#ben cumberbatch x reader

[daydreamtofiction]

The Feature XXVII // Benedict Cumberbatch x Reader

Series Overview | Previous Part | First Part

Chapter Summary: (Female Reader) I have no summary lol. But if it helps, I listened to nothing but Caribbean Blue by Enya, and Daydream by Gunter Kallmann Choir while writing this chapter x

Chapter Word Count: 4.6K

Chapter Warnings: Strong language, adult and sexual themes, smut incl: oral & penetrative sex, discussions of large age gaps & age gap relationships. Readers must be 18+

A/N: Since the beginning of this fic, I've kept Quinn's age ambiguous and open to interpretation. This was done intentionally in order to allow readers of any (legal and consenting) age to identify with her as the main character if they wished to. However, in this chapter I do clarify her 'canon age', which is early thirties. I'm sorry in advance if this doesn't align with how you've pictured her.

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The days had melted into one long, golden stretch, unfurling lazily, one after the other, as though life beyond the property line had paused in your absence. You’d been living in a timeless paradise of warm skin and open windows, quiet days and close, passionate nights. Ben had kept good on his promise, giving every spare moment he could to making you glad you came. But you’d learned to relish the moments in between too; the solitude and the respite, the time each day offered like a gift, to relax, to write, to bathe in silence and bask in the stillness of the warm California air. 

You woke to the sound of shuffling across the room, the clunk of a drawer and the faint hiss of a zipper. You stirred beneath the linen sheets, feeling the delicious ache in your limbs from the night before, an empty space beside you where Ben should have been. You lifted your head, squinting in the morning light to find him dressing quietly. 

He glanced over at you, his voice still rough from sleep as it rumbled across the bedroom. “Sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You stretched lazily, the sheets slipping down your body. “Where are you going?” 

“Press junket day,” he replied, sitting down to put his shoes on. 

“Mm, a whole day being asked the same five questions over and over again. Sounds fun.” 

He chuckled under his breath. “You said it, not me.” 

You sat up further on your elbows, making no effort to cover your bare chest, your hair like a messy halo around your head. “What time will you be back?” 

“I’m not sure, probably this evening.” He stood up, adjusting the waistband of his trousers as he spoke. “I’m going to try and get back as early as I can but these things always end up running late.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I have a wonderful day planned.”

“You do?” 

“Mhm.” You inhaled a deep, cleansing breath and sank back down into the pillows with a smile. “I’m going to write on the balcony, eat something nice, maybe have a nap, go for a swim...” 

He smirked as he made his way over to you. “You know it quite suits you, being a lady of leisure.”

“I’m making the most of it before I have to go back to real life.” 

“This is real life,” he said softly, resting a knee on the bed and leaning over to kiss you. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

You returned his kiss, your faces lingering closely for just a moment before he retreated, grabbing his phone and wristwatch off the bedside table and disappearing out of the room. 

The morning unfolded slowly, warmly. You lazed in bed for a while after Ben left, scrolling on your phone as the air-con system quietly hummed throughout the house. It had become a comfort; the calming white noise taking the edge off the silence, a gentle indoor breeze greeting you at the beginning of each day. 

When you finally got up, you took your time in the bathroom; showering and brushing your teeth, putting on skincare, SPF, perfume - just because. You dressed in a loose t-shirt and cotton shorts, humming to yourself as you wandered barefoot through the house, lazily making your way down to the kitchen.

Someone had been there, you could tell because the dishes were done, the counters cleared and the fridge restocked with fresh produce and prepped meals. You may have been a few days into your stay, but you still found it unsettling; the idea of a housekeeper or someone from Ben’s team letting themselves in, going about their duties and leaving again without ever crossing your path.

A light breeze danced through an open window, with scents of dry earth, tuberose and jasmine rolling in from the hills, and on the counter, a large glass cafetiere added the rich, familiar fragrance of freshly brewed coffee. You wished you could bottle it; the smells, the sounds, the way the floor felt beneath your bare feet. It was all so idyllic, a peacefulness you weren’t sure you would ever feel again. 

You poured a coffee over ice, grabbed a prepackaged fruit salad from the fridge and returned upstairs, settling onto the sun-drenched balcony where you’d spent the majority of your days. The cushions of the outdoor sofa seemed to mould around you, like they remembered your shape. You sank into them with a happy sigh, laptop perched on your thighs as you took in the view for a moment before lifting the screen and beginning to write. 

You finished editing your op-ed, letting out an excited little squeak as you finally sent it off. You’d been proud of the feature you wrote on Ben; the way you crafted the piece, swayed opinion with subtle descriptors and carefully placed metaphor, how you wove his words with yours so seamlessly that they flowed like the ink they’d been printed with. But this was another beast entirely. This was yours - your thoughts, your feelings, your opinions - this was a piece of you, and it was going to be out there, in the glossy pages of one of the biggest magazines in the world. 

You stretched your arms above your head, letting the anxious energy evaporate from your fingertips. Then you reached for your phone, opening the camera to take a few photos; some of the view, some of yourself, smiling and sunkissed, blissfully happy. You clicked on Instagram, already thinking of a witty caption when you remembered you were supposed to be in mourning, and a grinning selfie wouldn’t exactly sell the ‘dying grandmother’ story. 

Then you saw it. The ring on Lacey’s hand, Nick’s relieved smile, her teary eyes. ‘Obviously, yes,’ the caption beneath the picture read. And your mouth immediately fell open with joy. You swiped your thumb through the carousel of photos, each one as adorable and exciting as the last. They were in the middle of a plush, green meadow, surrounded by long grass and wildflowers, a backpack still on Lacey’s shoulders from their hike. You zoomed in on the ring and couldn’t help but feel proud that he’d taken your advice; a pale green stone set in delicate yellow gold with filigree detail. It was perfect. 

About time! you wrote, laughing when Lacey almost immediately liked your comment.

For the next few hours, you seemed to float around the house; exploring the open grounds and sunlit rooms, grazing on snacks from the kitchen and humming to yourself as you went. You tried playing the piano that stood in the entrance hall, tinkering a tune from lessons you took as a child and wishing you’d never given up. By the time you found your way back to the balcony, the late afternoon sun had slanted across the hills, glittering over the surface of the pool and turning everything a warm, golden hue.

Maybe it was the house, the heat, the solitude. Maybe it was Nick and Lacey’s engagement, or the feeling of everything being so perfect with Ben. Whatever it was, you found yourself returning to your laptop, opening an empty document and beginning to write something new. 

There’s something strange about falling in love when you’re old enough to know better. Embarrassing, even. Like showing up to a party three hours late, tipsy, holding a bottle no one asked you to bring. You look around and realise everyone else already knows the cues, the rules and the norms. They know when to lean in, when to pull away, how to talk with just their eyes, and leave on time for the next big event. They’re not hiding around corners to avoid conversation, dragging someone they just met upstairs because sex is easier than talking. They’re not letting someone feel them up for a better seat at a nicer table, or pushing people away for being ‘too nice’. That’s when it finally hits you, that you should be like them by now. You should be weathered and slick and unimpressed. But somehow, you’re brand new.

I used to think of love as a scam. Like some multi-level-marketing-scheme that we only joined once we’d fallen for the false promises of someone higher up the pyramid. Love was for the idealistic, for the smooth-skinned, the unsullied, for the people who didn’t yet know it came with a possibility of failure. Then once they’d done it, once they’d been maimed and scarred and lost the investments they were promised a return on, they would just go back again. Because now they had nothing to lose. 

There was never a reason for me to think that way, to doubt or be skeptical of love like I was. But for some reason, in those smooth-skinned, unsullied years, I rejected it completely. 

Now here I am, late to the party. Embarrassed. Tipsy. Stumbling around clueless while he patiently holds my hand. He’s been here before, he knows the cues and the rules and the norms. And I find myself glad, somehow, that I didn’t turn up on time. Because he might not have been here then.

You’d been typing for so long that your wrists were beginning to ache, your eyes itchy from staring at the laptop screen. You closed it gently, blinking a few times as you gazed out upon a darker landscape, the sun settling below the horizon as the sky clung to the last drops of light. 

You stood up to stretch, rolling your shoulders and curving your back with a soft groan. The pool was still glittering in the dim evening light, the water so still besides the occasional ripple of a breeze across its surface. It was irresistible, the mere sight of it making your skin feel warmer, your clothes less comfortable as they clung to you with sweat. 

You changed into a bikini and made your way downstairs, sliding open the door of the sun room that led to the patio. You walked across the grass and sat on the edge of the pool, lowering yourself into the water with quick, shallow breaths. It was cold, instantly washing away the last of the day’s heat and replacing it with shivers, your teeth chattering as you submerged yourself slowly.

But it didn’t take long for you to get used to it, your muscles eventually relaxing beneath the soothing, cool water. You swam lazy laps back and forth, listening to the sounds of wildlife beyond the property’s edge, crickets chirping and leaves rustling in the breeze. 

The sky had turned a deep, bruised blue, peppered with stars and a huge full moon. You were floating on your back, staring up at it in awe, when the faint sound of tyres crunching on gravel caught your attention. 

You swam to the edge of the pool, listening to the distant rumble of a car engine, followed shortly by silence once again. You rested your chin on folded arms, waiting, wondering if it was him, or yet another invisible employee stopping by to water the plants or fold the laundry.

After a minute or two, you saw a light turn on in the kitchen, Ben’s silhouette passing by the window. You smiled and lifted yourself from the pool, wrapping yourself in a towel and hurrying across the grass. You slid the patio door closed behind you, jumping in fright when you turned to find him standing in the doorway on the other side of the room.

“Fucking hell,” you said breathlessly. 

“Sorry, I was shouting for you, I didn’t realise you were outside.” 

You tilted your head slightly as you looked at him. He seemed worn out, tired, highly strung, raking his hand through his hair every few seconds like he didn’t know what else to do with it. 

“You okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, long day,” he said with a sigh before eyeing you up and down. “Were you swimming?” 

“Mhm.”

“Wasn’t it freezing?”

“It was,” you began, walking across the room to meet him. “But it was okay once I got used to it.”

He gave a hum as you came together, his arms instinctively wrapping around your waist. “I’m sorry I missed it. Would’ve been nice to have a moonlit swim together.” 

“We could go back out, if you want to?” you replied with a teasing smile. 

He exhaled a soft laugh through his nose, looking down at you like you already knew the answer.

“Are you tired?” you asked, draping your arms around his shoulders.

“Not tired, just… Drained. The room they put me in was so hot, and all the lighting and equipment just made it even worse. My throat hurts from talking so much, I don’t even know if I was making sense in those last few interviews.” He tightened his grip on you. “And the whole time, I was just thinking about how I had you here waiting for me. It was torture.”

You rose onto your toes to kiss him, your lips pressing softly against his. He sighed into it, shoulders relaxing beneath your touch.

“Poor baby,” you muttered, stroking your fingers lightly up the back of his neck into his hair. “I could cheer you up.” 

He raised a brow, ever so slightly, but his eyes remained tired. “Could you?”

“Mhm…” You kissed him again, deeper this time, running your palms down from his shoulders to his chest. “Sit down.”  

He let you guide him towards the couch, his gaze never leaving you as he dropped down onto it. You stood for a moment between his parted thighs, smiling as you watched him close his eyes and let his head fall back, his breathing coming easier now you were here with him. 

You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then down the side of his neck. He smelled earthy and masculine, like warm skin, salt and musk. It was a scent you were sure you could pick out in a crowd; so uniquely him, and completely intoxicating. His hands found your hips, thumbs brushing against your waist as his fingers splayed over the damp material of your towel.

“Just relax,” you whispered, gently pulling away from him.

He watched you from beneath a heavy brow, his gaze steady yet curious. You stepped back slightly, letting your towel fall to the floor with a smile and a joking wiggle of your hips. He exhaled a quick, silent laugh, though it only took a moment for his expression to darken again, his throat bobbing, eyes wandering over your bikini-clad body as his fingers flexed at his sides. He wanted to touch you, and you loved that he was holding back the urge.

You lowered yourself to your knees between his legs, your hands trailing up the inside of his thighs, feeling him tense beneath your touch as you parted them wider. 

“Quinn…” he murmured, his voice so soft it almost sounded like a plea.

You shushed him and leaned forward, snaking your hand further up until you were at his crotch, pressing your palm against the hardening bulge beneath his trousers. “This is what I’m here for,” you whispered with a subtle smirk. 

He lost his composure for a split second, his eyes rolling, a sigh escaping him as he slid a hand into your hair. But he kept his touch gentle, tucking the wet strands behind your ear with his fingers. 

You unzipped him, dragging his trousers and underwear down just enough to release him from their confines. Another deep exhale left him as his erection sprung free, standing firm and ready against his stomach. You moved slowly, unable to resist teasing him first. Your eyes stayed on him, watching his jaw clench, pulsating in tandem with every brush of your fingers. 

And just as he was about to speak, maybe even beg, you gripped the base of his cock and dragged your tongue from root to tip. His grasp of your hair tightened in response, his other hand clutching the material of the couch at his side. You parted your lips and slid him into your mouth, revelling in the deep, throaty sound he made, how his head fell back again.

You moved in a steady rhythm, teasing with your tongue and taking as much of him into your mouth as you could. By now, you knew exactly how he liked it; how fast, how deep, where to put your hands, the perfect moments to look up at him through your lashes. It didn’t take long for his breathing to grow heavier, for his hands to begin guiding your head, your name falling in soft murmurs from his lips. 

He was getting close, you could feel it in the way his body tensed beneath you, how quiet he suddenly became. But instead of giving in to it, he made you stop, tightening his fists in your hair and pulling you away. 

“Up,” he whispered, his voice rough and commanding. “Come here.” 

You rose to your feet almost immediately, letting him guide you onto his lap with your knees bracketing his thighs. He swept his thumb along your bottom lip, gazing at your mouth in admiration, while his other hand slid up to the back of your neck, holding you in place with your face close to his. 

He rolled his hips beneath you, like a silent demand, and you reached down immediately to move your bikini bottoms aside. You guided the head of his cock along the seam of your pussy as his hands found your waist, fingertips pressing into your skin to ease you down onto him. A low groan rumbled in his chest as he filled you, and you instinctively began to rock against him in search of rhythm.

But his grip on you tightened immediately. “Slow,” he whispered against your lips, his voice deep yet tender. “Slow.”

You let out a heavy breath, following his lead and settling into a slow, sensual grind. His hands continued to guide your hips, maintaining your pace, as his lips found your neck, trailing hot, hungry kisses across your skin.

“That’s it,” he muttered. “Just like that.” 

You closed your eyes, gasping as the friction of each slow, deliberate giration sent waves of pleasure rippling through you. While the sound of his gentle praise brought them crashing down deep in your belly. You whimpered, pressing your forehead against his, your movements growing needier, but his hands held you steady.

“No rushing,” he whispered. “I want to feel you.”

You did exactly as he asked, fighting against the urge to seek out pleasure and instead letting it find you, allowing it to wash over you with every deep stroke and dark utterance of his voice. Your fingers curled into the back of his hair, gripping him tighter with every slow, measured rock of your hips, the couch creaking slightly beneath the weight of your bodies.

He shifted slightly, the new angle allowing him to sink deeper inside you, hitting the spots that made your laboured breaths catch on quiet, desperate moans. You kept moving, your hips rolling like liquid as he kept his hold on you, maintaining your pace, encouraging you to take it slow. 

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice rough and serrated as he brought a hand up to your jaw, encouraging you to lift your head.  

Everything seemed to disappear beyond the point your eyes met, like the whole world existed solely inside his dark, heavy-lidded gaze. You moaned softly as you leaned into the push and pull of his hands, the smooth, deep slide, relinquishing yourself to him completely, never daring to look away. 

His chest was heaving, throat rumbling with groans so low they were leaving him in quiet growls. You brought your lips to his, letting the sounds pour into your mouth as he kissed you slowly, deeply, his tongue sweeping over yours in time with the rhythm and roll of your hips. The feeling of him inside you was sublime; fullness and friction, pressure and electricity. Sparks were kindling deep in your belly, while familiar surges of tingling heat coursed through your body. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, as though he could feel it all too. 

You whimpered in response, your body moving entirely on instinct, chasing your orgasm as it began to swell in your core. But still, he refused to speed up, his hands remaining firm as they guided you, angling you just right until a bolt of pleasure drew a heavy, unexpected moan from your throat.

“That’s it,” he whispered.

Your climax unfurled slowly, like a deep, powerful rumble of thunder. It made you stop breathing, every muscle in your body contracting at once, pulling inwards to the place where the lightning had struck. You dug your fingers into the backs of his shoulders, eyes closed, hips slowing to a stop as your limbs began to shake.  

A silky groan poured out of him as your whole weight settled into his lap, taking him as deep as your body would allow, squeezing and gripping him with each new surge of pleasure. He held you there as he came; head falling back, teeth clenched, fingernails leaving grooves in your flesh. You forced yourself to look at him, taking his face in your hands and leaning forward to kiss him between hot, gasping breaths. 

“I love you,” you whispered into his open mouth, immediately feeling his lips curl into a smile. 

“You better,” he muttered softly.

You giggled, before melting into a calmer, gentler kiss. “I can’t feel my legs.” 

“Eh, you don’t need them.” 

You were sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, still in your bikini, a plush throw from the sunroom couch draped around your shoulders. The lighting was warm and ambient, the room glowing gently as the windows framed a pitch black sky. 

Ben was rummaging through the fridge, the tension he’d arrived home with now gone, replaced with loose posture and relaxed shoulders, a natural smile as he told you about his day. The funny interactions and questions he actually enjoyed answering, the times he was told off for swearing too much and the person who got so nervous they wasted their entire five minutes awkwardly shuffling through cue cards.

