voice but gets a grip seconds later. “No one touches my wife.” His lips press against your swollen cheek, but you only feel the warmth of his soft pillows, not the slight pain. “I will call for Lestrade. We will find the man hurting you.”

“I think he worked with the woman running into me,” you explain while Sherlock inspects your injuries. “She distracted me long enough for the man to steal my bag.”

“Why did he hurt you?”

“I-I didn’t want to give the bag to the man. You gifted it to me,” you shyly batt your eyelashes as Sherlock angrily furrows his brows.

“You are fearless, my dear,” he cracks a smile. “I am sorry about my absence. After our wedding, we should’ve…” He clears his throat. “I'll send for a doctor.”

“She’s well then?” Sherlock sizes the doctor up. “I need to know every detail. Please don’t shelter me.”

“Her cheek is swollen, but the cut on her lips is already healing. She’s mostly frightened of the person attacking her,” the doctor says. “I’d suggest not leaving her alone for the time being.”

“Sir, what are you doing?” You almost screamed when Sherlock entered your room. He softly whispered your name and picked you up in bridal style to carry you toward his bedroom.

“I’m bringing my wife to my bedroom,” he carried you out of the room. His chest swelled when you rested your head on his chest.

"Sir, I think...you have a case and..." you whimper. If he wants to finally have your wedding night, you are not sure you are ready to be with him.

“I shouldn’t have taken case after case. We didn’t have the chance to get to know each other better. I know this was an arranged bond my mother and your father agreed to. But I…I want you to know that I’ll protect you from now on.”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill is sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x y/n #Mrs. Sherlock Holmes

[spooksicl-e]

do you guys think they h*ld h*nds

#this is sort of technically a redraw #so you can find that and the full version under the cut:] #ik there are hearts but you’re welcome to look at this with any lenses you want #someone said to stop tagging the victorians as johnlock so #johnlock #lol! #my art #the @ is my insta #sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #watsholmes #acd holmes #granada holmes #sherlock holmes x john watson #fanart #fanartist

[loganbcrnes]

Midnight activities

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Fem!reader

Words: 766

Tags: Dom!Sherlock Holmes, doggy-style, hard sex, dom/sub Ethnicity and body type isn’t mentioned. I want everyone to feel inclusive. Authors note: heyy whilst catching up on the requests, i figured i'd write this in celebration for Enola Holmes 2. I loved the movie, not as much as the first one, but seeing Sherlock again has made me feeling certain..emotions, so here's this drabble. Enjoy :)

Sherlock has you on your hands and knees, his deliciously thick body on you, weighing you down. You feel his body heat and the coarse chest hair that you love so much, on your back. Pinned down and with your legs spread apart he tells you, with your dripping pussy on display. “I’m going to fuck you, like this- hard and fast and you’re going to take it.” He brings down a hand to your ass and gives it a sharp slap, making you moan, your ass to his thick erection. As he groans into your ear. “God, you smell amazing, Little one.” He squeezes your ass. “You want it, Sir, it’s yours” you say breathlessly.

Without any other warning he slides his hand underneath your nightie that’s pulled up. He glides up and down a few times, taking in the curve of your back. He groans as his hand descend to your folds. Strumming his fingers down your center, gathering your arousal on his fingers. Circling your clit, round and round making you a delirious mess. “Stop teasing please, Sherlock… ahhh” you try saying as he smacks your apex. Making you moan loudly once more. He knew how you liked it rough. The red marks of his spanks marking you. Exciting a new wave of arousal. “Fuck, Darling, I can see how wet you are” You turn your head to the side to look at him. “then do something, you said you’d fuck me. But here we are” you say in a defiant tone. You watch him yank his sleeping pants down. You shivered, and elongated your arms up, pressing your face into the mattress. Getting ready for the fucking of the night. He rubs the head of his dick down and up your center. Groaning he slaps his dick against your clit. Making you try rolling your hips. He knows just how turned on you get when he rubs his cock over your pussy. He suddenly wraps your hair into his hand and wrist making your face lift up and making your back arch. “I wanna hear, Princess.” His low deep voice sends shivers down your spine. he slams his girth into you. Gasping from the full force of his thrust, he pulls at your hair exposing your neck. His mouth sucking a mark into your skin. Knowing damn well you have work at the bakery the next morning, he keeps sucking at your skin. He continues to pump his thick girth into you. a hand glides over your ass, squeezing the flesh. His left hand wanders up to your breast. Smacking sounds fill the room as his heavy balls slap against your clit. Coming from Sherlock a groan mixed with a moan as you squeeze his member inside of you. You feel his right hand on your clit, rubbing circles, “That’s it, Little one.” he says softly to you. “Taking your husband’s cock so well”. Your moans amplify with the hard thrusting, letting out “ahs” with each thrust. “Let me fuck you open” He keeps the pace fast and brutal making you feel full and crazy. You are almost at the brink of your orgasm, groaning he slams harder into you. “Fuck Princess, This… fuuuuck you feel like a dream” he groans loudly. He grabs at your hips with both hands with a tight grip. You know you’ll have the bruises the next morning. And you buckle and meet his pace. Both of you fucking back into each other.

