#mycroft holmes x reader

[lilmoonbunny]

Denial; Mycroft Holmes

Mycroft only seeked you out to deduce you (aka, how Mycroft realised he liked you).

John and Sherlock were, without a doubt, the loudest neighbours that Y/N had ever had.

Gunshots at God only knows what hour, constant stabbing, banging, and so on. Despite this, she still considered them dear friends and the best neighbours that she had ever had. Sure, they were weird and loud, but they were also kind and genuine, at least for the most part. Alongside this, they also appreciated her baking, especially after long cases.

A gentle knock sounded on the door the 221B catching the attention of three people.

“You can come in, Y/N,” Sherlock called from behind the door, greeting the woman with a nod before turning his attention back to Mycroft whilst John smiled at her.

“Hi, Sherly. Hi, John.” She smiled at the two friends before turning to the older Holmes brother. “Hi, Mr Holmes.” Y/N greeted him with a smile. Although she hadn’t met him before, it wasn’t difficult to deduce who he was; the expensive suit and the fact Sherlock was glaring at him gave it away.

“Sherly?” Mycroft spat, grimacing at the nickname given to his brother. “Who on Earth would you let call you that?” He asked.

“This is Y/N, our neighbour. What have you brought for us today? I’ve been looking forward to this all week.” The sweet smile Sherlock gave to the woman made Mycroft feel ill. He had no clue who this woman was and absolutely no idea why they seemed to be this close.

“Chocolate cake, sugar cookies, and love.” She joked, beginning to laugh at the way Mycroft audibly gagged. “I’m only kidding. No love.”

“I should certainly hope not,” came Mycroft’s response, one which simply made her laugh again.

“Are you jealous, Mycroft?”

“Because of the cake, he is.” Sherlock interrupted, waving Myrcoft off. “No, I won’t take the case. You can leave now.”

“This is an urgent matter, brother mine.”

“Don’t care.”

With a groan and a roll of his eyes, Mycroft lifted himself to his feet and prepared to leave.

“I’ll leave these with you, just in case you change your mind. Goodbye brother mine. John.” The hesitation was obvious on Mycroft’s face, despite how well he typically hid his emotions, as he faced Y/N.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr Holmes.” Y/N smiled sweetly, earning a simple nod from him before he left.

Sherlock, who had leaned to grab the tub of baked goods from the woman’s hands, rolled his eyes as Mycroft left and immediately began to eat.

It wasn’t long until Y/N’s entire life had been researched.

There wasn’t much there. No criminal record, a few jobs, occasional moves, but no sign of her posing any danger to Sherlock and, by association, John. However, the way Mycroft felt upon seeing her was unusual, so he decided to do his own investigation.

“Morning, Mr Holmes,” he was greeted before he reached the empty counter. “Welcome to my bakery! Would you like anything?”

“Just a coffee, please. Black.” Mycroft nodded, not returning the smile she had given, despite the odd feeling it gave him. She was evil and he would prove it to Sherlock.

“Coming right up! Take a seat wherever you’d like, and I’ll bring it over.”

As Mycroft occupied a seat, he took a moment to properly assess the woman making his drink.

She didn’t seem threatening: a content smile on her lips as she prepared his coffee, humming a quiet tune that he barely picked up on. In fact, she didn’t seem out of the ordinary at all, but the feeling when he first saw her – a feeling Mycroft couldn’t explain – had him needing to investigate her further.

“Here you go, Mr Holmes.” Y/N said, placing a hot coffee and chocolate cake on the table in front of him. “Sherlock mentioned that you like cake, so I grabbed you some. It’s all on the house.”

“Why?”

With a small laugh, she responded without hesitation. “You’re Sherlock’s brother.”

How odd, Mycroft thought to himself. She doesn’t even know me and she’s giving me things for free…

Despite his thoughts, Mycroft simply nodded, watching as she took a seat opposite him. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s quiet today so I figured I’d try and keep you company the best I can. I’m sure you have better company than me, though.”

“I don’t mind,” he replied before even thinking. It was safe to say that he didn’t enjoy the way his chest felt whilst he watched her smile.

Maybe she’s a witch? No, don’t be stupid, Mycroft. They don’t exist.

“So,” Y/N’s voice broke the man from his thoughts. “It’s a funny story how me, Sherlock, and John met. I was actually working and Sherlock bursts in demanding to talk to me. My baking stuff had been found at a crime scene and he thought it was me!”

“How interesting.” Came Mycroft’s blunt reply, even if he was intrigued.

“You listened to it, so you must care, even just a little bit. I think that’s a win for me!”

Mycroft couldn’t help the tiniest smile that crawled onto his lips, but he internally prayed that nobody noticed it, especially her. She, however, seemed oblivious to the movement, simply staring over his shoulder and out of the window.

“Anyway, what was he like growing up? Was he like he is now? Blunt and rude?” Y/N asked with a giggle.

“He wasn’t, actually. He was rather sweet. He liked playing pretend with his friend; he always wanted a dog too.” Came Mycroft’s reply. “His favourite thing was pirates.” He said with a fond look in his eyes. Sherlock wasn’t going to be happy when he found out that he had told her, but he couldn’t resist answering her question.

Mycroft watched closely as the woman in front of him grinned, the bright and happy smile a nice contrast to what he was used to whilst working with the government. He couldn’t help but smile back, noting how her smile widened further as he did so.

“That’s sweet. I couldn’t imagine that, to be honest,”

It was time to ask the question that was on his mind. “Are you attracted to Sherlock?”

“Sherlock?” Y/N said, bursting into laughter. “No, absolutely not. He’s more like an annoying older brother. Same with John. We’re just friends, and, well, neighbours too.”

Confusion spread over Mycroft as she felt the weight on his shoulders lift at her words; she was telling the truth.

“How is she?” Sherlock asked the moment he answered the phone.

“How is who?” Mycroft’s voice sounded through the device.

“Y/N,”

“Why do you assume that I know?”

“It’s obvious you were there earlier.”

“…”

“Well, that and Mrs Hudson told us.”

“Of course she did.” Mycroft said with an involuntary roll of his eyes.

“So, how was it?”

“It was fine.”

“You like her then?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, you went to see her. It’s quite obvious, Mycroft. Come on, I thought you were smarter than that.”

Mycroft simply put the phone down.

He did not like her.

The next time that Mycroft came across Y/N was when it was raining.

He hadn’t wanted to seem ‘creepy’ by seeking her out again for more investigations and deductions, so he simply waited. She was friends with his brother, it wasn’t like their paths wouldn’t cross at some point. Besides, he didn’t want Sherlock to think that he liked her.

“Raining real bad tonight, isn’t it?” The driver spoke to Mycroft. He was new, so Mycroft couldn’t exactly blame him for attempting some type of conversation with him; it was still annoying, though.

Anthea, looking up from her phone was what caught Mycroft’s attention. “I feel bad for her.” She said, nodding towards a soaked woman. It only took Mycroft a moment to realise who it was.

“Pull over,” he stated bluntly, grabbing his umbrella. He simply ignored the look he was receiving from his assistant.

It had been a long day filled with rude customers, and to make it worse, it was raining, and she had forgotten her coat. Today couldn’t be going any worse for Y/N.

Shivering wildly and soaked to the core, Y/N huffed, watching the way her breath instantly evaporated; it was clearly below freezing, but she held out hope that the rain would stop and she would be home soon.

Her hope seemed to pay off, though, since she could no longer feel the rain. As she looked up at the sky, she spotted a familiar face.

“Mycroft?”

“Y/N.”

“What are you-“

“Get in.” He said, pointing towards the car before wordlessly leading her towards it, still holding the umbrella above her, even if he was getting wet.

