#henry!sherlock x you

[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Updated: 2024-02-08

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Henry!Holmes stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning

✑ Love-Performing Night | Prt. II | Prt. III by st-juliet • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: "…An actress at Covent Garden Theatre and neighbour to a certain eccentric detective, [you're] equal parts flustered and delighted when [Sherlock] arrives [backstage]."

✑ Utmost Merit | Prt. II | Prt. III | Prt. IV by st-juliet • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock presents [you] with a most unconventional proposal."

✑ When We Were Young by youvebeenlivingfictional • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "You were an only child, a girl (which had disappointed your parents), and while you loved to learn, you hated your governess. You were curious, a little wild, and lonely."

✑ A Work Proposition by zodiyack • 〔F〕 •

Summary: After witnessing your, another detective, interaction with Sherlock, Enola sees a perfect opportunity to play Cupid

✑ An Absolute Mess by youvebeenlivingfictional • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Your Aunt [sent] you a, moderately frantic, letter [requesting] help [tidying up after one of her more peculiar tenants]."

✑ Don't You Remember￨Prt. II by iguana-eyanna • 〔A〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock is hired by an old flame that claims that a family heirloom has been stolen, but he has suspicions of why he was hired in the first place."

✑ Enigma by iguana-eyanna • 〔A᜶F〕 •

Summary: "When Sherlock comes at your door seeking help, you two realize you can't deny the pull you have on each other."

✑ Exactly What You Need by delicate-moon-princess • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "It seems Sherlock understands your needs better than you do."

✑ Experiment, the￨Prt. II by sherlocksoft • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

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

✑ Family Man by buckybarnesthehotshot • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "In which [Sherlock], along with other ladies of high society, learns his wife is with child"

✑ Fresh Air and Exercise by daydreaming-in-letters • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Sherlock may [refuse] to join, [you] for an afternoon walk, but that doesn't mean he has to pass up on the much needed exercise altogether."

✑ Give It Up by theplaid-wearingmoose • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "When Enola had told him he needed to learn to give up control sometimes, he was fairly certain this is not what she had meant."

✑ Hair by buckybarnesthehotshot • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ If Only You Would Know by espinosaurusrexex • 〔A᜶C〕 •

Summary: "You and Sherlock are in love; Enola is sure of it. [However,] she is forced to watch you tiptoe around the topic for an eternity. So when the opportunity arises, and Sherlock is forced to confront his feelings towards you, she does not hesitate."

✑ Jigsaw by andsheloved • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "As you wonder what it would be like for him to return your affections, Sherlock finally understands what he would sacrifice to fit within your world."

✑ Most Beautiful Riddle, the by espinosaurusrexex • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Sherlock Holmes... never entertained the idea of marriage. That was, until [you] came along and turned his world upside down... After a year of... love and happiness, he is finally ready to ask the question. There is just one problem: How is he ever to make the proposal worthy of his one true love?"

✑ On Subjects of the Heart￨Prt. II by andsheloved • 〔A〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock has a good head on his shoulders; he's straightforward, critical, and almost painfully logical, so why have you had his mind swimming with thoughts that are anything but?"

✑ Only Women, the by writingfortoomanyfandoms • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: {…}

✑ Only You by thisisawonderfulusername • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "After becoming pregnant, you notice that Sherlock has been distancing himself. he finally returns home after at least a month of being gone."

✑ Propriety by andsheloved • 〔F᜶C〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock was sure his heart stopped when he saw you lying in the hospital bed, all because of him. He has to take care of you. He has to… who cares if the only way he can be in the room… is to tell them he's your husband? Certainly not him. Absolutely not."

✑ Pubs & Pebbles by youvebeenlivingfictional • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: {…}

✑ Pulse Point by st-juliet • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "To help him relax in the midst of a trying case, Reader exploits Sherlock’s only vulnerability."

✑ Red Carnation by shotgunbunny • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Sherlock's jealousy shines through and makes you annoyed, [to make amends he] shows you how he's loved you all these years."

✑ Riotous by st-juliet • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "A wealthy, titled, chaste young lady such as [yourself] should most definite… in attendance at a secret back-room boxing match… Neither should a refined [and] proper… detective. [Yet,] here you [both] are, two weeks away from your wedding no less…"

✑ Run Away by multific • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♡ •

✑ Smallest Joys by inknopewetrust • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "The tree in the Holmes' backyard [is] a place of… peace and laughter… and a moment arises for it to be a place of forgiveness and love as well."

✑ Simple Things by dyns33 • 16+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Sir Snuggles by thisisawonderfulusername • 〔F〕 • 𑁍 •

Summary: "Your niece [enlists] the help of Sherlock Holmes to find her teddy bear."

✑ Surely Not Love by youvebeenlivingfictional • 〔F〕 •

✑ Taste of Home by delicate-moon-princess • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You wake up next to, [your husband], Sherlock... after months of being apart. It never [feels] like home when [he's] gone... now, [he's finally back] to fill the void in your heart."

✑ Teacups and Telegrams by theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Your morning was normal until you received a telegram from your friend Sherlock Holmes with a simple request: help him find Enola."

✑ Thursday 4pm by starkleila • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "Enola deduces something about you before Sherlock."

✑ Waiting Game, the by ithebookhorder • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Sherlock comforts [you after a] heartbreak…and opens a door for a happier future."

✑ We Meet Again by maarijaaa • 18+ • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♡ •

Summary: "After your father stepped down as a detective, you decided to take over... [you did not expect] a letter standing on your front porch from a person you wanted to leave in the past…"

✑ We'll Be Alright by love-strawberry • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "In which [you] fight but there's no doubt that [you'll] end up alright."

✑ What It Would Be Like to Love You by cruelfvkingsummer • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Summary: "What happens when a genius and a hopeless romantic are arranged to be wed?"

✑ What They Didn't Know was Missing by iguana-eyanna • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "It's hard to [coming to] terms [with] becoming a mother, but Sherlock [will] remind you [daily] that you are worthy of being one to your child."

✑ Women, the by dyns33 • 〔M᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: After learning of her sister-in-law's jealousy towards Miss Adler, Enola is determined to make her brother realize how he's hurting his wife.

✑ Words Cannot Express by espinosaurusrexex • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "In which [you] and Sherlock have a forever crush on each other."

✑ Your Only Warning by st-juliet • 16+ • 〔E᜶M〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Alone in the library with his betrothed,... Sherlock fights to remain a gentleman…with limited success."