“There was one guy,” he said, half-laughing as he emerged from the fridge with a container of strawberries. “Who did a quiz. And he was asking the whole cast the same questions to see who got the most right.”

You smirked. “So naturally you just had to win.”

“Of course.” 

You laughed, watching as he took a bite of a strawberry, chewing on it as he continued to speak. 

“Every answer had to include the word strange,” he mumbled. “Y’know, because Doctor Strange.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Some of them, I don’t know how he was expecting anyone to know the answer. One was something like… ‘name the 1960-something controversial sci-fi novel by Robert… Something or other…” 

“Heinlein? Stranger in Strange Land?” 

His eyes darted across the island towards you, another strawberry halfway into his mouth. “Oh, alright, fucking Einstein.” 

You laughed, unable to disguise your smugness. “Don’t tell me you’re threatened by a clever woman?” 

The corner of his mouth curled in amusement. “Not at all. You just don’t strike me as the type to enjoy 1960’s science fiction.” 

“I’m not. They said it was banned back when it came out for being full of sex and orgies, so obviously I had to read it. Turns out it’s just boring and really fucking misogynistic.” 

He exhaled a laugh. “There was a play I studied in uni… God, what was it called?” He pinched the bridge of his nose in thought before grabbing his phone off the counter. “I’ll have to look it up.” 

You watched him tap and swipe across the screen, squinting as he looked down at it before letting out a huff.

“I need my glasses,” he said. “I can’t see a fucking thing.” 

You giggled, tilting your head as you looked at him. “You’re such an old man.” 

He gave a playful glare, his voice low and dramatic. “Watch it.” 

You smirked, reaching across the island to pluck a strawberry from the container and settling back on your stool to eat it.

He pulled a pair of reading glasses from his back pocket, slipping them on before resting his elbows on the counter, phone in hand. But after a moment of quiet, he turned his head towards you, eyeing you with interest. 

“Do you really think I’m old?” he asked. 

You met his gaze, assessing his tone; casual yet curious, not offended, but wondering, like the question had crossed his mind before. 

“Older than me,” you replied. 

“Does it bother you?” 

There was a seriousness to his voice now. But it was still soft, open, welcoming of whatever your answer may be.

“That you’re older than me?” you asked.

“That I’m… a lot older than you…”

“Well it’s not that much…” 

“It’s thirteen years.” 

You paused, drawing in a deep breath through your nose and shrugging slowly. “You know my parents have the same age gap… I told you that, right?”

“They do?” 

“Yes. Exactly the same. They were actually a few years older than we are now when they had me.” 

He seemed to disappear inside himself for a moment, thinking, before coming back to you with an inquisitive look. “So your dad was… an older dad, then?” 

“Mhm.”

“Did it ever bother you? You never felt like you missed out in any way?” 

You felt a flicker of understanding, like it was suddenly obvious where his apprehension lay. You’d left the door to having children ajar; a future he’d made clear he wanted but didn’t need. And if you were to ever step through that door with him, he would be in his late forties, perhaps older.

“I never felt like I missed out,” you replied earnestly. “He was just as active and present and involved as any other dad. Maybe even more so because they’d already lost pregnancies before I came along.” You shook your head. “And if they could have, I’m sure they’d have had more kids after me too.” 

He smiled. 

“He ran in the dads’ race every sports day, played dolls and make-believe with me, never moaned or groaned or said he was too tired for anything,” you said. “Worshipped the ground my mum walked on - still does - which is probably why I have such impossible standards for men.” You laughed. 

He laughed too. “Well, if I ever become a parent, I’d hope to be just like him.” 

“You will be.” 

“Will be…?” He raised an eyebrow teasingly.

“Would be,” you corrected, rolling your eyes. “Then again, with the amount of sex we’ve had over the past few days, it wouldn’t surprise me if my implant just gave out from sheer exhaustion.” 

He chuckled, his face creasing with warmth and amusement. “Well, we’re flying to New York tomorrow night so it’ll get somewhat of a break.” 

“Oh no I wasn’t complaining. I’ll take all the sex I can get, y’know, before you get too old and your dick stops working.” 

He dropped his head, letting out a shocked breath, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a growl. “Right, I’ve had enough of you now.”

You giggled as you watched him push off the counter, turning on his heels to leave. 

“Where are you going?”

“It’s past my bedtime,” he replied sarcastically. 

“Do you need some help getting up the stairs?”

He turned back around with a deadpan look. “No, but keep talking and I might fake a fall just to get away from you.” 

You snorted out a laugh, reaching over the counter for another strawberry, glancing over at him as you bit into it. 

He was standing in the space where the kitchen met the hall, his arm resting above his head on the frame of the archway. “Come to bed, smartarse.” 

You smirked, hopping off your stool and wrapping the throw tighter around you like a cloak. “Yes sir.”

*Tag List: @blondekel77 @bakerstreethound @annesthaeticc @aephereal @sharp-cheekbones-locked @sherlux @veryladyqueen @graciebear47 @allurenia @jamerlynn @cottagecore-cat @aysamuka @thegardenerofeden @cumbercatchmebaby @inspirationalandrandom @turkisherlockian @swds @weepingdreamerpanda @elzabethann @childofgod215 @briecantopme @lovecleastrange @paola-carter @greatburger @azu21 @xourownsidee @hunterofshadows04 @asgardianprincess1050 @teddycrimson @sherlocksgirl91 @oliveoilthoughts @hai-kbai @shjl15 @bloodyxsaint @charleighsblog @stephenstrangeaddictions @omgstarks @sleutherclaw @bisciwri @theevilsupreme @gwoods123 @classickook @coffee-d0t @strangeobsessed @januarycolor @strangeions @lonadane @downtownshabby

[zanewalker13]

Personal Favourite Fanfics | Benedict Cumberbatch & Tom Hiddleston |

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

IN REAL LIFE PART 3 + 4 | Last Ones | Benedict Cumberbatch:

Thou Shalt Not Covet https://www.tumblr.com/daydreamtofiction/739458134002843648/thou-shalt-not-covet-10-baptism?source=share

He had a Smile https://rogersthat-cap.tumblr.com/post/81697583670/what-were-you-asking-a-benedict-cumberbatch-x

Pregnant https://www.tumblr.com/turkisherlockian/645635773953196032/pregnant-one-shot-benedict-cumberbatch-x

Let's get Lost https://ben-c-group-therapy.tumblr.com/post/650321553018486784/benedict-cumberbatch-fluff

Please Don't say you Love me https://rogersthat-cap.tumblr.com/post/77527975999/please-dont-say-you-love-me-a-benedict-x-reader

Sleepyhead https://morizoras-cave.tumblr.com/post/624473015928963072/sleepyhead-request

That Dumb Kiss https://imeternallylove.tumblr.com/post/694758693082906624/that-dumb-kiss-benedict-cumberbatch

Smile once more (Platonic) https://ijustreallylovezebras.tumblr.com/post/179445599991/smile-once-more

Director's Cut https://magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics.tumblr.com/post/169336857028/directors-cut-request

[No Name] https://imaginesheaven.tumblr.com/post/127168184056/benedict-cumberbatch-x-reader-god-you-are Needy https://aephereal.tumblr.com/post/685623649068253184/needy-benedict-cumberbatch-x-oc-teaser-18 Tom Hiddleston: Saying Goodbye https://www.tumblr.com/lindsey-laufeyson/734103956875313152/saying-goodbye?source=share In Too Deep https://www.tumblr.com/thefaefiction/717983015913111552/mars-connor-x-reader-dbh?source=share Remote Consults Behind Enemy Lines https://www.tumblr.com/muddyorbsblr/731361809655873536/remote-consults-behind-enemy-lines-kinktober?source=share

What Happened After The Game https://www.tumblr.com/lady-rose-moon/720003274763321344/what-happened-after-the-game-tom-hiddleston-x?source=share Breathless Desires https://href.li/?https://m.fanfiction.net/s/9983285/1/Breathless-Desire Breaking Down Walls https://www.tumblr.com/just-the-hiddles/613653955636035584/breaking-down-walls-tom-hiddleston-x-reader Caught https://www.tumblr.com/sunshinexsin/720688854883024896/caught Dark Delights https://www.tumblr.com/just-the-hiddles/618918115634561024/dark-delights-tom-hiddleston-x-reader Every Step Of The Way https://www.tumblr.com/lady-rose-moon/683071025303470080/hey-i-really-like-your-writing-could-you-please Hotline https://www.tumblr.com/anonymousfiction211/671291352943935488/hotline [No Name] https://www.tumblr.com/thefangirlscientist-blog/186462572294/imagine-introducing-your-fianc%C3%A9-tom-hiddleston?source=share

[taisiabelle]

Doctor: How many sexual partners have you had?

Me, who reads smut fun fictions about different characters on daily basis…

[lokidokieokie]

The “L” Word

Summary: You and Benedict had only been dating for three months when he had to leave to film for Sherlock. Three months later and he still hadn’t come home; you missed him like crazy. The nightly calls were the only thing that got you through the day. And, after one particularly draining day, you accidentally let the “L” word slip...

Pairing: Benedict Cumberbatch x Reader

Warning(s): fluff overload (I didn’t know I was capable of writing this much fluff), Benedict being all cute, adoring pet names, some naughty words 🫢 (whose really surprised at this point?)

Walking through your front door to a cold and empty house was sadly the new norm for you. Ever since Ben had left to film the latest season of Sherlock, everything was just...off. Your home didn't feel the same without him.

Entering your home felt weird without the welcome home kiss that Ben would give you; sleep was hard to come by without his loving arms draped around your waist; and how were you meant to get through the day without his little cheeky messages?

Nothing was normal anymore, and God you missed Ben. You longed for the day he would come home, so you could sleep in his arms again--for the day that everything would become normal again.

The only thing getting you through this was the nightly phone calls; at least you could hear his voice before you fell asleep. But trying to occupy your mind until then was always a challenge.

Today's method: cleaning and decluttering the house. Hopefully that can occupy you long enough.

At exactly 8 o'clock, your phone began blasting the Sherlock theme tune causing you to drop your broom as you bolted towards it; narrowly missing tripping over the ottoman to get to it.

"Ben!" You excitedly exclaimed.

You could practically hear him smile through the phone, "Hello, Love."

"How's my favourite high-functioning sociopath doing today?"

Ben laughed, "He's doing alright, but he wants to know how his favourite girl's big presentation at work went today."

Conversations with Ben were pretty much the highlight of your day. You got to hear what shenanigans that cast of Sherlock got up to, he got to hear about the weird guy at work who sat at a table across from his tie and talked to it during lunch. It was pretty much just pure and utter nonsense that made you miss him that much more.

"I miss you so much, Darling."

You sighed softly, "I miss you too, Ben."

“How is it already eleven o’clock? It feels like I only began talking to you ten minutes ago.”

"Time flies when you're having fun, Benny." You giggled at his groan, he did not like that nickname.

"One day I'll give you a stern talking to about that nickname."

You rolled your eyes, "Sure you will, Benny, sure you will."

He sighed, "In all seriousness though, I've got to get to bed. Can't have Sherlock being even grumpier than he already is tomorrow. Good night, Love."

"Good night, Ben. I love you-" You quickly cut yourself off.

Shit. You just said the "L" word didn't you? This was not a conversation meant to be had over the phone. It wasn't something that should've been brought up at all.

Curse your tired self!

"Darling? Did you just-"

"I said nothing, good night!"

And with that, you quickly ended the call and practically threw your phone across the room.

That was not how the conversation was meant to go.

Grumbling to yourself, "This calls for some wine."

The sound of the doorbell continuously ringing roused you out of your somewhat peaceful sleep.

Who in the world would be ringing your doorbell at 3 in the morning?

Slowly clambering your way out of bed, the noise didn't cease.

"Cool your tits, I'm coming!"

Grumpily trudging down the stairs, you swore to all Gods out there that you would kill whoever was on the other side of that door.

Angrily opening the door you began scolding whoever it was, "Do you have any idea what time it-"

You were cut short by a pair of familiar lips dancing with your own. That was not something you were expecting when you opened your door at 3am.

"Ben? What are you doing here? It's 3 in the bloody morning."

"I don't like the way our conversation ended."

You anxiously began playing with your fingers. "It ended how every conversation does, with a good night."

He tsked, "You were never a good liar, Love."

You sighed, "I didn't mean to announce it like that. It kind of slipped-"

He smiled, "I love you, too."

You jerked your eyes up to meet his. "You do?"

He cupped your face in his hands, "You have no idea how long I've waited to tell you those three words. I wanted to make it all special, going out to a fancy dinner, maybe a walk around Hyde Park? Just something special where I could declare my undying love for you, Y/n."

A tear slipped down your cheek and you lightly chuckled, "I'm sorry I ruined that plan."

He shook his head and wiped your tear away, "You didn't. I couldn't have imagined a better way for me to tell you that I love you, Y/n. I practically did the whole running through the airport cliché. As soon as you ended the phone call, I kind of just stood there with a goofy smile on my face; Martin had to knock me out of my daze. As soon as he did, I bolted towards my car and drove the three and a half hours to get here. I needed you to know I love you."

You gave him a soft kiss, "I need you to know that I love you, Ben."

He gave you the goofiest smile possible. "Say it again, please."

You giggled, "I love you, Benedict Cumberbatch."

He pecked you on the lips, "I love you too, Y/n L/n."

That night, you finally got to fall asleep with Ben's loving arms wrapped around you; and you had never slept better.

Don’t know how I feel about this...but oh well :)

Find my masterlist here!

[dragon-kazansky]

Masquerade at midnight

Gender neutral reader

[Masterlist]

[Previous Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

Word count: 4.2k

Notes: Blood. Violence. Possible betrayal. Jeremy makes an asshole move.

♡♡♡

Chapter Thirteen - Crimson rivers

Silence falls among them once more. The two men stare at each other. Everything feels still. Except... one little thing.

Mads hears it.

Ben, seeing Mads has noticed something, looks at his master curiously.

Mads smiles slowly.

A heartbeat.

Your heartbeat.

You're alive.

Mads turns his head and looks at Ben with a far more amused glint in his eyes than he seen in the past 24 hours. It rather unsettles Ben as he's not sure what reason Mads has to be smiling. Though, he has to admit it is nice not to be looked down upon any more. Mads turns his gaze back toward Jeremy's army, Ben doing the same.

"Ah, so you know," Jeremy chuckles.

"Know what?" Ben asks, looking between Jeremy and Mads. What do they know that he does not?

"They are here."

Jeremy grins. He nods his head and then turns around behind him. He gives a little wave of his hand. Jeremy's right hand man moves out of the way, allowing you to come through. You shuffle forward slowly, unsure of where to look. Yes, you're happy to see them again, but you're also standing on the opposite side. Mads will work it out if you don't say anything.

"There you are," Jeremy gestures for you to come stand a little closer. You do. Keeping your head down, you pretend to be unbothered by Jeremy putting an arm around your shoulders to keep you close to his side.

Mads watches with narrowed eyes.

"They're fine, aren't you, dear?" Jeremy smiles, turning to you.

"Yes."

"Look at me," Mads says, watching you.

You take a deep, uneven, breath, and raise your eyes to Mads. It feels so good to see him, but you feel so guilty for what you had to do to be here. Not a word has to be shared between you. It was like he could read you like a book. From one look he seemed to understand everything. Even from where you stood, you could see the change in his expression.

"You didn't have to," he says.

Ben looks confused as he looks at you.

"Have to what?"

"What did he offer you?" Mads asks.

"My life, basically."

Mads turns his eyes to Jeremy and glares at him.

"The consequences?"

"I kill them here in front of you. That still stands if they so much as turn around and help you. I could have them turned, but I think killing them would crush you more. Then I'll kill you and take over."

"You do not have the power, nor respect, to lead a vampire nest," Mads warns him.

"No? My friends here would disagree."

"They would tear you to shreds the instant you tried to take power."

"Please stop talking, Mikkelsen. You have no idea how my men work. We have been waiting for this day for months."

"And what of you master?" Mads asks.

Ben glares at Jeremy.

"What about him? He cares very little for my wellbeing. Has he told me he was only a half-blood, perhaps I wouldn't be here now. He did not. Now I am suppose to accept that I have no power? Ridiculous."

"Who is your master?"

"I could tell you, but if he doesn't own up to it himself, I won't say a word."

You turn your attention back to Ben. He's still avoiding your gaze. You get the feeling he knows who it is. In fact, Mads would appear to know as well.

"As touching as this reunion is, I didn't come here to chat. I came to end your reign," Jeremy states, looking at Mads again. You drop your gaze and let the fear set in. It's not as if you could hold this off for long. Jeremy came to kill a man and take down those who stood in his way. 

"Then fight me yourself," Mads demands.

"Not until everyone else is occupied."

Jeremy holds up his hand. You can only hear your own breathing. Your heart rate is increasing. You see the way Mads and the others shift in their spots. You wonder where everyone else is. Are they waiting? You can't see them.

Jeremy clenches his hand into a fist and you have to step closer to him to avoid everyone behind you running forward. Viscous hissing fills the air as they protrude their fangs and claws. They're ready to kill. You don't really know what to do other than stand there.

Your eyes are drawn up to the roof of the mansion. A high pitched sound echoes from up there. Your only instinct is to run away from Jeremy when you oncoming fire being shot from the rooftops down below. Someone up there has set up cannons of some sort. There is very little concern for the grounds as whoever up there aims and fires to kill the oncoming enemy.