“Sherlock, Sir!,” you say his name like a prayer, like a plea. You feel the orgasm forming once more. Feeling Sherlock inside your tight heat, pulsing knowing that he’s waiting for you to cum. Sherlock hand comes back down to stroke your clit, pulling a bit but rubbing in small circles. With that small administration of his hand you come undone. You yell a garble of his name. He pulls out of you, flipping you over and shoots his cum on the column of your throat. You stare up him in shock. He marked you, in a way he hadn’t in a while. His dragon eyes look down at you. A smirk playing at his lips, “why do you look so surprised Darling? You know you belong to me” he says as he spreads his cum all over your neck and with a delicate finger he brushes some on your lips. You automatically open your lips to suck at his finger. Maintaining eye contact you moan with his finger inside your mouth. His eyes darken, “Careful darling, you got work in the morning”

#henry cavill #sherlock holmes #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x fem!reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes smut #henry cavill sherlock holmes #henry cavill sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill sherlock holmes smut #sherlock holmes x y/n #henry cavill x y/n #sherlock holmes x fem!reader

[ithebookhoarder]

En Garde (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

Synopsis: Your husband has always been protective of you, given his line of work. However, when he offers to teach you the basics of self-defence, it quickly becomes clear that his intentions may not be quite so innocent after all... 

Warnings: Mild reference to bodily harm, light smutty behaviour, spoilers for the second film.

A/N: Oh, how I’ve missed Enola Holmes. I loved the books, and the films are just as great in their own way, so expect a bit of spam for the next few weeks - apologies in advance. 

Masterlist

“Now, try again-”

“-Sherlock-”

“No. Come on. Focus, darling. Once more, from the beginning. Eyes forward-” 

Oh, that was it. 

You were going to kill your husband. Slowly… and painfully… It would be the least he deserved, torturing you as he was. 

“Call me ‘darling’ one more time, husband,” you warned dangerously, “and see if I don’t shove this sword in your direction.” 

Why you agreed to this in the first place was beyond you, given that the day had so far been much more satisfying for him rather than you. 

After all, it had been Sherlock’s idea to help teach you the basics of self-defence - throwing a punch, dodging one, along with the fundamentals for using weapons such as a pistol, club, and now a sword (although when he thought you’d be in such a position to use one, you weren’t sure). 

Given his profession and the fact that his cases often lead to unplanned consequences, it had seemed a rather sensible idea at the start. His recent run in with the infamous Inspector Grail had rattled him, helpless to protect Enola everyone involved in the case from harm. 

Luckily, they had all survived, if not a little worse for wear - most of which was down to your skilled hands, having sewn, cleaned, and bandaged each and every wound they presented you with following the confrontation. 

You had seen the pain etched into Sherlock’s face that night, as you had helped wipe the blood from Enola’s head where she had been struck. He may have often denied having emotions, but the brotherly love and concern was all too clear to you as he seemed to blame himself somehow for failing to protect her. 

So, now, Sherlock was determined to equip you with the tools you may need should a similar situation ever arise. It made it an easy yes, to agree to his tutelage in the hopes of soothing both his and your concerns. That, and dare you even say it sounded like fun? 

Well, fun for you, yes, but evidently even more fun for your husband as it turned out.