✑ Always Here by andsheloved • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ At the End of Each Case by writingfortoomanyfandoms • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Autumn Morning by henryofsteel • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Blue by fivequartersoftheorange • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Convince Me by youvebeenlivingfictional • 〔F〕 •

✑ Darling by runawayolives • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ En Garde by ithebookhorder • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Game is Afoot Indeed, the by marvelousmando • 〔F〕 •

✑ Governess, the by ladyfloriographist • 〔E〕 •

✑ Hold My Hand by make-me-imagine • 〔F〕 •

✑ Investigating Love by shotgunbunny • 〔F〕 •

✑ Lovely Neighbour, the by dyns33 • 〔F〕 •

✑ Midnight Activities by loganbcrnes • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Oh What a Fool You Are by germangirl321 • 〔M᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Perhaps Not by writingfortoomanyfandoms • 〔F〕 •

✑ Playing Games by dyns33 • 〔F᜶A〕 •

✑ Ready Now by st-juliet • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Sister's Roomate by writingfortoomanyfandoms • 〔F〕 •

✑ Talking in Your Sleep by writingfortoomanyfandoms • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Waiting on Your Husband | Prt. II by dearfandomdiary • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Wild Violet by st-juliet • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Being Sherlock's Wife in Enola Holmes Would Include… | Prt. II by starkleila • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Fancying Sherlock Would Include... by hobbit-historian • 〔F〕 •

See Also: Navigation || Henry!Sherlock Holmes Master Index

Authors: @andsheloved || @buckybarnesthehotshot || @cruelfvkingsummer || @daydreaming-in-letters || @dearfandomdiary || @delicate-moon-princess || @dyns33 || @espinosaurusrexex || @fivequartersoftheorange || @germangirl321 || @henryofsteel || @hobbit-historian || @iguana-eyanna || @inknopewetrust || @ithebookhoarder || @ladyfloriographist || @loganbcrnes || @love-strawberry || @maaarijaaa || @make-me-imagine || @marvelousmando || @multific || @runawayolives || @sherlocksoft || @shotgunbunny || @starkleila || @st-juliet || @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction || @theplaid-wearingmoose || @thisisawonderfulusername || @villainvindicator || @writingfortoomanyfandoms || @youvebeenlivingfictional || @zodiyack ||

[delicate-moon-princess]

Swallow

Swallow

Summary: Sherlock allows you to sample his favorite brandy. He has you drink it in the most unusual way.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Warnings: 18+ smutty content, petplay? (use of the terms “pet” and “master” but that's about it), consumption of alcohol, spitting kink (spitting drink into mouth), praise kink, a little bit of dumbification, hinted blowjob- Let me know if I forgot anything!

Word Count: 800ish

Any typos are my own!

A/N: YAY! 211 followers!😆 Thank you all so much! I wanted to get this little oneshot posted before I go to bed, just to keep your desires satisfied until I can put together something a little longer hehe 😉 Enjoy everyone!

Your head was resting on his knee as his fingers buried themselves in your hair, massaging your scalp. He chuckled when you purred at the spine tingling sensation. Sherlock gazed down at you as you pressed your cheek into the fabric of his trousers, your eyes closed in bliss.

“Does my little rabbit enjoy it when I give her pets?” He hummed, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

You peeked at him, nodding bashfully. You did enjoy his gentle caressing, perhaps even too much. You knelt at his feet as he reclined in his favorite armchair. He cradled your jaw as he grinned once more. His thumb rubbed your cheek.

“How sweet you are, pet. Such a good girl.” He murmured as he reached for his brandy on the side table.

You watched him take a sip, wondering what it tasted like. You had never been allowed to taste his favorite brandy before. He raised a brow, smirking as you gazed at him curiously.

“Are you thirsty, pet? I suppose a little sip won’t hurt you.” He cocked his head to the side. “What do you say?”

Sherlock was always adamant about using your good manners.

“Please, may I have a sip, sir?” You sat up straighter as you looked into his eyes.

“Good girl. Just a sip.” He tugged lightly on the back of your hair, making you lean back. “Open your mouth.”

Without hesitation, you opened your lips. Sherlock smiled at you, still tenderly stroking your cheek.

“You will take what your Master gives you, pet. And you will be grateful.” He reminded you of your place.

You nodded. The detective hummed and raised the glass to his lips. He took a big swig, holding the liquid on his tongue as he bent down. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise when he spat the brandy into your open mouth.

The action was humiliating yet so arousing. He emptied his mouth into yours, making you shiver. The brandy was strong and made your taste buds tingle as it coated your tongue. He licked his lips as he pulled away, cradling your jaw.

“Good rabbit. Now swallow.” He closed your jaw with his hand, watching you carefully.

You did so. It burned your throat and settled in your stomach warmly. You hiccuped, biting your lower lip as you coughed softly.

“T-Thank you, Master.” You rasped. 

Even though the drink wasn’t great, the fact that it came directly from Sherlock’s mouth made your pussy pulsate in need. He tossed his head back with a soft laugh.

“It is too strong, darling?” He watched you shrug. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful for not liking it.

“How about another sip?” He offered with a smirk and you hesitated. You squirmed, trying to get any bit of pressure on your aching cunt.

After a pause, you nodded. Without being asked, you opened wide for him. He grinned and took another sip. He spit it into your mouth again, this time tugging at your hair.

“Swallow.” He growled.

You obeyed, moaning as it burned all the way down. He snickered a little. You pinched your eyes shut, throbbing between your legs once more.

“Thank you.” You looked down, trying not to let him see you wince.

“What a good little pet I have. Taking what her Master gives her without a second thought. All you want to do is please me. Oh, yes. That’s all that tiny mind of yours worries about. How to please your Master. It’s your only purpose, isn’t it?” He cooed, setting the glass down so he could bring your face up.

“From sunrise to sunset, all you think about is me. What a loyal pet you are, sweet rabbit.” He purred, holding your face in his hands.

His praise made you squirm and nuzzle his palms. He smelled so good. The detective hummed as he watched you lean into his touch. It made you open your eyes when his hands fell from your cheeks.

“Look at what you’ve done.” He clicked his tongue, pointing to his lap.

You followed his finger, gasping when you noticed the bulge he was sporting. His finger snapped, bringing your attention back to his face. He shook his head scoldingly.

“What am I to do with this? Who will take care of this need I have?” He sighed dramatically.