You hear your name being called from behind you, but you have ducked into the gardens with no intention of slowing down to see who it is. Though you get the feeling that's Jeremy calling you back. If he can't see you, he can only assume you'll go against him.

Someone reaches out and drags you out of the way of one of Jeremy's men, preparing to attack. You scream at the sudden jolt, but cling to the arm that has it's hold on you. You turn swiftly to see Daniel pulling you into his chest, in his other hand, a revolver. He shoots the other man, knowing it won't be enough to kill him, but enough to slow him down.

"Don't go anywhere," Danie tells you. You nod your head. Daniel tosses the empty gun to the ground and you turn away just as he leaps onto the other man, fangs and claws ready to fight. You can hear the nasty sound of flesh being torn apart and the screams of Jeremy's man. You hug yourself as you force yourself to remain ignorant to the fight behind you.

An explosion goes off near by, starting you terribly. You go to run again, but Daniel wraps his arms around you once more. He pulls you away, shielding your eyes from the mess he had left behind and taking you into the next section of the garden.

"Look at me," Daniel places his hands on either side of your head, making you look at him. You take a deep breath as you focus on his eyes. "That's it." He smiles.

You cling to his arms, grasping them tightly in your hands.

"Now, listen to me," he says. You nod. "Your dagger is in the house. This key will unlock the office door," Daniel drops the key into your hand. "Mads' office, you got that?" You nod. "I was too risky to have it on my person. You must get to the house and get it. Kill Jeremy. Understand?"

You nod again, clasping the key tightly. Daniel lets go of you and grabs your hand. You put the key away safely and follow him out of this part of the garden.

Turning the corner, you can see the greenhouse has been smashed to pieces. Anson has one of the men in a chokehold, fighting him off. There is a trail of blood along his temple and his hands are strained red. He doesn't see you as you walk by with Daniel. Though you do hear more glass shattering behind you as you go. 

"I must part ways with you and go help my friend, remember, Mads' office, your dagger."

"I remember," you confirm. Daniel, in the spur of the moment, plants a kiss to your forehead and smiles at you, right before running off to join the fight again. You watch him go before making a move again. The main fight is being kept to the front of the house, right up along the road. You decide keeping to the side will get you to the house faster, so you cross through the garden and plan to walk up the outside, near the tree line.

More explosions can be heard from behind you, and a lot of yelling. You shiver at the sound of the fight. They really are tearing each other apart. You feel sick thinking about it.

Making it to the other side of the garden without being seen, you duck behind a statue when you hear the sound of combat close by. You curl up into a ball, trying to make yourself as small as possible, but allowing room to peek around the side. You see Jodie with a sword. A SWORD!

Women with swords will always be sexy, but damn, you wished you had turned around quicker. She sliced that man's head off cleanly. Quickly, you cover your mouth, trying not to throw up right there.

Hearing the sound of an escalating heart rate, Jodie wipes the blood from the blade along her sleeve and turns toward the statue.

"I know you're there."

You take a second to make sure you won't spew. Feeling safe, you get up and come out into the opening. Jodie smiles softly at you.

"Sorry if you saw that," she scrunches her nose slightly, hoping you're alright.

"I did. I don't want to see that again. I'm going to pretend there isn't a decapitated man at your feet and carry on toward the house." You step around the head, fighting to keep from looking at it. Jodie follows you with her eyes, looking apologetic. She steps around the headless body and follows you around the top end of the garden.

"I'll cover you," she says. You thank her and make a break for the drive way. Jodie turns the corner and makes her way up the road, sword at the ready.

You run for the door. However, you weren't expecting the door to swing open when you got there. You almost fall flat on your face, but a pair of hands catch you. You look up, ready to fight of anyone who had made it to the house, but you're surprised to see Michael Caine, Mads' butler, helping you steady yourself.

"Should you be here?" You ask.

He smiles kindly at you.

"Do you think we would not fight along our master when he needs us most?" He chuckles. He gestures to the staircases. You look up in awe. Each doorway and each staircase was blocked by staff from the house. They were armed and ready.

"You're fighting for him."

"Of course. Those who did not wish to take up arms are down in the kitchen and the quarters, blocked off until this is over. The rest of us will defend this house with all we have."

You smile at him.

"I need to get to the office," you tell him. Michael nods and gestures to the stair case. The staff move aside to allow you to pass. You thank him and make your way up. When you reach the top, you stop and turn around to them. "Fight with all you have. Slow them down. Do not let them enter this house."

They nod and cheer.

You give a salute and run off in the direction of the office.

The moment Jeremy saw you run off, he was filled with rage. You weren't a coward running out of fear, you were running away from him. He called your name as you ran off into the garden, but you didn't stop. He made to go after you, but Mads was far faster than he anticipated. Mads grabbed him by the throat and glared at him.

"You have no power," he growled.

Jeremy smirks at Mads, hands clasped around his wrist. His clawed nails dig into Mads' hand, but the man isn't bothered. He barely feels the pain.

"Barnes should have turned me, then I would be worthy in your eyes," Jeremy hissed.

Mads tightens his hold on his neck.

"Your master is dead. I killed him with my own hands. Barnes lives with the guilt of ever being associated with you. The only reason you take it out on him is because he is all that's left. I am stronger than the master of your master. What power could you possibly believe you have?" Mads asks.

Jeremy glares at him.

"They should have done better to end you," Jeremy hissed.

Mads, in his anger, decides to give Jeremy a fighting chance. He throws Jeremy down to the ground, hard enough to cause him to roll twice before stopping. Mads stands over him, fangs are the ready.

"Fight me. Show me that power you claim to have."

Jeremy laughs as he pushes himself up from the ground. He gives his shoulder a roll, a horrid sharp cracking sound could be heard. Once on his feet, he faces Mads.

"I'll show you."

Both men run at each other at top speed, but Mads has the upper hand. He's faster, smarter, and more agile. Jeremy, being of weaker blood, cannot move as quickly as Mads. Therefore the mightier of the two can see every move Jeremy makes.

Those long fingernails scratch at their opponents. Blood is drawn, but not in a deadly way. Scratches at best. Jeremy sports a split lip where Mads was able to elbow him in the jaw. Mikkelsen is far too quick for Jeremy's eye.

Managing to get behind him, Mads locks his arm around Jeremy's neck, pulling his head back against his shoulder. He keeps him in a hold there.

"Tired?"

"Not even slightly," Jeremy spits.

"You can still back down and walk away."

"Why would I do that? All I have to do is end you."

"And how do you intend on doing that? You can't even outrun me," Mads growls.

Jeremy laughs.

"I can't kill you now, but I will when the moment is right."

"And when is that going to be?" Mads asked, keeping his voice. He spoke right into Jeremy's ear.

"Not long I hope. I'm just keeping you busy until that time comes," he grins. Mads' hold on Jeremy slackens a bit as he turns his gaze of concern to the man he is holding still.

"What do you mean?"

"While we've been fighting out here, who is protecting your precious gem? I should have known they would go against me the moment they had the chance, therefore they have signed their death warrant."

Mads looks up at the house. That would be your destination if Daniel managed to relay the information to you. If so, you were in trouble. Mads casts his eyes across the battlefield, looking over to see who he could see. Daniel and Tom had their hands full, keeping as many of the enemy back as possible. Up further ahead he could see Jodie and her sword. The blade was dripping scarlet. Anson runs out of the left garden to grab at a burly looking man, pulling him down to the ground to finish him. Canon fire was still blasting from the rooftops where he knew Oscar and Benedict were. At the very least if you could make it up there and let them know you were alright, he would know you were safe.

Jeremy laughs again.

"My right hand is also nowhere in sight. You probably should have thought this through before hand."

"He'll never make it through the house."

Jeremy smirks. "Are you sure about that?"

As if on cue, a scream comes from the house. Mads' head turns sharply up to look at the building. He can't see anything from where he stands, that and the lights were out. That scream was you, no doubt about it. Filling with rage again, he grabs Jeremy and throws him around again, this time keeping him pinned to the ground with his foot. He stands over him and glares down at the other man.

"I will kill you first!"

"It's me, or them, make a choice Mads."

Mads could to crush Jeremy's neck with his foot, but stops. He hears you scream again. Looking up, he sees Tom push the one he was fighting to the ground, ending them with his hands. He looks up and make eye contact with Mads. He nods once. Tom stands up and makes for the house. Mads turns back to Jeremy and applies pressure.

"I'll wait."

Hiddleston runs up the steps, through the doors, and past the fallen staff members who had been guarding the house. There was no time to mourn them now, not when you were in trouble. He would not let their sacrifice be in vain. He continues up through the halls and to the office.

The door to the office was open. The chest the dagger was kept in was also open, and empty.

Tom stands in the door and looks around. Signs of a struggle. You had picked up the dagger, but were attacked from behind. You knocked most of the stuff on the desk to the floor, all except the box and a paper weight. Both of those items were askew, however. It would seem you had tried to fight back, but were forcefully removed from the room.

Tom turns around, prepared to go look for you, but David is standing there with Lauren, both of them armed.

"Where are they?" Hiddleston asks.

"I think he's taken them to the roof. Need backup?" David asks, loading his shotgun. Tom nods and gestures for Lauren and him to follow. They make quick work of getting up to the roof.

On any other day, getting up to the roof unnoticed would be hard. The narrow stairs leading up creak, and the door to get up there is old and noisy. With the cover of canon fire, getting up there should be easier unsuspected.

Tom pushes the heavy door open and steps out onto the roof. He holds a hand out for Lauren to help her up, and then David follows through. They walk out onto the open roof. Oscar and Benedict are still firing down below, stopping the masses. You, unfortunately, are being caged in by Jeremy's right hand hand. The dagger lies on the ground a little ways from you. Oscar and Benedict mustn't have known you were also up here.

Tom give a nod to David who nods back and slowly makes his way around the rooftop, heading over to where Oscar and Benedict are. He's going to get their attention. Lauren lifts her weapon up and aims at Jeremy's man. Tom takes a step forward.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The man turns his head toward Tom, not even knowing David is creeping around on the other side of him. The man has his fangs and claws out, those said claws digging into the skin around your neck. He isn't holding you tight, but those sharp nails of his sure hurt.

"They betrayed us!"

"Yes, they did."

"They need to die!"

"No, I don't think so."

The man hisses and pushes you closer to the edge of the rooftop. Though there is a wall stopping you from falling, one good push would be enough to have you go over. You grasp onto the wall for life. The man lunges at Tom and the two begin to fight. You catch your breath and try not to look down.

Lauren, still aiming her gun at the man, circles around to where you are. With her free hand, she reaches out and grabs you. You cling to her arm, mouthing a thank you to her, despite the fact she is more focused on the two fighting men.

David reaches Benedict and taps him on the shoulder. Benedict turns and sees the fight happening behind him. Oscar, realising Benedict has stopped fighting, looks up. A silent conversation takes place. It's a knowing look they share. Oscar signals for Benedict to keep firing down below. Benedict loads his next ammo. Oscar turns his handmade canon around, facing the two fighting vampires.

"I need Tom to move," he yells over to David. The other man nods again and makes his way over to the two fighting men.

With one look from David and a wave of his hand, Lauren grabs you and pulls you back toward where Benedict was firing upon the gardens. You're out of the wat of Oscar's line of sight, and away from the fight. David drops his weapon, bears his fangs and jumps into the brawl. He grabs at the man, Tom giving him a solid hook around the nose, and throws him with the force. He kicks him hard, having him roll over. Tom leaps out of the way, David giving one more solid kick, and then diving for the dagger.

Oscar takes the shot.

The split second David rolls out of the way for your dropped weapon, he fires. Oscar hits him square on. With the force of the fire, and the speed from this distance, there is nothing left of the man. Just a hole where he was.

You give Oscar a thankful smile and give Lauren a little hug.

"Thank you," you say, turning to Tom who has now come over. He smiles at you in return, placing his hand on your shoulder.

David approaches.

You stand before him.

"This is yours."

You take the dagger and grasp it tight, looking at it in all it's glory.

"Thank you."

You turn your toward the fight happening down below. All of you stand behind the wall, watching the garden flow with crimson rivers. So much bloodshed. Your eyes are drawn to two figures in particular. 

Mads and Jeremy.

Mads had Jeremy pinned under his foot by the throat. His hair was hanging over his face, his posture looked tense. He was on the verge of killing Jeremy.

But you knew. You knew you had to kill him with this dagger. The dagger would erase him entirely.

"I have someone to kill," you mutter, glaring down at the man.

"Then Benedict and I will cover you, while they take you to him," Oscar said, looking at you. You turn your head to him and smile. Unexpectedly for Oscar, you plant a soft kiss to his cheek.

"What would I do without you?" You ask, grinning.

Oscar chuckles softly and waves you off.

With David, Tom, and Lauren in tow, you make your way off the roof and back through the house. You try not to look at all the fallen staff as you go. They defended you as hard as they could, fighting tooth and nail to help you. Even when you were in the office, you could hear their gunfire. They will not be forgotten.

You exit the house. The battle was still in full throttle, but you had your sights set on one man. You hold your head up high and step down the stairs. Tom, David, and Lauren all lifted their weapons, firing in every direction. You would remain untouched until you had completed your goal. They would make sure of it.

Michael Sheen and Tom Ellis are fighting a group to your left. Daniel is impaling a man to your right. Anson runs across the drive, tearing through anyone in the way. Jodie's sword has seen more bloodshed than ever before. Barry beats the shit out of a guy who tried to attack him from behind.

Ben, oh Ben, he's covered in blood, hair a mess, eyes filled with rage.

Your eyes watch him for a moment. He doesn't notice you're there, and honestly in his blind rage, you don't expect him to. When this is over with, you will make it up to Ben. You will make him see that he is forgiven. He didn't intend for any of this to happen. Not now.

You turn back to Mads and Jeremy. You stand alone now, the others holding back to fight off incoming attacks.

Mads turns his head and sees you standing there with the dagger in your hand.

He steps away from Jeremy.

You step a little closer.

Mads turns and stands in front of you. You look up at him. He places his hands on your shoulders and looks at you. You smile. Mads pulls you into a hug and holds you. You hug him back, fighting off the urge to cry. He has been so good to you. You can only imagine what he was feeling when he found out Jeremy had taken you.

"I'm sorry," you whisper into his shoulder, "I'm sorry!"

"You have nothing to be sorry about, dear."

You cling to him.

Jeremy stands from where Mads had him laying. He grins. A weakness. You're Mads' weakness.

It all happens so quickly. You feel something wrap around your wrist, the hand with the dagger in, it's lifted and pushed down. Mads' head tilts up and you gasp sharply. Jeremy laughs, squeezing your wrist. Mads lets go of you to kneel down. You step back, but can't for far. Jeremy twists you around so your back is against his front. Your dagger sticks out of Mads' back.

You scream.

You hear a yell. Ben has stopped fighting to see what has happened. His eyes are wide.

Mads groans and slumps to the floor.

Everything goes horribly quiet. Nothing feels real anymore.

You feel yourself collapse to the ground.

Jeremy continues to laugh.

"Checkmate."

♡♡♡

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[leftperfectionmoon]

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[danny-pino-group-therapy]

Lost In A Daydream

Prompted by @tom-hlover: Benedict Cumberbatch X assistant reader, where Reader fell in love with her boss but knows that it couldn't be, so she resorted to writing which luckily she used a pen. Name as her writings became successful and even surprised her that Ben reads her works until he knew it was her and found out about her feelings, and he was feeling the same way too

Pairing: Benedict Cumberbatch x Reader

Warnings: None that I can think of, all fluffy.

Word count: 1,111

A/N: I'm not taking request, but I was asked very nicely, and I didn't want to let a fan down. I have a horrible time saying no, lol. I hope you like it @tom-hlover. So this is my first fic posted in forever, like in years, so be kind, please. If you like it, comment, like, reblog, please! I love your feedback.

Other notes: (Y/P/N) is Your Pen Name. *Gif Credit goes to @thelostsmiles*

Working as an assistant to Benedict Cumberbatch for the past year had been a fantastic opportunity, one you hadn't quite expected to receive. The job had been presented to you by Benedict's previous assistant when she turned in her resignation letter as she was moving away to be with family in the states.

Over the year assisting your boss, you had developed more than just feelings of friendship towards him. Being so close and constantly around Benedict, you slowly developed romantic thoughts. The feelings that you had were eating away at you slowly, and it was no chance you would spill them to Benedict or that he'd in any way return the same feelings, so you decided to put your college courses in creative writing to use and start by writing fanfictions here and there in your free time. When they began to gain attention, several of your readers suggested you start publishing eBooks and submitting drafts to publish. Never had you thought they'd take off as they did, but you had sold several books online, and one of your first books was due to release today in stores, under a pen name, of course.

"Good morning, (Y/N)." Ben said with a smile as he came into the studio to prepare for another day of filming his newest movie. He would spend a while in the makeup chair, so he always had a book on hand.

"Hello, Benedict. You look very cheerful this morning." You commented at the tall man's bright smile. Ben usually had his face buried in a script, but today you noticed he was carrying a bag from his favourite bookstore.

"Well, one of my favourite authors has just published another book, and it was released today. Just grabbed my copy on the way here." He sat down in the chair and cracked the new hardback book open.

It was then that you noticed the title of the book he had. Your book, to be exact, it was also then that your heart sank to your stomach, and you felt nauseated.

"What if he finds out it's me? What if he figures out it's about him? What if he knows it was me all along and he…."

"(Y/N)? (Y/N)? You with me?" Ben called out, making you snap your head up to look at him.

"With you? Wh-why. What do you mean?" You laughed a bit, trying to brush the whole thing off.