Indeed, Sherlock was certainly a ‘hands-on’ kind of teacher and it had become clear early on that his focus was not entirely on developing your skills in combat. You didn’t have to be the detective to notice how his hands kept drifting to places they didn’t belong, or that his eyes seemed to be capitalising on the opportunity to observe your form in tight trousers as you lunged about the room. 

And that wasn’t the worst of it - in fact, for the past half an hour, he had been standing behind you, his chest pressed to your back, one of his hands covering yours as it gripped the hilt of the sword - or the foil, as he had informed you. 

As for the other, it was rather distracting, pressed against your stomach so as to allow your husband to correct your stance… or so he claimed, as he pulled you closer once again. 

“That’s it,” you huffed, trying and failing to ignore the sudden shiver that ran down your spine as he ground against you. “You are certainly having too much fun. Perhaps I should have asked Enola or Edith to be my tutor instead. At least they can be trusted to remain professional.” 

He scoffed, not sounding the least bit ashamed at the accusation.

“You wound me, wife,” he murmured, his lips grazing against your cheek, “After all, was it not you who said you didn’t wish to be a ‘maiden in need of rescuing’ should anyone wish you harm?”

“You know that I am neither a maiden, nor in need of rescuing, Mr Holmes.” Turning your head, you were quick to return the favour, letting your lips graze his teasingly. His soft groan was enough of a sign that your efforts appeared to be working. 

Two could play this game. 

“In fact, the only person I seem to need rescuing from right now is you, and your wandering hands.” 

You felt his laughter shaking through him, making it hard not to laugh yourself as he began peppering kisses to your neck. 

Clearly your lesson in swordplay would have to wait; it appeared he had a different kind of physical activity planned for you both. 

#enola holmes #Enola Holmes 2 #sherlock #Sherlock holmes #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x y/n #Henry Cavill sherlock holmes #masterlist #ithebookhoarder #thesilentmage #henry sherlock #henry cavill #Henry Cavill x Reader #enola holmes imagine #enola 2

[maggotzombie]

the day/night we met ; henry cavill

PAIRING — Henry Cavill x Reader (fem) SUMMARY — On your wedding day, your Maid of Honor prepares a special gift to which you and Henry have distinct responses. WORDS — 1,8k TW — nothing really just a lot of fluff, emotions (I cried a bit writing it), Henry in a suit 😈. A/N — Hi! I'm not dead, just quit the most toxic job ever so I'm getting back here lol Here's a short but very dear fic to me that I wrote last year but never posted. I'm so happy to finally post this! This story has been in my head for two years now and it came out better than I thought.

Song insp.: Eu Me Lembro by Clarice Falcão feat. Silva

— 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

“ALRIGHT,” YOUR MAID OF HONOR smiles, carefully wiping her tears with a napkin. “After making you cry and potentially ruining some makeup,” The room laughs. “I’ve prepared something different to end this on a high note.”

This is one of the dearest moments of your life: your wedding. You’re marrying your soulmate. Your heart could burst with love and happiness whenever.

Everything’s perfect, from your dress to the lights of the venue. Henry – your newly proclaimed spouse – has an arm around you as you listen to your family and friends' speeches about you and your love.

You found it strange when your Maid of Honor wasn’t the first to speak, but it seems she has a reason for it. Immediately, you feel anxious, but in a good way.

“When these two told me they were getting married, I knew I wanted to do something special for them,” Your best friend starts. “I just didn’t know what, but I knew it had to be something remarkable, something for them to look back and have a good laugh,” She looks at the both of you with tears in her eyes, chuckling.

You also wipe tears off your eyes, smiling back at her, and Henry tightens his embrace around you.

“So I sat down with these two, separately, and started to ask a few questions,” She smiles and wiggles her eyebrows, which is an expression you know very well.

‘Oh my,’ You think. ‘What is she up to?’

“Things started to get really interesting from the start, and I decided to make a video out of it,” Your best friend winks at you. “Without further ado, enjoy it.”

With a pleasant smile, she sits down. The attention turns to the screens set around the venue.

You remember sitting with your Maid of Honor to chat about your relationship. You didn’t really understand why she wanted to do that. However, it always has been effortless talking about Henry, and you brushed it off as having something to do with the wedding.

You recall having a great time answering her questions – drinks might have been involved beforehand, but the whole process was surprisingly professional.