“You don’t have to, Mycroft.” She said as he ushered her in and shut the door behind them both. “I mean, I’m soaking your car!”

Mycroft, who could feel the heat on his cheeks from their proximity, simply shook his head. He was too focused on the way her leg was pressed against his as she sat between him and Anthea who stared at her phone with a small smirk.

The ride was void of conversation, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, the only noise was that of Y/N shivering.

After a moment of hesitation, Mycroft shrugged off his jacket and handed her it. “Here.”

There was no chance of refusal, Mycroft wouldn’t allow it, so with a quiet ‘thanks’, Y/N popped the jacket over her shoulders. He just found the chattering of her teeth annoying, was what he told himself.

As they arrived at the flats, Mycroft followed her out of the car.

“Thank you, Mr Holmes.” She said as they stood on the door of her flat.

“Mycroft is fine, Y/N.”

“Thank you… Mycroft.” She said with a small smile before bidding him a goodnight.

“I see you gave her your jacket,” Was all Sherlock said as Mycroft entered 221B.

It was hard. Very hard. Harder than anything Y/N had ever experienced. Having a crush was not easy as it was, but having feelings for Mycroft Holmes was the hardest thing in the world: he rarely showed emotion, he was blunt, he was rude, but most importantly to her, deep down, he was nice.

A small sigh left Y/N’s lips as she worked on her latest batch of cookies for the morning. He was on her mind… again. It was a common occurrence by now.

“We’re not open yet, sorry!” She called over her shoulder at the sound of the door opening. As she turned around to see who it was and apologise again, a blush rushed to her cheeks. “Mycroft! What are you doing here?”

Mycroft stood there, umbrella in hand, and gave a simple shrug. “I was on my way to work so thought I would ‘pop in’ as people say.” He explained, earning a laugh from the baker.

“Modern phrases don’t suit you, Mycroft.” She teased.

With an amused shake of his head, Mycroft took a seat at the table nearest her.

“Want some cookies? They’re fresh out of the oven!”

Mycroft nodded with a grateful smile, always glad to have sweet treats. He would never turn down anyone’s desserts, least of all Y/N’s; not because he liked her and didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but because she was a good baker.

The pair sat in a comfortable silence, Mycroft gladly eating his cookies with an appreciative look whilst Y/N worked on her next batch. There was nothing awkward between them, and there, surprisingly, never had been.

“Are you not at work today?” Y/N broke the silence with a question that was bugging her. She could have sworn Mycroft had always worked this time over the months that she had known him.

Mycroft hesitated for a moment. He was supposed to be there right now but had decided to visit you before. It wasn’t like anyone could fire him for it, he was basically the British government, after all.

“Not yet,” he lied, and he was glad that he was a good liar.

“Oh, okay! I’m happy you came then. I don’t want to bother you.”

“You could never be a bother,” the words fell from his lips before he even registered what his thoughts, and he noticed the blush race up her cheeks, as did she with his.

“Thank you, Mycroft.”

As he stared at her and her rosy cheeks, a million thoughts went through his mind, but they were all related to one thing: her. It was in that moment that he realised the truth, he did like Y/N, and he had been attracted to her since the beginning; that was what he was feeling.

Oh dear…

[ananiel]

Imagine being able to see spirits. You are able to see animals and humans walking (or floating) around, hearing how they talk and how they speak, talking about how they wish they could see their family or talking about how they want nothing more but justice

You are able to touch and pet, to speak and to interact with any of them, and when people touch your bare skin, they can see spirits too, which caused You to always wear gloves and long sleaves, as well as a mask

Now, the basic answear for this Power would be to become an oracle or some crazy witch of the Town. But what if You become a Detective. Yep, a young Detective that suddenly rised into the favour of the people for being able to solve cases that are a century old (mainly because the beheaded victim cries in Your bathroom at 3:36 am sharp every night)

So You live like this, in a happy way with your gift

Logical would be to keep your gift hidden too, so that people don't try to kill You for knowing to much

You met him on a random day, thinking nothing of him while a dog spirit was hiding behind your leg. He seemed friendly, and eager to befriend You as well, almost honored to be in your presence

Now spirits upon spirits whisper his name, talk about how deranged and how he was the one who killed them, or played part into their death. Spirits that got very fond of You would tell You to stay away from that man

You clearly followed their advice, and distanced yourself from him. But he isn't dumb, he caught up to it, and now, he tries to figure out what has gotten You to hate him so much

Surely... He has been studing You for ages, talking You day and night to figure out the best personality to just steal You away only for himself. What failed in his plan?

He asked himself, oh well, guess he'd have to take You in a more forcefull attempt

[strangesthirdeye]

Mycroft: come on, Y/n. Now it's my turn to take care of you.

Toddler Y/n : *looking at Mycroft while tightly hugging the otter doll complete with coat and wearing a deerstalker and scarf around its neck* No.

Mycroft: what do you mean no, little sis?

Toddler Y/n : no means rejecting or canceling an act or speech that-

Mycroft: I know what 'no' mean, Y/n. *frustrated*

[tulipsforvin]

ᥫ᭡. MTP CHARACTERS AS YANDERES

✧ a/n: my dumbass deleted this request or something. i don't know.. it just kind disappeared so here i am, writing it again. @noregretzfoodieotaku here you go!! 😭

✧ ⚠️: mentions of obsessive behaviour, mentions of gore, stalking.

MANIPULATION and mind games are a favourite of their's. They twist and turn their words - coating their venomous sentences with honey to hide their true intentions.

“I love you like a grave loves it's corpse; you rot into me while I embrace your decay. Where else would you find somebody like me?”

They are more subtle and discrete than the rest. And yet, they're the most dangerous out of all. They mess with your mind - loosening your screws and bending you to their will.

You shrivel, unsure of how to respond. “I-” You look away, not sure where to direct your gaze. “I can't.. because there's nobody else like you. There won't ever be anyone else like you.”

They tip your chin upwards to meet your gazw, a victorious smile gracing their facial features. “You're correct. You never can.”

They play the role of a god - a saviour, something holy that it seems almost comical to expect something dark out of them. They scheme right under your nose and yet they're completely unnoticeable - so when you're finally their's and in their complete grasp, you won't even be aware of what hit you.

the manipulators: albert j. moriarty, william j. moriarty, mycroft holmes, james bonde, charles augustus milverton.

STALKING you is like second nature to them. They've memorized your sleeping schedule, when you get in and out of work or your educational institution, the type of food you eat and avoid, the places you frequent, etc.

They're on the more quieter side, similar to the manipulators. Yet, they won't initiate direct contact with you. Atleast not yet.

They watch silently as you move on about your day from the cracks of your doors or your windows, any opening that is accessible for them to get a view of you.

“Oh!” You gasp, bumping into somebody's shoulder as you get out of the subway. “I'm so very sorry! I didn't mean to—”

The figure disappears. You don't remember their face and all you have of them is now a love letter that appeared out of nowhere, the words written in blood.

You'll find remnants of their presence in the place where you live or go to work for/study. Footprints, gifts, shards of glass - etcetera, etcetera. Did they break into your house?

the stalkers: fred porlock, irene adler, zack patterson or zach paterson, billy the kid, von herder.

DEVOTION is the first word that comes into your mind when you look at them. They obsess over you like canines - clawing and sharp, salivating and perspiring. It's messy.

They find their God in you. For them, ichor runs in your blood and they lick it off your wounds like the nectar the divine consume.

They are the most violent, most agressive and the loudest of the three. They tend to be overprotective and all consuming.

Bodies are slit and stabbed, throats and heads are beheaded and cut, entrails are put up as if they were decorations or stepping stones for the things or lives it took to get to you.