You jumped at the opportunity. Tugging on his pant leg, you whimpered desperately. The need to please him filled you. You sat your chin on his thigh, waiting for further instruction. His permission was needed before you could make a move. Sherlock laughed at your eagerness. 

“My pet, will you take care of me? How sweet. Go ahead, unbutton my trousers. I have something else to slip into your sweet mouth.” He reclined and nodded for you to continue.

“And don’t forget to swallow what your master gives you, darling.”

A/N: Love you all! Goodnight 💜

Taglist: @sunshine-with-daisy @leigh70 @islacharlotte @lysarria @kebabgirl67 @pandaxnienke @identity2212  Credits: Divider- @firefly-graphics

[doll-r-t]

Taglist :

@tumblnewbyy @irishprincess899 @wheretheriversrunintothesea @amberangel1122 @sofiebstarr @omgkatinka @enchantedbytomandhenry @snowbellexx @daddys-littlewhitegirll @pjkimrnn @zealoushound, @lunedelorient​, @tragicphoenix13​, @alexa-fangirl-forever​, @vhjlucky13​ @bourbonwithicee @identity2212

[zealouscanonindeer]

This is a continuation of Holmes and Emily's adventures. This series will be narrated in Holmes and Emily's Pov. Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

1. Ladies and letters

Sherlock Holmes:

"Really, Holmes," Watson chided, "She's half your age."

This was not entirely accurate - not that Watson paid excessive attention to facts in the sensationalised accounts that he sent to the Strand. Hyperbole, it seemed, was a writer's best friend.

"You're acting like I'm some lovesick suitor trying to win her over with charm and affection," I replied tartly, examining my nails with what I hoped was a sufficient air of indifference to the topic, "two qualities for which you know very well I am not famous. I believe you are simply imagining something that does not exist, and it's getting rather tiring. I would like for you to drop it." I was not in the mood to discuss the matter any further, for my ribs injured during a recent case had not yet entirely ceased to ache.

Said topic, of course, was a young lady of my acquaintance, one Miss Emily Cartwright, whom Watson seemed to think had quite turned my head. Of course, the very idea was absolute rot - the day that simple lust brought on by a pretty face overtakes the precision of my mind is the day that Watson leaves medicine once and for all and takes up professional dart-playing.

This is not, of course, to say that Miss Cartwright - or Emily, as she has insisted I call her - is an unattractive young woman. Though she generally wears her molasses-brown hair in a proper chignon or even a French twist, I have had occasion (though not on purpose) to see it loose, and the image has, strangely, stayed with me till now. Her build is slender and finely-boned, but woe betide anyone who thinks her overly delicate for it - this, of course, has included me. In addition, she has proven her intelligence more than once, possessing a level of rationality keener than is representative of her sex, and she never ceases to surprise me.

She also has managed to drive me up the wall more than once, for despite her keen mind she is also rather hot-tempered and capricious, and not the sort to give up without a fight, either physically or verbally. The last time I saw her, in fact, she still bore the fading marks of a split lip, testament to an encounter we'd had with a crooked deliveryman.

"Holmes, are you even listening to me?" Watson broke into my train of thought. In the course of my reflections I had managed to tune him out briefly, something which never ceases to annoy him.

"Yes," I replied, "And I think you're being silly."

"If I'm being so silly, why haven't you opened any of her letters?"

I allowed my gaze to briefly regard the small stack of unopened envelopes resting benignly on the corner of the mantel. There were five of them, addressed in her elegant script (Fountain pen, fine brass nib, black India ink, slightly smudged from the heel of her dominant left hand briefly resting on the wet ink) and sealed (teal green sealing wax - I could probably hunt down the vendor if I cared to do so - there were only three vendors that I knew of who sold this peculiar shade), with the topmost envelope (fine-quality paper with a medium cotton content) lightly scented (predominantly lilac, with perhaps a hint of jasmine). Why should I open them? I could determine practically everything from the sealed envelopes.

No – I must be honest. I could determine everything but a rational reason not to open them. They'd sat on the mantel (I thought it slightly obscene to impale them on the jack-knife along with the rest of my correspondence) with all the quiet menace of Pandora's Box, had the contents been sent through the post rather than bestowed by the gods for safekeeping.

"My mail is my business," I informed Watson, "And I shall open it whenever I wish."

Watson huffed a long-suffering sigh at me and, shaking his head in amused disbelief, opened his newspaper.

Finally, as a compromise, I resolved that if she wrote me a sixth letter, I would open all of them.

No sooner was the thought formed in my mind than Mrs Hudson came upstairs with the evening mail. It contained two letters, one from Inspector Lestrade - and one from Emily.

Blast it.

Emily Cartwright:

Where to begin?

I suppose I could begin by telling you my life story up to this point, and in fact I could even make it interesting, but I have found most habitual autobiographers to be rather egotistical, assuming that everyone wishes to know such an awful lot about them that they write it all down and have it bound in a ponderous volume that subsequently accomplishes little more than continually reaffirming the law of gravity until such time (I have yet to discover the exact interval, but between fifty and a hundred years sounds right) as it is declared a classic and force-fed to a whole generation of literature students.

So I shall simply adhere to more recent events, such as my current acquaintance with a certain Englishman who hails from the neighbourhood of Baker Street and who happens to be mildly famous.

Most people, on reflecting upon the character of Mr Sherlock Holmes, would describe him as arrogant, overbearing, and altogether too logical for his own good. His ways are rigid, they say, his manner is cold, and besides which quite unsociable toward most people. (Rumours abound, paradoxically, about the fact that he freely accepts as clients Those Women who work from street-corners and brothels.)

I have found him to be quite polite and well-mannered, if a bit reserved towards women. He can be rather abrupt at times, a trait which takes some getting used to, but once one is in his confidence he can be a fierce ally and a close friend (I am put in mind of the series of events which led to him attacking a very large man who was manhandling yours truly in a trouser role).

In terms of appearance he is no Adonis, with his angular build and avian profile, but he is handsome enough to put most people at ease (my father being a glaring exception, but he is another matter entirely), and his neutral (some would say stony) countenance makes a delightful puzzle of trying to figure out what is going on in that tidily ordered mind of his.

His best features, in my opinion, are his hands, with the slender fingers of an artist and the delicate touch of a surgeon. Granted, they are as often as not marked by burns and stains, but these are the calluses of his trade.