"I asked you if you had read any of (Y/P/N) 's books before, but you seemed very occupied." He laughed, making you gulp and blush a bit, looking down to some notes you had in your hand.

"Oh, ha, no. No." You cursed yourself for being so awkward. "I've heard great things, though, from friends."

"She's my favourite author. I'd love to meet her someday." Ben looked over you, carefully studying your curious behaviour before he got back to reading.

The day passed by with you trying to avoid Benedict unless he needed you beside him for work; otherwise, you stayed at a desk out of the way and tried working only to end up stuck in your thoughts.

Ben had a pretty good idea by the end of the day that you were the author of his favourite books, not only due to the way you had acted when you found out he had bought the book this morning but continued to avoid him all day when able. The actor would be lying if he said he didn't have similar feelings as the male character in the book towards his coworker. He was now determined to find out if the feelings were mutual between himself and (Y/N).

You were reading the same line again and again on a paper that had been given to you for a commercial that Ben was to be in in a few weeks.

Benedict came up behind you and called your name, going unnoticed by you with the first call.

"(Y/N)?" He said again and laid a hand on your shoulder to bring you back from your concentration.

You jumped and turned your head, looking up to the ocean blue eyes of your boss.

"Oh, Christ, you scared me." You placed your hand on your chest, feeling the thumping of your heart under your palm.

"You are jumpy today. Is everything okay? You seem a little off. Like in your own world almost." Benedict stated bashfully, wanting to say how he felt about you.

"Uh yeah, yeah. Just, um. Just a lot on my mind." You nodded and looked off. You just wanted to spill your guts to him and get it off your mind and chest.

"You can tell me anything. I know I'm your boss, but I consider you a friend as well. I need to, no, want to tell you. I only hope I'm not crossing the line or going to cross the line." Ben rubbed the back of his neck and tried to stop himself from continuing to ramble.

"I have feelings for you." Ben said suddenly.

"It was about you." You blurted out at the same time.

"I'm sorry?" You asked, staring dumbfounded at the handsome man you had admired. "Did you say you have feelings for me?"

"Yes. Yes, I do (Y/N). I also think you wrote the books, am I right?" He questioned curiously.

"Y-yeah. It's embarrassing. I'm so sorry if it's inappropriate." You wrung your hands and looked down at them. "I can take another job if it'll impact my position working with you." You continued.

"(Y/N)." Benedict interjected. "(Y/N)". He said again and failed to stop you, so he tipped your chin up and kissed your lips tenderly, only pulling away slightly to see if he crossed the line.

What he found was your eyes closed and your face in peaceful bliss. Smiling, Ben leaned in again and pressed a more passionate kiss, wrapping his arm around you, his large hand flat on the small of your back and one hand holding your face gently.

After breaking from the kiss and opening your eyes, you both had a smile.

"What about a date? Not a fictional one this time, an actual date. Then you can tell me about what else you have yet to publish, and I've yet to discover of yours." The actor chuckled as he looked down at you.

"A date I'm great with that idea, but you'll never see what I've posted on my blog. At least not yet." You died just thinking of what he would think if he saw half of the filth you had posted on your blog even before your employment with him.

[turkisherlockian]

Chest Hair [Benedict Cumberbatch x Reader AU]

Summary: Benedict comes home from another film premiere to his jealous wife.

Word count: 1229

Warnings: fluff, smut

A/N: I hope you like it, guys. And you can turn on notifications if you wanna stay tuned as I only post fics here hehehe! Enjoy! ❤️

---

Let me tell you something," she said frustratedly, "I am so jealous!"

The look of concern on Benedict's face turned into a mischievous one. "Well, I know that, but what have I done this time?" He sat next to her on their king size bed, hugging her with his left arm.

"I wish I came along with you! Look how amazing you look!" He chuckled, "I'm not that handsome, Y/N, not more than you at least." And earned a punch in the stomach. "Ah! What?!"

"I'm serious! Never been that serious before. I should have held your hand and kissed you right there, in front of ev-" and he kissed her gently, in order to shut her up in a nice way. "Darling, I love you and you only. In a room full of eyes, mine will find yours. You can come with me next time. No need to be jealous..." Benedict smiled and cupped her face, "What am I supposed to do when you're wearing one of those silk dresses of yours, revealing your smooth skin in London streets?..."

"Don't let me go then... Daddy." She smirked and held his wrists. He chuckled, "You do want to call me daddy, don't you?"

"I do."

"And I'll call you... babygirl?"

"Yup."

"Okay... Babygirl." So adorable, she thought and kissed him. "Alright, babygirl, did you drink your milk?"

Y/N smirked and sat on his lap. "I didn't." Benedict raised an eyebrow, "And why is that?"

"Because..." She palmed his clothed manhood, "I wanted to wait for daddy. His milk tastes much better..." He smirked and pulled her hand away, "Naughty, are we? Daddy likes good girls."

"Am I not a good girl?!" Y/N teared up purposefully, Benedict didn't know she could do that... Frowning, "You are..." Benedict said and held her face in his hands gently, "And I love you."

Y/N smirked again and kissed him hard. "Take me, daddy, right here, right now."

"Looks like you've forgotten your manners, darling..." He grabbed her waist and put her back on the bed. Straightening his back, he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers. "Come here. Kneel." His deep voice, the look he was giving her... It was too much.

She did as she was told and looked up at him in anticipation. "So you said you wanted daddy's milk, didn't you?" Benedict ruffled her hair. "Yes I did, daddy!" She had a big smile on her face, which was going to be destroyed soon.

"Go ahead then, babygirl." He leaned back and put his hands on the bed.

She smirked and licked her lips, taking him out of his boxers. Stroking a few times, she traced her tongue on the tip, teasing him. Benedict closed his eyes, enjoying the pleasure.

She took him into her mouth and started sucking him off. He sighed audibly, which made her get even more wet that she had to squeeze her legs. Y/N took more into her mouth as she milked the rest, squeezing and stroking. He couldn't help but moaned lowly, moving his fingers through her soft hair. "Baby, you're so good..."

"Mmm," Y/N moaned, sending vibrations directly to his manhood. She was getting faster, taking him deeper; and soon he couldn't keep himself from grabbing her hair and fucking her mouth. He pushed himself down her throat and moved her head, Y/N had to hold onto his legs and tried not to gag. He was moaning out loud now, "Fuck, yes baby..." Sweat was forming on his forehead, and he started to fuck her mouth harder. She felt him throbbing inside her mouth and smirked to herself, "Baby, I'm gonna..." He mumbled, "Ugh God!" He let go of her hair, not wanting to cum in her mouth because he's been drinking all day. Y/N continued bobbing her head and Benedict moaned loudly as he came inside her mouth. She looked up at him, swallowing it all. It tasted bitter, she had to admit, but it also felt so sexy. And he opened his eyes when she did it.

Benedict kissed her hard, tasting himself on her tongue. "You were so good, babygirl..." He was panting, his lips only an inch away from hers. "Thank you daddy..." Y/N said innocently and smiled. He grinned and opened his arms, "Come here."

She was on his lap once again. Tracing her fingertips on his chest hair, "You're so sexy, daddy. I can't bear it!" Chuckling, he squeezed her thighs and gave her a long, passionate kiss. "What do you want from daddy now? He's ready to serve his babygirl."

Y/N looked at his lips, the way he called her his babygirl, the way he looked at her... Y/N couldn't take it anymore. Panting against his lips, she took his hand and slided it under her panties. He moved his fingers between her folds and smirked, "You're so wet for me..."

"Mhm..." She nodded, "I need you daddy."

He pulled his hands back and stood up while holding her ass. Smacking it, he smirked as she felt her back hit the wall. Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist and he kissed her once again, before entering her.

Y/N held onto his shoulders and hissed, she was always so tight for him and he always fulfilled her, hitting the spots she never knew that existed.

Benedict groaned, pushing himself deeper slowly and her wetness helped him very much. She moaned loudly as he placed his lips on her neck, kissing from time to time. One of the things he loved about her, she could never hide her moans to herself and it drove him crazy. Moving faster, she buried her nails deep into his shoulders, none of them caring about the marks she was going to leave.

"Ben... Fuck, I love you..." She forgot all about the roleplay. So did he.

"Love you too, baby-mmh..." The noises their skin made followed their sentences and she was on the edge already.

"Yes! YES! Oh my God! Right there! I'm..."

"Cum for me, love..."

She gasped as he took her harder and soon, she came around him, squeezing him from the inside. Benedict kept thrusting into her and groaned into her neck, "Ah, fuck, love... You're so... Ugh..."

Knowing it'll make him go weak at knees, she pulled his hair and he moaned loudly, filling her up with his cum.

They both were panting and looking into each other's eyes. Benedict kissed her with love and care, it was a sweet 'thank you' kiss. They kept kissing until they both needed some air, and he took her to the bed before lying next to her. "Thank you baby."

She shrugged and smiled, "Aren't we even now?"

"I came twice."

Y/N giggled and hugged his chest, thought of something to say but couldn't find the right words. She was so happy, and so lucky to have him. Swirling her fingers around his chest hair, "I love you so much, Benedict. So, so much. That's why I was jealous..."

He rubbed her hair and kissed it, "I know, darling. I love you too. Now it's time for my baby to sleep."

Y/N smiled, oh she enjoyed it so much. Her heart wasn't able to take it! "Okay daddy! Good night..."

He smiled, "Good night, babygirl!"

[cumberficsandmore-blog]

Spelling Fights

Word Count: 1,816

Authors: Deka & Ale

Warning: None, just fluffiness

Pairing: Benedict Cumberbatch x Wife!Reader

Summary: The little fight between an American and a British couple

Credits to this video for the awesome interview: https://youtu.be/eX2M6Lf8WKc

“So, the interview is tonight at eight, right?” I asked, standing behind the scenes of The Hobbit, Ben had just finished his scene as Smaug with the sensors and the tech stuff.

“Yes, but don’t get nervous. You’ll be fine” Benedict smirked, mocking me.

Oh, seriously Benny? He started the game, not knowing I was going to win again. This little game consisted in making fun of each other because of our nationalities, that cute british bastard.

“Of course I’ll be fine” I responded with my head high, I was too proud to quit now.

“But don’t forget that we’re in England. I’m worried people won’t understand what you’re saying, that’s all” He said.

“I can speak properly and I’m sure everyone will get my words, darling” I added with a british accent.

“But I can speak sexier” He winked at me.

“I’m afraid you don’t. ‘Football’, really? Soccer says almost everyone”.

“Everyone is only America? C’mon. At least I don’t say ‘math’, the right way to say it is Maths, you uncultured woman”

I was quiet for a moment, “FREEDOM” I shouted, and the fight began.

Two hours after the little chat with Benedict, we were at home having lunch before getting prepared for the interview. We looked at each other giggling, both of us knew what was going to happen, and we were prepared for the battle. At the beginning it all started as a joke, but now was a whole new rivalry. Ben was chosing a few cookies to eat and I was making some tea, it was a relaxing silence but then my dear husband started screaming.

“That is not how you make tea!” He cried out trying to sound attacked.

“Oh my God, are you serious? We’re not having that conversation again. I highly recommend you to leave the kitchen or…”.

He kissed my cheek interrupting and I smiled wildly.

“I love you, you know that? But maybe we should change tasks. Let me take care of this and you pick the cookies. Deal?”.

I sighed dramatically.

“Yes, we better”.

“Yeah, you can’t just squish the tea bag with the spoon. That’s wrong, love”

“Sorry Mr. Britishguy Sillyname”

He laughed and so did I.

Now we were waiting for someone to tell us to enter the room where the interview was held, everyone took turns, first was Richard Armitage, then Martin and Benedict and I were the last ones. As an actress I was in a lot of movies with Ben. Directors and writers had told us that we have an unique chemistry, but I didn’t appear in The Hobbit trilogy. I joined the crew as a make-up artist and helped with the script, as a big fan of Tolkien I couldn’t miss that opportunity for anything in the world.

“They’re taking a lot of time, aren’t they?” Benedict said, I couldn’t tell if he was worried or excited.

“Is there anything you know about this interview that I don’t?” I asked calmly, “you’re into something, right?”

“Me? Nah. Oh, wait, do you smell that?”.

“Smell what?”.

“Fear”.

I rolled my eyes.

“Okay Smaug the Almighty Destructor of Villages, what have you done?”

“Nothing, I swear!”

He stroked gently my waist.

“Mr. and Mrs Cumberbatch, it’s your turn” announced a blonde woman who happened to be the interviewer.

Before doing so we greeted Martin and talked with him a few seconds. Then, Benedict held the door for me to walk in, so british of him. The purest gentleman.

“Good evening, and thanks a lot for attending me, it’s an honor to have you both here”.

I smiled at her and he shaked her hand.

“My name is Meriah Doty. So, firstly, how are you today?”.

“Great, yeah. Great indeed, although it’s brass monkeys out there”.

Damn.

“It means it’s cold outside” He whispered.

I could see in his smiley face he was forcing himself not to laugh.

“You don’t say!” I answered sarcastically.

Meriah cleared her throat and started to ask Benedict some questions fans sent her via Twitter and Facebook. I was getting a bit bored but then an interesting question popped up.

“So, @CumbercookieLove34 asked: how is it to work with your wife? Is it any competition between you two?”

I crossed my arms, paying full attention now.

“Competition?”.

He pretended to be searching for an answer.

“I wouldn’t name it a competition, but he’s always insulting me. Not in a bad way, you know? But… he’s very silly most of the time, ‘cause I’m the only American in the crew, with Lee Pace of course, but he’s as glorious as Thranduil so Benedict kind of forgives him somehow” I said suddenly.

“The thing is,” Ben started, ”she can’t manage my britishness and she’s mad because she only speaks a simplified version of English” he played the victim.

“Watch your mouth Buttercup Cumberpatch” and I rolled my eyes for what seemed the 10000th time. Meriah laughed again, ”See?” I turned around to face her, “I’m so tired”.

Ben patted my back and gave me that Puppy Eye’s Look, he really knows how to do that look and make you feel guilty.

“You can’t really imagine how is living with him. Complains about the tea and when I send him a text sometimes I spell words with only an ‘O’ instead of ‘OU’ and it drives him crazy, for instance, but he truly does everything he can just to irritate me” I said releasing a sigh. Meriah laughed again, really this girl is just supposed to laugh? “But then he’s a complete sweetheart and his polite self takes control so he says sorry all the time” I chuckled.

Benedict laughs uncontrollably.

“But hey, we love each other after all, so don’t worry, we’re gonna stick together until the end” I said looking straight to the camera.

“‘Gonna’” He repeated.

“Yep” I stated marking the ‘p’.

“Well, you guys are definitely the cutest couple of all time. We’re playing a game now. I searched photos of the cast and you’re going to guess who are they just by looking at their feet” The interviewer said excitedly.

“This is gonna be so much fun” I said already laughing, oh my God, I turned into Meriah.

“So, this is the first one” she showed us a picture of a person with his face and body covered.

“Ugh, whoever that is they got some weird looking feet” I commented.

“Martin Freeman” Benedict said without thinking twice. The interviewer giggled.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, how could you… how ca… Wait what? Do you have a foot fetish for Martin? Oh my God I knew it!” I fangirled in front of camera, “just so you know, people…” (I paused to create a little of dramatism) “I ship Johnlock”.

Both Benedict and Meriah laughed so hard that I swear I heard a snort.

“That’s actually quite right. I took her to the Sherlock Set once and every time we finished a scene with strong content, like the one in the pool or when I jumped… well, you know, spoilers. The point is that she always clapped and hugged Martin and I, and I remember perfectly she said ‘You two are so shippable’. Oh, was that too long? I’m sorry I just wanted to tell the story” He giggled shyly while blushing.

“Oh, and by the way, sorry Martin, you have wonderful feet” I smiled.

“You two are so cute, guys” Meriah complimented. “So, the second one is… this!” She showed us another picture.

“Mmm… James Nesbitt?” I guessed.

“Peter Jackson” Benedict said. No hesitation.

“Yeah! Point for Benedict!” Meriah told us.

“What?! I swear this guy has a foot fetish” I tried to mask my bad loser mood.

“I’m so good at this” He said proudly.

“Okay, so this one is a bit difficult but the black and white is the key” The interviewer said revealing the photo.

It was pretty obvious that it was taken a lot of years ago.

“Mmm...”

“Richard?” Ben inquired.

“Ian McKellen!” I literally shouted, I was sure it was him.

“Correct! You’re good Y/N” Meriah greeted me.

“In your face Buttercup!” I did a short but intense party dance in the chair, “I guessed it and you didn’t!” Ben just watched me as he smiled sweetly. “Maybe the feet are overexposed”

“Yeah, I don’t know why Ian McKellen’s feet are overexposed” He said in his Sherlock kind of voice, “that was rude…”

The three of us laughed.

“The next one,” Meriah said “is this one!” She showed us a photo of two people jumping in the air.

“Mmmm…” I started thinking, “one is Benedict, I know it, but the oth…”

“Me and Jonny Lee Miller” He said quickly, “Jonny Lee Miller and I” He corrected himself.

“Amazing! And Martin Freeman corrected me because his face was plastered in Johnny Lee Miller’s…, my bad” Meriah said.

“Yeah, that’s bullshit. Who did that?” He went to grab the photo.

“I thought it was him, I found it like that on the internet” She explained. “Okay, next and last one”.

“Oh Lord” I exclaimed. Benedict stretched out in his chair and approached the lady with the photograph.

“Richard… Armitage?” He wondered, confused.

“I… don’t know…  Stephen Hunter?”