“Nobody,” They begin, wiping away the smudge of blood on their upper lip. “Nobody can seperate you from me. I will crawl back to you from the devil's grasp if you call me.”

the violently devoted: louis j. moriarty, sherlock holmes, sebastian moran, billy the kid(??)

[angelltheninth]

William, Louis, Albert, Sherlock, Moran, James, Mycroft and their favorite spots to kiss you at?

Oh! I misunderstood the first time I read it lol, ok no problem Anon!

Pairing: William, Louis, Albert, Sherlock, Moran, James, Mycroft x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, making out, slight groping/fondling, teasing, neck kisses, shoulder kisses

A/N: They all make me swoon so hard!

William likes to kiss you in the living room while the two of you are relaxing after a long day. It's one of the spots he allows himself to be the most vulnerable at. He doesn't particularly care if someone were to walk in and see the two of you, he will give you a kiss regardless.

Louis will kiss you in passing in between chores that he does. He keeps busy a lot during the day so it's really the only time he can kiss you, other then mission and meetings and of course during your alone time at night before you go to sleep.

Albert kisses you only behind closed doors. Well he can kiss your hand during a social event but the real kisses are for you to witness only. He's the kind of man who can get pretty carried away when kissing you and he'd rather not contribute to the inevitable gossip.

Sherlock either kisses you in his office or his bedroom. Any other place and you're more then likely get interrupted by someone. He can't have that, not when he's too busy leaving hickyes and marks down your neck as you squirm against him.

Moran doesn't care where he's kissing you as long as he's kissing you. Everyone knows not to approach and try to pull anything when he's around. He'll kiss you anywhere his lips can reach and hold you against him while cupping your ass to let everyone know that you're his.

James will pull you into a kiss anywhere to surprise you and see you blush and be flustered. He likes being the gentleman of course but he can't deny that you look cute when you're walking hand in hand and he leans over to kiss you, much to the disgruntled gasps and murmurs of the people around you.

Mycroft will kiss you as soon as he comes home from work. No matter where he finds you he'll wrap his arms around you from behind and kiss your neck and shoulder until you're gasping and asking for more.

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Keeping Quiet (Sherlock & Mycroft X Deaf!Brother!Reader) *PLATONIC

Characters: Sherlock & Mycroft X Deaf!Brother!Reader

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: Severe bullying, injuries, turf burn, mention of violence

Request: Hi, can I request?, a Holmes brother fic, where reader is their youngest brother who is in high school/university getting bullied bc their disability(mute/deaf) and how their deal with that situation, I kinda want reader to be a ball of sunshine who always smile but are sad inside and although they can see through his smile, they struggle to find a way to help them. 🥺

Your life from the get go has always been a little harder than other kids your age. For one, you were the youngest Holmes, which wasn’t necessarily a problem, though when you were born your eldest brother had already graduated university, and your other brother was a teenager not far from leaving school. With their own unique personalities, they struggled to connect you immediately, and you didn’t see them much as a young child. However, since starting Secondary school, they had become a bit more involved, especially since you had moved in with your eldest brother so you could attend a good school that was closer to him, however, you were still mostly by yourself, especially since how work driven both your brother’s were. Oh yeah, and the other thing that made your life a little harder- you were deaf. 

A silent world was all you had known since birth, and because of that, you didn’t have to adjust to any change, instead you just learned to do things differently, like when trying to cross a road on a corner, you’d look at those around you to see if they were going to cross, knowing that if the road was clear and they didn’t move, they could hear a car coming. You never had speech therapy growing up, and since when growing up your parents and brothers always communicated with you with sign language, you never used your voice. To you, your hands were your voice, and the thing in your throat that let you make noises was only for dire emergencies to get immediate attention. 

Right now, you were convinced this wasn’t an emergency, but you had the overwhelming urge to just scream as hard as you can. You wanted so badly to be heard, but feared backlash, either from your peers of your issues being perceived as fake or not nowhere near as bad as you felt they were, or backlash from the people who were making you feel like this. 

You’d just gotten home from school, and you entered as quietly as you could, closing the door briskly and looking around, not sure if Mycroft was home, and you didn’t want to see him right now. You closed the front door, looking at the empty coat hook where you’d usually place your coat, except you didn’t have it with you, so instead you just kicked off your shoes and tried to head to your bedroom with your school bag. However, for obvious reasons, you hadn’t heard Mycroft and Sherlock bickering in the other room, or that they had promptly stopped when the front door shut loudly from how quickly you had shut, followed by your footsteps through the house at an accelerated rate to your bedroom, and the noise of your door being shut just as quickly as the front door. The two brothers stood in silence, staring in the direction of the noises before turning to face each other. “Something’s wrong.” Sherlock spoke up. 

“I’m aware of that.” Mycroft scoffed, before they began to walk to go up the stairs. Sherlock stopped at the bottom though, though Mycroft continued up. Sherlock checked the entrance of the house, noticing your lack of coat, either meaning you were still wearing it or didn’t have it, and the droplets of water on the floor, as well as your school shoes being shiny and darker than usual, told him it was the latter. It hadn’t rained in the last hour. He finally followed after Myrcoft, who was already trying your door, though it was locked. He turned to Sherlock, and Sherlock’s eyes followed the wet droplet stains in the carpet to your door. “He’s locked himself inside.” Mycroft pointed out.

“Give me your credit card.” Sherlock demanded. Mycroft went into his back pocket, grabbing his wallet and going through it to hand him a card, before Sherlock shoved him out of the way, sliding the card through the door, pushing the lock out, and when it clicked open, he turned the handle opened the door enough to stick his hand in, reaching for the light switch, flicking the lights on and off in your room to get your attention. He didn’t get a reaction from you. No multiple knocks to signify he could enter, and not a singular knock for him not to come in. He waited another moment, before looking at Mycroft who at this point looked worried, fist pressed to his mouth. Sherlock opened the door further.

They didn’t see you when they first stepped into the room, but Sherlock noticed your school bag- wet through, soaking the carpet, dirty, the zip busted, a strap broken, several school books looking ready to fall out after being crammed in that were soggy and ruined. With that, he knew where you were- the small bathroom attached to your room. He walked to the shut door, trying the door, finding this one unlocked, and he slowly stepped in, looking down and to the side, seeing you sat on the floor, legs pulled to your chest, head resting on your knees. 

“Mycroft, go make tea.” Sherlock said monotone, not taking his eyes away from you. Mcroft, who had noticed your bag and was trying to find anything to salvage, stood up straight, processing the situation, before turning and leaving the room. Sherlock slowly entered the bathroom, kneeling down before sitting on the floor beside you, carefully reaching out, lightly tugging on your soaked and dirty school jumper to get your attention. You peeked up, making eye contact, your eyes red and as wet as your uniform. Sherlock didn’t need to ask what happened, and you didn’t need him going on a revenge campaign in your honour, at least not yet. Instead, he signed ‘I’ll run you a hot bath, and you get undressed. Are you hurt?” You sniffed, signing a yes, before you started to take off your jumper, pulling it over your head, and Sherlock’s eyes immediately took notice of the wet white material that had stains of red on your arms, and as he looked closer, he saw your hands, and presumably your forearms as well were scraped up and red raw. Sherlock took your jumper from you, standing up, before signing to you again. “Drop them just outside the door when you’re done.” He said, turning to the bath, plugging the drain, and turning on the taps, before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him.

Mycroft arrived shortly after with a tray, cup of tea and snacks as well, placing it on your bedside table. “What happened?” Mycroft asked. 

“He’s been bullied. I’m not sure what happened, maybe he tried to bring up what was happening or tried to stand up for himself, but it escalated outside of school- his uniform needs to be cleaned and died- where’s your first aid, he’s scraped up as well.” Sherlock listed. Mycroft’s mouth open and closed repeatedly, before he spoke. 