Most of all, what sets Holmes apart from most men I've met in London is the fact that he doesn't try to impress me with wealth (of which he has very little) or promises of pampering (which I wouldn't accept) or even simple doting affection (which would either make me quite ill or suspect that he was ill). He sets the rules and expects me to follow them - or rather, he *doesn't* expect me to be able to follow them, so he is surprised when I call his bluff. It has, I think, become a game between us - he pushes, and I push back. He forms certain expectations of my abilities, and I cheerfully defy them. It keeps things interesting - or it would if he weren't being so damned stubborn right now in not replying to my letters. I don't think he means anything by it, of course - one could accuse Sherlock Holmes of many things, but deliberate and wilful incivility is not one of them.

[holylulusworld]

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (1)

Summary: Your marriage starts rocky.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader

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

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

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why did he hurt you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[milfloveer]

Proof of love ♡

Sherlock Holmes x fem!reader

Prompt: After y/n gets a little stressed about her and Sherlock's relation and— Well, Sherlock shows her how he really loves her ;)

Warnings: smut 18+ minors DNI, age gap (reader is in their 20s and Sherlock in his 30s), p in v, unprotected sex, fluff, creampie

A/n: I need Sherlock in my life so badly 😩

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚ ⊹ ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

Sherlock and I just arrived home after attending a high society party so we could unfold more information about this recent case. Enola and Tewkesbury were there too, the first working on her case as well and the later was there on work behalf as he is a Lord and has his duties as one.

Enola was clearly bothered with all the feminine attention Lord Tewkesbury was given. I couldn't censure her as I was feeling the same towards Sherlock and all those ladies around him asking for a dance, their hands all over my man. Enola and I just rolled our eyes and focused on our cases ignoring each woman who approached the men.

•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•

Sherlock opened the door to his apartment and we walked in, I was clearly frustrated and it didn't slip Sherlock's gaze "You alright, darling?" he asks tenderly and cautiously.

I turn to him and see his concern "Yes, love, everything's alright." I say, even though I was lying. Those interactions all night long made me feel easily discarded and replaced.

Sherlock and I relationship was somewhat recent, we were only together for half a year and yet none of us dared to say those three simple words.

I can say that I care for him deeply, I got really attached to his personality, behaviour, the manner he works and thinks, his papers all around his apartment in a perfectly messy way, the way he played the violin when wanted to relax and get lost for a moment.

I truly fell for this exquisite detective, but I didn't dare to say those words to his face as I was afraid he wasn't feeling what I was. So I kept it to myself until now.

Sherlock frowns and follows me to our shared room "Darling, I know you and I can tell something is up." he says with concern in his voice as I try to unzip my dress, ending to ask him for help on it. He gladly does "Please talk to me." his voice wavering a bit making me look at him worriedly.

I sigh seeing his saddened face as I've never seen him like this. Getting closer to him I lay my hands, one on each side of his face and look deep into his eyes with tenderness "It is nothing important of concern, honey." I say softly, trying to brush it off.

But then again, Sherlock Holmes wouldn't be Sherlock Holmes without discovering the truth "It is concerning you and if it is concerning you, it is concerning me." he says pointing between us as he talks "Please, don't leave me in the dark, dove." he says while holding my gaze and I gave in and told him everything I was feeling at the party and when all the female attention is on him, how replaceable I feel, how dischargeable, how ridiculous.

I was now sitting at the end of our bed with my head hanging as my eyes freely released tears while looking at our hands interlocked on my lap "Oh, dear, why haven't you talked about this with me?" he asks caringly, I sniff and he brings his index finger and thumb to my chin, lifting it so I could look into those blue pools "I didn't want to overreact." I say barely above a whisper, he smiles softly "It's not overreacting dear and I assure you here that I have only eyes for you, my beautiful girl." he says as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, caressing my cheek afterwards and cleaning the remaining of my tears with his thumb.

"Prove it then." I blurt out shocking myself with my boldness, but nonetheless Sherlock chuckles darkly making me shiver "With pleasure, darling." he says as he leans over me making me lay down on the mattress behind me.

Now hovering over me he caresses my sides teasingly as his lips brush mine. No words were said as he connects strongly and lovingly his lips to mine eliciting a moan from me. He starts lowering his hands as his lips move to my neck and collarbone, teasing and marking all the soft spots.

I was already on my undergarments making me start to take off his clothes as he's still fully clothed, first his jacket, then his tie and vest, his shirt and belt were now off and he pulled down his pants discharging them somewhere in the room.

"Please, I need you." I say tugging at the waistband of his underwear, he chuckles "Eager are we?" he asks making me flush as I nod. He frees himself as I take off of me the remains of my underwear.

Now both fully naked we scan each others body "You're so beautiful." he growls caressing my side with his fingertips before capturing my lips while aligning himself with my entrance. As he enters me my mouth falls open and a moan echoes through the room "Oh dear." he says against my ear, his arms each on either side of my body, his hands behind my back, flat on my shoulder blades as he moves lovingly in and out of me.

My legs wrap around his waist pulling him closer as my nails dig into his back certainly leaving some scratches over it. Both breathing heavily and moaning into each other's ears; I love this man so much.

Sherlock speeds up his pace hitting a wonderful spot inside me over and over "Yes, honey, don't stop!" I say gasping sensing the tension building up each time he pounds into me. He then gets on his knees bringing my legs up to rest on his shoulders, I cry out in pleasure as he groans pounding strongly "I'm so close, Sherlock." I say, my legs start to tremble with the feeling.

With a few more pushes and I'm taken over the edge, Sherlock following, spilling his seed into me "Ah, Sherlock!" I say pushing him down and kissing his lips eagerly and then softly. As he pulls away he brushes against my lips, whispering "I love you." I froze and look up at him "What?" I breathe out starstruck about his confession, his eyes widen as he realized he just confessed his feelings for me out loud.

I bring my hand to his cheek and caress it, I smile before letting out a soft chuckle as my eyes fill with happy tears. I lift my head so I could reach his slightly trembling lips and close the gap, the kiss is slow, tender and filled with love, as we were telling without words 'I love you'.

Slightly I pull away and whisper against his lips "I love you too." his eyes widen slightly hearing the words slip like honey from my mouth making me smile lovingly at the man still above me.

[loganbcrnes]

Midnight activities

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Fem!reader

Words: 766

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

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

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

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

[ithebookhoarder]

En Garde (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

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

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

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

Masterlist

“Now, try again-”

“-Sherlock-”

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

Oh, that was it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two could play this game. 