The interviewer showed us the whole picture.

“Evangeline, oh my God” Benedict covered his mouth, surprised, “Oh my God” He laughed really hard, “Fuck” He kept laughing, covering his eyes with the palm of the hand.

“Well, that" I pointed at him with my finger ”is definitely rude”

I was super tired so I decided to sit in the back of the car so I could lay down and fall asleep more easily, but instead of that, I was staring at Benedict’s side profile.

“You’re beautiful” he declared suddenly.

He kept his eyes on the road but I noticed he was grinning.

“You are beautiful too, and I love your accent” I said sternly and he smiled sweetly, “and I also love your otter face”

He tried not to laugh too much so he couldn’t get distracted.

“You have the otter face… otter face.” He tried to make a good insult and failed.

“You sure it’s me who has that face? Your cumberbitches and probably the rest of the multiverse says it’s you who owns that title, my love”

“It’s cumbercollective” He sighed and rolled his eyes, copying me.

“We all know it is and will always be cumberbitches, get over it Buttercup”

“Not gonna happen”.

“Gonna? It seems like I’m who rules the relationship”.

“You’ve always ruled the relationship”

“I’m glad you’re day by day recognizing facts. Today’s been ‘gonna’, I’m curious about what’s gonna “I laughed hard when I said that” be tomorrow”.

“Oh, shut up”

That night, as we did since the very first time we shared a bed, we slept cuddling, then in the morning our innocent little verbal war continued.

[daydreamtofiction]

The Feature XXIV // Benedict Cumberbatch x Reader

Series Overview | Previous Part | Next Part

Chapter Summary: (Female Reader) After the unpleasant encounter with Faye at the museum, Quinn awaits Ben's return.

Chapter Word Count: 7.5K

Chapter Warnings: Morally-grey reader (is she even morally grey anymore? Idk. We love a good character growth arc tho), strong language, adult and sexual themes, smut including: penetrative sex, overstimulation, toys. Readers must be 18+

Join the Tag List Here*

There was a lot you could have done with the last twelve days. You could have picked up a new language, or sailed to New York and back. You could have fermented your own vodka, learned piano or guitar, watched the entire Lord of the Rings series sixteen-and-a-half times over. But you hadn’t done any of those things. In fact, for twelve days you’d barely done anything at all. 

Since the moment you’d left that museum, Faye’s words had followed you like a dark cloud, looming over you wherever you went, casting a shadow no matter how hard you tried to escape it. Your lips bore the evidence of your bad mood, bitten and raw from your relentless, anxious gnawing, and sleep had become an elusive companion, only claiming you once your body finally gave in to exhaustion. 

It angered you, the power she somehow managed to wield; how she’d so easily found a way through your hard exterior, slithering right down to the place where words could still hurt you. It felt as though you’d let her win, like your insecurity was her victory, each day you spent stewing in uncertainty just another triumph to add to her list. 

Ben’s absence hadn’t helped; the thought of his return like a buoy and a burden all at once. For almost two weeks, you’d felt a knot form in your stomach whenever he called; feeling guilt and dread where excitement should have been. You’d adorned a smile, feigned a light, warm voice, and pretended not to notice how unnatural it felt.

Social media only seemed to make it worse; what was once a harmless distraction had morphed into a minefield of footage from his premieres and press junkets. You would lose yourself in his easy charm and handsome smile, scroll endlessly through clips of him in his tailored suits and tinted sunglasses as he walked carpets and stopped for interviews. But as quickly as the pride and longing came, the doubt would soon follow.

You were caught in a relentless cycle of grief and self-criticism. The life Faye claimed you couldn’t give to him taunting you whenever you tried to picture yourself by his side. Yet, beneath the turmoil, there was an ember of stubbornness that refused to be extinguished; a flicker of determination, to spite her, to prove her wrong, to not let go of the man who’d given you no reason to doubt him.   

 The café in the Draft foyer was rarely busy; a pocket of quiet amidst the chaos of a bustling building. You stood at the counter, basking in the warm, comforting aroma of coffee, the only sounds coming from the hiss of steaming milk and the quiet chatter of baristas as they worked. You scrolled idly on your phone as you waited for your drink, thumb pausing on an image of Ben from his latest premiere. He was smiling, arm raised as he waved to the crowd of fans swarming the barriers. You instinctively found yourself zooming in on his wrist; the way your gold nameplate bracelet caught the light with a subtle glint. Then you moved to his face, the glowing tan and dark facial hair making a welcomed return. 

“You’re obsessed.” Nick’s voice startled you. 

You turned around to find him looking down at your phone with a teasing smile, a lanyard around his neck and a backpack on his shoulder.

“Shut up,” you said, pushing your phone into your back pocket.

“It’s sweet,” he said. “Don’t be embarrassed for having a fit boyfriend.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest and shifting your weight from side to side. “What are you doing here? I barely ever see you in the office anymore.” 

“Just heading out to an interview, needed to come and pick up my press pass from Julia.”

You let out a half-hearted hum in response, taking your coffee as the barista placed it on the counter.

Nick followed as you made your way to a table, shifting his bag further up his shoulder. “What’s up with you?” 

“Nothing, I’m fine.” 

“Liar.” 

“I’m fine,” you insisted as you sat down.

He deliberated for a moment, like he was weighing up whether to press you or leave you be. By the time he’d sat down beside you, he’d seemingly decided to drop it, clearing his throat and excitedly shuffling his chair closer to you. 

“I’m actually glad I caught you,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.” 

“Oh no, what have I done?” 

Nothing,” he laughed. “I need your advice- opinion- help, all of it really.” 

Your ears pricked, eyes fixed on him as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He scrolled in silence for a moment before finally turning the screen towards you with a nervous smile.

“Which one?” he asked. 

You leaned in, lips parting in shock when you laid your eyes on a photo; five open boxes laid out on a glass counter, each one holding a sparkling diamond ring. 

“You’re proposing!?” you shouted, voice echoing across the quiet space. 

He shushed you before lowering his tone to a whisper. “Yeah. I’ve been saving for a while, but I haven’t got a clue which one she’d like best.”

You practically snatched the phone from his hand, bringing it close to your face and examining each ring carefully. “None of them.”

“What?” 

“Well first of all, they’re all white gold. Lacey’s clearly a yellow gold person.”

“Oh.”

“Secondly, you should go for a coloured stone. Maybe morganite, emerald, sapphire, something different, unique.” 

“You think so?” 

“Definitely.”

“Right.” He sighed, taking his phone back. “Back to the drawing board then.” 

You couldn’t help the smile beginning to spread across your face, brows curving upward as you looked at him with pride. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you said.

“She hasn’t said yes yet.” 

“She will. How are you going to do it?”

“I was thinking when the next issue of Draft comes out, I’ll show her my Divine Timing piece, let her read it, and when she’s done, she’ll look up and I’ll be on one knee.” 

You didn’t reply.

“What?” he asked. “Is that not good either?”

“No, no… It’s perfect.” 

He smiled appreciatively before rising from his seat and hoisting his bag back onto his shoulder. “Yellow gold, coloured stone.” 

“Definitely.” 

He nodded and began to walk away, repeating it to himself over and over again until he vanished from your sight.

You paced the hall as you waited for a knock at the door, biting your already raw bottom lip until you began to taste iron on your tongue. The flat was immaculate. You weren’t sure why you’d bothered cleaning it so thoroughly; it wasn’t as if Ben would care, wasn’t like he’d come in and run his fingers along the skirting boards for dust, eye the windows for smudges. But maybe it was just the distraction it provided; the mundanity of housework allowing brief moments of relief from your whirring mind.

He'd been gone for three weeks. And you’d spent the majority of that time wrought with uncertainty; playing over every possible scenario, talking aloud to practice what you would say to him when you finally came face to face again. You’d buzzed him in just seconds ago, and as you paced back and forth you could almost picture him rushing up the stairwell, growing closer with every tick of the watch on your wrist. 

When the knock finally came, you felt your heart leap into your throat, an undeniable wave of excitement flooding your stomach. You hurried to the door and swung it open, unable to hold back a smile when you saw him standing there; bearded and sun kissed, an almost mirror image of the Ben you’d first met. 

“Hi,” he said, his voice rough and tired, yet still warm. And before you could reply, he dropped his bag to the ground, taking a step forward and pulling you into a tight embrace. He groaned with relief as he wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your hair. “I’ve missed you so much,” he murmured. 

You couldn’t help but melt into him, taking in his scent that, even after hours of travel, was still so familiar and comforting, the rhythmic thudding of his heart as you pressed your ear to his chest.  

“I missed you too,” you replied. 

“I’m never going that long without you again. Next time you’re coming, no arguments.”

A soft chuckle bubbled up your throat, the sound muffled by his shirt. You lifted your head to look at him. “Next time is three days from now.” 

“Yeah, and you’re coming.” 

You laughed again as he leaned back slightly to look down at you, bringing his hands up to cup your face, thumbs brushing lightly over your cheeks. His gaze glittered with affection, flitting between your eyes and lips with such longing that any insecurities you’d had almost seemed to vanish. You lifted your chin slightly, welcoming the inevitable kiss. And when it finally came, you gave in to it completely. 

His lips were soft as they moved slowly over yours, savouring the connection like he’d thought of nothing else for the past three weeks. You slid your arms up to wrap around the back of his neck, leaning into him as he weaved his fingers through your hair. 

“You need to come in so I can shut the door,” you mumbled. “Someone could walk past.” 

He responded by reaching back and pushing the front door closed, keeping his focus on you the entire time as his lips trailed softly over your cheeks, your jaw, the outer corners of your eyes and the crinkle between your brows, kissing every small detail of your face. 

You smiled. “Did you come straight from the airport?”

“Mhm.” 

“You must be exhausted.”

He responded with another lazy hum as he began walking you backwards down the hall. 

“I put a towel out for you in the bathroom,” you said. “Even bought you your own shower gel.” 

“Really?” 

“Mm,” you replied as he continued to kiss you. “And I’ve got dinner on in the kitchen.”

He stopped, narrowing his eyes at you suspiciously.

“I’m the real Quinn I swear,” you said sarcastically.

He gave a deep chuckle, stroking your hair away from your face and placing one last kiss on your lips. “A shower does sound quite appealing right now. Do you want to join me?”

You tilted your head, giving a soft smile and running your fingertip over his bottom lip. “I’ve got stuff on the hob, need to keep an eye on it so the flat doesn’t burn down.” 

There was a split second when you could have sworn you saw him pause, like he was going to question you but quickly changed his mind. Instead, he let you go, making his way to the bathroom as you wandered into the kitchen, pressing your cool palms to your flushed cheeks and exhaling a nervous breath. 

Your knees buckled when you saw him in the doorway; towel wrapped low around his waist, droplets of water speckled over his bare chest and shoulders. A clean, masculine scent drifted towards you, heady and intoxicating, making your mind turn foggy as you stared at him in awe.

He made his way into the kitchen, padding leisurely towards you as you stood at the stove. You felt his hands snake around your waist, resting on your hips as his chest pressed against your back.

“You’re getting me wet,” you said with a slight giggle.

“Hm,” he replied flirtatiously, leaning down to press his lips to your neck. “I haven’t even gotten started yet.” 

“No, wet like wet.” You laughed, gesturing to the water he’d soaked into the back of your t-shirt. 

“I’m just teasing,” he replied, lips moving slowly to the back of your shoulder. 

You lifted the lid off a saucepan, waiting for the steam to evaporate before stirring the bubbling liquid inside. You could feel him, hot and hard against your back, tilting your head to one side to grant him easier access to you. His large hands gripped your hips as he nipped and kissed your neck, lips and teeth grazing over your pulse as his wet hair brushed against your cheek. 

You closed your eyes and let out a sigh, fighting to remain composed, to ignore the tingles travelling up your spine and the desire throbbing between your legs. You tried to busy yourself with dinner, reaching to the cupboard above you and peering inside. 

“What are you looking for?” he asked between kisses. 

“The erm…” You’d lost your train of thought, your mind hazy, struggling to focus on anything but the feeling of him behind you. “Er… Salt. Salt and…” 

He reached over you, retrieving the salt and pepper shakers and placing them on the counter.

“Thank you,” you said, almost breathlessly. 

His kisses slowed, like the tension in your body was becoming impossible for him to ignore. He pulled back, just enough to peer down at you, brow furrowed with concern. 

“What’s the matter?” he asked. 

“Hm? Nothing.”

His hands moved up to your waist, turning you around to face him. “What’s wrong?” 

You didn’t know why you were trying to deflect, why after all this time, when faced with the chance to communicate, your instincts still forced you to shut it down. “Why would something be wrong?”

“Because if nothing was wrong, you’d have dragged me into that bedroom the second I stepped through the door…” 

You rolled your eyes.

“Quinn,” he pressed. “Talk to me.” 

“I’m fine.”

He stared down at you for a moment, his expression completely unconvinced. You wriggled gently out of his grasp, walking over to the sink and grabbing a knife from the draining board.

“You don’t seem fine,” he said. 

“Well, I am,” you replied bluntly, turning around with the knife firmly in your grasp.

He held his hands up in feigned surrender. “Alright, Jesus Christ.” 

“It’s for garlic,” you replied with another eye roll, making your way back over to the counter beside him.

“Quinn,” he said with a slight laugh of disbelief. “Something’s clearly wrong. I don’t understand why you don’t feel like you can talk to me-”

“Ben.”

“I just want to know what happened-”

“Your ex-wife happened,” you snapped. “Alright?” 

 He looked confused, nose scrunched as his eyes glazed over, just for a moment. “What?” 

You put down the knife, turning to face him with a hot sigh. “I ran into her at an event.” 

“Faye?”

“Do you have more ex-wives?”

He huffed, gesturing for you to continue. 

“I ran into her and she had some very… choice words for me. Some I don’t entirely disagree with.” 

“Like what?”

“Like we’re… not- Like this isn’t-” you huffed and turned to walk away. “Y’know what, it doesn’t matter-”

“Yes, it does,” he said firmly, grabbing your arm before you could leave the room. “Whatever it is, it’s obviously bothered you enough to make it hard to even look at me right now. So, you need to tell me. Now.”

You yielded, turning around and leaning back against the fridge, arms folded across your chest. You hadn’t even realised you’d been avoiding his gaze until you found yourself staring at the floor. So, you forced yourself to look up at him. 

“She said we’re not equal. Me and you. And that we never will be.” You swallowed. “I bring nothing to the table financially, we’re not in the same place in life or career or aspirations. I’m just a bit of fun you’re messing around with instead of-”

“Instead of what?” he replied, anger darkening his tone. “Instead of staying in a PR marriage just to pacify everyone else except myself?” 

“She insinuated that you’re just ‘getting things out of your system’ with me, and once the novelty wears off, you’ll realise I’m not right for you and you’ll move on to someone who is.”

His jaw sharpened, throat bobbing as he tried to swallow down his rage. He planted a hand on the counter beside him, grounding himself as he tried to process your words. “When was this?” he asked calmly. “Where?”

“An exhibition at the fashion museum, a couple of days after you left.”

He blinked a few times. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What would it have achieved?” You shrugged. “You were on the other side of the world for work. It would have just bothered you, ruined your time out there.” 

He exhaled heavily through his nose, the breath rattling like a growl as it left him. “You know this all stems from jealousy on her part, don’t you?”

You didn’t respond, making him look over at you with more intensity, his brows coming together as he took in the look on your face. 

“Quinn… You know that, right?”

I don’t know. Some of the things she said, I… I haven’t been able to stop thinking that maybe she had somewhat of a point…” 

“What else did she say?” 

“Ben,” you sighed, closing your eyes and running your hands through your hair. 

“Quinn,” he said sternly. “In this relationship, we communicate.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.” 

He glared at you.   

You threw your head back dramatically, letting out a groan before looking back over at him. “It’s just… It’s what I’ve already told you; we’re not compatible, economically or aspiration-wise or-”

“What does that even mean?”

“That you’re rich and I’m poor,” you replied curtly.

“Not that, for fuck sake, the aspiration thing.” 

You could feel yourself clamming up, your mouth turning dry and cheeks flushing with discomfort. You shifted on your feet, biting another cut into your lip. “Well, she just- She made a good point that you are… Very certain of what you want. And if you continue to waste your time with me, if I continue to let you waste your time with me, I could be holding you back from getting it.” 

“That’s ridiculous.” He was growing irate again, his voice deepening, turning hoarse and firm.

“Well, no, it’s not really, is it.”

“Yes. It is.”

“No, it’s not, Ben! It’s not irrational of me to be concerned that a year, two years, however long down the line, you could look back and realise you spent all that time with me when you could have been out there meeting your soulmate, your next wife, the mother of your children!” 

He stared at you, open-mouthed for a moment, his face twisted in a mixture of ire and confusion. Eventually, it seemed to overwhelm him, making him drop his head with a frustrated huff, pressing the heels of his hands into closed eyes. 

“Why…” he began slowly, controlling his words as they left him in a deep, gravelly voice. “Is it not at all possible that… that person could be you…?” 

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Ben-”

“What!? Why can’t you consider the fact that maybe neither of us are wasting our time, because we’re supposed to be spending it with each other!?” 

“Oh my god, it’s just so easy for you, isn’t it!” You threw your arms up dramatically. “Sometimes feelings just aren’t enough. You can’t enter into a relationship without at least considering where that relationship might end up.” 

“This is never going to stop, is it?” He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “No matter what I do, what I say, you are never going to believe that this could work.” 