“I-I didn’t know.” He stuttered. “He never… he never told me he was having issues at school. I had no idea.” He explained, and Sherlock frowned. 

“I didn’t know either.” Sherlock added. It wasn’t a lot to say, but it made Mycroft feel so much better. If Sherlock didn’t notice something was wrong until now, then there was practically no way for Mycroft to see either. You hid it, and you hid it well. You hid it from the best. 

“I’ll call the school administration and organise a meeting with them. I’ll find out who did this.” Mycroft decided, reaching out and taking the jumper from Sherlock. “I’ll also get the first aid” he commented, turning and leaving the room again. Sherlock stood in your room, not moving, and he waited until he heard the bath water turn off, the door open, your clothes hit the floor and the door shut again before he turned and went and grabbed the clothes, taking them to be washed with your jumper. Sherlock heard Mycroft on the other side of the house, yelling on the phone about repercussions, demanding a meeting tomorrow, even if it’s the weekend, before his voice became louder, him walking into the same room with Sherlock, wordlessly giving him the first aid before leaving again to continue his argument, and Sherlock headed back upstairs to your room. 

He peeked into your room, seeing you had gotten out, dried off and dressed into your pyjamas, sitting on the edge of your bed. He flashed the lights again to get your attention before stepping in, coming and sitting down on your bedside, carefully taking your hands, rolling up the sleeves to properly see the scrapes and turf burn, which made him wince, imagining the pain in the bath, even though you didn’t make a peep. You didn’t make sound despite the pain, and that really, really bothered him. He wordlessly cleaned them and bandaged them, before signing to you “Are you hurt anywhere else?” You nodded, crawling deeper into the bed so your legs were rested on it, and Sherlock pulled your pant legs up to your knees, seeing even more turf burns, and he copied what he did with your hands, pulling the legs back down when he was done, before he pushed the medical equipment away from him, and waited in front of you till you looked at him. “Why didn’t you tell us?” He signed to you, speaking the words along with it. All he got was a shrug, which Sherlock was not going to accept. “Did they threaten you?” He added. You looked away, before finally signing. 

“It wasn’t too bad. I could handle it, I didn’t want to worry you. But I think someone else reported what they saw and they thought it was me.” You explained to him. 

“So if it wasn’t reported, you hadn’t planned to tell us?” Sherlock questioned. 

“It wasn’t a big deal.” You signed, clearly frustrated, which was paralleled by Sherlock. 

“Well it is now. We’re your brothers, your family. If something bothers you, you tell us, even if you’re annoyed at the way light reflects through a window, or how they’ve changed the packaging on a product in the shops, you tell us. Even if you think it’s harmless or not a big deal, we’d rather you told us about little things instead of hiding things until they become huge things. This is huge now, and we’re going to deal with it.” His signing firm and almost exaggerated. You’d never seen someone yell via sign language, yet here Sherlock was, somehow finding a way to do it, and it was pretty effective. 

“Okay. I’m sorry.” You quickly apologised to try and calm him down, which seemed to work. 

“How long has this been going on? How many of them are there, and what are their names? Tell me everything.” 

A few minutes later, Mycroft finally got off the phone, pacing for a minute to plan his next actions- deciding if he needed to call someone else, or go and check on you, but then Sherlock came into the room, and handed him a piece of paper, with names, examples of what each person did and their role in the attack, and how long it had been going on with a short timeline of other incidents. “I trust this is enough to start with?” Sherlock asked, watching as Mycroft skimmed over it. 

“This has been going on since he started secondary school?” Mycroft questioned, Sherlock briskly nodded, before tapping the paper to make him focus again. “Yes. This is enough. I’ll locate their parents and addresses, gather more information, I’ll have people look into CCTV to see if we can catch any footage of them following, chasing or… attacking him.” Mycroft explained, folding the paper up, before tucking it into his pocket. “How is he?” 

“He’s going to be sore for a while, keep an eye on his injuries- maybe take him to the doctor just to have it on record. He’s not very talkative at the moment, but we really need to get him to start talking to us more about things happening to him. If he’s ever quiet around you, try and engage him and ask about what he’s thinking about, get him out of the habit of keeping everything locked up. Leave the addresses to me. I’ll personally make sure they get the letters about the police investigation when you have it ready.” Sherlock said, walking to the entrance of the house, Mycroft followed him, watching his younger brother grab his coat, swing it around him and put it on. 

“Sherlock, do not threaten them- it’ll not be good for the investigation.” 

“I have no intention of threatening children, Mycroft. But I will make sure the point is put across that those parents have done an awful job and that they shouldn’t have messed with Y/N.” Sherlock promised, before promptly leaving. Mycroft huffed after the door shut, glancing up the stairs, before deciding to make a fresh hot drink for you to get started with a conversation with you.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @holy-tea-cup-blog @sassy-specter@keenmarvellover @multifandomfix @sleutherclaw @otterly-fey @rebellionofthecattle @hello-love-youre-pretty @werosemagic @courtneychicken  @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine a battle of words with Mycroft Holmes when you arrive to help...

You knew he could be brash and downright awful but, clearly, you had forgotten what it was like to personally hear his verbal onslaught.

‘Perhaps, Enola should be granted some freedom’… that was the simple statement that had thrown Mycroft Holmes into a bind.

“Freedom? Of course you would think that to be a good idea.” The suited man scoffed from where he stood by the shelves. His posture was wrought with unbelievable stress at the knowledge of his sisters upbringing. 

Sherlock had silently taken to the pool table, his mind was likely toiling on the puzzle of their missing mother but you suspected his ear tuned in on the conversation in the room.

“Enola should be conforming to higher societal standards. It’s embarrassing to the family name.” Mycroft carried on and his eyes landed on you. “You might not be aware Y/n but ‘family names’ are incredibly important to be maintained in this day and age. Not everyone has the misfortune to be as careless as you.”

Sometimes you thought Mycroft was decent, maintaining poise and decorum in high positions of power - then he would cast an insult without notice and you remembered why you didn’t enjoy his company.

Quirking a brow, you crossed your arms and stared at the man who threw the accusation. 

“It might be a bit early to test my patience Mycroft when you were the one to consult my services.” You told him bitterly.

“Only upon Sherlock’s insistence. Do you honestly think I would want you involved in a family affair?”

This time, you scoffed.

“It’s incredible to think that you demand respect but refuse to give any.”

The noise by the pool table had gone quiet as the tension between yourself and Mycroft had caught Sherlock’s attention.

Letting out a calm exhale, you took a step back and looked over at the second Holmes brother. “I’m going back to London. I’m not in the habit of working with someone who undermines my worth.” Sherlock sent a curt nod in reply, accepting your leave. “You know where to find me.”

~ More imagines here ~

[forevers-world]

A Mycroft Holmes appreciation post.

What a beautiful specimen of the human race. 👏👏👏

[girl-next-door-writes]

Under The Umbrella

Characters: Mycroft Holmes x reader

Summary: Mycroft shares a cigarette with you outside 221B, and feelings are felt if not expressed.

Word Count: 1013 words

Prompt: Sharing a cigarette with him under his umbrella just outside 221B; romantic but not official yet.

A/N: @russian-soft-bitch thank you for this request. I know it has taken me a while but I really like what I’ve written, and I hope you do too.  

The landscape was grey, from the rolling clouds right down to the dirty slab laden pavements, the buildings merging into the murky mistiness of the day to create a swirling vortex of drab and dreariness which was the city of London. There was a chill in the air, despite the lack of wind; the heavy drops of rain hurtling down towards the ground on a straight trajectory, bouncing up from whichever surface they reached first. The ground shimmered lightly as the streetlights began to glow, reflected in the growing pools of water, the gloom creating the illusion that the hour was much later than the 4pm it truly was.