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

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

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

[maggotzombie]

the day/night we met ; henry cavill

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

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

— 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Henry confirms with a head gesture.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You will remember. Everything. Of every second.

[sherlocksoft]

The Experiment pt. 2

Sherlock Holmes x reader

The Experiment pt. 1 // Masterlist

Summary: Sherlock needs something new to keep him occupied. You have the perfect answer to his problems.

Author’s notes: couldn’t resist writing part 2, which was also requested after I wrote part 1. In my Victorian dirty talk research I discovered that the term ‘blow job’ comes from the Victorian term for cum: ‘blow,’ and how could I not make the most of that information??

Warnings/content: nsfw - smut, f!reader, blow job, hand job, marriage, first times (Sherlock’s first blow job), discussion of safe word, sub!Sherlock vibes if you squint

Upon returning to 221B, you found Sherlock barely out of bed; half-dressed and dropped down onto the nearest armchair, hair mussed from sleep and face sullen.

He hadn’t had a case for over a week, and whilst at first he had taken to spending his free time gladly tending to your desires, you did need to leave the house from time to time to run errands and see to your other commitments.

It was moments such as these that the ennui really set in. Sherlock needed something to occupy him, and if he couldn't have you, he needed something new to excite him, but whatever that would be hadn't yet arrived on his doorstep.

‘Sherlock, darling, I’m home,’ you chimed carefully, not wanting to startle him out of his melancholy.

His eyes lit up for a moment before he saw that you were already busy with the books you’d collected, and he dropped back into the chair.

You were eyeing him, though, surreptitiously as you flicked through one of your new novels pretending to admire the illustrations while really you were admiring him.

‘Remember our wedding night?’ you mused, attempting to sound entirely casual.

‘Fondly,’ he sighed dreamily. If only he could feel the excitement of that night anew, the thrill of learning your exquisite body for the first time.

‘I’ve been doing some research,’ you went on, finally snapping shut your book.

'Oh?' An eyebrow raised, interest piqued.

‘There was something you mentioned that night that I read up on since I’ve been wholly unable to distract my mind away… it's something I rather fancy I’d like to try.’

Your voice had turned sultry, immediately capturing Sherlock’s attention, his head snapping up so that he could examine your current state and gather your precise intentions.

Pupils dilated, cheeks flushed, breath quickening, he thought, and at that, heat stirred in his belly, coursing to his core.

‘You told me you would like to experiment with your own orgasms.’ Shivers crept up your neck, not yet quite used to speaking in such a way in the company of a gentleman. ‘Do you remember? You wondered how it might feel to climax in my hand... or my mouth…’ your tongue advanced slowly around your parted lips rather pointedly, eyes locked on his.

‘And how do you propose we conduct this experiment?’ he panted, beginning to tremble.

‘Sherlock… I'll need to taste you.’

His heart began to race and his eyelashes fluttered, unsure where to look. Your lust for him often threw him from his place of comfort. To him, it was ever an unexpected thrill to be the object of your desire, but never an unwelcome one.

‘Where… how do I-’ he started, cheeks flushing with shame at how utterly libidinous he felt for you.

‘Lay down for me, here, on the chaise,’ you beamed, thrilled that he was ready for a new experience with you.

As he peeled himself from the little armchair to stretch his long body out, he propped himself up on a cushion so he could observe what you would do to him.

You knelt between his ankles to slide your fingers up past his knees and over his strong thighs. ‘Spread your legs a little more… that’s it,’ you encouraged as he settled into position, one foot landing firmly on the floor, grounding him. From what you'd read, you supposed he may need it.

‘I’m going to unfasten your breeches and take you in my hand first,’ you said softly as your fingers got to work on unfastening the buttons keeping him decent. ‘Only briefly, though, for this time, I would like to suck your manhood and have you spill every last drop of your blow down my throat until you’re left limp.’

Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat.

‘Remember the code word?’ you breathed, eyes growing wide with wonder, ever fascinated with his size as your fingers released his already throbbing arousal and wrapped delicately around him, pumping lazily.

Sherlock nodded quickly, eager to begin. ‘Mycroft,’ he uttered breathily, ‘if I don’t enjoy the sensation, or it becomes too much, I say it once, and you'll stop.’

‘Precisely. And if you do enjoy it?’ you smirked up at him, gripping a little more firmly as you stroked him, lips now so close to the tip of his length he could feel the warmth of your breath against it.

‘Oh-ah-mmh… then I… ah- I will cry your name… over and over until I have- mmh!- no breath left in my… oh!- body.’

‘Understood.’

Your delightfully plump, wet lips finally brushed against the flesh of his tip, parting to suckle at the precum that oozed steadily out onto your lapping tongue.

Sherlock cried out, his body jolting at the overwhelming fever that spread rapidly through his body at the heat of your mouth on him. He tried to think through it, tried to memorise the sensations, but nothing had quite come close to this when it came to his pleasure.

He'd fucked you every which way one could imagine, finding easy release in the depths of your own pleasure just by knowing that he was the one to cause it. But this, entirely focussed on his needs, was a whole other game.

He couldn't grasp any of the thoughts swirling around his pleasure-addled mind, couldn't focus on anything but how you felt, wet and warm around his root, devouring him like a starved woman presented with a delicious meal.

And a delicious meal, he was. His cock swelled within the passion of your mouth as you took him in further still, your massaging fingers at the base, compensating for what you couldn’t fit. Remembering what you’d read in that filthy little book you'd been keeping secret, you bobbed your head and hollowed your cheeks, and you sucked, gently at first but slowly building to something more intense that made it harder and harder for him to find any semblance of focus.

You gazed up at him, eyes sparkling with your own arousal, to see him completely lost in pleasure, one elegant hand pressed to his forehead in delightful despair, the other gripping the edge of the cushion he laid back on so firmly that his knuckles had long since turned white.

You hummed, appreciating his weight of his heavy cock against your tongue as you felt a wetness grow between your thighs. The vibration your dirty little sound sent down his shaft caused him to whine out a string of incomprehensible obscenities, and his hips to buck up involuntarily as he fought to keep his eyes open and his head lifted enough to see you.