Your friend’s face pops up on the screen as she introduces herself. “In this little video, I wanted to talk about our lovely couple’s amazing and fun story, especially the day they met,” She explains. “Newlyweds, I love you very much, and I hope you like this little something I put together for you.”

She blows a kiss and waves. Then in fancy lettering, “A love story” is scribbled on the top-left corner of the screen, and “A story of love” on the bottom right corner. You wonder why both phrases – which convey the same thing – are on the video, but the thought quickly slips your mind when your smiling face appears on the screen.

“State your name and occupation, please,” Your friend prompts on the video, but she’s out of the shot.

You roll your eyes amusedly. “What’s this, a trial? I’m innocent, your honor!” You giggle, making everybody at the venue laugh.

You answer the question anyway, and your name also appears written on the video.

“For the purpose of… this, I’m the bride?” It sounds like a question, and you make a face, unsure of yourself.

She never explained what the video was for, in your defense.

Right after you, Henry appears. “I’m Henry, and I am the lucky groom,” He smiles brightly, looking as handsome as always.

“So, tell me, how did you meet Henry?” Your friend asks, and your smile is instant as you remember that exact day as if it was yesterday. “How did you meet Y/N?” She asks him in the next scene, and his reaction is the same.

“I was hosting a brunch,” You start, your eyes unfocused as the vivid memory plays in your mind. “And it was morning when Henry arrived.”

When he reapers, you can tell it’ll cut back and forth between you. “I was throwing a party, and she was the one that came around. I think it was three in the afternoon,” Henry replies, quite differently from you.

You scoff mockingly, looking at him by your side. He chuckles, brushing it off with a shoulder tic before you turn back to the screen.

“And I said: ‘Hi, come on in, make yourself at home,’ You know, something of the sorts,” You shrug off.

Your betrothed chuckles in the video, scratching his chin in thought. “I was the one that said hello, but she didn’t hear.”

His comment makes the venue erupt in laughter. You meet Henry’s loving gaze again and squeeze his hand, making him bring yours up to press a kiss on your knuckles.

If your shared story had different and entertaining versions until now, it’d just get better!

After being asked about first impressions of one another, he replies: “She thought I was hilarious,” He says with such confidence that is endearing.

In your turn, you laugh and cover your mouth as if what you are about to say it’s an embarrassing secret.

“Oh my god, he wouldn’t stop talking! Like a lot!” You emphasize. “And I pretended to laugh the entire time,” You say very sheepishly before throwing your head back in laughter again. “That’s terrible. I feel like I need to apologize,” You add after your fit.

“Oh, I just remembered something,” He suddenly announces, and his smile is wide as the memory toy around in his head. “Her blouse was inside out,” He chuckles, eyes focused on a spot. “She’s so adorable and such a goof, isn’t she?” He looks back at the camera.

“He loved the way I was dressed,” You giggle, visibly shivering as you physically remember the feeling of him truly looking at you for the first time.

Your friend asks another question, changing the subject slightly, but Henry shakes his head.

“Yeah, the party was great! Everybody was having a good time, but I only remember searching for her when she wasn’t near me. Trying to get another look, you know?” He says.

In turn, you scoff. “No one was dancing! I don’t remember who was taking care of the music, but it was terrible!” Your genuine response makes the room fills with laughter another time. “At least everyone had a drink in hand and ate something.”

“Oh, yes. The food was wonderful. Everything homemade,” Your partner assures with a proud nod naively.

“I bought everything off Tesco,” You rushedly confess, throwing your head back in laughter again.

Back to the present moment, you’re wiping the new tears from the corners of your eyes due to laughter. You love the good energy around the room as your guests and yourself enjoy the video your Maid of Honor made.

Now you understand both phases in the beginning, and although you and Henry have very distinct versions of the day you met, you love both of them and the feelings they bring you.

However, something changes in the next second of the video. For the first time, on a split-screen, you two appear together.

“When I saw him, I knew it (When I saw her, I knew it),” You both say simultaneously. “She (He) was the person I’d spend the rest of my life with,” You continue.

Glancing at him, you’re surprised to see he’s already looking at you. Then you exchange a knowing look. It seems like you got on the same page in this part of the video.

“And that’s how I realized that life put him (her) in my life,” You say in unison. “On that Tuesday (Thursday) of September (December),” Your responses overlap with each other, drawing amused reactions from people.