You pulled your coat tighter in a vain attempt to stave off the chill, a light shiver rippling through your body. Mycroft noticed your actions, frowning slightly, causing his brow to furrow in a rather endearing manner. A sudden warmth around your neck had you looking up as he nonchalantly draped his scarf around you with one hand, his other holding his umbrella.  The soft cashmere smelled of his aftershave and you found your eyes fluttering closed as you inhaled deeply for a moment.

Upon opening your eyes, you saw him watching you with amusement, his face illuminated by the glowing embers of the cigarette between his lips. After taking a drag, he languidly removed the cigarette with his gloved fingers, the soft leather creaking slightly, bending and flexing around his digits as he offered the filter to you.

The sheets of rain cascaded around the pair of you, bouncing up from the ground to soak through the bottoms of your trousers and your socks. Neither of you registered the discomfort of your damp clothing clinging to your ankles. Instead, the rhythmical, soft thudding of raindrops pounding against the black umbrella he held aloft over the two of you had become your own personal soundtrack, covering the silence that blanketed your interaction, leaving only soft looks and a tantalizing tension which always seemed to indicate this was more than an acquaintance, more than two people simply in his brother’s orbit.

You took the cigarette from him, shuffling a little closer, but always careful never to make physical contact. There was always a buffer of a few inches between the two of you, something you both subconsciously maintained at all times.

He watched as your fingers raised the cigarette to your lips; unable to look away from the gentle pout, the softness of your lips, the intimacy of the gesture. Mycroft was aware of your chest rising as you inhaled, despite the many layers of clothing you were wearing, and he felt his stomach flip. Transfixed, he watched the way the thick white smoke curled from your mouth, almost taunting him. That smoke which had tenderly caressed your lips in a way he often wished he had the right to do, met with the chilly air, rising through the damp until it encountered the rain. His gaze was still on your mouth, his own lips parting slightly as his imagination began to run away with him.

How easy it would be to take you in his arms, to hold you close, to finally give in and taste your kiss instead of just fantasising about it. This moment, right here, where the two of you existed only beneath the shelter of his umbrella, would be perfect, if he could only find the courage to step off the emotional ledge. Yet, his fear of falling was too great. The humiliation of potential rejection stung as if it were real, and he simply took the cigarette from you and closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, trying to calm his nerves.

Neither of you pointed out that you had your own cigarettes, or that he had a packet in his inside jacket pocket which would allow you to each smoke separately. This was not the first time the two of you had shared a moment like this, although the rain was a new touch. The easy silence between you where all the things unsaid existed was an addiction neither of you wished to give up. The strange thing was, this was now the only time either of you smoked. A cigarette was just an excuse, a reason for you to linger there with him, and he with you.

People hurried past as you both stood at the bottom of the steps up to 221, neither of you in any hurry to leave. Sadly, the cigarette was burning down, now dangerously close to the filter, the excuse to remain was disappearing as the ash fell, seemingly disintegrating in the air as your time together came to an end.

Mycroft’s brow furrowed, and, for a brief moment, you both thought he might say something, but the words never came. Instead, you removed his scarf, offering it back to him with a soft, grateful smile.

“Keep it.” His voice was low, a little gravel making its way into his tone before he coughed to clear his throat. “Your need is greater.”

You simply nodded, wrapping the scarf around you once more, and then the two of you parted company.

Mycroft fought the urge to turn and watch you leave; he preferred to imagine you there one moment and then gone the next as if by magic. That made all the times he imagined you being by his side easier somehow. He held onto the spent cigarette, the stain of your chap-stick the only evidence that you had really been there with him this time. Pulling his cigarette packet from his jacket, he carefully slipped the butt into it, wanting to carry around a tiny part of you just for a little longer.

Perhaps, one day, these encounters may end differently. Perhaps there would come a time when nicotine would not be the thing that joined the two of you. For now, though, Mycroft made sure he always carried a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, just on the off chance your paths crossed and he could steal some time with you.

[himegureisu]

1 | the Woman

Summary: Mrs. Mycroft Holmes. Yes. You. Most people didn't know you existed. In these years, that's about to change.

A/N: This is the new version. This can be read as a gender-neutral person. However, the pairing remains Mycroft Holmes/Female Reader throughout the story. Season 1 scenes are entirely domestic Mycroft Holmes x Reader. This scene begins at home after Season 1 Episode 1: A Study in Pink. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: There are innuendos at the end of every chapter.

Gaining weight again?

Losing it, in fact.

—————————— 🔎——————————

His stomach was pudgy. It has always been that way since he was a child. Any and every attempt at losing it was an arduous road he refused to take any longer other than the occasional jog on a treadmill at your insistence.

Could he lose it? Yes, however, the effort required to do so was significant in that he would rather accomplish several tasks of import than appease the opinion of others and his vanity.

“Mycroft?”

Your soft inquiring voice breaks through his thoughts. His attention redirected, from the mirror to the sight of you by the threshold from the hall.

“What are you doing in front of the mirror?” you ask, walking over, to stand by his side.

“Sherlock has mocked my weight again,” he sighed, patting the fat on his stomach. “I should be used to it by now, however…”

It was a sore spot from time immemorial. One his brother didn’t hesitate to pick on almost every time they saw each other.

“Are you not bothered by my weight?” he asks, you shake your head: a no, as he faces you, “Truly?”

“Mycroft Holmes, I didn’t care about your weight before we married. I certainly do not care for it much now,” you say as you cup your hands on his cheeks in all seriousness, “I’d rather you eat and overindulge in meals than skip them. It means you’re taking care of yourself. Your job is already stressful and Sherlock being reckless is the literal cherry on top. If partaking in an extra slice of cake can soothe your frayed nerves, then be my guest. However, do save a piece for me, and then we’ll find a way to lose the calories together.“

Your hands trail from his face to his body, noting every curve and contour to memory. He may not be society’s ideal man but you love every part of him. Even those parts that he hates.

“You are incomparable, my dear.” his voice wavered, as he leaned down to rest his forehead on yours. “Thank you,”

“I love you just the way you are, Mycroft,” you whispered, brushing a quick gentle kiss on his lips, “Don’t you ever doubt that,”

To Mycroft, your words were the only ones that truly mattered. Your acceptance and love are a balm to his insecurities and fears. He never thought that he’d ever experience such unconditional love from anyone except his parents. However, it seems that the world has granted him the privilege of being loved by you.

“Would you like to join me in our bedroom, my dear?” he suggested. His eyes twinkled mischievously in the evening light. “I thought of a way to lose those calories,”

“Oh, do tell then,”

“I’d rather show,”

NEXT >>

[multific]

Destiny

Mycroft Holmes x Reader

Summary: What happens when you fall in love with the IceMan himself? It can never end well, right?

Destiny.

A simple word yet it held so much power.

What does it mean to be destined for something or even, someone?

When you first heard about this word, your grandmother told you how she and your grandfather met.

A true love story.

A story so beautiful it was always in the back of your head as you grew older and older.

You hoped you would have a similar experience in your love life. Finding, the person and falling in love, it all sounded amazing.

You knew you wouldn't be able to force such a thing, you were aware of that. And yet, you were impatient. 

So impatient that in fact, you fall into many traps.

In many ways, you thrived in your life.

Expect your love life.

Your desire for a love like no other made you fall in love with men who were undeserving. 

Until you met Mycroft Holmes.

To say that he was the entire British Government would be an understatement.

You applied for a simple job, to be his assistant.

You spent so much time with him, that you thought you were going insane.

You blamed Stockholm syndrome for your feelings.

The moment you realized your feelings were real was during a very difficult week.