“I want to,” you replied, caught off guard by a crack in your voice. “But when Faye said that you want things I might not be able to give you, I couldn’t-”

“Quinn. The first night we slept together, you told me, plain as day, that you were undecided about having children. I’ve known that since the beginning, never forgotten it, and I still chose to pursue you. Because I love you more than I love some kids that we may or may not have.” 

“It’s not just about having kids. It’s… She said I’d be dooming myself to a life as an extension of you. That I’d be a ‘kept woman’.”

His face broke with an unexpected smile, a laugh escaping him in a breath. “I can just about handle you as it is. Do you really think you’d ever let yourself be kept?” 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s just so simple for you, isn’t it.” 

“Yes.” He turned his body to lean back against the counter, mirroring your crossed arms. “So, it’s me who buys the house.” He shrugged. “As long as I get to wake up next to you in it every morning, I’d consider us even.” 

The charm of his suggestion made you melt, just for a moment, before quickly stiffening again. “But that’s not ‘even’, Ben. Not really. You deserve someone who fits seamlessly into your life, and I just can’t shake the fear that they’re out there, and they’re perfect for you. I would never forgive myself if I held you back from finding her.” 

“And what does this ‘perfect woman’ consist of?”

“She’s certain she wants a family. She’s perfectly content with the two of you being known as ‘Benedict Cumberbatch and wife’. She comes from wealth, has the money to treat you to nice champagne and expensive gifts. She doesn’t pick fights or think it’s funny to make you jealous. She…” You halted, feeling a sudden, unexpected lump in your throat, a fizzing in your nose and welling in your eyes. “She doesn’t push you away when you’re always so lovely and patient with her. She’s a good person who really, truly deserves you.”

He remained quiet, mulling over your words, eyes fixed on the emotion you were so desperately trying to hold back.

“Can I tell you what I think this perfect woman consists of?” he asked softly. 

You nodded. 

“She’s open to maybe having a family one day. She may sometimes be ‘and wife’ to the media, but in reality, we both know it’s me who’s the ‘and husband’. She doesn’t care about money or whether she has it or not, and she always makes sure to tell me off when she thinks I’ve overspent. She’s… Impossible, infuriating, combative, but she knows I can take it. And that maybe I find it a bit sexy.” 

You laughed softly. 

“She’s a good person,” he continued, emphasising his words. “Who deserves whatever it is she desires. And if that’s me, then I consider myself lucky.” 

You stared at him from across the small kitchen, glassy-eyed and entirely awestruck. It was quiet, the air between you so still that even your breath seemed out of place. 

“I love you,” you whispered. 

He paused, allowing the words to fully sink in before smiling softly. “I’m sorry, what was that?” he asked teasingly. 

“I love you.”

His smile turned to a grin. “One more time, I didn’t quite catch it.” 

You rolled your eyes, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. 

He made his way towards you, taking your face in his hands and tilting it back to look up at him. “I love you too,” he said, leaning down to kiss you. “And I can’t believe I just had that entire conversation with you in nothing but a towel.” 

You chuckled.

His expression turned serious again as he stared down into your eyes. “I have doubts too. Sometimes I feel like I’ve come into your life and completely turned it upside down; put rules on you, restrictions, expectations. You never asked for any of that. But then… I think about how we got off to such a bad start when we met, yet still, we somehow ended up here. That’s got to mean something.” 

“It means you’re too nice and I don’t take no for an answer.” 

He laughed, running his fingers through your hair. “It means we’d be stupid to throw this away.” 

You smiled, rising onto your toes to kiss him. He held you close, inhaling deeply as his lips moved slowly against yours.

He broke away, looking down at you with an amused smirk. “You know, for someone who doesn’t take shit from anybody, you really let my jealous ex-wife get into your head.”

“It’s not Faye that’s got into my head. It’s you.” You shook your head as you gazed up at him, your voice nothing but a whisper as you spoke again. “I’ve never let anyone get this close to me before…” 

“Well, I’m honoured to be the one you decided to let in.” 

This vulnerability was new for you. It made you feel fragile, exposed, like a knight without armour, a porcupine without its quills. Until Ben, you’d simply assumed it wasn’t in your nature to take this role; to be tender, maybe even soppy, softening yourself completely and trusting him to hold you without crushing you in his fists. You’d never let anyone take the lead, never allowed yourself to be coddled, doted on, handled with such reverence that you felt no desire to fight it. 

Perhaps you’d been capable of it all along; could have opened yourself up to anyone who’d came before him and felt a connection just as strong. Or maybe this part of you had always been reserved especially for him; a locked door that only he had the key to. You would never know for sure. But you were okay with that. 

Ben’s thumb gently caressed your cheek, his lips grazing the side of your head in a sequence of slow, loving kisses. You smiled and leaned back slightly to look up at him. 

“Okay, this is getting sappy now,” you muttered teasingly as you pulled him down to kiss you. 

He chuckled quietly, the sound rumbling in his throat and humming softly against your lips.

“Go and get dressed,” you said. “I’ll finish dinner.”

“Okay,” he replied with a smile. 

You watched as he made his way towards the door, before turning back to look at you, the smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What?” you asked with a breathy laugh.

“That was a very grown-up fight we just had.” 

You rolled your eyes and turned towards the stove. “It wasn’t a fight. It was a heated discussion.”

He laughed, the sound disappearing with him down the hall. 

A quiz show played quietly on the TV, the sun casting a golden hue across the living room as you sat cross-legged on the couch. There was a cushion in your lap, shielding your legs from the piping hot bowl, and a glass of water on the coffee table just out of reach. Ben was sitting beside you, leaning forward as he ate, handing you your drink every time you asked without complaint. 

You listened as he told you about his time away; the funny posters fans held up in the crowd, how he almost missed a premiere when his driver took a wrong turn, and the coffee he spilled on himself before his flight had even taken off. When he asked you how your time alone had been, you couldn’t help but feel boring in comparison; writing, grocery shopping, a few work meetings you barely paid attention to. 

“Oh,” you said, swallowing a mouthful of food before continuing. “My friend Nick’s proposing to his girlfriend.” 

“Ah how lovely. Tonight?” 

“No. Soon, though. I helped him pick the ring.”

Ben eyed your smile, unable to hide his own amusement. “Have they been together long?”

“A few years, I think. Why?”

He gave a casual shrug, still smiling. “No reason.” 

 You paused, narrowing your eyes at him. “Don’t be getting any ideas.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry. It took a battle just to get you to wear that watch, can you imagine if I tried to give you a ring?” 

You looked down at the watch and rolled your eyes before trying to reach for your water. He handed it to you with a chuckle, taking another bite of his food as he waited for you to take a sip and hand it back.

The TV continued to play in the background, the sound of audience applause and laughter like a gentle hum softening the silence. 

“You know,” he mused. “I never thought I’d see the day when you actually wore it.” 

You looked down at the watch again, shrugging with feigned nonchalance. “It seemed a shame to just leave it sitting there. I did contemplate taking it off after what happened with Faye. But I like the compliments too much.” 

He laughed and went back to his dinner, the pair of you falling back into easy conversation. It was another moment where you found it easy to forget his fame, how absurd it was to have a celebrity sitting on your couch eating rice and dal from your mismatched dinnerware.

The sun was beginning to set, the living room glowing with a deep, golden hue like the promise of a warm evening. You were laying alone on the couch, speaking aloud your answers to another quiz show and swearing to yourself whenever you got them wrong. You could hear Ben singing in the other room, the sound of clinking ceramic and running water punctuating the dulcet tone of his voice. 

You stretched lazily and rose to your feet, wandering out of the living room and through the doorway of the kitchen. He was standing at the sink with his back to you, broad shoulders moving slightly as he scrubbed at the pots and pans beneath the soapy water. You allowed yourself a moment to just watch him; comfortable clothes and bare feet, singing a song that was too high for his voice and not caring if you could hear him. 

You wandered over to him, slipping your arms around his waist and resting your cheek against his back. He stilled for a moment at your unexpected touch, before relaxing quickly and continuing to wash up.

“Well, this is new,” he said. “Usually I’m the one ambushing you with affection.”

You sighed contentedly, tightening your hold on him. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“Of course not.” He rinsed off a pot and placed it on the draining board, glancing over his shoulder as he reached for a tea towel to dry his hands. “You okay?” 

“Yeah. I’m just soaking up the fact that you’re actually here and not on FaceTime halfway across the world.”  

He turned around with a smile and pulled you closer to him. “I missed you too, darling.” 

Your stomach did an embarrassing little flip, which you tried to disguise by biting your already cracked, tender bottom lip. 

He brought his thumb up to it, gently releasing it from your teeth. “Stop biting,” he said softly.

“Sorry, it’s a nervous thing.” 

“I make you nervous?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, breathing out a laugh as you brought your arms up to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss you. He reciprocated eagerly with a satisfied groan, letting his hands roam your body until his grip finally found your backside.

You leaned into him, pressing yourself flush against his body as you swept your tongue into his mouth. The energy between you began to pulse, turning hot and electric; making your skin tingle, the hairs on your arms stand on end. You reached back and grabbed one of his hands, taking a step back and leading him towards the door. 

The air was cooler in the bedroom, the thick curtains shielding the space from the glowing sun. You pulled him towards the bed, turning him around and pushing him onto it with unabashed haste. He propped himself up on his elbows as you straddled him, his lips finding yours again in a quicker, hungrier kiss.

You gripped the hem of his t-shirt and dragged it over his head, tossing it aside as your lips moved to his neck, his collarbones and the bare, slightly paler skin of his chest. He smelled like the soap you’d bought him, the clean, masculine scent enveloping you as he held you in his arms. It smelled different on him than it had in the bottle; earthier, manlier, evoking something carnal inside you that made you want to dive in without coming up for air.

His hands dipped beneath your top, fingers grazing the ticklish spots over your ribs, nails raking gently down your sides. You shivered as your skin puckered with goosebumps, the sensation rolling down your body and settling between your legs with a tingling, insatiable need. It made you squirm, searching for friction as you continued to lay kisses across his chest.

He lifted the top over your head before brushing away a lock of hair that had fallen into your face, pausing for just a moment to look at you.    

“You’re about to say something cheesy, aren’t you,” you said.

He smiled. “I was just going to say I love you.” 

You leaned forward, kissing him slowly, deeply, rocking your hips over the hard bulge in his jogging bottoms. “I love you too,” you mumbled against his lips.

He let himself fall back completely, surrendering himself to you as you returned your mouth to his chest, trailing down his torso towards his waistband. You could feel him tense beneath your lips, muscles hardening, rolling beneath soft skin with even the slightest movement. But then he stopped. 

“Hold on,” he said. 

You lifted your head to see him reaching for something beneath your pillows, watching as he pulled out a small vibrator and turned to look at you with a raised eyebrow.

“What do you expect me to do when you’re gone?” you asked.

“Pine after me longingly, while awaiting my return in perfect chastity,” he replied sarcastically.

You scoffed and climbed off him. “Take off your pants.” 

He did as you instructed, his eyes never leaving you as you stripped down to your underwear. You wished you’d thought ahead when you got dressed this morning and worn nicer lingerie, or at the very least, made sure your bra matched your knickers. But Ben didn’t seem to care, his gaze ravenous as it raked over you, following your every move until you were back on top of him.

You ran your finger over the tan line at the base of his throat, preparing to tease him for it. But before any words could leave you, he placed a hand on the back of your head and pulled you down to kiss him, his hot breath and skilled tongue turning your mind hazy, the desire to say something funny or sarcastic evaporating from you like steam. He was growing impatient, you could feel it in the way he rolled his hips beneath you, his erection pressing against your aching centre, begging to be released.

You reached back and unclasped your bra, letting the straps slide down your arms, the cups falling away from your chest. He wasted no time in taking your breasts in his large palms, kneading them gently, fingers pinching your hard, tight nipples until the sensation made you gasp. He shifted slightly, sitting up just enough to lean back against the headboard, bringing his mouth to each nipple as his hand caressed the other. It was electric, each flick of his tongue or squeeze of his fingers sending a jolt of lightning through your stomach. 

You ran your fingers through his hair, rocking against his hard length as you tried to quell the throbbing in your clit, the deep, insatiable need in your core. 

“Say you’ll come with me on the next press tour,” he whispered, hands travelling from your breasts over your stomach.    

“It’s in three days, how can I just up and leave? I don’t even know where you’re going-”

“Los Angeles, then New York, then Los Angeles again,” he said, his voice seductively low, fingers making it to the waistline of your underwear. “But nothing’s stopping us from taking a detour or two; we could fly to Mexico for a few days, or maybe Argentina, Colombia, Brazil-”

“Okay I get the picture,” you said breathlessly as he slipped his hand into your underwear, fingertips finally making contact with your centre.    

“Is that a yes?” 

You let out a moan as he began to massage your clit, making you shudder and grip the headboard above him to steady yourself. 

You’d gotten on top of him with the intention of being in charge, of taking the lead. But somehow here you were, straddling him yet still completely at his mercy. The extent of your arousal was undeniable as he slid his fingers along your hot, wet entrance, the discovery making him groan with a mixture of pride and desire. He bucked against you, and you responded by reaching down to release him from his underwear, as though the idea of foreplay hadn’t even crossed your mind, or you were simply too horny to care.

His cock sprung free against your stomach and you gripped it firmly in your hand. “If I agree to come, will you make it worth my while?”

His breath hitched, eyes darkening as he gazed up at you. “Anything you want,” he whispered. “It’s yours.” 

You smiled, stroking him lazily as you spoke. “I want you.”

“Then you’ve got me.” He ran his hand slowly up your body, over your stomach and between your breasts, his palm finally settling at the base of your throat. “Every free moment.” He curled his fingers around your neck. “Every spare second.” 

You paused for a moment, revelling in the depth of his voice, the pressure of his fingertips against your pulse and the way his hips rolled to meet the relaxed rhythm of your hand. When you leaned forward to kiss him, he responded with a soft growl against your lips, tightening his grip on your throat as you slid your underwear aside and positioned him at your entrance. 

You slid him into you with a sigh, releasing every ounce of fear and uncertainty you’d been holding onto in his absence, the connection so beautiful it was hard to believe you’d ever doubted it at all. 

“Fuck,” you whispered as your hand immediately found the headboard above him, holding onto it as you began to move, sinking down to the root of his length and grinding against him. 

The friction was intense, the stretch stealing the air from your lungs as he filled you. He was motionless beneath you; letting you set the pace, the angle, the depth. But his hand remained on your neck, like an anchor, a reminder that he had you exactly where he wanted you.

You kept a grip of the headboard, your other hand planted on his chest as you rocked your hips, revelling in each wave of pleasure as it rippled through your core, the tingly, electric buzz coursing beneath your skin. He kept his eyes on you, watching your face closely, your fluttering lids and parted lips, undeniable evidence of your satisfaction. 

“Tell me you love me again,” he groaned.

You lowered your gaze to meet his with a slight smile, and for a moment you thought about teasing him, denying his request and making him beg for it. But the feeling of him inside you was too pervading, disabling your sarcasm and stealing your wit, leaving you soft and agreeable, like putty in his hands.

“I love you,” you replied breathlessly.

Your words seemed to fuel him, making him bring his other hand up to double his grip of your throat. You whimpered as he began to move, every firm jolt sending a shudder through your stomach and a shiver up your spine. You began to bounce slightly, your moans growing louder as you met each hard thrust, ignoring the burning in your thighs and the creak of the bedframe beneath him.

Your voice echoed through the room, a cacophony of moans and swear words, gasps and increasingly enthusiastic yeses. You would no doubt be apologising to your downstairs neighbours tomorrow. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if the building across the street demanded one too.

There was a familiar swelling of heat in your core, your stomach coiling, driving you to move faster in search of release. But Ben got there first, his hips stuttering as he let out a deep, guttural groan, burying himself inside you as he came. 

You slowed your movements to a lazy grind, leaning back slightly to catch your breath when a dull buzzing caught your attention. You looked down to see him holding your vibrator, clicking the button a few times before placing it gently on your clit. You gasped at the sudden sensation; the unexpected act that caught you completely off guard. 

 “Oh, god.” You could barely speak, stuttering out the words through a serrated breath.

He watched you closely, adjusting his placement until your mouth fell open, stomach muscles tensing as you grabbed his thighs for support. The device sucked and pulsed against your clit, making you squirm on his cock as your limbs began to shake. The world around you seemed to disappear, like nothing else existed beyond the pleasure dancing along your nerves, like the entire universe had somehow been condensed into the tiny bundle between your legs.  

You shuddered; eyes screwed shut as you let out a deep, heavy groan. For a moment you couldn’t hear, couldn’t think, every last speck of energy spent on the orgasm ripping through you. And as quickly as the pleasure peaked, it instantly turned to pain, your clit so sensitive that all you could think to do was push Ben’s hand away. 

He switched off the vibrator and tossed it aside, gazing up at you with a satisfied smirk as you shook uncontrollably on top of him. Your teeth were chattering, limbs gooey and barely functioning. 

“You’re a fucker,” you said, breathing out a stunned laugh.

He chuckled softly, reaching up to brush a lock of hair out of your face. 

You tried to calm yourself, inhaling slowly through your nose and blowing it out in shaky, uneven breaths.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I can’t move.”

He laughed again before gently rolling you off him and turning on his side to face you. 

You nestled yourself into him, eyelids heavy as you traced swirls over his bare chest with your fingertips. 

“I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to compete with that thing,” he said, gesturing in the direction he’d thrown the vibrator.

You giggled. “Well, that thing can’t kiss me, or manhandle me, or tell me it loves me. So, I think you’re fine.”