“That’s why I remember everything, of every second,” Both of you state, which is downright ironic at this point. “Ask me anything that I remember.”

“I remember,” You proudly declare with a grin but, this time, by yourself.

And so does Henry. “I remember,” He nods with a beam.

The video ends there, and the room erupts in applause, whistles, and hollered praises.

Words couldn’t describe the dazzling feelings you’re experiencing if you wanted to. You can’t be more grateful to your friend for this treat either. And, of course, the man you now get to call your husband.

The spotlight of attention returns to you as you’re exchanging the most enamored gaze ever. Henry leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, making you close your eyes. Slowly, you allow all those remarkable sensations to wash over you.

When you reopen your eyes, you smile at him before looking at your Maid of Honor. “Thank you so much for this extremely thoughtful gift. We both loved it a lot.”

Henry confirms with a head gesture.

“Words won’t do justice to how much you’re special to me. I’m just so grateful I get to share such a special and meaningful moment of my life, like this one, with you,” Your voice cracks at the end, and you smile, trying to hold your tears at bay as you can see she’s doing the same. “So I can’t thank you enough.”

As the room gets loud with another round of applause and cheers, she smiles, mouthing an “I love you too” to you. Wiping your tears carefully one more time, you chuckle.

“Although, I only have one question,” You announce, making the room pipe down. “Was my blouse really inside out?” You giggle as you look back at Henry.

Your husband starts to laugh. “Yeah,” He confirms bashfully. “Yeah, it was,” He nods as your guests join you in laughter.

“Oh, God. I can’t believe it,” You shake your head in embarrassment. “I also would like to point out that my husband clearly has a lot of experience with interviews,” You remark, addressing the room. “I feel kinda bad after saying I was pretending to laugh at his jokes when he’s all loving and caring,” You rejoin your friends and family in fun.

“I do tell bad jokes,” Henry concedes in your defense. “I love how genuine you are, and you’re loving and caring to me, too,” You nearly melt at his famous Hollywood-star smile.

The sound of ‘aww’s’ fills the room. “You see what I’m dealing with?” You joke, making everybody chuckle.

You give him a chaste but affectionate peck on the lips. Your wedding coordinator decides it’s time for the first dance to open the floor to make your guests burn some energy after the buffet.

And so, feeling the most secure and happy while pressed against your husband’s chest with his arms around you, you swing slowly. By sharing the same air, the same space, and the same feelings, you can’t think of anything better.

It all started on a Tuesday morning in September for you. But for him, it was a Thursday afternoon in December. Now, it is a Saturday evening in November that you’ll never forget.

You will remember. Everything. Of every second.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x you #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill headcanon #the witcher #geralt of rivia #august walker #clark kent #superman #sherlock holmes

[sherlocksoft]

The Experiment

Sherlock Holmes x reader

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Sh-Sherlock- I- oh!’

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

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

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

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

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

And then it hit.

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

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

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

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

You nodded, biting your lips together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Ah- ohhh-’

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

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

‘Then please, Sherlock, take me-’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yes,’ you chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

‘Tell me about it?’ you breathed excitedly.

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

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

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

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

‘Precisely. “Mycroft” it is.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yes, yes I would… I would like…’

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

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

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

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

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

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

[love-strawberry]

we'll be alright

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

pairing : sherlock holmes x reader

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

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

tagged : @0oolookitsme

masterlist

navigation

----------

----------

“sherlock?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"sher—"

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

"darling—"

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

"love—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----------

----------

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

[imyourbratzdoll]

Hi Cheleah😌❤️

drunk sex with Sherlock(Henry) pls👀👀

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

summary - your husband fucks you after a few drinks.

warning - smut, intoxication, swearing, creampie.

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

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

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

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

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#imyourbratzdollasks #imyourbratzdollwork #jamneuromainask #sherlock holmes fanfiction #henry cavill x y/n #sherlock holmes #henry cavill x you #sherlock holmes fandom #henry cavill x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill #sherlock holmes fic #henry cavill x female reader #sherlock holmes fluff #henry cavill fanfiction #sherlock holmes imagine #henry cavill imagine #sherlock holmes au #henry cavill characters #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill imagines #henry cavill au #henry cavill angst #henry cavill x short!reader

[itstheimpossibledream]

Finished

Pairing: Henry Cavill x you

Prompt:Henry & y/n invited to his moms for thanksgiving. Mom also invites his ex.His mom is super strict so everyone is supposed to have separate rooms, mostly for his ex to slip into his room but she opens the door to find you sitting on his face.