Almost every criminal in London had an agenda to mess with him. This caused you to do so much overtime, that you didn't even leave the office.

It was during the fourth day when Mycroft showed up with a bouquet. 

"I thought you would be home," he said, clearly he wasn't prepared to have you right there, at your desk. "Usually you arrive at 6:46 because you stop by at the nearby bakery for breakfast and coffee." 

So, he did pay attention to you. After he spent all that time to make sure you are aware that he simply doesn't care for people like you.

"I stayed to finish the file on this. I-"

"Did you eat?"

"No, Sir." he made a face at that and took his phone out of his pocket.

"Delivery will be here in 10 minutes. Eat, drink your coffee and then come speak with me. I'll be in my office."

He ordered exactly just what you wanted with the most perfect coffee you ever had.

He paid attention to you.

And you realized your feelings for him were real.

You knew hiding it from him would be impossible. Mycroft was incredibly smart. He would notice.

But little did you know, he felt the same.

He thought you would notice his feelings and confront him about it. 

He wasn't ready for a rejection.

Yet, your rejection never came.

Not when he asked you out to dinner. Not when he brought you another bouquet.

Not when he kissed you.

Instead, he let you guide him.

Love wasn't new to him. He loved his siblings, and his parents but this kind of love is very different. 

He didn't have experience with this kind of love, and it scared him a little.

But he also didn't reject it.

He embraced it.

And soon, a beautiful diamond ring found its rightful place on your finger.

It might have not been the way you wanted your one and true love.

But it was your destiny.

And you were okay with it.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[lilmoonbunny]

Balls and Questions; Mycroft Holmes

Mycroft has a question.

There was nothing Y/N hated more than attending balls, but alas, it was mandatory in her workplace. Being in the cyber security sector of the government was nothing short of exciting, at least until you factored in that the digital safety – and perhaps physical also - of the country was essentially in her hands. Socialising had never been her forte, least of all dancing, so combining the two was a nightmare which is likely why she stuck by her close friend Mycroft Holmes.

“Do we have to be here?” Y/N whispered, being careful as to not be too loud that others around them would here.

Frankly, Mycroft did not care about being heard and replied in his typical voice. “Sadly, yes. I do not wish to be here anymore than you do.”

With a sigh, Y/N turned to face those dancing, watching her friend Anthea dance with a man she had been approached by moments prior.

“I don’t know how people dance so much; I couldn’t do it.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Mycroft asked, turning to face her with a raised eyebrow.

Y/N smiled. “A bit of both. I don’t think I’d be a good dancer.”

Mycroft hesitated for a moment, seeming as though he was about to say something before turning back to facing the crowd.

Everyone seemed to be having fun except the pair stood off in the corner of the room, both praying that nobody would approach them, although, Mycroft did have a question on his mind for the woman beside him that he was not yet willing to ask.

Truth be told, he had harboured feelings - a ‘silly crush’ as Sherlock called it - for her for the last year, having worked together for three, yet no matter how many times Sherlock told him that she reciprocated his feelings, he did not believe him nor wish to approach her romantically. He didn’t believe that he could be a good partner to her and did not wish to hurt her in any form.

“Maybe we can leave early? Say I feel sick or something.” Y/N chimed in with her idea.

“That does not get me out of this, I’m afraid.”

“Just say you’ll take me home or something,”

“That would start rumours.”

Y/N smiled sadly, taking a sip from the glass in her hand. “I guess you’re right.”

“I always am,” Mycroft replied, shaking his head when Y/N turned to him with a raised eyebrow and a smile, a giggle falling from her lips.

“I’ll take your word for it, Myc,”

There was that nickname again, the one that she had been calling him for the longest time when they were alone; the one that always had his cheeks flushing. It gave him confidence, well, downing his drink also helped.

“Would you like to dance with me?” He asked, avoiding looking towards the woman, despite wishing to see her reaction.

Y/N smiled to herself. “I would love nothing more than to dance with you. And not just a single, slow dance, I just want to have fun and dance with you for the rest of the night.”

Maybe balls weren’t so bad after all.

[ananiel]

What if You were the snake in the grass of their world?

Talking about this "snake in the grass" saying. It's the fact that usually, all the snakes You find on fields aren't poisonous and usually harmless, more afraid of You then You are of them. But there is a very poisonous species of snakes that hides around fields and is said to have a poison strong enough to kill an adult in less then 30 seconds after the bite

So think of it, a snake in general brings fright to people because hey, it looks weird and scary. People usually don't care if it is poisonous or not. They just run away and don't look back, saying that it is better to be safe then sorry

So thinking of it. What if You come from a misterious family. One that is known for being linked to many murders and / or felonies as a whole.

Yet, your family had always an excuse or turned out to have an aliby that held them out of this acusations. Even if they had witnesses to prove that they were part of it, they never got caught

So that's when You come along. A young individual, one that doesn't seem to have bite in them at all. A quiet and shy person or a loud but inocent one.

They see You and think of You being weak, harmless, but knowing the rumours that your family is surounded with, they are still very carefull around You

Even if the cruelty doesn't run on the surface like the rest of your family, You are still very misterious yourself

Not many know anything about You, somehow, no matter to who you speak, they become more clueless then they were before after they spoke to You.

But what if there are more layers to your personality, what if You wait until they are close of You and then You attack? What if You act weak just to get their guard down for You to strike better?

What if the cruel and calculated individual is the real You. What if the real You is ready to kill and hurt anyone to get their way?

What if You are the true villain of the story they are in ? What if You truly are the snake behind it all?

And what if they get addicted to your poison? What if they get addicted to the sharp toungue of yours? What if they are ready to die to have You in their arms?

Imagine the irony, they watched as many fawned over them, not knowing their true intensions, only for them to fawn over You, but them knowing who you truly are and what You do

[specialagentlokitty]

Mycroft x reader - reminder

Hi can I request a Mycroft x reader? Just some fluff please - @marvelfunkopop101💜

Mycroft Holmes was not a man of affectionate words, or affection at all really, he didn’t like to be hugged, or to hold hands, or say how he felt.

But he showed it in the little things he would do.

He always made sure you had your favourite drink, he would always make sure you got home safe or to work safe.

He would kiss your forehead when he saw you, or when he was leaving.

But sometimes.

Just sometimes.

He would come in, like he just had, and he would get changed, and make his was over to the bed to sit with you.

Except instead of sitting, he laid down, resting his head on your stomach as he sighed softly.

Reaching a hand out, you placed it on his head, and you smiled softly at him.

“Darling?” You asked.

“It’s been a long day…”

You nodded your head, and leant down, turning his face towards you, you kissed his forehead and smiled down at him.

Mycroft smiled a little at you, and he rolled over, laying on his back, but his head still in your stomach as you gently ran your thumb along his cheek.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No, I don’t want to bore you with the events of my day, I’d just like to lay here if I can?”

“Of course you can.”

He smiled and placed his hand on your wrist, running his thumb along your skin, and you smiled, going back to watch the Tv.

He wouldn’t sat there for long, he never did, so when he began to sit up you let him go so he could.

He tapped your shoulder and you sat up as well, letting him wrap an arm around your shoulder, guiding you into his side.

And you curled into him, resting your head on his arms and he held you to his side.

There wasn’t many words needed, sometimes he just liked to sit in silence, and you didn’t mind it at all.

So, that’s what you did, you felt his fingers run through your hair, and his thumb on his other hand trail small circled into the skin of your arm.

You placed your hand on his hand and you took it from your head, holding it next to your face and Mycroft smiled softly down at you.

He was completely fascinated by you, in love with you.

“You’re wonderful…” he whispered.

You laughed softly, and you sat up.

Placed your hands on his face, you leant forward and softly kissed him before you pulled away.