He’d never felt so safe with such a lack of control over his body, every nerve alight with passion and every muscle weak with complete pleasure. He couldn't think, but he didn't need to. He knew somewhere in the depths of this rapture that you would take good care of him, think through his pleasure for him, and finish him spectacularly. There was one other thing he knew for certain - one thought that pierced the haze of euphoria clouding his every thought - that his peak would come all too soon.

He couldn't fight it, he felt too week with imminent satisfaction to try to last any longer. He wanted this feeling to last forever, but also to explode between your lips and reach paradise all at once.

He released his grip on the seat cushion, and reached, trembling, for the nape of your neck. If his eyes must insist on clenching shut in unfathomable pleasure, he could at least follow your movements with touch, perhaps that would be just as enjoyable as watching.

It was.

At the exact moment that his fingers connected with your neck and slid up into your hair, he erupted with a shout, emptying his seed into your mouth and down your throat while your tongue circled his sensitive tip each time you moved upwards, and massaged his shaft as you slid back down.

Your name tore from his lips, a guttural cry that rang in your ears as he came down from his climax, breathless and groaning in exertion.

With a final lap to clean up the last traces of his peak, you sat back on your heels and smiled, proud of yourself for getting him off with such excellent results on your first attempt.

Sherlock was still very much floating on another plane of existence as his length twitched with aftershocks and softened upon your palm. You pushed up so settle over him on the chaise, appreciating his post-orgasm glow from a few inches above his handsome face.

‘A success?’ you chuckled, connecting your lips to his so he could taste himself upon them.

He nodded, opening his eyes slightly with an uneven smile meant as a silent thank you. ‘But I… I couldn’t focus on a thing. Nothing, that is, except for your mouth being stuffed full of me. Tell me you-’

Pride swelled in your chest. ‘I memorised every minute reaction.’

‘That’s my girl,’ he breathed. ‘You should write it down.’

‘Oh, I will,’ you promised, ‘in great, explicit detail. But first, another?’

His head fell back as you moved your hand gently over his sex, feeling it grow with arousal once again, and with that, a knock sounded at the door.

Disappointment flooded you. ‘You'll probably want to get that. It could be a case-’

‘They can wait,’ Sherlock whispered, waving his hand lazily. ‘I'm in the middle of a very important experiment for which we need more data...’

[milknhonies]

Wails of Wedded Bliss Masterlist

Story Summary: In an arranged marriage with Detective Sherlock Holmes you learn of his perversities. Together you must solve the disappearance of Baron Pennicott and the mystery of your own lustful appetites. Will the new world of womanhood and matrimony fulfill or destroy you? Will Sherlock and you finally accept the circumstances of emotional feelings?

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Story Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Domestic Rape, Internalised Misogyny, Sexism, Vaginal sex, Humiliation, Forced/Arranged Marriage, Loss of Virginity, Loss of Innocence, Spanking.

Author Notes:

★I would like to express the knowledge that I do not approve or perform of any of the actions the characters of this fanficition demonstrate.

★This story is not fit for every viewers eyes and it will be glorifying acts of trauma and characters that shouldn't be in reality.

★If you do not wish to see this content please block #WOWB (scroll and you'll find it is the first tag.)

★This story has been published in the past on Tumblr on my old account @milknhonies-old-account since I have created a newer account I am reposting this story here.

★This story might be alarming and severely upsetting for people who have had experiences with domestic rape and abuse, miscarriages and infant loss.

★If you'd like to be included in or removed from the Taglist, please comment below

Extras:

★WoWB Mood Board 1

★WoWB Mood Board 2

★CHAPTERLIST★

Chapter 1 — Word Count: 9k

Chapter 2 — Word Count: 9k

Chapter 3 — Word Count: tba

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Chapter 19 — Word Count: tba

Chapter 20 — Word Count: tba

[love-strawberry]

we'll be alright

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

pairing : sherlock holmes x reader

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

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

tagged : @0oolookitsme

masterlist

navigation

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“sherlock?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"sher—"

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

"darling—"

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

"love—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[doll-r-t]

Pirate!Henry kidnapping Lady!Y/N

"What a pleasure to have you on board of my ship, Princess."

Taglist:

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[zealouscanonindeer]

13. Paid in full

Mr Cartwright did not, of course, kill me that day; my impending death was warded off by the three police officers catching hold of Mr Cartwright and wrestling him back into the sitting room while Emily smuggled me out the back door. I asked her to fill in the police on the finer points of our investigation in my absence and kissed her hand in farewell

I hurried around to the front yard in time to intercept McKinley and son as they tried to make good their escape while the police were otherwise busy. I tripped McKinley with my stick as he ran towards one of the cabs, knocking him out cold on the walk, and made my own escape in the same vehicle.

Watson was cleared of all charges and released that night, though his watch was kept as evidence in the trial; all the same he was grateful to return to our rooms on Baker Street. It was, of course, comforting to me to have my old friend back, though I had pushed my concerns to the back of my mind during the investigation.

It was not until two weeks later that I received any compensation for this case. I was sitting in my favourite wicker chair after breakfast, engaged in an activity that Watson called napping but which I preferred to think of as meditating, when Mrs. Hudson brought up the late morning post. As Watson flipped through the various bills and letters of entreaty, a name caught my attention.

"What was that last one, Watson?" I asked, not opening my eyes just yet.

"It appears to be an invitation, addressed to both of us."

"From whom?"

"A Mr Edmund Cartwright."

I smiled to myself. "Open it, please. This may prove interesting."

I heard him open the invitation - it sounded like expensive stationary, possibly even parchment. "'You are cordially invited to attend a soiree at the Cartwright Estate to honour Miss Emily Cartwright,'" he read, "Good heavens, Holmes! It doesn't say it directly, but I think we've been invited to his daughter's debutante tonight!"

"Small wonder," I remarked, "considering her first one was ruined by a burglary - the one that led to your being arrested, you may recall."

"Ah, yes. How could I forget? So do you plan to go?" he asked dubiously. He knew me well enough that I was not a social creature.

"You have frequently told me that I need to get out more. I expect this would be an ideal opportunity to do so."

"Holmes, are you feeling all right?"

"Never better. Why do you ask?"

He sighed. "You've been a bit out of sorts lately... and I've never seen you perk up so much at the idea of a social gathering."

"I did not perk," I growled, a bit defensively.

"I thought you did."

"Then you were mistaken."

"Very well, Holmes," he resigned, though there was a note of something slightly false in his voice.