He closed his eyes with a sleepy smile. “In that case, feel free to stick it in your suitcase and bring it with us.” 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “If you’re expecting me to follow you around America for two weeks, then I expect youto make sure I don’t need a vibrator…”

He opened one eye. “Is that an ultimatum?”

“It’s more of a condition.”

“A condition?” 

“Mhm. If I’m going to be sneaking around, cooped up in hotel rooms all on my own while you’re working, then there needs to be… perks.” You let your fingers run further down his chest and over his stomach, making him tense beneath you. 

He chuckled and grabbed your wrist before your hand could dip any lower, bringing your knuckles to his lips and kissing them gently. “Darling, if you come with me, I’ll be certain to make sure you forget that thing even exists.”

You smiled, watching as he struggled to keep his eyes open. “How long before the jet lag sets in?” 

“No idea. I’m just praying I can get through tomorrow before it does.” 

“Why? What’s tomorrow?”

“I’m taking my parents to the Chelsea Flower Show.”

“Oh, that’s sweet.”

He shifted even closer to you, draping an arm over the top of your head and twirling your hair between his fingers. “I was actually meaning to speak to you about it… I’d really like it if you came too.” 

You stilled for a moment, before forcing yourself to relax. “How could I possibly look them in the eye after what I just did with their son?”

He gave a soft, throaty laugh. “I’m sure you’ll manage.” 

The air between you fell silent, and you knew he could sense your apprehension, the same way you could tell he wasn’t going to drop it. 

“It’s just a bit soon, don’t you think?” you finally said. “Shouldn’t we wait a while before meeting-”

“I met your parents. Ages ago.”

“Yeah, by accident.” 

“Quinn.” He exhaled a laugh, brushing his nose against the side of your head before placing a kiss there. “I’d really like you to come. No pressure, no expectations, I just want them to meet the woman I’ve been telling them about.” 

“You’ve been telling them about me?”

He nodded. “I left out a lot.”

*Tag List: @blondekel77 @evelynrosestuff @bakerstreethound @annesthaeticc @aephereal @sharp-cheekbones-locked @sherlux @veryladyqueen @graciebear47 @allurenia @jamerlynn @cottagecore-cat @aysamuka @thegardenerofeden @cumbercatchmebaby @inspirationalandrandom @turkisherlockian @swds @weepingdreamerpanda @elzabethann @childofgod215 @briecantopme @lovecleastrange @jaspearl31 @paola-carter @greatburger @azu21 @xourownsidee @hunterofshadows04 @asgardianprincess1050 @teddycrimson @sherlocksgirl91 @oliveoilthoughts @hai-kbai @shjl15 @bloodyxsaint @charleighsblog @stephenstrangeaddictions @omgstarks @sleutherclaw @bisciwri @theevilsupreme @gwoods123 @classickook @coffee-d0t @strangeobsessed @januarycolor @strangeions @lonadane @downtownshabby

[cutie1365]

Get Through Anything

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Word Count: 1.0k

Request: Anonymous: LOTS OF ANGST PLEASE Sherlock/Reader where they fight and the reader almost breaks up with him but he begs her to stay and they end up crying together and making up and apologizing.

A/N: Three posts in one day? I am on fire. Lol.

Masterlist and request for in my bio. Taglist in the reblogs. Please comment and let me know what you think, the lack of feedback is driving my crazy.

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“You can't keep doing this!” You yelled, standing in the living room of 221B.

“It was for a case!” He argued, matching you in volume.

“I don't care if it was for a case Sherlock! I deserve some heads up!” You began to yell expressively with your hands. You expected him to quickly have an excuse or retort, instead you were met with silence as his mouth formed into an ‘O’.

“Oh, so that’s what this is about.” He spoke condescendingly.

“What?” You asked in disbelief. He wasn’t about to turn this around on you.

“It always comes back to this.” He shook his head, and you knew exactly where this was going, to the topic that your previous fights usually landed on.

“Sherlock don’t you dare.” You shake your head, but knowing it was coming anyway.

“You don't approve of this.” He motioned around to his work desk and the kitchen.

“I have been more than supportive of your work. You save people, you help people. But don't you dare tell me that engaging in a fake relationship with some woman without me knowing is ok just because it’s ‘for a case’.” You were practically fuming with anger.

“It was for a case!” He tried to convince you.

“Dammit Sherlock, do I mean nothing to you?” You dropped your arms in defeat.

“Of course not!” He tried to convince you.

“Then you should probably start acting like it.” You lost your angry tone, feeling utterly defeated at how this conversation had gone. You were frankly ready to walk away.

“I love you!” Sherlock reached to take your hands in his, seeing that sad look in your eyes.

“This isn't how you treat people you love!” You yelled once more, ripping your hands from his, “Could you even imagine how I felt, coming here just to see you kissing her-” You could barely finish your sentence as the words got stuck in your throat. It tightened and your eyes began to fill with tears.

“I never meant to hurt you.” Sherlock pleaded.

“Were a little past that,” You muttered, wiping a stray tear, “Maybe they were right.”

“Who?” Sherlock asked with a raised brow.

“Everyone who told me what a fool I was for being with you.” You said, knowing that it would hurt him. You just wanted him to understand the pain he had caused you.

“Y/N...” Sherlock muttered, he looked as if he was on the verge of tears as well.

“No Sherlock, I can't live like this. I can handle the specimens in the fridge. I can handle the clients and your crazy work schedule. But I can't handle this.” You shook your head.

“Y/N I was trying to protect you!” Sherlock yelled, trying to get through to you.

“Protect me from what, Sherlock? Because the only one that hurt me was you.” You spoke through gritted teeth, nearly seething with anger as you grabbed your bag and started to walk towards the door.

“Y/N please don’t go.” He pleaded.

“I can't do this Sherlock.” You shake your head, walking through the doorway.

“Do you love me?” Sherlock asked softly.

“What?” You turned around and asked gently.

“Do you love me?” He said once more slowly, sounding out each word at a time.

“Of course I love you.” You cried.

“Then we can get past this.” He tried to reassure you.

“Can we?” You asked genuinely, almost as if it was a plea, a cry for help.

“I can explain everything. The whole case, why I had to do this. Why I couldn’t tell you my plan.” He was frantic, willing to do anything to stop you from walking through that door and giving up on him.

“It better be one hell of a story.” You shake your head, at your whits end.

“Y/N I swear to god I’d never do anything to hurt you. But if I told you, it could have gotten you killed. I could live with you hating me, with you never wanting to see me again. But I couldn't live with myself if I was the reason that you were killed.” He began to cry, and you knew that he was telling the truth, “Please Y/N you have to understand. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.” A tear slipped down your cheek as well, because truthfully, he was the best thing that had ever happened to you too,

“I love you. So I’m not just going to walk away. But I’m going to sit here, and you’re going to tell me everything. Every detail of this case, every detail about her, so I don't have to live the rest of my life wondering.” You moved and sat on the couch before him, giving him the chance to explain he’s been begging for.

And he did, every detail. He explained how dangerous Magnussen was and what he did to John. He explained how he knew if Magnussen was willing to go after John, you had to be next. He could have lost you. You were the key to getting to him and that put you in danger. You were his heart, and that meant you were vulnerable. He even explained, at your request, everything that had happened with Janine. He said he would never do anything more than kiss her, and even then it was only a few times for appearances sake. She would know something was up if he didn’t... but it never went farther than that. Part of you was relieved, but another part of you couldn’t get the image out of your head. By the end you were both a crying mess.

“We can get past this, it’s just going to take time...” You nodded.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you.” Sherlock shook his head, hating the pain he had caused you.

“I know. And I know why you did it.” You nodded slowly.

“I love you so much.” Sherlock cried, he was now sitting next to you on the couch, holding your hands in his.

“I love you too, Sherlock.” You wrapped your arms around his neck as he pulled you closer.

If the two of you could get through this... you could get through anything.

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Please please please comment and let me know what you think, I know only like three of you will. It’s gotten so discouraging and I don’t know if I’m just getting through all of these requests so I can finally be done because no one seems to care about my series anymore. I’m probably just talking into the void here because everyone’s already scrolled away since the story ended and all you care about is free content and not the writer. Idk why I even post on here anymore.

[thosequeenboys]

Finishing Up (Ben Hardy x Reader)

Summary:  You are an established meeting planner in LA fulfilling a list minute request to plan an event for top British actors.  Ben Hardy and you surprisingly connect, leading to a night of passion and pleasure.

A/N:  Benedict Cumberbatch makes a cameo cause it’s my party and I’ll combine fantasies if I want to. And he helps shape the dynamic between our two characters.

Warnings:  SMUT (over 18 please!): car touching, oral (m/f receiving), masturbation, hand job, praise kink run amok, dirty talk, age gap (f/10 years older), cursing

 “So, let me get this straight…” Your phone was nestled uncomfortably between your neck and shoulder as you filled up 2 creamy pages of your journal and wrote a ‘to do’ list complete with little boxes drawn next to each task.  “You have a delegation of 25 British actors coming to town this weekend for a meet and greet with directors and agents, followed by dinner.  Sure, I can do that.”  

And you could.  Events were your specialty and you thrived on a challenge. The more square boxes to check and miracles to pull off, the more you were in your element. You’d planned parachute jumps, choreographed light shows, delivered Russian caviar being held in a sea container in the Pacific to a restaurant in 2 hours – all for the likes of the political elite, corporate executives and celebrities.

What’s a bunch of Brits schmoozing with Hollywood elite in a hotel ballroom and dining in one of LA’s hippest restaurants?

As you ended the call, the celebrity list and other details came through in an email.  

Your business partner in crime, Shelley, sidled up to you.  “This sounds fun!” She too welcomed a challenge.  She eyed the list in your email.  “This is an eclectic group. “ She said, reading off the names, ending with “Benedict Cumberbatch,  Ben Hardy….” The names penetrated your brain with warm recognition but you weren’t focused on the guests yet, just all the boxes to check before they arrived to create memorable event. Shelley and you split the tasks, working your phones. As you typed an e-mail, you smiled with anticipation thinking of those names now swirling in your head.

You greeted the day of reckoning in a tight dress that hugged your curves and a dramatic chunky mixed-metal necklace draping your neck. Your legs were elongated by sheer stockings and heels. The guests arrived and a natural extrovert, you made the rounds, greeting the agents you knew, meeting others and making introductions.  

Sienna, an agent you knew well and liked very much, touched your back lightly. “Have you met Benedict?” She asked with a wink.

You looked up taking in the long jaw line and sparkling blue eyes as he extended a hand.  

“Hello.” He said, flashing that lovely, somewhat reserved smile.  “Benedict. Benedict Cumberbatch. Thanks so much for arranging this soiree!”  You shook his hand.

“SO nice to meet you.” You said.  “I must tell you The Imitation Game is one of my favorite movies.  Tells such important stories.  You captured the complexities of the characters and the period brilliantly.”  

Your compliment felt so lame and you felt like a dolt.  

“Thank you so much,” he said warmly.  “It is indeed a frequently unacknowledged part of WW II history -and gay history - and it felt good to get them into the mainstream. I’m impressed you know that history!”  

Hmm.. maybe that comment wasn’t so bad.  “Are you planning to stay in LA a bit?” As you listened to him describe his holiday plans with his family, you registered a darkly clad figure next to you.  

“Gosh, it’s been such a privilege meeting you, Benedict.  I hope you enjoy the rest of the event – and your holiday.”  Looking at him you realized he was your slightly older peer.  You extended your hand and you muzzled a gasp as he delivered a kiss to your cheek, squeezing your shoulders with his firm arms before pulling away.  “Thanks for your great planning!” he said.  Complimented and kissed by Benedict Cumberbatch.  Your work here was done, you thought with an internal laugh.  Not quite. As he pulled away Sienna took you from the moment, turning you gently toward another guest.

“This.” Sienna said with an ear-to-ear grin, “This is Ben Hardy.”  

“And THIS,” she gushed, leaning into Ben, “ is our spectacular meeting planner.”  

You took a moment to register the absolute beauty and grace before you, clad in black pants, a slightly see-through black shirt and an elegant black and brown tweed blazer.  The blonde wavy hair was gracefully brushed back, topping clear glowing skin and luminescent green eyes.

“Hi,’ Ben said, shyly, his eyes averting before turning back, the green irises sparkling radiantly at you.

You smiled warmly.  “Nice to meet you, Ben. Glad you joined us.”  

“Glad to be here.” He responded.

“Ben was in Bohemian Rhapsody and just wrapped 6 Underground.“ Sienna chimed in.  

“Ah, yes. I enjoyed Bohemian Rhapsody very much.’ You said, somewhat distractedly. You were finding it hard to look at him as heat spread throughout your body.  You pulled your phone from your bag and looked down, feigning urgency.  “Excuse me,” you said abruptly, “ I just noticed the time.  I need to get things ready for the presentations.”  You flashed a smile and turned gracefully on your toes and walked out of the ballroom toward the rest room.  When the bathroom door shut, you dampened a paper towel with water and gently blotted your face and the back of your neck.

The door opened and Shelley barged in.  “Are you ok? I saw you make a beeline here-thought you might be sick!! Gosh, You look downright flushed!” her voice arched in concern.

“Oh. My. God.”  Before continuing you walked bent over in front of the stalls checking for feet, your heels clicking along the marble floors.  The coast was fortunately clear.  “I…I…just met Ben Hardy. And I, Oh. God….He’s so ethereal.  I mean, gorgeous. Like, how does someone LOOK like that.  And he seems so sweet, kinda shy.   I…I just started burning up.  I could feel hormones cascading through my body-dopamine and serotonin neat with an estrogen chaser…AND the kicker is, before I met him I had a nice chat with Benedict Cumberbatch AND he KISSED AND HUGGED ME and THAT didn’t elicit this response!! BENEDICT FUCKING CUMBERBATCH!!!  What is happening to me??” You asked dramatically, partly to amuse yourself, partly serious and partly to entertain Shelley.

Shelley smirked and you could tell she was gearing up for some dirty banter - one of her many talents and one of the many reasons you loved her.  

“Ben Hardy, huh? Have you asked for some ID*?  He seriously could be jail bait.”

You smirked back.  “HARD-ly. Hmm.  Pun unintended.”

Shelly stepped toward you:   “Let’s play some Word Association:  I say Cock…..you say: HARD-Y.  Pun intended.”  

You chuckled and rolled your eyes.

“Seriously.  Had NOT pegged you as a cougar.”  Shelly winked.

“Alright, we’re done here.” You said, tossing the towel and reclaiming your professional demeanor. “I got to get back out there to queue the speeches.” You felt the wave of hormones wash back to sea.

The attendees gathered as the speeches commenced.  Afterwards, everyone was ushered outside the hotel where limousines awaited to take guests to Auburn on Melrose for dinner.  After you ensured all guests were seated comfortably and chatted with the head server, you approached your table sliding into the one empty seat   Sensing a familiar figure, you glanced to your right, taking in the wonder of Ben Hardy. ‘Oh crap’ you thought, tempted to pull the seating list out of your bag, knowing he most certainly was not assigned to your table.  “Great to see you again,” Ben said, flashing his perfect smile, evoking an image of him as Roger Taylor.  You smiled back and your eyes scanned the room for Shelley.  You spotted her at a table to your left and locked glances.  She gave you a thumbs up and shit-eating grin. Sienna, your planned dining partner, gave you a wave, covering her mouth to obscure a laugh.   FUCK. You felt the warmth rising through your body-part annoyance at their prank, part lust, being close to Ben again. ��You gulped some water, willing it away. The table conversation and wine flowed.  Ben was a smart and engaging conversationalist and you exchanged laughs and glances.  After dinner, you corralled guests to their limos and saw Ben lag behind talking with two others, as you approached the final waiting car.  

The driver motioned for Ben to enter first, and he slid across the long seat.  He motioned you next, followed by the two others.  The car took off down Melrose. Suddenly you saw bright light gaining speed to the right of the limo and without warning, a Jaguar screeched from the right lane in front of your limo which slowed urgently. Your driver lurched to the left lane, avoiding a rear end collision. “AHHHH” the entire backseat yelled, leaning into each other. You found yourself thrown to the left and leaning against Ben’s ribs, your hand pressed into his thigh just above his knee to keep you upright.  

The driver glanced back, as traffic slowed, “Everyone ok?”

“Yes,” came the responses, as your fellow passengers disengaged themselves from similar propping. You turned your head and your eyes locked with Ben’s.  You gently gave a squeeze to the sides of his knee to gain leverage and righted yourself.  Staring at him purposefully, you skimmed your fingers lightly up his thick thigh, easing your hand off and resting it next to your own thigh. His leg spread open toward you and your knees touched. You felt his warmth through your stockings. Other passengers chatted and you joined in with them.

Suddenly you felt his fingers jut into your hip and then coax your hand onto him again.  You looked at him quizzically, ensuring you weren’t misreading signals in your three-glasses-of-wine state.  His eyes locked with yours and a grin lit his face. You swallowed a gasp, suddenly aware you were being asked a question.  “Do you think the US Equity rules might change to allow reciprocity?” one of the passengers asked.

“Well, actually I know the union has been looking into this.”  You crisply shared some details from the article you had read recently, as you started to massage Ben’s inner thigh, heading north, ever so lightly to avoid attracting attention. You were peppered with more questions, which you answered without hesitation, as Ben squeezed his thighs around your hand, trying to create friction.

The topic was changed by another passenger.  “You must be glad the conference is almost over-then you can get some rest.”

“It’s been a pleasure,” you said sincerely, as you crossed your right leg, tilting slightly toward Ben. You stopped the thigh massage, loosening your hand from between his thighs and inched your nails up his right thigh.  His head sunk into the car seat and his eyes followed into the back of his head.