“I love you.” He said.

“I love you too.”

He kissed you once more before letting you return to laying down on him.

Sometimes he liked to tell you he loved you, just as a little reminder in case you didn’t know

[tulipsforvin]

Hi! Can I request a Mycroft Holmes x fem reader? Heavy smut with angst 👉👈

✧ ⚠️: implications of cheating, jealousy, hair pulling kink, degradation kink, oral sex (m!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), marking, handcuffing, possessiveness, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, toxicity, breeding kink, spanking, squirting, mycroft is an asshole—just FILTH.

✧ summary: you and mycroft have an argument, causes you to be petty and flirt around with other men, mycroft gets jealous and fucks you until you're crying.

you'd fucked up. majorly fucked up.

over an argument between the two of you two nights ago, you'd become petty and made perhaps the biggest blunder in your life; clinging onto another man—breasts pressed up against his arm, obvious flirting, teasing caresses, sultry, bedroom glances passed between the other man and you.

the way he practically tracked you down with his immaculate connections reaching out to all and every single part of britain would seem terrifying to anybody else — anybody else but you.

he had eyes everywhere.

which is how you ended up in this situation, on your knees in the dim of the night in his office; almost gagging with how he was pushing your head down the entirety of his long, girthy cock. you gasp for air, making your throat constrict around his cock.

he groans at that; voice rumbly and deep. his intense, dark and almost black eyes stare down at you, watching his length disappear and appear with every back and forth bob of your head.

“that's enough.” mycroft harshly pulls you up by your hair; holding it tight in his grasp. you grunt in pain.

the paperwork on his desk are strewn aside; it was evident he had planned all of this ahead knowing he would be doing this to you. he pushes you down onto his desk, flipping you over so your ass is facing him.

“i didn't realize my wife was such a whore.” his voice is dark besides your ear; causing you to tingle. he's leaning down, chest pressed against your back as his fingers travel south. “so fucking wet,” he whispers.

he pushes your panty to the side with his fingers, lubing his fingers up with your fluids. “you like that, huh? you like being pushed around like a fucking prostitute? such a goddamn slut.”

his middle and ring finger index enter you unannounced and your body jolts up in surprise. “angh—!” you're huffing and panting, fingers digging into the edges of his oak desk. the pace of his fingers are fast, undeniably fast.

“did you let that man do this to you as well?” mycroft's teeth sink into your shoulder and he bites, it's not a gentle, loving bite; it makes you cry out.

he's jealous. it's clear to see on his face; furrowed eyebrows, glaring dark eyes and a tight jaw.

“no—fuuck.” you moan out, feeling his fingers curling up. you were loyal to him, and he knew that, he did; but this mycroft, the current him, was absolutely unreasonable—out of his mind. his mouth leaves hickeys wherever it travels, your neck, your shoulder, the inside of your wrist; everywhere.

the lewd sounds of his fingers smacking into your poor, abused pussy ring around his office. his fingers hit that one spot of yours perfectly, repeatedly.

“wait, mycroft, please! i'm about to-” your mouth falls open into a ragged, animalistic moan when you suddenly hit your high, creaming around his fingers. and he doesn't stop, not even when your nails dig into his arms; drawing blood. he won't let you up, not with his weight pushing you down anyway.

“haah..! mycroft, hnngh..” you're loud, you're screaming. eyes closed, legs trembling, toes curling.

“shut up.” he demands. “fucking shut up.” the dark haired man pulls back, almost ripping the tie off of him. he roughly puts your hands behind your back and uses that very tie of his to tie your hands up.

mycroft's cock lines against your crying pussy and he rubs the tip against your folds, gathering slick, gathering enough lubrication to aid him in pushing his heavy cock inside of you.

“a-ahh!” a sob escapes you at the intrusion, pushing it's way in deep — pushing it's way in hard. mycroft's hands find their positions on your hips and he harshly rams you back and forth against his dick.

his pace is unrelenting and you can only moan out in a mixture of pain and pleasure at his administrations.

“were you moaning for him like this, too? when he was inside you?” he growls, grabbing you by your hair and pulling you back against him to lock your lips together.

“i didn't fuck him—oh!” you whimper when you feel a hand come down on your ass. but he's not really ready to listen.

“you're mine, do you understand?” every time he shifts his hips back right before he slams his cock back in, it hits your cervix just perfectly. over and over, over and over again. and you can't even answer, not with how fast he's fucking you, anyway. you feel knots build up in your stomach and before long, you're cumming around him again; gummy walls clenching down onto him.

mycroft huffs, groaning as you push him to his own orgasm. he shudders when he grabs you by the jaw and turns you around and kisses you roughly, only for you to bite down on his lips enough to break skin and draw blood. “fucking.. bitch...” he grunts in pain.

“i said, do you understand?” he's panting, beads of sweat falling down his forehead. he straightens his back and runs his hand through his dark hair, stray strands sticking to his skin.

“ngh— fuck, yes..!”

but mycroft doesn't stop — not even when he's spurting thick, hot ropes of cum inside of you. “i'm going to.. hngh.. fuck you until i get a baby out of you. until i get you pregnant.” he says. “until the only word on your lips is my name.”

you're almost drooling. “a-aah!” it hurts with how your body is so sensitive right now. every drag of his cock along your wet, sloppy walls makes you whine.

“you're—” thrust “—mine to touch,” thrust “mine to love,” thrust “and mine to ngh.. fuck.”

you're in tears; unsure whether it's due to the pleasure or with how he's treating you. your arms have begin to feel numb with how long it's been tied up behind your back.

“uuhh.. mycroft!” your legs tremble and your knees buckle underneath you. incomprehensible pleads and babbles of his name are the only words that escape your mouth.

this is the strongest orgasm you've felt yet and it's only after mycroft murmurs a quiet, “shit.. look at that. look at you, you're squirting.” when you realize that he's right; you are.

it takes three orgasms from you and two from him for mycroft to finally leave you alone. and then reality finally comes crashing down onto you.

your marriage—can it ever truly be mended again?

[angelltheninth]

Bride and Joy

Pairing: Mycroft Holmes x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, breeding kink, interrogation, dirty talk, name-calling, rough sex, creampie, table sex, oral fingering, cnc roleplay, roleplay, dark Mycroft Holmes

Word count: 2k

Kinktober Day 8: Breeding Kink

A/N: Mycroft seems like one of these people who would be extremely possessive of his lover so that's the angle I'm taking here. I'm glad to see people requesting all the pretty Yuumori men for kinktober.

You already knew it was all over for you. You got caught, detained and placed within an interrogation cell waiting for who ever the set on you. Betraying the Queen is no small crime after all.

The room door opened and a tall man in a black suit and a cigar walked in. You knew him to be Mycroft Holmes, one of the Queens best and most trusted men. And the most ruthless.

"Well you got yourself in quite a bind there haven't you little missy?" He took a drag of his cigar as he walked to where you sat and placed the file on the table in front of you, exhaling the smoke as he did so. "Stealing documents, forging signatures, weapon smuggling and a plot against the Royal family. You've been quite busy haven't you?"

You narrowed your eyes and clenched your fists, "If you know all of that already then why am I here? You've got your evidence, why not charge me with treason and be done with it?"

Mycroft chuckled, closing the file and tapping his index finger on it, "That's certainly an option." He took another drag before he put the cigarette out, "But we could use someone of your talents. Of course you'd still be under our surveillance but you'd still be a free woman. In some ways at least. I haven't spoken to her Majesty yet but I'm certain she would agree. I only need you to say yes to marrying me."

He looked at you like it was the most obvious solution to your problem. You on the other hand looked at him like he had just lost his mind. "Excuse me? Why would I do such a thing?" You felt his gaze sharpen as a blush spread across your face.