*****

We arrived at the soiree at precisely eight o'clock that evening, dressed in our evening clothes. I acknowledged Leopold with a nod as our cloaks and hats were taken by the attendant. He glanced at my boutonniere - a fresh orchid - with a raised eyebrow but made no comment. The flower had been an absolute pain to find, but I thought it would be a nice touch.

I surmised that the only reason we had been invited was at Emily's urging, considering her father's attitude towards me when I'd left at the close of the investigation. As was my habit when I didn't expect to be otherwise intellectually stimulated by a situation, I started picking out people at random and making deductions about them.

One gentleman, for example, suffered from a slight inflammation in the right shoulder, to judge by the way he carried that arm close to his body and used his non-dominant left hand to gesture and such. Another middle-aged gentleman was having a falling-out with his wife, who was now neglecting such minor services as informing her husband that he missed a spot shaving... just there, in the hollow of his jaw. And there...

I stopped short and inhaled sharply when I reached the next subject of observation. I nudged Watson with my elbow.

"Tell me, Watson," I said to him, "What do you deduce about the young lady in the blue dress?"

Watson peered at her as discreetly as he could, trying not to look like he was staring.

"Well," he said finally, "Her husband is very well-off, if she can afford such a nice dress. French, to judge by the neckline."

"Yes, I believe such decolletage, as they call it, is a recent import amongst the fashionable. Why do you say she is married?"

"Well, she's in her twenties, it looks like. And she's a very attractive young woman. I imagine she was married fairly early on."

"Yes, but I don't see a ring of any sort."

"By Jove, you're right," he said as he looked closer, "I wonder why she hasn't married?"

We watched in silence as a young man approached her and attempted to engage her in conversation. During their brief encounter, he showed her something that sparkled - probably an offering of jewelry - but she brushed him off with an abrupt wave of one gloved hand and a few sharp words and walked away.

"Well," Watson concluded, "That answers that. She seems like quite a heart- breaker, if this is a regular occurrence."

"Oh, I don't know about that," I said whimsically, "You can ask her if you like, though. She's coming this way."

Watson froze in mortification as Miss Emily Cartwright strolled towards the two of us. Blue quite suited her, I thought, as did the smile and the slight blush when she noticed the orchid.

"Good evening, Miss Cartwright," I said, kissing her proffered hand.

"Good evening, Holmes - and I said before that you could call me Emily."

I shot a quick glance at Watson, who was smirking.

"Perhaps you would like to introduce your friend?" Emily prompted, saving me from an explanation I didn't wish to provide just then.

"Yes, of course. Miss Cartwright, may I present to you my friend Dr John Watson. Watson, this is Miss Emily Cartwright, who aided the investigation in your absence."

"Charmed," Emily said as she and Watson clasped hands.

"I expect Holmes must have given you quite a run for your money," said Watson.

"Not as much as you might think," she smiled, "I don't need to be cushioned from a rousing adventure like that. And I certainly don't need to be patronised by the well-meaning." Her manner was pleasant enough, but I heard a note of warning in her words that reminded me of something she'd said earlier.

"Is that what happened to Michael?" I asked, and had the satisfaction of seeing her look surprised by my recall.

"No," she finally said, "Michael was at the last gathering. He'd had a bit too much to drink and he tried to corner me and put his hands where they had no business being. So I dislocated his knee."

Had Watson been taking at drink at that moment, I expect he would have sprayed it over whomever was standing nearby, such was his expression.

"A scream of protest probably would have sufficed," I said wryly.

"Well, of course I screamed," she said, "but by that point so did he."

"It's the strangest coincidence," Watson finally said, "Do you know that when I was out that night I treated a young man with that exact injury? I was passing by in a cab and I saw two men carrying him to another carriage. Of course my physician's Oath dictated that I had to help where I could, so I jumped out to see what was the matter. He was rather incoherent, though, and he smelled of alcohol."

"That couldn't be why you were so vague about it," I remarked.

"No," Emily concurred, "It was probably the hatpin."

Watson looked at her and turned scarlet. "Yes... well, that was an operation I felt better suited to a proper hospital," he said, choosing his words with care, "Considering its location."

Even a man without my powers of deduction could have combined that statement with the respective expressions on Watson's and Emily's faces and come up with an accurate conclusion. My eyes watered slightly.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Dr Watson," Emily said then, "But Holmes and I have a few things to discuss about a few details of the case. If you will excuse us?"

"I wouldn't dream of detaining you," said Watson, sounding like he meant every word and looking a bit fearful for my safety. I offered him a reassuring glance and allowed Emily to lead me away. She walked into the secluded balcony, away from the humdrum of the ball. It felt like walking into silence.

"I don't wish to occupy you for long," I said as we crossed the dance floor, "I imagine your dance card is quite full."

She smiled. "Nonsense. This is business, not social, right?" "Of course," I said, mainly for my own sake, "So, what happened after I left so abruptly?"

"Well, after the policemen got my father calmed down, they realised their birds had flown - but oddly enough, somebody had winged them coming down the front walk. It took all three of them to pick up Mr McKinley and carry him back in. I explained what had happened in the delivery office, both the fight with McKinley and also the location of the stash of jewelry. After they checked out our story, they arrested McKinley for the burglaries, and at present they're trying to figure out what jewelry came from whom. You can expect that that will take a while."

"From what I learned of the families, I expect no less," I replied.

"I do have one question, though... how did you know where the jewelry was? You seemed to know that whole day we were scouting about. I could have hit you when you finally told me."

I smiled. "Until we found the cardboard box, it was merely a theory that your belongings would not be with the rest. You see, according to the eyewitness accounts from Leopold and yourself, the thieves had no opportunity to dispose of the jewelry someplace outside, but they didn't have it on them by the time they were searched. Thus, they hid the jewelry somewhere within the house. Now young Adam was in the presence of the maid from the time he left the lavatory to the time he returned to the hall, and I'm certain she would have seen any furtive activity in the meantime. The only logical conclusion was that the jewelry was hidden within the main hall. When you have eliminated the impossible-"

"Whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth," she finished for me.

"Very good. And of course, the best hiding-place is one which you expect to take away with you in the future."

"So... what made you choose the centrepiece?"

"You might have noticed, Emily, that I took care to check the bowl before my dramatic unveiling. I would have looked quite foolish had I blindly chosen the wrong vessel - not to mention the fact that your father would have chased me out before I could find the correct one."