This one was kind of tough but, ended up being a super fun story to write!Hope you guys enjoy it !Thanks for your ask, hope this lives up to the expectation.

“Are we going?” you ask quietly.

“Do you want to go?”  he says, cocking an eyebrow in your direction.

“I mean….. It’s your mother. We kinda have to.” he pulls you in closer letting out a low hmmm. 

“Yes. but, I don’t visit her often for a reason.” he says quietly. The heft of his arm and the sheets around you calling you to relaxation. 

“And what’s that reas-”

“She’s crazy.” he says bluntly. You laugh,immediately knowing he’s joking . It was very out of character for him to call anyone out of their name. Much less his own mother. You look up at him to notice he isn’t laughing, not even smiling.

“O Henry, come on! She is not crazy, I’m sure she just misses you. That’s why she calls so often.”

He caresses your face “My mother is a tiny, blonde psychopath. I love her with all my heart but, everytime I bring a woman home she gets so attached I- it’s hard to explain.” he trails off.

“Guess I’ll just have to meet her then!” you squeal sleepily into his chest before drifting away in an ocean of plans.

You packed, you brushed your teeth, and were ready early in time for the flight. Henry slept most of the way but, you were too filled with questions of if she would like you, and what he of all people meant by calling his mother an attached psychopath. The hours ticked away and you looked worriedly from the clock on your phone to Henry.

“Maybe she just forgot we were coming today?Should we call?” you ask

“Nooooo. No. She has forgotten nothing. This is what she does. Constantly trying to keep me on my toes, I guarantee you she’s up to something.”

You snort through your nose “Henry I guarantee your mother is not that malicious.”

“Have you met her yet?” he jokes flatly. Just then the car pulls up a decently clean but embarrassingly tiny red kia soul, flying like a bat out of hell. 

You exhale, taking a step off of the curb and waiting for your moment of truth.

She jumps out of the car and runs to her son, jumping into his arms. He smiles for a minute holding her and you see the light of a little boy flicker in him for a moment. He pulls back at the sound of the trunk popping open and begins to load the bags into the back for the weekend. 

“Mrs. Marianne I am just so excited to finally get to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you and I’m really excited to-” She cuts you off turning back to her son.

“And Hen you remember Ellen.”

That’s when you see her, a leggy blonde with a perfect smile stepping out of the car that just makes your heart drop. Ellen fucking Whitaker. Ofcourse, champion show jumping horse rider from a family of professional horse trainers and not to mention gorgeous but, most importantly Henry’s ex- fiance. 

“Cool, cool ,cool ,cool” you can hear yourself muttering under your breath trying not to explode.

“Mum this is y/n! She was very excited to be invited.” he confirms, giving you some comfort that he’s on your side. 

“Mmm. Well that’s darling.” she spins on her heels heading back towards the driver’s side of the car.

You follow Henry as you both hug Ellen and exchange your greetings. She seems to think his mother bringing her here is just as ridiculous as you do and while you still despise her presence that knowledge makes it vaguely reassuring that she hasn’t come to fight for his love. 

“Henry, dear sit up here with me I want to hear all about LA.” he rolls his eyes, making his way to the passenger side while you and Ellen assemble yourselves in the back of the tiny car with the luggage. You flip your phone over in your lap and notice a text from Henry. “I love you.Don’t stress out. She’s just like this.” you text him back a heart emoji but, it’d be a lie to pretend your heart wasn’t still caught in your throat. Not only did his mother refuse to acknowledge you. But, she brought some random ass woman that she obviously plans for Henry to be with instead. Actually , no.Not random, which is even worse! Am I spirialing ? I feel like I’m spiraling. You had completely zoned out of the sweet family reunion happening infront of you an attempted to string some words together in your head that would help you explain how you feel to him when you finally got alone time. You entered the driveway of the estate and his mother handed the keys to the valet , excusing herself and calling Ellen to follow her inside. Being excluded from the girl’s powwow didn’t bother you as much since if gave you a chance to speak to Henry. The Butler offered to help but, he insisted on doing it himself, calling him by name. And you were momentarily reminded of the things you did love about Henry. You followed behind him as he carried things to the room. You tried to make small talk with him as you unzipped your suitcase and began pulling out your necessities for your facewash routine. “O ummmm-” Henry looked at you as if trying to hide back from saying something. More bad information you were sure. 