"No one would ever agree to let you roam free without supervision. I'm afraid not even I could negotiate that. But if I were to take you as my wife, well it would grant you a certain favor and immunity as a spy." He walked around the small table and grabbed your chin, his eyes staring into yours, "Surely you're aware of how beautiful you are. You would make a fine wife. And..." His fingers trail lightly across your throat and across your side, making you shiver, "A fine mother I'm sure."

His smile widened as his fingers started to skim the edge of your shirt, giving the barest hint of touch on your thigh. You gulped under his gaze, feeling like an a small animal looking at their predator. Both fear and adrenaline rush though you as you stammer out, "W-What? But I'm... I don't think this is a good idea."

"No? Any why not? You get a pardon, you get to keep your job, you get a nice husband. I promise to treat you right and love you for as long as we're together." Although his word was meant to be comforting you could sense a darkness behind them. "I will make you feel so good. Just give yourself to me my sweet."

A high gasp tore from your throat when you felt his fingers rubbing you through your panties.

"H-Hold on. This isn't right. We shouldn't be doing this. I don't even know you." His eyes softened for a moment, his lips closing in on yours.

"Oh you will. We'll get very familiar with each other." Mycroft pushed his lips against yours, they were softer than you expected but his tongue was quick to remind of you how rough he could be, pushing past your lips, swallowing your little soft moan and brushing against your tongue. "You're getting wet already. Are you sure you don't want me?"

"You're my enemy. I shouldn't..." Hi moved your panties to the side and moved two fingers up and down in a slow manner, spreading the wetness evenly before pushing them both inside with no warning. You screamed at the intrusion and buried your head in his chest to muffle your moans, fisting your hands into his suit, "God." You whimpered and shifted in your seat as he moved his fingers in and out, taking them out all the way to the tip and then burring them all the way to the end.

"You're beginning to loosen up. If you're already this wet I can't even imagine what you're gonna feel like around my cock." He took your hand in his placed it over his bulge. The cock throbbed under your touch, warm even though the material of his pants, "See how hard I am already? That's all for you. All for this cunt."

Upon hearing the possessive growl in his voice you couldn't help but spread your legs. He paused for just a moment and then laughed.

"Well would you look at that. Little whore wants it now does she? That didn't take long. You need to make it for fun for me miss." He slid his fingers out, pulling your panties off in the process. "Start by cleaning these for me."

He offers you his fingers, still looking rough even while covered in your juices. When you didn't immediately go for his fingers you heard him scoff next to your ear as he pushed them against your lips, "I told you to suck. You need to follow my orders to the letter if you want this to work out for you." You let out a whimper as you open your mouth for him, allowing him to slide his fingers in and fuck your throat, "Good girl. You'll learn fast don't worry. I'll make you into my little cockslut before you know it."

You moaned around his fingers at his words, a fresh flood of wetness gathering below as you start bucking your hips forward, clouding your senses, "Please, I can't..."

"Beg. Beg me to fuck you. Tell me you're a horny slut who wants to be breed. Say it." He was very rough when taking his fingers out and grabbing your chin with his still wet hands, "Well?"

It was embarrassing how easily you were being broken by him. How easily he managed to get to you just by using his words and fingers. How badly you wanted it. Wanted him. "I'm a horny slut... who wants to be breed." Mycroft grinned, wide and pleased at your confession.

"Interesting. I wasn't being serious with that one but it's nice to hear you admit to it." Another blush spread across your face and down you neck, "Well how can I refuse my future wife." He gave you a brief kiss, humming at your the lingering taste on your tongue. He chuckled as he tapped your cheek lightly and turned to give you some room. You could hear him unbuckling his belt. "Why don't you bend over and present for me, I want a good look at you."

You gulped in anticipation as you stood up on shaky legs, your slick running down your thighs and dripping onto the floor. You felt like you're in heat, ready to be taken and fucked. That feeling only intensified when Mycroft turned around and lets you see his hard dick, standing tall between his legs with his hand at the base. Your cunt pulsed with need to be filled and stretched open by it. Maybe you were just a bitch in heat after all.

And like a good bitch you presented yourself for him, bending over the edge of the table and hiking up your shirt, revealing your cunt and your ass. But not before getting a glimpse of his muscular body as he undid his bowtie and started undoing the buttons on his shirt.

"What a lovely sight you are. So ready for me." You hear his footsteps approaching followed quickly by his hand smoothing over your left ass cheek before gripping your hip in a tight, sure to bruise grip. "Are you ready for my cock?"

"Yes." You breathed out, even catching yourself off guard with how needy and breathless you sounded.

"And have you earned it? Do you promise to be a good whore for me whenever I ask? To get on your knees and suck my cock at the snap of my fingers." He leaned over to snap them next to your ear as the tip of his cock nudged at your opening.

"I promise. I'll be good. I'll be so good." Mycroft laughed at your eagerness, pushing his fingers into your mouth as he tilted your head a little for easier access. "Fuck. Fuck me. Please, please, please." You could barely talk with your mouth sucking on his fingers but you wanted it so much that you don't care how desperate you were.

When he finally does slide in you don't care that this was supposed to be an interrogation, that he's your enemy, that he basically blackmailed you into marrying him, all you care about his how his cock fills you up over and over.

"You take me so nicely. You were made for me weren't you. Just for me and my cock. I'll fuck you every day I can promise you that, breed you like you need to be bred. You're gonna look so pretty when you're full of my cum you little slut. My pretty cumslut." He thrust his hips into yours, his fingers playing in your mouth, dragging them over the flat of your tongue.

You whimpered and moaned for him, bucking your hips backwards, your wet cunt clenching around his throbbing dick, making him hum and go harder and faster at every jolt of his hips. The room was filled with wet, needy, lewd sounds of him fucking two of your holes at the same time, your moans muffled but still very audible.

He was ruthless in his pace, shoving his cock as deep as it could go, dragging along your front wall every time he pulled out. You were starting to get dizzy with pleasure, your cunt so full yet so empty. You needed more. You needed him to fill you up properly.

"Please come. Please. Fill me up." You struggled to talk around his fingers, your words barely coherent.

"What ever you say sweetheart." He was so amused by the state he's brought you to that he decided to have mercy and give you want you wanted, "But you're gonna have to come first." He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and once again places them next to your ear, "Ready?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice. You heard his fingers snap next to your ear, and something snapped inside you as well, a flood heat rushing though you as you bucked your hips wildly and came all over his cock.

"Good slut. So good for me. So damn good." In one last, hard thrust he buried his dick deep inside of you and flooded your womb with his cum, his hips twitching as he groans through his release, your name falling from his lips as he leans over you. You both took deep breaths to relax your bodies and let the combined pleasure flow through you, "Did you enjoy that my love?"

"Fuck Mycroft. I mean just... holy shit." You breathed out hard at which he lets out a slow chuckle.

"That good I see. I'm glad. Thank you for indulging me in this. And for the suggestion to roleplay. I bet it would have been fun to break you." His lips skimmed the area of your neck, pressing slow kisses as you relax under him, "Do you want to stay like this a little? And don't worry about anyone walking in on us. I made sure we have more than enough time. Maybe even for a round two if you feel like it."

"Hell yes." You squeezed around him as he pulled you back against his chest and took a seat on the chair, his cock comfortably snug inside of you, keeping most of his cum inside. "How about we try for a round three after we get home?"

He laughed loud against your neck, "Are you taking the roleplay seriously? You don't actually need to take my cock all the time."

"No. But what if I want to?" You rolled and pushed your hips downward, feeling him twitch inside you.

"Then who am I to say no to my wife." With a soft touch he turned your head towards him to give you the sweetest kiss of the day, but not the last.