She laughed. "True enough. And of course you always make sure to do your research." She tapped the orchid in my lapel. "That was a nice touch." She held her gaze for a few moments longer, then looked away pensively. "I'm glad you could make it to the soiree," she said quietly, "I knew you'd want to hear how everything turned out... and you have no idea how much arm- twisting it took to get my father to let you back here."

I gritted my teeth. This was starting to get awkward. She turned looking the other way, I gently touched her elbow and put my forefinger under her chin and tilted her head up so I could see her face. I was planning only to assess how her injuries from the fight had healed, but in the process I noticed for the first time the soft contours of her face, the fullness of her mouth, the way a stubborn wisp of hair that had escaped the pins trailed down at her left temple and over her cheekbone, and the precise shade of fathomless ebony found in her eyes.

I hadn't noticed, and I always prided myself on noticing details. A dozen thoughts raced through my mind.

The one that came out was: "I see your split lip has healed nicely."

Argh.

She smiled, acknowledging the attempt. "Did your eye swell too badly? It still looks a shade puffy."

"I've had worse injuries than a blackened eye."

There was an awkward pause.

"Well," Emily finally said, "Is this discussion social yet, or is it still business?"

"It seems to have gone in its own direction," I replied stoically, "Leaving us with no choice but to follow." I stepped back and offered her my hand with a bow. "May I have the honour of this dance?"

She smiled and took my hand.

Even now I can't say for certain how long we danced. Suddenly it was 11.30 and Watson was at my elbow.

"Holmes! I've been looking all over for you!"

I blinked and looked over at him, still quite aware of the young woman in my arms. I hurriedly stepped back to a more discreet distance from her.

"It's getting late," Watson continued, "And I'm really quite worried about you."

"Worried?" I echoed, "Why?"

He merely glanced significantly over at Emily. I frowned.

"Watson," I said, "I can assure you that there isn't the least thing wrong with me that wasn't already there two weeks ago - and all that has healed, by your own account."

"Holmes-"

"But of course if you wish to go, we shall go." I was being peevish, I knew.

"Holmes." This was from Emily. I looked over at her. "You're not going to leave before you receive your fee, are you? For services rendered?"

My brain scrambled for a few moments before I remembered what she was talking about. "Ah, yes. For getting your jewelry back. Of course."

Emily flagged down Leopold, who had in an inside pocket an envelope, which she took from him and handed to me. I opened it and looked at the cheque inside, then raised my eyebrows at the amount.

"That's from my father," Emily explained, "though I think he was just glad to get you out of the house."

"He's very generous," I said, tucking the cheque into my breast pocket.

"The cheque is only part of the fee, though," she said, "This part is from me."

Before I could ask, she gently bent my head down with one gloved hand and kissed me softly on the corner of the mouth.

"Good night, Mr Sherlock Holmes," she murmured close to my ear as her hand brushed down my cheek, then she stepped back, inclined her head to Watson, then turned and vanished into the crowd.

Watson looked at me with newfound respect. "Holmes, you devil!" he smirked.

I cleared my throat. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," I lied.

"No?" he asked, "Then why are you blushing?"

I stopped short and glared at him. "I am doing no such thing, Watson," I snarled, "And you know it."

He started laughing as I stalked away to the coat check.

******

The End.

Continue to the new

Adventure of the grasping ghost

[imyourbratzdoll]

Hi Cheleah😌❤️

drunk sex with Sherlock(Henry) pls👀👀

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

summary - your husband fucks you after a few drinks.

warning - smut, intoxication, swearing, creampie.

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

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

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

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

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[princessaxoxo]

Strangers to lovers Part 6

Sherlock x reader

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

Warnings: 18+ Only, NSFW, fluff, unprotected sex (p in v), oral (f receiving), vulgar language, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of birth

Word Count: 523

“I now pronounce you man and wife; you may kiss the bride.” Sherlock kissed you with passion after the bishop made his announcement. Claps echoed throughout the room as your family and Sherlock's stood together. There would be a surprise that evening, one that you could not wait to tell your now-husband. “I love you, Mrs. Holmes,” Sherlock said with significance.

Sherlock took you to bed in a bridal fashion. The day of your wedding was filled with little touches to private areas of your bodies. In a manner unbelievably timely, you witnessed him strip off his clothing. The urge to have his body near yours—closer than ever—consumed Sherlock. He was exceptionally tough and passionate tonight. Sherlock looked at you and stated, "I have the most beautiful wife," as he assisted you in taking off your clothes.

His lips didn’t leave an inch of your body untouched. Eventually, his face landed between your thighs, and his soft lips made love to your cunt. His tongue swirled and sucked on your clit repeatedly until his name fell from your lips in whimpers and your orgasm took over your body.

In one quick thrust, his cock stretches your cunt as his body covers yours. There was hunger and yearning in the way he moved. With your palm firmly clutching his locks, Sherlock's head was nestled in the hollow of your neck. Sherlock's enlarged length brushed against your g-spot with every snap of his hips.

He kissed his way up to your lips while your nails scratched across his back. Your body experienced a familiar sensation, alerting you to your approaching orgasm. Sherlock felt your legs start to tremble as your walls tightened around him and his name slipped from your lips.

His seed filled you to the brim, and he groaned deeply. Before he could catch his breath, you said, “I’m pregnant, honey.” Sherlock just stared at you, unable to speak. “Not too long ago, my courses ended, and I saw a doctor. I'm definitely with child."

His face lit up with a smile as he placed his palm on your belly. “Our child, you mean.”

Nine months later, you were giving birth to your baby. Sherlock was by your side, holding your hand. “You’re doing fantastic, sweetheart," he said, then kissed your hand. “One more push, miss!” the doctor said aloud.

With all your might, you gave Sherlock's hand a strong squeeze. Abruptly, a cry filled the room. "Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, congratulations; it's a boy." They handed you your son. Upon holding your son for the first time, happy tears obscured your vision. “Hi, little one," you said as you brushed the side of his tiny head.

Sherlock had the biggest smile you've ever seen on his face as you turned to face him. His eyes were glossy. "Would you like to take him in your arms?"

"Yes, absolutely." With gentle care, you handed Sherlock his son. "He's gorgeous, isn't he?" Sherlock asked, glancing at you. 

You beamed and said to him, "He resembles his father." After exchanging quick glances and kisses, you both turned to face your son and looked forward to what lay ahead.

Taglist: @shellyshellshell @identity2212 @chloe92 @juliaorpll78 @nighttimestan @ellethespaceunicorn @armystay89