“You actually have the room down the hall.”he says sheepishly.

“What do you mean?” your eyes widen despite your attempts to quell your emotion. He has to be crazy. There’s no other way to explain.

“My mom doesn’t want me to share a bed in her home unless its with the woman I’ve marrried.” he says , hands up in a defensive position. 

You exhale slowly repacking your things. “Sure. Ofcourse. What wouldn’t she want that.”

You knew it sounded bitter but, you couldn’t help it. 

“Hey -” he grabs your arm as you head towards the door, pulling you in and kissing you .His hand coming to your cheek, fingers resting on the back of your head, giving you the comfort he couldn’t offer with words. 

“Plus” he whispers into your lips “It will be fun to sneak around like kids for a few days.”You roll your eyes at him as his hands make their way to your ass. He gropes you for a bit before you escape his grasp headed to your room or Marianne created dungeon. Actually the room was quite nice. The flowers on the wall paper felt like a bit much but, the room got great sun and wasn’t to far from the bathroom . You liked that the estate had an old-timey feel of walking down the hall to use the toilet. Plus, it allowed you more excuses to be where Henry is. You unpacked your room and then sat on the bed next to your empty suitcase before exhaling,and finding the strength to get dressed for dinner. 

You stepped gently down the stairs ,trying to avoid the steps that creak when your hear the door close behind you. Looking up over the landing you see Henry at the top of the stairs.

“What are you doing?”he asks flatly.

You become aware of your hunched back and your body language from testing the step with your toe.

“I- I just don’t want to go.” you confessed.

He rushes in your direction, “Sweetheart you don’t have to.”

“No I mean I want to I just ….I was so excited to meet your mother and she just-”

“Listen” he leans against the wall scratching the side of his face. “I was trying to protect you. I should have tried to explain her more but it’s- she’s just so embarrassing. If you want, we can cut it short and go home tomorrow.” he seems genuinely saddened that his mom had been so rude. You hadn’t even had the chance to tackle Ellen’s presence before you hear a fumbling downstairs and his mother calling for him. He looks at you silently giving you time to decide. 

“I still want to try and win her over.” you whisper back to him. He laughs a little at your  determination and offers you his arm. You walk to dinner together and his presence gives you comfort.  

At dinner your seats are assigned. Shockingly your seat is not next to Henry’s but one of their family friend’s who was also visiting. You thought it a smart call on Marriane’s part. Had it just been the four of you for dinner the meal was sure to mostly be had in silence. You sat across from Henry and although he and Ellen had a few hushed moments this test actually caused you to feel more confident in your relationship. His mom was being a bitch but, when she did he’d nudge your foot under the table. This nudge eventually turned into a quiet game of footsies but, as adults your were grateful for the reminder that no matter how it seemed he was always prioritizing you. By the time dessert came you decided you wanted to try pushing the boundaries. His mother hadn’t said anything rude to you, she simply had not spoken to you at all. And if she had already decided she hated you  then there wasn’t much left for you to do but, enjoy the sculpture of a man that she had created. You slipped your foot from your shoe and let your footsies progress to you rubbing him through his pants with your foot. His eyes shoot to you across the table,but he doesn’t give you away. You can feel him growing harder under your toes as he melts into his chair. His face looks so small and innocent, looking at you, trying so hard to be in control, to be good. His mother hurls a few rude words but, you are to turned on by the view across from you to care. Once dismissed from the table, the tempered dash to the bedroom is quick. His hand presses into your back as he practically pushes you up the stairs. His room was the closest to the stairs , as you walked past he grabs your arm , pulling you in. 

“Heeeeey hey hey.” you whisper to him as he slips his hand up your dress. “I think your mother will notice if I’m not in my room.” he groans into you. “Shhhh. I’ll come back later” you pull back winking at him. He slowly removes his hand and you turn, switching out of the room. 