You continued, “There are just a few final touches to finish up, like swag bags, so everyone has great memories and leaves satisfied.”   Your nails took a turn to Ben’s crotch brushing his member with your finger pads and squeezing gently, hoping to feel his arousal.   Bingo.  You gave a final graze of your nails down his thigh before easing off as the bright lights of the hotel’s circular driveway lit the car.  You thanked the driver as Ben exited and you followed.

You leaned slightly toward his ear, “I’m in 1202 if you want to….”

“Finish up?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “So everyone leaves satisfied?” You smirked and proceeded into the hotel.

When you got to your room, you took a quick shower, reapplied some make-up, brushed your teeth and changed into leggings and a fitted lacey tank top.  

The knock on your door was timed perfectly.

He had changed into black jeans, a white round neck t-shirt and an open button-down shirt.   You motioned him inside and closed the door. You extended one arm over his shoulder and your other hand settled on his chest.

“You were such a good boy, being so still and quiet when I touched you in the car,” You said gently, as your hand released your hand from his shoulder, joining the other on his chest as you leaned into him.

“And YOU ….. carrying on that smart conversation while driving me out of my fucking mind. InCREDible.” He responded.  

“I’m a great multi-tasker,” You purred. He leaned in and kissed you hungrily as you wrapped your arms around each other, your mouths opening wider and your tongues exploring each other.   “Why don’t you let me take care of you, baby?” You asked tilting your head and rubbing your hands on his shirted chest.

“I ….yeah.” he said scanning you up and down.

You looked at him ensuring consent.  He swooped into you for an affirming kiss. 

“C’mon sweet boy.” You dragged your hand down his chest into his hand and squeezed it.

You eased him on to the bed. Sitting next to him you took off his shirts and gasped at his rippled muscular chest, the likes of which you had not seen on an actual man in your bed.  

“What a delicious appetizer before I get to the main course.” You noted.

“Really?” He asked seductively. He unbuttoned his pants, looking up at you. “Ok if I get comfortable? You nodded helping him out of his pants, his boxer briefs remaining.

“Back up, baby,” you cooed, and he shimmied himself back to the pillows. He bent his legs, planting his feet on the bed akimbo, inviting you in.  You eased yourself between his firm thighs and kissed his lips, moving to his earlobe and down his neck and chest.  You sucked one of his nipples, while you licked your thumb and index finger and then teased and rolled his other nipple between them. He moaned.  

“You like that sweet boy? You’re so sensitive.”  

“Yeah….” he said.  You outlined his pecs with your nails as you kissed his sternum, moving down the center of his chest.  You licked a figure eight along his six-pack and kissed down to the top of waistband of his boxers.

You hovered over his bulging cock in his boxer briefs, pressing your hands into his thighs. His eyes sparkled at you, wanting.  You wanted to drag it out a bit more.  You planted kisses along his thighs ending at the leg if his briefs, skirting his crotch. Finally you brushed a hand over his now-hard cock strained against his briefs.

“So hard and eager. You gonna be a good boy for me and let me suck you until you come?” You asked.

“OH FUCK.” Ben said, his eyes widening.  “YES!”

With that, you slid his underwear off, leaving him fully naked and erect before you. Kneeling before him your hands dug into his open thighs and you lifted them, holding them back erotically, giving you full access to his thick throbbing cock.  

“So good for me, Ben, so beautiful, so spread out for me….”

You couldn’t wait anymore. You slithered onto your stomach, still holding his thighs and started your oral choreography. Holding his firm thighs open, you licked from the base to the tip and positioning yourself over his member, licked around the shaft in circles, ending at the underside of his head. He was a moaning mess, thrusting up to get himself into your mouth.

“You ready for me to suck you now, good boy?”

“Please,” he said, as his hand made its way into your hair, the other gripping the sheet.

You took his head in your mouth, sucking him hard and swirling your tongue in a slow steady rhythm, taking more and more in with each suck.  You removed your right hand from his thigh to gently massage his balls as you quickened your pace. You felt his breath deepen and his moans intensify. Suddenly he touched your shoulders.

“Get up, get off,” he said, almost frantically.

You popped off him surprised.  He grabbed his cock and started to pull it quickly.

You were completely turned on by Ben touching himself, but confused by the turn of events.  

“Baby, what’s wrong?” You uttered.

“Say it!!” he said. “Talk to me.” You looked puzzled.  “I gotta hear you say it….tell me I’m ….

“Ah,” you thought.  

“Ben, you’re such a good boy for me. Let me touch you. I want to feel you cum hard through my fingers. You take me so well, baby,” you cooed as you touched his hand and he released it.  You took over, easing his wet cock into your hand, spreading his pre-cum. You jerked him quickly and steadily as he leaned back on his forearms. “Such a sweet, good boy, Ben…I want to make you feel so good…being so good for me.”

And with that, he moaned, thrusting and came over your fingers, some shooting onto his chest.  

“Was that good baby?” You asked.

“God, what a build, starting in the car…I just love hearing you talk dirty to me. InCREDible!!”  

Gosh you loved how he said incredible.  If this event taught you anything it’s that most things sound better with a British accent.

You gave him a kiss and wiped up his chest with a tissue on the nightstand. Afterwards you kissed down his luscious chest again and rested your head between his pecks, stretching out next to him.

“What about you?’ he asked, his arm caressing on your shoulder. “Did I get you wet?”

“Yes, baby….” Then you chuckled. “Well you ….and Benedict Cumberbatch.”

“That old Geezer?” Ben snarked.  

“Hey! Watch it!” you responded.

You both laughed.  “Actually, I like an older woman.  This older woman,” and he winked at you, continuing, “I heard your Heart Eyes-Fan Girl talk with him,” Ben said.

“Were you jealous?” you probed, semi-jokingly.

“Li’l bit.” He replied demurely with a slight smirk.

“Well, I am a real fan of his acting, but he doesn’t have this effect on me.”

“What effect is that?” Ben asked hopefully.

You quickly slid off your pants and panties and opened your legs in a diamond shape, your feet joined at the bottom of the diamond. You took Ben’s pointer finger and guided it from your hole to your clit.  You let your finger go, leaving your soft folds in his strong fingers as he continued to touch your heat, his thumb landing on clit with soft circles.

“Finger me, Ben.”

Ben slid his pointer finger into you and your tightened around him, moaning.  

“Such a good girl, tightening around me.  So wet…I gotta taste you….”

With that sentence, you gave it one minute, thirty seconds.  Tops.

“Oh God,” you said anticipating the quick build.  “Another finger” you moaned, and he obliged with his middle finger, curling both as he eased himself between your thighs, your feet planted widely apart on the bed.

“So tight for me” he said peering up at you.  “So wet. Your legs spread so wide.  Gosh, you’re so fucking flexible.”

Yoga was paying off in multiple ways, apparently.

He replaced his thumb with his tongue, licking your clit in circles with perfect pressure as he pressed his fingers into you.

“I’m close, Ben.  Lick me, faster.”

And, as predicted you cascaded over the waterfall, contractions tightening around his fingers as you thrusted into him, calling his name.  

He eased his ministrations, while kissing your thighs and then eased himself next to you.

“That was amazing.” You said.

“Indeed,” Ben said, as he stroked your hip tenderly. “Well, I’m glad you got to, um, finish up…”

You chuckled. “Me too,” delivering a kiss to his sternum.

You wrapped your arms around each other and drifted off to sleep.

 *This is a riff from Robin Williams’ Best Supporting Actor Oscar acceptance speech for Good Will Hunting in which he thanks his co-stars, Ben Affleck and Matt Damon, who were in their mid-20’s, telling them, “I still want to see some ID.”

[shittylittleweirdo]

Just some British HOT guys flipping everyone off...

[dragon-kazansky]

Masquerade at midnight

Gender neutral reader

[Mastsrlist]

[Next chapter]

Notes: This story will be updated slowly. It takes me quote a bit of time to write out, and there's a lot of events to get through. Please be patient with me and enjoy this story. I'm very excited about it, and I know many of you are too. I highly encourage hype from here onward. I think you'll all really enjoy this story.

~~~

Prologue

It was late into the evening when you got home. The day had been long, but waking up so early to deal with everything may have had something to with that. From the moment you had got out of bed, it had been nonstop. Work had plenty to give you occupied today, but it was taking it's toll. Plus, you had just got back from meeting a friend who you promised you would have dinner with. Your body begged to rest, and you couldn't agree more.

You hadn't been home since you left in the morning, so it made sense you find your mail on the floor, having no one here to pick it up and put it to the side for you. You sigh as you pushed the door closed and look at the post under your shoe. You reach down and pick it up, dropping your bag by the door. The first letter, followed by the second, were both bills. You dropped them lazily on the counter in the kitchen. The third thing in the mail was a pamphlet for gardeners for hire. This was wasted on you as you live in a tiny little home with what you could hardly call a garden.

The final letter, well, that had caught your attention. The envelope was black, your name and address written in silver ink. You furrowed your brow as you admired the neat handwriting. If you had to take a guess, this was an invitation to something. You didn't recognise the hand writing, and there was no way this was a wedding invitation to your cousin's wedding. As far as you knew, they hadn't set a date yet. They also wouldn't send a wedding invite in a mysterious black envelope like this.

Curious, you placed the letter down and opened your kitchen drawer. You intend to open the letter with one of your sharp knives, fearing ripping the envelope. Something didn't feel quite right about the idea of just tearing into it. The cut was smooth and clean. You placed the kitchen knife down and plucked out the card within. The card, which was now confirmed to be an invite, was even more mysterious than the envelope.

Black, gold border. An address. A date. A time. No name.

Turning the invitation over in your hand, you find nothing more. No details as to what this was for. The thought that this was a mistake and wasn't meant to you did cross your mind, but looking down at the open envelope, you recall that it had your name and address on it. Whatever this invite is for, it was intended for you.

No longer feeling the stress and tiredness of the day, you walk into the living room and pull out your laptop. You may have no idea what this invite was for, but you could at least look up the address on it for a clue. Maybe you would be able to work it out. Though, the fact that this place was so far away, you had no idea who had sent this. This invitation didn't come from family or friends. In fact, the search came up empty. The address couldn't be found, other than the country it was in. Paris.

There was no clue as to where this had come from.

"This has to be a prank," you mutter to yourself. You close your laptop and put the invite onto the coffee table. Perhaps it would be best to just ignore it.

And you did.

For days you had forgotten all about the invite. You woke up, went to work, met with a friend here and there. You went about your life. All the while the invite sat on the coffee table untouched. Before long, a fortnight had come and gone since the invitations first arrival. You had blanked its existence entirely.

Then, that next weekend, another envelope arrived. Same black letter with silver handwriting.

A reminder.

The card inside had even less written on it than the first, which you now looked at as you held the reminder in your hand. It just consisted of a reminder of the date and time you were expected at the house. Once again there was no signature.

Picking up the first card, you look at the address. Maybe, just maybe, you should pack some things and go. Worst case scenario you could think of was that you would turn around and catch a flight back. At the first sign of trouble, you would just leave.

Next thing you know, you're packing a suitcase with clothes and necessaries. You have a flight booked. You slip the invitation into your bag and keep it safe. You may need it for whatever this turned out to be.

You flew out the day before you were expected.

"This is insane," you whisper to yourself on the plane, looking out the window as the plane took off. Curiosity killed the cat, and something was telling you that would be a complete possibility. 

If only you knew the turn your life was about to take.

@lieutenantn @ntlmundy @rubi54 @alex-the-rainbow  @that-one-fandom-kid @mischief-siriusly-managed @madhatter2727 @gabrielapoe-16 @baronesszemo-blackwood @valquiria3000 @wannabevampire @ten-tenya-iida @crackedout @rothko-mirror @niceshadeofblue @my-fic-corner @aluehuskywolf @bdffkierenwalker @melodyoftheheart @marchingicenotes7

[somedayholland36]

New images of Tom alongside benedict cumberbatch in the movie the current war

Credits:

[turkisherlockian]

Books And Sins | Chapter Three [Benedict Cumberbatch AU]

Word count: 1115

A/N: Hi guys! I hope you like it hehehe! Let me know what you think and if you'd like more! Feedbacks are appreciated and so motivating! Enjoy! ❤️ -Cer

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Katherine took a sip of her coffee as Benedict couldn't take his eyes off her. If it was someone else she would freak out, but it was him. The man who drove her crazy.

"How was your day, darling?" He leaned back in his seat, smiling at her gently.

The young woman took a deep breath before speaking, she did have a rough day. However, she didn't want to bore him with talking about her shitty day so she just said "It was fine... Same as usual. How about yours?" Katherine smiled and tilted her head sweetly.

Another lie, Benedict thought. We'll need to fix that sweet, filthy mouth of yours.

"My day was... A bit boring, actually." He lied, "I don't know if you like writing but I do know you like reading, but I assume you can imagine how hard it is to write when you just... Can't think of anything to write when you turn on your laptop... But I must tell you it was mainly because of you."

"Me?.." Katherine looked upset, "Because I texted you?... I'm so sorry!"

Oh, but you're so sweet, darling. So innocent.

Benedict chuckled, "No! Because I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"Aww," Katherine looked down with a big smile, biting her lip a bit.

God, no, don't do that if you don't want me to take you right here.

The young man smirked and leaned over the table, holding her small hand in his that engulfed it. Katherine was amazed by how big his hand was compared to hers, then she looked up at him but saw a red stain on his jumper. Katherine frowned a little, "Is that blood?..."

Shit, Benedict thought, he looked down at his jumper, "Oh... My nose bled before I came here, sorry..."

"No, it's fine." She smiled, "You didn't hit your nose anywhere, did you?"

Benedict blinked a few times before answering her question, she was so observant and with that beautiful smile, he wanted nothing but to kiss her. "No, thankfully. It happens from time to time. The doctor said it's nothing important, so..." He shrugged with a smile.

Katherine nodded and sipped her coffee, thinking about what to say next because of the awkward silence' presence. Then she decided to ask about his book.

"I'm not going to deny that I googled your name, but I found nothing..."

"Oh, about that... I write under a pen name."

"Oh!" Katherine raised her eyebrows in interest, "That's cool! What's your pen name?"

Benedict chuckled, "I'll tell you if..." He pretended to think, "If you let me take you out for dinner."

"Dinner?" Katherine giggled, "Deal. When?"

"I'm always free, so it's up to you."

The young woman hummed, "I'm usually free after work, and on weekends... How about tomorrow?"

You're always free because you barely see your friends. You'd rather spend time with your books or chat with your online friends, would you not, sweet girl?

"Sounds great. Is 7 PM okay?"Katherine nodded.

"Could you give me your address? I'll pick you up... I mean, if you'd like to. Or I can pick you up from somewhere else..."

She didn't even hesitate to give him her address when Benedict took a pen and notebook out of his bag to write it down. His hands, his eyes, even his handwriting... He was beautiful and Katherine knew that she fell under his spell.

I already knew your address, but... "Thank you darling." Benedict smiled and put them back in his bag, aware of the pair of eyes watching him intensely.

"Where are we going to go?" Katherine asked quietly with a smile, "That's gonna be a surprise."

"Tell me what to wear, then..."

He hummed, "Anything would look good on you, sweetie..."

Katherine blushed and chuckled, "Be more specific!"

"Hmm..." He smirked, "You might want to wear a dress."

"It's gonna be fancy, then."

"Just like you."

"I'm not fancy..." Katherine giggled shyly.

"Yes, you are..." And I know you're not used to being called nice things... Another thing we need to fix, my love.

"I won't argue with you..." You should never, my sweet girl.

Benedict chuckled and then they started talking about the past. "I haven't seen them since we graduated... I don't follow them on Instagram either. I'm barely active there, actually."

I know. "I didn't really have a good relationship with the others and I moved to another city for college, so... I probably wouldn't even recognize them if I saw them now."

Katherine nodded, "Where did you go?"

"Manchester. I studied English Literature and Creative Writing."

"Can't wait to see how creative you write..." She smirked.

Oh... Flirtatious, are we darling?

"You might find out tomorrow." Benedict winked at her. You can't imagine how creative I am in bed, as well.

They kept talking for more than an hour, both of them being flirtatious and Katherine falling for him as Benedict expected. He had a hard time with fixing his boxers secretly since he was incredibly turned on, and hoped that she wouldn't feel his erection against her stomach when they hugged. You're too innocent to even notice, he thought.

"I'll see you tomorrow then..." Benedict leaned down to kiss her cheek and Katherine felt herself get wet.

Her cheeks were red and that didn't go unnoticed by Benedict, however he didn't make a comment about it to not make her uncomfortable. Katherine smiled, "See you..." She said quietly and started walking down the street. He stalked her to make sure she went home safely, sighing when it was time to go home.

He got into his car and drove home that was pretty close to hers, then got comfortable on his bed before unzipping his trousers.

Katherine texted Samantha immediately and took off her clothes, throwing herself on her bed as she waited for a reply but her friend wasn't even online. She was only wearing her panties when she started touching herself, closing her eyes as his kiss lingered on her cheek.

Benedict's eyes widened when he saw her masturbating, yes, he was watching her. He's been watching her since a few months ago, actually, when Katherine called the landlord to deal with her broken tap.

He could barely look at the screen as he was about to come and Katherine arched her back when she cried out, "Benedict!"

Benedict came all over his hand, his heart beating fast and vision blurry. Oh, love... He panted as he watched her calm down, still lying on her bed.

Maybe you're not as innocent as I thought... That was a surprise, but a good one, indeed. My naughty girl...

I can't wait to have you.

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Chapter Four

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