You promptly switch into your best lingerie and robe while counting the minutes, listening as the sounds of the house grow softer and softer. When the coast seems clear, you softly make your way to Henry’s room. You push the door open slowly trying to mitigate the creak as much as possible.You can see his figure sitting up in the dark. You drop your robe to the ground as he closes his book. “ I thought you’d never come!” he exhales. He places his book on the nightstand and you jump into bed, straddling him. His hands reach around to cup your ass and your grab him by the wrists. 

“Don’t touch.” you warn. He cocks his head to the side as if to question the change from your usual power exchange. 

“Only with your tongue.” you smile, leaning in to kiss him. He smiles coyly and you move yourself up the headboard of the bed. You grab onto it as he pulls your panties to the side. He hums into you and you are doing your best to keep quiet as you grip down onto the headboard beneath. You reach your other hand down cradling the back of his head while his tongue explores further into you. Biting your bottom lip in an attempt to keep from crying out ,you pull his hair and his hand smack your ass in response.

“Fuck” you exhale into the darkness and just then you hear the door creak open. 

“Oh no!” you turn around to see Ellen, and no sooner than you lock eyes, you grab the duvet pulling it over both of your bodies.Henry is confused and ends up being mostly exposed during the shuffle.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Ummm your mom told me to- I’m sorry I-” She turned , rushing out of the room; a flurry of nerves and embarrassment. The door slammed behind her and you both looked at eachother, momentarily embarrassed too. But, then you both broke into laugher. This entire trip had been absurd, this is almost just on brand. You lift your leg in an attempt to end your straddling of him , when he stops you with a hand to your lower back. Smiling while looking up at you he says 

“I wasn’t finished yet.” and you melt back into him. 

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x little!reader #henry cavill x female ofc #henry cavill x pregnant reader #henrycavillau #henry cavill angst #henry cavill au #henry cavill as superman #henry cavill superman #henry cavill sherlock holmes #henry cavill sherlock x reader #henrycavillactor #faanfic #fanfic #smut #henry cavill smut #henry cavill sex #henry cavill series #henrycavillromance #henry cavill geralt #henry cavill witcher #henrycavillwife #henry cavill art

[marvelousmando]

"The Game is Afoot, Indeed"

Sherlock x Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

His dark brows immediately furrowed.

"You're not taking it."

You crossed your arms and stared back in disbelief.

"Are you serious?"

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

You let out a soft snort.

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

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

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

"... tall," you finished lamely.

Silence.

A heated tension gathered between you both.

After a few moments, Sherlock released a small smirk.

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

Sherlock stepped towards you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighed in defeat.

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

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

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

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

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

He would just have to get to the compass first.

"The game is afoot, indeed."

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

[holylulusworld]

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes masterlist

Summary: Your marriage starts rocky.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader

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

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

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (1)

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (2)

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (3)

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (4)

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (5)

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (6)

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

[starks-hero]

brother dearest

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

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

Word Count: 1.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

He almost immediately wished he hadn't.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was met by John.

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

“He seems to be occupied.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You'd be surprised.”

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

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

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

“Y/N.”

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

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

“My brother, if it's no trouble.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Terrorist attack or security breach?”

Mycroft raised an unamused brow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But now, now there was you.

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

‘He's copped on then.’

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

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

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

His actual request was something much softer.

“Take care of him, will you?”

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

“Of course.”

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

“What was that about?” Sherlock asked nonchalantly.

You shook your head. “Absolutely no idea.”

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

thank you for reading!

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

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

[princessaxoxo]

Strangers to lovers Part 2

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

Sherlock x reader

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

Warnings: 18+ Only, cussing, angst, kissing

Word Count: 2k+

4 years later...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enola and you talked for what felt like hours.

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

“Your style but attitude as well.”

You laughed at Enola but thanked her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tears started to brim.

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

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

Sherlock walked towards you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As you returned home, you were torn.

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

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

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

Sherlock sat at the table, staring off into nothingness.

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

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

Sherlock only had one answer.

“Anything.”

Part 3

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

[isolabellz]

the reunion we didn’t get to see

#sherliam #moriarty the patriot #yuumori #sherlock holmes #william james moriarty #sherlock x liam #sherlock x moriarty #they are so married #when you haven’t seen your husband in 3 months #i love them #happy birthday liam